Hunted for the Holidays
Autor
Deena Alexander
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17,9K
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12
Keeping out of sight is the only way to stay alive. When Shae Evans spots a familiar face at a Christmas pageant, she knows her witness-protection cover has been blown. Six years ago, her testimony put a crime boss away for life, but his vengeful son never stopped looking for her. Fleeing with her daughter, Shae accepts protection from former FBI agent Mason Payne — her child's secret father. Now they're only seconds ahead of the ruthless crime family who want Shae silenced forever. With threats everywhere, will they live to see the New Year?
ONE
Cheers erupted as Gracie Evans, Shae’s five-year-old daughter, smiled at the audience, waved and did a little impromptu dance that had nothing to do with her role as a sheep in the church’s annual Christmas pageant. Her long, dark ponytail swung, and the stage lights made her sapphire eyes sparkle. Some of the older actors glanced at the director, then continued with their lines as Gracie jumped and wiggled, her mischievous grin charming the cheering crowd. Shae applauded loudly with the rest of the families. “Go, Gracie!”
Seconds later, an angel corralled the little girl and guided her to her proper position, and Shae checked her phone camera to be sure it was still recording. As she looked back up, satisfied she hadn’t missed any of the theatrics, her gaze landed on two men dressed in dark suits standing to the side of the auditorium, their expressions harsh as they scanned the spectators rather than watching the action on stage.
No! For just an instant, recognition flared, followed almost immediately by uncertainty. Even if one of them did look familiar, who was to say it was someone from her past? Perhaps she’d met one of these men after relocating to Boggy Meadows. Still...fear flooded her system.
Because if it was someone from before... How could they have found her? They couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible. At least, that was what the marshals had assured her when they’d placed her in the witness protection program six years ago. Besides, Quentin Kincaid was in prison and would be for the rest of his life, thanks in large part to Shae’s testimony. Could he have escaped?
In some part of her mind, she equated the applause and jubilation surrounding her with Gracie and knew her daughter must be drawing attention again, but Shae had missed it, distracted by what could be a death sentence for them both. She refocused the camera on the stage, needing to capture what might be their last moment of normalcy before the past caught up with her. No use. She held her phone up to block her face but marked the men’s progress up the side aisle.
She plastered on a smile, but her cheers caught in her throat, nearly choking her. Her mouth went dry, then her shouts turned internal. She had to get her daughter off that stage and out of there.
Sweat beaded Shae’s brow. She swiped at it with the back of her wrist and glanced at the clock. Run and risk drawing attention? Or stay put until the show ended and mix with the crowd to make her escape?
Maybe the two men had just arrived late and were searching for family members, but then why were the little hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up? The goose bumps racing across her skin had nothing to do with the air-conditioning, of that she had no doubt. As she waited for the pageant to end and the actors to take their bows, Shae planned escape routes and calculated the distance to exits until the curtain was finally dragged closed.
Keeping her head down and face averted behind the bouquet she’d brought Gracie, she slung her oversize bag onto her shoulder, slid into the stream of spectators and started toward the cafeteria, where other parents had already begun to gather.
“Mommy!” Gracie ran toward her, cheeks flushed, grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see? I did a dance on the stage. It was a surprise.”
“It was awesome, honey. I loved it. You were amazing.” Shae reminded herself not to use Gracie’s name in case the men knew it. She forced an answering smile and hugged her daughter close, then handed her the flowers, shielding her as best she could.
“Thank you. They’re so pretty.” Gracie stuck her nose in the bouquet and inhaled deeply.
“Just like you, sweetie.” As Shae kissed her daughter’s head, her gaze skipped to the exits. Only one parent per child was allowed to pick the actors up from the cafeteria, which gave her a brief reprieve. But which way should she go? “Do you have your bag?”
“Uh-huh.” Gracie lifted the sparkly silver duffel bag she’d fallen in love with when she’d spotted it at the holiday fair. “Got it.”
