Page 19

“I am not a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I’m a wolf in wolf’s clothing.” — Ricky Gervais

Axel

My chin lifted, I count two survivalists in the doorway. There’s at least a couple more behind them. Dammit. How did I let this happen? I know better. I should’ve insisted Gwen leave the office the moment I arrived. The FBI would’ve found the damn microdot. Mother of God, my wife will be the death of us both.

After helping her to her feet, I nibble her neck and kiss her ear. “No matter what, say nothing. You hear me?”

I wait for her nod before lifting my hands in the air. For whatever reason, James Lewis needs the data she sent flying out the window. His next logical step would be to torture one of us until the other one gives him the location.

The small army turns to their leader to take command. However, judging by his glassy countenance, he’s in shock. It would be comical if not so damn deadly.

In the confusion, I lower my elbows to lace my fingers behind my head. “Who’s in charge here?”

Sergeant Scarface swivels toward the sound of my voice. “That would be me.”

“Listen up, we need out of this building.” As if to make my point, more gunfire erupts.

Again, we drop to the floor. After a couple of rounds dislodge a picture from the office’s back wall, the shooting stops. Cautiously, we rise to our feet.

“To the tunnels.” No longer pale or shaken, the David Koresh cosplayer stands tall.

“What about them?” When the minion aims his weapon at my wife, I step in front of the barrel. I may die, but sure as hell, I’m taking those two with me.

The cult leader ignores our pissing contest. Moving to the door, he glances behind him. “Bind them. See they remain unharmed. They stole something from me. I need it ASAP.”

Once he trots down the stairs, the sarge zip-ties our hands behind our backs and motions us forward. My spouse steps ahead of me. We follow the entourage past a door and down another flight of steps. Finally, we exit into an unfinished storage area below the first floor.

“Move that desk.” The end of his rifle pokes into my side, giving me no choice but to shove the heavy furniture.

“Leave it there.” Private Longbeard rolls up a rug, and my jaw drops when he opens a trap door.

“Ladies first.” At Sergeant Asswipe's orders, Gwen bites her lower lip.

When she lifts her gaze, I wish I could tell her help is coming. However, I can’t tip my hand. We just need to hang tight until our friends rescue us. “Do it, babe.”

Our underground trek follows the same line as the path above. Instead of the sky, steel beams hold the tons of earth over our heads. Thank God they replaced the original wood. If I had to guess, this passageway dates to the Civil War. Without the updates, this ancient mine would be a death trap.

Begrudgingly, I give credit to the mad genius. I can’t imagine a better place to build his survivalist compound. Soon, the incline steepens. When we reach pine-scented wooden stairs, Gwen stops, turns her head, and mouths, “I love you.”

As I say it back, a shout comes from behind me. “No stopping, Mrs. Wulf.”

“FYI, it’s Doctor Wulf.” Her feisty tone makes me chuckle. Way to go, babe.

We continue our climb to the beat of muffled rat-a-tats overhead. I pray the weapons belong to the other half of our team who got tired of waiting for our signal.

At the top landing, Lewis, still in the lead, pounds on the door until another armed soldier, a middle-aged woman, opens it.

“Sir.” Standing at attention, she stares at him with such adoration, it turns my stomach.

I’m still processing the woman’s cult-like worship when Gwen gasps. “Oh God, no.”

Two steps more, jail cells appear. Now, I understand her distress. Not only have our women been recaptured, but Slate, Suds, and Dolly are also behind bars. This is not the time, but at some point, I will make the conniving operative wish she had never taken advantage of my wife’s kind heart.

Once I’m locked inside, my thoughts shift to breaking us out. We have to be gone before Lewis tortures us for intel.

“Honey, come closer. I need to tell you something.” Eyes bright, she whispers, “A tunnel to the outside runs under here.”

So, that’s how she escaped. Still, something isn’t making sense. Why put us back in the same cells she was able to escape from? I have so many questions and so little time.

Beneath the watchful eyes of two survivalists stationed in the tunnel, I wander toward Slate, sitting next to Lilac. “What part of ‘rescue them’ did you not understand?”

