Page 55 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

Remy stood dutifully by Dayne’s side as his friend got to work picking the padlock on the barn door. Eric chuckled as he easily clicked open the lock.

He’d long ago discovered that Dayne was an expert at B & E. Only once had Dayne let something slip about his childhood, and it hadn’t been pretty. While Dayne hated talking about his past, Eric got the distinct impression that his friend’s ability to break into any room and crack any lock was tied to his childhood.

Quietly, Dayne slipped the chain from the barn door handles then slid one of the doors open.

“Hier.” Eric headed inside with Tiger.

The covert-entry—aka sneak ’n’ peak—warrant in Eric’s back pocket authorized them to access the barn without the owner’s permission or knowledge. They could conduct a search and even set up cameras, as long as they made no seizures.

When they were all inside, Dayne tugged the door shut. He and Remy stood guard, while Eric and Tiger got to work.

A window high in the barn’s dormer provided sufficient light to see the interior. The drums Tess had delivered sat grouped together at one end of the barn, while another drum was tucked in a corner on the opposite side.

Eric slid his backpack to the ground. Inside were padded cases containing three tiny high-tech cameras with power sources that would last up to a month and a transmitter box they would hide in the woods behind the barn. Agents stationed down the road in either direction would monitor the live feed 24/7. If the drums so much as twitched, they’d know in a heartbeat. He glanced around the barn, searching for the best places to surreptitiously install the cameras.

The barn’s floor was damp, a combination of wet earth and decaying hay and straw. Tiger pranced in place, swiveling his head left and right. Eric unhooked the leash from his dog’s harness. Tiger took off for the ammonium nitrate drums then sat in front of them.

“Braaf.” Eric gave his dog a hearty scrubbing on his neck for a job well done, then lifted his arm, urging Tiger to the isolated drum.

His dog shot to the other side of the barn, sitting almost immediately. Odors had to be pouring off that drum.

“Braaf.” Again, Eric pet his dog, this time giving him his favorite toy—a thick orange ball.

While Tiger enjoyed his reward, Remy gave a high-pitched whine.

“Steady, girl.” Dayne stroked Remy’s ears while his dog enviously watched Tiger chomping happily on the ball.

Even before he’d popped the bung on the drum, the strong odor of fuel came to his nose, and he grimaced, stepping back. There was no need to test the contents because he already knew what it was. He’d been expecting it and dreading it.

Moving swiftly, he recapped the drum. If there’d been any doubt as to what these people were doing, now there was none.

The drum contained nitromethane—another key component of an ammonium nitrate bomb.

Chapter Eighteen

Downward Dog. Chaturanga. Cobra. Warrior. Child’s Pose…

It was just past nine p.m. and Tess was exhausted. No matter what she tried, nothing helped. Her muscles were loose, but her mind roiled with tension, totally undermining any good she’d just done to her body. Groaning, she gave up then rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

Mark Pritchard is here. In New Jersey. The man could still make her skin crawl.

It was a foregone conclusion that the second she’d floored the truck away from the barn, the first thing Pritchard had done was to call her stepfather. The cell phone airwaves had to be lighting up the sky brighter than any lightning storm.

Which meant…

I’m back on the grid.

Everything she’d done to escape her past and leave it permanently behind…all for naught.

Am I strong enough to face him?

Pritchard was one thing—a sleazy bastard, to say the least, but her fear of him was solely physical. At least she’d managed to give him a small taste of what he deserved. Her stepfather, on the other hand, had smacked her around then beat on her emotions with his cruel words. He was the only adult figure in most of her life after her mother died. He should have been everything to her.

Father. Parent. Guardian. Counselor. In the absence of a mother, someone to help a young girl through all the angst that came with teenage years. Instead, he’d been cruel and overbearing, prohibiting her from leaving the house. No school, friends, or boys. She hadn’t known any other way, didn’t know there was another life out there somewhere—one without emotional and physical beatings every day of her pathetic life.

One without men like Pritchard.

The threat of being given to a rapist as if she were a bearskin rug to be bartered had hung over her head for years. The second Pritchard moved into town and hooked up with her father, his sick eyes had followed her everywhere. Fear of being handed over to him was the cruelest thing her stepfather could have done. It had been the final straw, the one that had shown her just how much he not only didn’t love her but thought of her as a piece of property, something to be sold when it suited his needs.