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Authors: Marliss Melton
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Terror.
Only, Eryn’s circumstances indicated otherwise, reawakening the disturbing feeling that the enemy was still out there, multiplying.
Tonight he needed the tranquility of the Blue Ridge to settle his perturbation. Drawing a deep breath, he centered his awareness then expanded it outward into the chilly night, seeking unexpected disturbances.
The gurgle of Naked Creek, the whisper of the wind, the scent of granite and mountain laurel soothed his disquiet, as they always did. But the faint rumbling of a large gas engine, idling near the base of his mountain, roused it again.
Ike stiffened, concentrating all his energy on identifying the potential threat.
**
“He’s got her up there,” Brad Caine determined, glancing from his tracking program to the mountain looming over them.
In the reversed cones of the RV’s headlights, brick pillars bookended a gravel driveway which snaked precipitously though the dark trees. Amidst a web of semi-naked branches, a distant light twinkled near the pinnacle of the mountain. Resentment vied with curiosity as Brad pondered who General McClellan felt was better suited than the FBI to protect his daughter.
Hearing Maddox’s phone call come to a close, he craned his neck to look back at him. “Well?” he prompted.
“Sheriff’s Office says they have no idea who lives up there.” The rookie’s light-colored eyes cut through the darkness, seeming to mock him.
More like they’re just too fucking lazy to look it up, Brad thought.
“They said their records aren’t digital. But if we show up at Town Hall tomorrow, they’ll search their files. Office opens at o’eight hundred.”
Brad sat back more heavily in the captain’s chair beside the driver’s seat. Luring the terrorists to the safe house had produced neither the quantity nor the quality of the leads he’d expected. Didn’t it just figure he’d run into more dead ends while chasing down their client?
“I don’t even think our car could get up that hill,” Ringo chimed in. Their green sedan was trailered to the RV to make local driving more convenient. “Are we sure Eryn’s safe with this guy?”
“She’s safe,” said the rookie with confidence that set Brad’s teeth on edge. “The soldier works for her father; he’s not going to hurt her.”
“Shut up, Maddox.” Brad couldn’t take anymore wisdom from a man who’d been a special agent for all of three months. He thought he had it all figured out, but he knew nothing about the internal politics of the FBI: what it took to get promoted, to be named a special agent in charge. Brad had been fighting for a SAC slot for eleven long years.
“Yes, sir,” the rookie said, his words respectful, his tone insubordinate.
Ringo flicked a nervous glance between them. “Where to from here?” he asked.
The Mobile Command Center had cushions to sleep on but the mattresses were as hard as rocks, and Brad had lower back issues. “Let’s go to that motel we passed on 33,” he said.
“Elkton Motel,” the rookie supplied, his memory annoyingly accurate. It was bright, young men like him who made it hard for the older guys to get the positions of authority that they deserved.
Ringo backed carefully onto Naked Creek Road and pointed their RV back toward civilization. Hah, Brad thought. Civilized wasn’t the word to describe a county whose records were still kept in file cabinets.
**
Four minutes and ten seconds was exactly how long the unidentified vehicle idled at the base of his mountain.
It was possibly a delivery truck, Ike told himself, the kind that brought fresh ingredients to breakfast joints opening at the crack of dawn. Only how could anyone get that lost heading into Elkton?
As the gears grated and the accelerating engine faded, he eyed his watch, waiting. His advanced security
Only, Eryn’s circumstances indicated otherwise, reawakening the disturbing feeling that the enemy was still out there, multiplying.
Tonight he needed the tranquility of the Blue Ridge to settle his perturbation. Drawing a deep breath, he centered his awareness then expanded it outward into the chilly night, seeking unexpected disturbances.
The gurgle of Naked Creek, the whisper of the wind, the scent of granite and mountain laurel soothed his disquiet, as they always did. But the faint rumbling of a large gas engine, idling near the base of his mountain, roused it again.
Ike stiffened, concentrating all his energy on identifying the potential threat.
**
“He’s got her up there,” Brad Caine determined, glancing from his tracking program to the mountain looming over them.
In the reversed cones of the RV’s headlights, brick pillars bookended a gravel driveway which snaked precipitously though the dark trees. Amidst a web of semi-naked branches, a distant light twinkled near the pinnacle of the mountain. Resentment vied with curiosity as Brad pondered who General McClellan felt was better suited than the FBI to protect his daughter.
Hearing Maddox’s phone call come to a close, he craned his neck to look back at him. “Well?” he prompted.
“Sheriff’s Office says they have no idea who lives up there.” The rookie’s light-colored eyes cut through the darkness, seeming to mock him.
More like they’re just too fucking lazy to look it up, Brad thought.
“They said their records aren’t digital. But if we show up at Town Hall tomorrow, they’ll search their files. Office opens at o’eight hundred.”
Brad sat back more heavily in the captain’s chair beside the driver’s seat. Luring the terrorists to the safe house had produced neither the quantity nor the quality of the leads he’d expected. Didn’t it just figure he’d run into more dead ends while chasing down their client?
“I don’t even think our car could get up that hill,” Ringo chimed in. Their green sedan was trailered to the RV to make local driving more convenient. “Are we sure Eryn’s safe with this guy?”
“She’s safe,” said the rookie with confidence that set Brad’s teeth on edge. “The soldier works for her father; he’s not going to hurt her.”
“Shut up, Maddox.” Brad couldn’t take anymore wisdom from a man who’d been a special agent for all of three months. He thought he had it all figured out, but he knew nothing about the internal politics of the FBI: what it took to get promoted, to be named a special agent in charge. Brad had been fighting for a SAC slot for eleven long years.
“Yes, sir,” the rookie said, his words respectful, his tone insubordinate.
Ringo flicked a nervous glance between them. “Where to from here?” he asked.
The Mobile Command Center had cushions to sleep on but the mattresses were as hard as rocks, and Brad had lower back issues. “Let’s go to that motel we passed on 33,” he said.
“Elkton Motel,” the rookie supplied, his memory annoyingly accurate. It was bright, young men like him who made it hard for the older guys to get the positions of authority that they deserved.
Ringo backed carefully onto Naked Creek Road and pointed their RV back toward civilization. Hah, Brad thought. Civilized wasn’t the word to describe a county whose records were still kept in file cabinets.
**
Four minutes and ten seconds was exactly how long the unidentified vehicle idled at the base of his mountain.
It was possibly a delivery truck, Ike told himself, the kind that brought fresh ingredients to breakfast joints opening at the crack of dawn. Only how could anyone get that lost heading into Elkton?
As the gears grated and the accelerating engine faded, he eyed his watch, waiting. His advanced security
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