Shae pulled the white sheep costume over Gracie’s head, leaving her in black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, then stuffed the costume they’d worked together on all week into the bag. “All right. Let’s go.”
She hugged Gracie against her leg, keeping an arm wrapped firmly around her so she could hold her close and not chance losing track of her. She watched for trouble as they inched through the doorway. With so many people milling about, actors stopping in the lobby to meet up with the rest of their families and take pictures, and a small crowd already headed toward the parking lot in anticipation of getting out ahead of the rush, Shae had lost sight of the men. But the niggle at the base of her neck told her they were still lurking, still searching.
She might not be so on edge if her handler, the woman who’d placed her in the small town of Boggy Meadows, Florida, hadn’t recently been killed in a car crash nearby. According to the news reports, it had been a tragic accident, but Shae wasn’t buying that. Maria Delarosa had had no business in Boggy Meadows unless she’d been trying to reach Shae. To warn her? She had no idea. All she knew was that she had to protect Gracie at all costs, which meant she needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else, as soon as possible. No matter what was going on, their time in Boggy Meadows had come to an end.
“Awesome job, Gracie! Ice cream’s on me.” Reva MacMillan, the director and mom of Gracie’s best friend, Katie, patted Gracie’s back and gestured toward a group of kids. “We’re all meeting up at Jimmie’s.”
“Yay!” Gracie high-fived Katie. “Can we get ice cream, Mommy?”
Shae could only offer a noncommittal grunt. She had no intention of telling anyone she wasn’t going to Jimmie’s with the cast. If her pursuers caught wind of the planned get-together and detoured to the ice cream parlor in search of her, it might give her a couple of extra minutes to gather a few necessities and run. She was already compiling in her head a list of things she had to pack and kicking herself for not keeping their flight bags up-to-date. Gracie had probably grown two sizes since she’d last filled the bags with clothes. Oh, well, they could buy what they needed once they got away.
“Mommy!” Gracie yanked her hand, staring at her with a frustrated exasperation that told Shae she’d already called her more than once.
“Huh? What, sweetie?” Shae scanned the parking lot as they finally stepped out into the muggy Florida night.
“I said, can Katie come in our car to get ice cream?”
With both girls staring hopefully, and no good excuse to say no, Shae faltered.
“Mo-ommy.” Gracie frowned. “Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.” Shae braced herself for the pout. “Katie can’t ride with us tonight, hon. I’m sorry, but I need to make a stop. We’ll see you later, okay, Katie?”
Katie sent Shae a confused scowl before taking Reva’s hand.
The two girls had become close, despite Shae’s reluctance, and often spent afternoons at the park together and weekends playing soccer and attending faith formation. If it had been up to Shae, Gracie would have remained home all the time, where she could keep an eye on her, keep her safe. But Gracie, ever the social butterfly, had other ideas, and Shae did want her to have a normal life.
With that, she urged Gracie toward the car.
“We’ll see you at Jimmie’s, Katie!” Shae called out loud enough to be overheard if anyone cared to listen.
A dark sedan turned into the lot, battling its way upstream against the outgoing tide of cars.
Her heart thundered. She had to get out of there without being seen or any chance of escape would be gone. And not only would these men kill her and her daughter, they wouldn’t hesitate to take out the whole crowd of innocent bystanders in pursuit of that goal.
Gracie lifted a hand and opened her mouth to call out to a friend.
Shae pulled her closer. “Be quiet, Gracie, and go to the car.”
Gracie’s eyes went wide—Shae never snapped at her—and then she whined, “But, Mom—”
“Shh. Remember cheesemonkey?” As much as she hated to use the secret code word they’d decided upon in case of an emergency, and had hoped to get Gracie out of there without scaring her or making her react in a way that might draw attention, Shae needed her to stop asking questions and move.
Gracie’s steps faltered as she frowned up at Shae. “For real or for practice?”
Tell her the truth or let her maintain a blessed sense of innocence for just a little while longer? Vigilance was more important—which she couldn’t maintain if Gracie didn’t cooperate. She leaned close and whispered, “Real, honey. Just do like we practiced and everything will be fine.”
