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The rumble of engines sounded, and everyone sat up straighter. A glance through the telescopic sight showed a convoy of armored vehicles.
A guy I’d nicknamed Matlock—thanks to his impressive mustache—pointed at me and two other guys. “You, you, and you stay here. Shoot the drivers and whoever gets out of the vehicles when I give the signal. The rest is with me. Kill whoever you find down there.”
Callum was in the group that was leaving, giving me a small nod as he made his way down the mountain.
They’d almost made it to the vehicles when shots rang out. Chaos ensued, and everyone dove for cover. Soon it was obvious someone had known we were coming and was methodically taking us out.
I searched the jungle for the shooter, my heartbeat ringing in my ears, my hands damp. On my third pass, I got lucky, spotting a glint of light off to my left. I aimed, finger poised over the trigger when a gun cocked near my ear, the cold metal touching my temple. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The American accent threw me, but I released my finger, resting it on the side of my gun.
The cold metal left my temple. “Put the gun on the ground and get up slowly.”
I did as I was told, holding my hands up. The guy in front of me was huge, his face painted black, his gun trained on me. The other guys who’d stayed up here with me were in similar situations, their hands in the air and guns pointed at them.
I wondered if this was finally it. But instead of panic, all I felt was peace.
They led us down the hill to where more guys dressed in the same tactical gear stood waiting. Only a handful of men sat handcuffed on the ground; the rest had been shot judging by the bodies littering the ground.
My eyes snagged on familiar brown hair, half covered in red, body twisted at an unnatural angle.
Despite telling myself that we’d never been more than two people stuck in the same situation, the sight caused my insides to squeeze painfully.
I shrugged off the hand on my back and turned. “What happens to us now?”
“You’re going to New York. And once we know you haven’t been brainwashed you can contact your families.”
I lifted my chin, meeting his stare head on. His glower might have intimidated other people, but I’d endured too much to cower from a simple glance. “None of us are here by choice. And most of us have money. We can pay you.”
“We don’t want your money.”
He was studying me, as if assessing if I was worthy. But worthy of what?
“Devon.” Another guy approached us, his eyes on me. “This the guy?”
“Sure looks like him.”
The new guy nodded at me. “Your name Archer?”
I didn’t know it then, but that was the moment I was given a second chance.
18
THEA
“I don’t thinkThea meant for you to collect fifty kilos of apples when she asked you to grab a few for her pie.”
I ignored Carter, who was standing at the foot of the ladder I’d climbed earlier to help Everleigh harvest the apples from their orchard. I was sweaty, my arms ached, and my nose was burned, but I felt better than I had in a while. The orchard was small, and I was sure they could have handled the harvest without me. But Lucius’s boating business had taken off in the last few months, so he didn’t have much time to help out. And I liked to make myself useful, and this was one of the ways I felt I could contribute.
And it was true Thea had only asked for a few apples, but I figured I might as well get a head start on the harvest. I’d been feeling more restless than usual today, and this was the best way to burn off my nervous energy.
I’d been dropping off résumés in as many cafés, restaurants, and bars in San Diego as I could since there wasn’t much work around here. It would be a long commute at first, but once I had enough money saved, I could get an apartment in town.
But for now, I was living in Everleigh’s guesthouse Lucius finished last weekend. I’d settled into a comfortable routine. I got up early to help Everleigh with Sofie, then worked in the Orchard.
“I know you can hear me.”
Okay, so ignoring Carter wasn’t working. Maybe if I dropped some apples on his head, he’d go away.