His scowl deepens. “Before we reached the top level, the two we left alive jumped up ugly, then sounded the alarm. Suds and I did the math. Someone on our side would likely have been killed, especially with you gone.”

He’s right. I was the one who didn’t stick to the script. Nonetheless, had I not pursued Gwen, I have no doubts I would be a widower.

I want to explain, but the mind-reader nods, “I hear ya. I would’ve done the same.”

When he glances down at his wife, the only one still unbound, his face softens, and I swear he tears up.

Giving him a moment to regain his composure, I gaze at his pregnant spouse, sleeping on the cot. “How is she?”

“She’s been having Braxton Hicks…” He says it like I would know what it means.

My uncommitted grunt makes him shake his head and chuckle.

Now that he has his emotions in check, he can explain. “They’re normal pains but can be uncomfortable.”

While we chat, Suds stealthily makes his way across the crowded cell. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We have a slight glitch.” After I explain the microdot, the office debacle, and the possibility of torture, the two men grimace.

The southerner scratches the short, dark growth on his chin. “And you got no idea what’s on it?”

“No, but it’s important enough to send the CIA to get it.” When their jaws drop, I remember I forgot to mention the part Dolly played in all this.

“So, wait.” The private detective's brows crease as he studies the fifty-ish woman. “She’s with the agency? No way.”

Slate’s frown deepens. “For them to risk working on US soil, it must be massive.”

“And your wife just tossed it out the window? Holy Jesus, lord, have mercy. That was a bold move.” The ex-SEAL sounds impressed, but I’m not.

I’m worried as fuck. “I’ll give up the location before I let anyone lay hands on her.”

Lilac, her head on his lap, opens her eyes. She had been so quiet I forgot she was there. “You won’t have to. Follow my lead.”

A second later, she bends at the waist. Holy fuck, she screams so loud everyone rushes to her side. “Ow, ow, ow. Oh my God, the baby is coming. I need an ambulance. Now!”

Sam scampers over to where our guards sit outside the iron bars. “Please, you have to call for help. You’re survivalists. You must have a midwife.”

The twentyish blond man, an ex-Marine judging from the anchor on his forearm, scratches under his armpits. “I d-don’t know. Armageddon wasn’t supposed to happen for years.”

Blake, Jack’s lovely shrink, rises, walks toward the front, and speaks slowly and steadily. “Listen to me. There was no EMP pulse. It was all a ruse. We are not at the end of days. Lewis blocked your phones, turned off the power, then killed the internet. It would be easy to pull off. You’ve been duped.”

While they argue, I motion to the guys. “Block me from their view.”

Free from the guards’ eyes, I take a deep breath. Ignoring the plastic cutting into my wrists, I open my elbows behind my back to make a hoop. One knee at a time, I shift my weight forward to step back into the circle. With my hands in front of me, I lift high and snap the plastic apart over my knee.

As I rub my palms, a door slams, and footsteps sound. Gliding in on a breeze of cheap pine soap, Lewis arrives.

Smiling, he gives our guard a fatherly pat on the back. “At ease, soldier. Go outside and join the others defending our homes.”

“Owwww. The baby is coming.” Lilac, God bless her soul, takes her screams up a notch, giving me time to clasp my hands behind my back.

Her performance is so believable that her stoic husband pales. The nut-job leader, however, remains unmoved.

He points to the older sentry, who has remained seated throughout this ordeal. “You. Open the cage.”

Eyes on the madman, the soldier stands, grabs the keyring off the wall, then unlocks the cell. If given more time, I would suspect he could become our ally.

While all this happens, I lean toward my wife. “If they torture me, say nothing. I can take it.”

Swallowing hard, she nods. “Same goes for me.”

Fuck no. Not happening.

Now inside our cell, Lewis reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a messy stack of hundred-dollar bills along with a gold-handled magnifying glass. “I’ll give you one hour to find the dot. Afterward, I will kill one of your friends, every hour upon the hour, until you have found it.”

“You need to cut me free.” Gwen turns, Lewis clicks his switchblade, and as he saws through her binds, a bang shakes the whole damn mountain.