Gracie pressed closer against Shae’s leg. “Are we still gonna go for ice cream?”
Shae searched for which parking lot exit was least used. If she got caught up in the mess of strolling families and slow-moving vehicles, she’d be an easy target. “Don’t say another word. Just get to the car. Now.”
The dirty look the little girl shot her could have knocked her on her duff, but at least Gracie sulked quietly as she trod beside Shae, her glittery bag thumping against her leg in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in Shae’s skull. And at least she had her head down, making it more difficult to identify her if the men stalking them had pictures. Would they recognize Gracie? Did they even know about her? Probably. But why risk coming after them at a children’s Christmas pageant? Why not grab them at home, where they would be less likely to be interrupted? If they’d managed to find her at the church she attended, surely they knew her address.
Unless their house was already under surveillance by the FBI or the marshals’ service, and the men pursuing her somehow knew it. Had that been what Maria was doing there? Had they left Shae and Gracie in place as bait? Anger welled.
She massaged her temples as a ruse to cover her face and look around. No. She refused to believe Maria would have agreed to that, would have had any part of it without warning Shae. But... Maria was dead. And she had been near Boggy Meadows when she was killed. What if someone with less of a moral compass was calling the shots?
Shae hit the button on her key fob to unlock the doors, then looked around and opened the back door for Gracie. Once her daughter was safely inside, Shae climbed into the driver’s seat, stuck the key in the ignition and hesitated. What if they’d rigged the car with explosives? Maybe it would be safer to flee on foot.
No. She had to stop second-guessing herself. Surely if they’d already rigged the car, they wouldn’t be hanging around the parking lot waiting to get blown up.
She held her breath—God, please don’t let the car explode—and turned the key. No bomb. Well, that was a relief. But that was when she spotted the two men again, weaving between cars, peeking in windows. “Get on the floor, Gracie.”
“Wh-what about my b-booster seat?” The one she’d felt so grown-up moving into.
“Don’t worry about it.” A quick glance in her rearview mirror showed Gracie’s shocked expression. “Cheesemonkey, remember? Get on the floor, pull the blanket from the back seat over you and hide. Do it, Gracie. Now.”
Either the code word or her tone must have gotten through to her daughter that this was no joke, because she slid onto the floor, still clutching her flowers, and pulled the blanket they’d used at the drive-in movie what seemed like a lifetime ago over her head. Shae inched forward into the line of cars exiting the lot.
“M-Mommy?” The shakiness in Gracie’s usually confident voice beat at Shae. “I’m scared.”
“I know, honey, and I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything. I promise.” As soon as I lose these goons and we get on the road.
“Are the storms coming now?”
“What st...?” Oh, right. She’d forgotten Gracie had heard the weather report this morning—possibly severe storms—which had terrified her. But that was the least of Shae’s problems. Florida often had storms, though the meteorologist had said these could bring tornadoes as well, thanks to El Niño. She wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for Gracie’s fear of thunder. But she didn’t have time for that right now. God willing, they’d be long gone from Florida in a few hours and wouldn’t have to worry about any storms. The men trolling the parking lot were a much more immediate concern. “No, baby. No storms.”
“O-okay.” Gracie cried softly beneath the blanket on what was supposed to be such a special night, a night that should have been so filled with joy.
The phone number Shae had committed to memory six years before and had prayed she’d never need ran through her head over and over again, like a mantra. Should she call now? No. She had to stay focused on escape first. The call could be made from home. Even if someone were nearby to help, they’d never make it to her before she got out of the parking lot. Besides, she wasn’t even a hundred percent sure she’d use the number. She was supposed to contact the marshals’ service any time she planned to move, but what good had witness protection done her if Kincaid’s men had found her? What if this was a repeat of the first time a leak somewhere in the FBI had led Kincaid straight to her?
