Page 23 of Rescued By the Operative

I hate this. “Did you know, though? That he’s still calling the shots?”

Carl grips the wheel. “I didn’t know for sure. But I had a hunch.”

“I can get more information if you let me go talk to the barista at the coffee shop. He’s one of the Lost Boys.”

“And I suppose you’re going to fake another illness to get out of there?”

“Nope. Remember the chatter about the tunnel?”

“Agent Carter…”

I grunt against the file cabinet as I shove it away just enough to reveal the hole in the wall. “Meet me at the highway on the other side of Sterling Ranch.”

“I’m not picking you up there. Are you crazy?”

“It’s perfect. No one is checking on me while I’m working. I need to talk to that kid. They’ll be able to tell me everything without worrying about retaliation,” I say, climbing into the tunnel.

Carl lets out a curse and says gruffly. “Keep to the trees along the creek, and I’ll get you. Don’t let yourself be seen.”

“Thanks, Special Agent,” I say, my voice echoing in the dank tunnel. I wonder how he knows so much about what the ranch looks like.

“I ought to pull you off this assignment,” he grumbles.

I hang up and use my phone’s flashlight to light my way.

I follow the long stretch of winding paths, using my phone’s compass to lead me westward, in the general direction of where I think the other end is.

“Are you lost?”

The male voice echoing in the tunnel makes me jump. “Who’s there?” I ask.

My light catches on a stocky male form. He’s fiddling with something attached to a foundation. Which building it is, I couldn’t say. All I know is, this is not Jake, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’m Ennis. Do you need help?”

“Oh. Y-yes?”

His face is illuminated, and he has the same eyes as Jake. This must be the man I saw with Jake in town. They must be related.

“Wow, okay. I didn’t think the sister-wives would discover the escape route so quickly. Um…what do you need? Food? Shelter? Hospital? Police? What’s your name?”

“I don’t think I can tell you that.”

“I understand,” he says.

“If you could just let me know how to get out of here,” I say.

“Sure! I’ll walk you out.”

The stocky cowboy named Ennis is friendly and chatty as we carefully make our way through the structure.

“Did you all build this yourselves?”

“We had some help, but my brother and I have been doing most of the work on it for the last couple of months.”

“Aren’t you worried it’ll cave in?”

This question keeps Ennis occupied with talk about support beams and whatnot, and keeps him from asking me questions about myself.