When she finally made her way out of the lot, she resisted the urge to slam her foot down on the gas pedal—barely—but she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they’d rounded two corners and she’d checked her rearview mirror more than a dozen times.
At a stop sign, she twisted around and said, “You can get up now, Gracie.”
The little girl peered from beneath the blanket, glanced around and sniffed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Where should she start? She should have had plenty of time to talk to Gracie about her past. She’d eventually have to tell her in order to keep her safe and make sure she stayed alert when she went out alone, but she should have had years before that became a concern. How did you explain to a five-year-old that bad men were trying to kill them?
Gracie crawled into her booster seat and sulked.
And Shae took the coward’s way out and said nothing. Instead, myriad questions ricocheted around her head. Was she being paranoid? Or had someone actually found her? Certainly, there could be another reason two men in suits were scanning the crowd at a children’s pageant, then peering in car windows throughout the parking lot. Just because one of them might have looked familiar didn’t necessarily mean they were dangerous. Even if Maria Delarosa had been killed. But she couldn’t come up with any other explanation, except...
She’d been found, which should have been impossible. But Kincaid’s men had done it before, during the trial. She’d been forced to flee the safe house they’d arranged for her when one of the FBI agents charged with protecting her had betrayed them, another had been killed and another, the one who mattered to her more than anyone else, had gone missing.
Gone rogue? Gotten killed? Turned dirty? No one she’d spoken to knew.
But he’d disappeared after a yearlong relationship and one night of passion—a night Shae couldn’t bring herself to regret, despite the outcome, because it had given her Gracie, her reason for living. Clearly God had forgiven her that moment of weakness since He’d blessed her with such an amazing daughter. Now, if only He’d protect her.
Shae took the turn into her driveway too fast, hit the button to open the garage door, waited impatiently as the door lumbered open and shot inside the instant it cleared her roof level. She debated leaving the door open so she could escape quickly, then decided to close it. Better if no one saw her packing up the car. She could always back through the garage door if necessary.
“Go straight in the house, dump your bag out on the floor and stuff whatever is most important to you inside, just like we practiced, okay?” Shae swung the car door open then turned to stare at her trembling daughter. “Gracie, listen to me. Everything will be okay. I will explain everything to you, I promise, but for now, you have to trust me and do as I say, exactly as I say, immediately.”
“But, Mommy, I—”
“Gracie, please!”
Gracie nodded and opened her door, then grabbed the bag from the floor.
Shae walked beside her into the house and paused to listen in the doorway. Silence. “Go, now.”
She lifted the phone on her way through the kitchen and followed Gracie to her room. Everything seemed to be in order. Even though she knew she wasn’t handling the situation well, she couldn’t seem to get her emotions under control. For years she’d kept to herself and worked as an IT tech from home, but then Gracie had started school and wanted to play sports, make friends, sing in the church choir. Shae should have known better. And now her daughter was in danger because Shae hadn’t kept a low enough profile.
She dialed the number, listened to it ring...and ring. That wasn’t right. Someone was supposed to be available at all times in case of an emergency, in case she was discovered. She disconnected and tried again. Nothing. Her breath came in shallow gasps. It would be okay. She’d contemplated not calling anyway, so maybe it was for the best no one answered. Maybe God was leading her elsewhere.
She hurried to Gracie’s bedroom to check on her, and her heart shattered when her daughter picked up the stuffed bunny she’d stopped sleeping with a year ago and hugged it close as she filled her bag with her most prized possessions.
Shae left her to it and went to her own room. She grabbed the two flight bags, dug through one for the handgun, took the bullets from the locked safe in her closet and loaded the weapon. Then she stuck it into the waistband of her shorts and shrugged a sweatshirt over it before dropping the bags beside the door to the garage. All of her important documents were already stashed in waterproof cases inside the waterproof bag, as well as a good amount of cash she’d saved over the years. “Gracie, let’s go.”
Gracie emerged from the hallway, her bag and Mr. Cuddles clutched against her chest.
“Oh, baby, I—”
A car door slammed right outside the house, cutting her off.
“Get down. Hide. Now! And remember cheesemonkey. Every single thing we practiced.”
Gracie scrambled beneath the Christmas tree in the corner, trampling packages, then peered between the branches.
Shae grabbed a pen and paper from her desk, scribbled the phone number down, and shoved the paper into Gracie’s hand. With no time for more than a quick reassurance, Shae backed toward the door. “If anything happens to me, you run to Katie’s house. Do you understand me?”
The doorbell rang.
Gracie’s gaze shot to the door and she nodded, teeth chattering, eyes wide.
“When you get there...” Three houses down with two possible killers on her heels. And now she was bringing this mess onto someone else, someone who had only ever been kind to them, who’d become a friend. “You hide until Miss Reva gets home, then tell her to call that number and tell whoever answers what happened. She should tell them who you are and that you need help. Okay?”
“Uh...huh...”
An insistent pounding rattled the front door. “Avery!”
Shae’s blood ran to ice as she stared deeply into her daughter’s brilliant blue eyes, then yanked the handgun from her waistband. No one should know that name. She’d shed it six years ago when she’d become Shae Evans. “Get down!”
Despite her shocked expression when she caught sight of the weapon, Gracie crouched lower.
Hand shaking wildly, Shae aimed the gun at the door just as it splintered beneath a forceful kick.
Mason Payne kicked Avery Bennett’s front door again. No. Wait. No longer Avery—she was Shae now, Shae Evans. He had to remember that.
He pressed his ear against the door and listened for any sound, praying he’d made it in time to save her. Her handler had been killed close by in what was no accident, considering her brake line had been cut. He could only conclude she’d been trying to reach Shae and that her cover had been blown.
Either way, whether Shae forgave him for walking away from her six years ago or not, he was going to have to convince her to let him get her to a safe house. If she was half as stubborn as he remembered, he had a battle ahead of him. That was okay, though. He’d fight whatever battle it took to see her safe, and then he’d leave her in peace and continue his mission.
The door splintered beneath his next kick. He reached through the hole he’d made, unlocked the dead bolt and shoved the door open, weapon drawn.
And there she stood, like a warrior, every bit as beautiful and courageous as he remembered her. Long, dark hair hung in waves, framing a determined expression. Eyes the color of cocoa and wide with fear stared back at him, hands shaking as she aimed a handgun directly at his head. She took his breath away.
He stood perfectly still, removed his finger from the trigger of his own weapon and slowly lifted his hands as the six years since he’d last seen her melted away as if no time had passed. He shouldn’t have left, should have at least tried to explain the guilt that had tortured him over his partner’s death, the pain he’d felt that one of his own associates could have betrayed them...betrayed Shae. He should have been honest that Zac Jameson had come to him with information that Shae was still in danger, should have told her he was going to try to infiltrate the Kincaid organization in an effort to keep her safe.
But instead, Mason had gone undercover with Jameson Investigations, obsessed with getting to the truth, no matter the cost. And later, when he realized he probably wasn’t going to find the answers he sought, he’d maintained his undercover identity to at least help those he could.
“Av—Uh... I mean, Shae.” Nothing could have prepared him for the tidal wave of emotion the sight of her would evoke. He’d thought he’d mastered his feelings, had turned them off somewhere along the line in an effort to immerse himself in his undercover persona, but now the weight of them threatened to crush him. He inhaled and ruthlessly shoved everything aside—he had to if he was going to save her. He took a step toward her, needing to gain her trust again somehow, and quickly. No easy task, if the suspicion marring her expression was any indication. “Please, there’s no time to explain. I need you to lower the weapon and come with me.”
“M-Mason?” Her voice shook, the question more of a what are you doing here than a lack of recognition, though he’d certainly changed in the years since she’d last seen him.
Instead of the short, regulation haircut she’d remember, he now boasted a tail, tied at his nape and hanging between his shoulder blades. And where he’d always been clean-shaven, his undercover persona carefully maintained a five o’clock shadow. There had been no time to change his appearance once he’d found out she was in danger. Besides, he was going to have to go back under once he saw her to safety. “Yeah.”
“What are you doing here? What happened to you? Wh-where have you been?”
“I’ll explain everything, I promise, but there’s no time right now. We have to get out of here.” He took another step toward her, then froze when she gripped the weapon tighter and took a step back. “Shae, please.”
Her gaze shifted past him, and he whirled to check for threats. And stopped short when he spotted a little girl peering back at him from behind a Christmas tree trimmed with colorful homemade ornaments. She couldn’t be more than four or five...
Agony plowed into his chest. He tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t. Mason had thought he couldn’t feel any more than when he’d lain eyes on Shae again, but the sight of the child sent waves of pain crashing through him, along with a myriad of other emotions he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, never mind name. Because that child was the spitting image of her mother, except for one telling feature—his own electric-blue eyes staring back at him.
She had to be his daughter. But she couldn’t be. How could he not have known about her?
“Shae, I...” What could he say? He’d abandoned her while she’d carried his child. What kind of man would do that? But he hadn’t known. He’d taken off right after the night they’d spent together, a reckless moment of celebrating life after everything had gone so horribly out of control. If he had known about the child, would he have left?
“Mason...” Tears tracked down Shae’s cheeks.
Tires squealed, entirely too close, and dragged him back to reality. He peered out the door as a silver sedan rounded the corner and barreled toward them. “All right... It’s all right. We have to go. Now!”
Shae was already moving. She grabbed two bags from beside the door. “Gracie, grab your bag. Hurry. Cheesemonkey.”
A nickname? No, a code word. Shae was savvy as ever. The little girl sobbed softly as she hugged a bag and what looked like a stuffed rabbit against her. Recognition almost drove him to his knees. He remembered the rabbit with the big floppy ears, had picked it up in the hospital gift shop and given it to Shae the night before he’d left her, the night he’d been betrayed, the night his partner had been killed. Had he known even then that he was going to leave? Had he planned all along to go undercover in search of answers?
Shae hustled Gracie past him.
He had to get himself together. “Wait!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and stepped in front of her daughter. His daughter?
The sedan skidded to a stop in front of the house. It was too late to make it to his vehicle parked out front. “Where’s your car?”
“In the garage.”
“Go.” He gestured with his gun, away from the front door, then followed as she ran through the kitchen and into the garage.
She flung the car’s back door open and threw her bags on the floor as Gracie climbed in, then strapped her into the booster seat and slammed the door shut behind her daughter, hopped into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt.
Mason slid behind the wheel. “Do you have a remote in the car?”
She flipped the driver’s side visor down to show him.
He shifted into Reverse and hit the button. “Get down.”
Gracie hunched as low as she could in the seat, and Shae slid down in the passenger seat and peered out the side window.
He slammed on the gas the instant the garage door rose high enough to clear the car’s roof.
“They’re coming.” Shae braced herself against the dashboard. “They have guns.”
The car rocked as he barely slowed to shift into Drive, then punched it. The tires spun, then gripped and shot the car forward. “Hold on.”
He’d have only seconds to lose their attackers. If they reached the vehicle before he could get out of sight, they’d be harder to shake. He didn’t recognize the two men, but that didn’t mean anything. Mason had infiltrated the Kincaid organization six years ago, after its leader, Quentin Kincaid, had gone to prison—thanks to Shae’s testimony. She’d been Kincaid’s personal assistant, at least for the legal front of his business, and when she’d realized what other business he was in, she’d used her access to uncover a treasure trove of information the feds used to bury him.
But even from prison, he was in charge, using his fairly incompetent son, Sebastian, as a puppet to continue running the family business. While Mason had managed to have many of their lower-level thugs arrested and convicted, he’d never been able to make it to the top. If these were upper-level hit men, he wouldn’t know them, and Shae was in even more trouble than he’d thought. On a brighter note, if he didn’t know them, they wouldn’t know him, either, and his cover wouldn’t be compromised.
He skidded around a corner, fishtailed and regained control.
“They’re following.” Shae swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror told him they weren’t going to make it out of there without a chase. So be it. He pressed down on the gas pedal, increasing his already reckless speed through the residential neighborhood’s narrow streets, and took another corner practically on two wheels.
The vehicle behind them sped up and closed in.
Mason hit the brakes.
Gracie squealed.
“Hold on to something!” He hit the gas again, lurching forward as the car in pursuit slowed.
Shae shifted up higher in her seat, grabbed the handle above the door, and looked over her shoulder. “Gracie, hold on tight, baby.”
“Mommy?”
“It’s okay, honey. I’ll explain everything once we get somewhere safe.” She looked at Mason, chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. “This is Mason, and he’ll keep us safe. If anything happens to me, you listen to him. Understand?”
“Uh...huh.” The little girl started to cry, and the soft sobs tore at Mason’s heart.
He wanted desperately to pull over, to reassure her he’d keep her safe, to meet the daughter he’d never known existed until moments ago. Daughter. The word sounded so foreign in his mind. And yet, he’d apparently been a father for years. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Instead, he kept one eye firmly riveted to the road in front of them and the other on the rearview mirror.
Shae reached back between the seats for her daughter.
Mason refrained from admonishing her, from telling her if he had to stop short, her arm would probably snap. The child clearly needed comfort, so he’d just have to be careful not to stop short. Fat chance, with their pursuers hugging his bumper.
“Watch out for the—”
He hit a speed table full on, jolting the car so hard his teeth snapped closed on his tongue. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He’d forgotten about them, and in the darkness, with the reflections of Christmas lights dotting the neighborhood, he hadn’t seen it. “How many more?”
“Uh...” Shae closed her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like counting under her breath. “There’s a total of four along the main road out of the development, so three more.”
“Hold on.” He clamped his teeth together to keep from biting his tongue again but didn’t slow when he came to the next one. Instead, at the last minute, he skirted around it on someone’s lawn, barely missing a blow-up reindeer and losing precious seconds. Did it matter, though? He wasn’t going to lose their pursuers inside the development, nor was he going to stop and give them the opportunity to attack. Considering the situation, they were pretty much at a stalemate. Cars parked along the narrow streets and the occasional car driving in the opposite direction kept them from flanking him, so he slowed for the next two speed tables.
The driver behind him did the same.
Mason barely eased off the gas as he hooked a right turn out of the development, not because he had any clue where he was going but to keep from having to wait for traffic. He accelerated, passed two cars on the left and barely missed clipping the bumper of the car in front as he nipped back into the lane just in time to avoid a head-on collision.
Hindered by oncoming traffic, his pursuers bounced along the shoulder as they passed the same two cars on the right then tried to inch alongside him.
He swerved, tapping their car and forcing them to back off or tumble into the swampy ditch bordering the road. “They’re not going to stop chasing us, and they have no regard for civilian casualties. Is there a more isolated road around here? Somewhere with less traffic and less chance for collateral damage?”
Gracie whimpered from the back seat.
Mason pushed the sound out of his mind. He had to if he was going to think clearly. He needed an open stretch to increase his lead, then some way to ditch them.
“Make the next right. If you take that all the way to the end, it turns into a dirt road.”
A dirt road was risky—too dry and he’d be more likely to lose control and spin out, too wet and he could easily get stuck in the muck. “What else?”
She looked at him, held his gaze for the instant he could take his eyes off the road and shook her head. “Any other direction and we’re headed into either residential developments, some of which only have one way in and out, or commercial areas with traffic lights at every intersection.”
Since their pursuers had no problem driving recklessly, he assumed they wouldn’t blink twice at walking up to the car at a stoplight and shooting all three of them. That was Kincaid’s style. And if they worked for Sebastian Kincaid, as he suspected, they’d never risk his wrath by returning empty-handed after a hit had been ordered. Quentin was ruthless, but his son was another matter entirely. In addition to being incompetent, the man was mercilessly cruel, seemed to enjoy hurting others in the most brutal manner he could devise. Sebastian was a weapon Quentin Kincaid aimed at anyone who crossed him. It was one of the reasons Mason had never made lieutenant—while he’d been willing to do enough to maintain his cover, he couldn’t condone what would be required to move up in the organization. The dirt road began to look more appealing.
He hit the brakes, spun the wheel to the right and took the turn. He fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at it long enough to dial the most recent number.
Zac Jameson picked up halfway through the first ring. “Did you get to her?”
“I have her, but we’re in trouble.”
“Where?”
With a dead calm he didn’t feel, despite years of practice, Mason relayed their position and the direction they were headed.
“Sending backup.” And with that, Zac disconnected.
“Who was that?” Shae stared at him, her eyes filled with a distrust that served as a reminder of how horribly he’d failed her, failed their child.
But what could he have been to either of them? A man so engrossed in his own vendetta he’d had nothing left to give? They’d probably been better off without him. Until they’d been found, of course.
“Zac Jameson. I’ve worked with him for years, and he’s a friend.”
“I hope he’s a better friend than the last one you trusted.”
The words struck their target like an arrow straight through his heart. “I’m sorry, Shae. I don’t know what else to say, except to promise I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. I’ll tell you everything, but I need you to trust me right now so we can get out of this mess.”
She checked the side-view mirror, glanced at Gracie trembling in her booster seat, then dropped her head back and sighed. “I’m sorry, Mason. That was uncalled-for.”
“But true enough, so don’t worry about it.” He hit the dirt road, only sliding a little, then increased his speed.
Shae closed her eyes and surprised him by mumbling a prayer. He hadn’t remembered her sharing his own faith, so strong back then, before betrayal and death had hardened him, waning the longer he’d been undercover without finding answers. Perhaps it was time to turn back to it.
Metal crunched against metal as their pursuers slammed their back end, shoving them forward.
Mason increased his speed. Marshy land and murky water bordered them on both sides, cypress trees dotted the water’s edge and underbrush grew thicker as they moved deeper into the swamp. Black clouds gathered, darkening the already pitch-black night as the storms Zac had warned him of moved closer. They had some time left, but not much.
Shae braced her hands against the dashboard. “You have to slow for the bridge.”
“Where?”
“About a mile from here. An old wooden bridge.”
“Is there any other way around?”
“No.”
Kicking himself would do no good. He’d barely had time to reach Shae after he’d found out she was in trouble, hadn’t been able to scope the area in search of an escape route. Now, he’d just have to make the best of the situation and hope Zac got help to them in time.
He rounded a curve, and the bridge, if you could call it that, loomed ahead of him. The wooden structure had seen better days. The railings had long ago begun to rot, probably along with most of the other boards. Shae was right; he would have to slow down.
He checked the rearview mirror. Their pursuers still clung like glue, but they’d eased off a little, no doubt assuming he’d made a mistake heading into the swamp and they’d have time to come alongside them if and when the narrow road widened.
The joints creaked and moaned as he hit the bridge too fast, bounced, then slammed on his brakes when another vehicle skidded to a stop, blocking the far end of the bridge. Hope tried to flare, but he tamped it down quickly enough. If Zac’s help had reached them, they’d have waited until after Mason crossed before blocking the bridge.
They were trapped.
He slammed the shifter into Reverse, twisted around to see behind him and hit the gas.
The other driver accelerated in a game of chicken Mason had no hope of winning.
Mason tried to maneuver around him on the narrow structure, might even have made it if their pursuer hadn’t yanked the wheel at the last minute and hit them from the side.
Mason’s head cracked hard against the driver’s side window as they spun. Darkness encroached in his peripheral vision. The car hit the railing. With one loud groan, the rail gave way and they were airborne, plunging toward the black water below.
