Deceived (2 page)

“Elijah,” the senator gasped, his chest heaving in panicked breaths. “They'll come for him.”

Luke shook his head, not understanding the man's ramblings, and pressed the heel of his hand against the wound in the senator's left shoulder. “Hang in there, Senator.”

“That bullet wasn't for Richter.” The senator covered Luke's hand with his own, grasping it so hard Luke's bones ached. “Please—they know. They'll come for Eli.”

Luke frowned and was opening his mouth to ask who the hell Eli was when he heard the limo's tires squeal just outside the boathouse. “That's our ride,” he mumbled instead, grabbing the senator up and pulling his arm over his shoulders. He half-carried the guy out of the broken-down door, keeping low, not surprised as bullets rained down on them, pinging off of the limo. Maddie returned fire, offering what cover she could as Luke shoved the senator into the back and dove in after him.

“They're in!” Maddie yelled, banging on the divider.

The limo instantly lurched forward, the tires squealing and throwing gravel into the air as it sped away.

Maddie dropped to her knees at her father's side and lifted his suit jacket to examine the wound. “We've got to get him to a hospital.”

Luke grabbed his duffel bag and tore open the zipper, grabbing the first shirt he saw and wadding it up. Blake cried out when Luke pressed the shirt to his wound. “Hold this,” Luke ordered Maddie. When she took over, he rummaged through his bag, quickly locating the field first aid kit.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Blake?” he muttered, waving Maddie back from her father. He tore open the senator's shirt and quickly assessed the damage, checking for an exit wound. The bullet must still be inside him. Luke tore open a packet of quick-clotting powder and poured it onto the wound to slow the bleeding, ignoring the senator's pained cry when the chemicals made contact.

Luke placed a thick gauze pad on top of the hole in the senator's chest near his shoulder and pressed down hard with a glance at his watch to mark the time. “Who else knew you were meeting us here, Hal?”

“Jesus Christ,” Maddie hissed at Luke. “Do you really think now is the best time to question him?”

Luke met her gaze, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “Might be the only chance we get. Unless
you
want to start talkin' for him.”

The divider window came down at Luke's angry outburst. “Lay off, Rogan.”

“Bullshit!” Luke shot back. “I don't know what kind of grab-ass side action you've got going on with the senator's daughter, Jack—”

“Hey, screw you!” Maddie snapped, talking over his tirade. “My relationship to Jack is none of your goddamned business!”

“—but somebody just took out the guy we were sent to get a confession from,” Luke continued, ignoring her. “And then the senator tells me the bullet was meant for him and not Richter. So somebody want to tell me what
the fuck
is going on?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder at Maddie, who immediately looked away and turned her attention to her father. “Dad, who do you think shot you?”

The senator's face was growing dangerously pale and his eyes were losing focus, but Luke could see him trying to hang on. “They've been hounding me for months,” he panted. “Threatening violence if I didn't give them the locations.”

“Locations of what?” Luke asked.

The senator's gaze shifted to meet his. “The treasures.”

Senator Hal Blake wasn't just a friend to the Alliance; he was one of them, one of their most loyal operatives embedded in the government to help guard the freedoms and liberties that the Templars were sworn to protect. He was also one of the Guardians of the various treasure caches that funded the Templars' operations. If he was getting threats of any kind, why the hell hadn't he said something about it?

Luke shook his head, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. Maybe Blake
had
said something about it—that kind of shit was way above Luke's pay grade. Somehow one of the most loyal Templars in the Alliance had been compromised. And they needed to find out how. Stat.

Luke lifted his eyes and briefly met Jack's in the rearview mirror. “End of conversation, Jack,” he warned with a significant glance toward Maddie. Then he added the code phrase they used when there were civilians in the room. “
Silence is golden.
”

Maddie met his gaze. “Speech is silver.”

Luke's eyes narrowed. She'd given the answering response, a quote from Thomas Carlyle's poem. She knew. She knew all about them—or at least about her father's involvement with them, which made him wonder exactly what the hell else she knew. It wasn't uncommon for the offspring of a Templar to be brought into the fold at some point. But considering the knowing glances between Jack and Maddie, Luke was beginning to wonder who exactly had been her source.

“Who's Elijah?” he demanded.

“My nephew,” Maddie gasped. “How do you know about him?”

“I don't,” Luke assured her. “Your dad said they'd be coming for Elijah.”

“Why would they want Eli?” Maddie breathed, clearly confused. “He's just a kid.”

“I thought he'd be safe,” Blake murmured. “I didn't think they'd ever find out where I'd hidden it. . . .”

“Hidden what?” Maddie pressed. “Dad, what did you hide?” When the senator didn't respond, her gaze darted between Jack and Luke. “What does he mean?”

Jack shook his head. “No idea, love. There are only a handful of people in the Alliance who know anything about where the treasures are hidden—the highest-ranking commanders and a few trusted
confreres
. None of the rest of us know anything about where or how they're hidden.”

Luke ran a hand through his thick black hair and muttered a curse. “Well, apparently our pal Hal thought he could trust a fucking
kid
with the information.”

“Hey!” Maddie snapped. “How
dare
you—”

“He's right, Maddie,” Jack interjected mildly, cutting across her anger. “I don't know what your father was thinking, love. He completely disregarded protocol and has jeopardized us all. Hal isn't privy just to the treasures but to our covers, current ops—perhaps even private residences. We know a Guardian will transfer his knowledge of the treasures, but he could've shared the other information as well.”

“A lot of guys could die if we don't get a lid on this and fast,” Luke added.

“Dad would never put anyone at risk unnecessarily,” Maddie insisted.

“Then we need to get to your nephew before anyone else does,” Luke told her. “Where is he?”

Maddie sent a guarded glance in her father's direction, her eyes brimming with tears as he slipped into unconsciousness. “They're in a little town in Oregon about seven hours from here.”

Luke nodded. “I'll call it in,” he announced, fishing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

“Let me,” Jack insisted. “I'll report in after we get Hal to the hospital, let Will know what's going on.”

Luke met Jack's gaze again in the rearview mirror, noticing his brother-in-arms' guilty expression, wondering why the hell he wasn't willing to immediately call in their redefined objective to their commander. There was only one reason he could think of. “Commander Asher doesn't know what we're up to, does he?”

“It's my fault,” Maddie defended. “I asked my dad to procure Jack's help under the radar. I'm sorry—I had no idea it would go down like this.”

Luke chuckled bitterly as he pulled a hand over his face, working to keep his anger in check. This was fucking awesome. He'd just gotten his ass shot at as a personal favor to Jack's . . .
whatever
.

“We'll need guards on the senator,” Jack informed him. “And Maddie isn't safe either. We'll need to get them both back to headquarters in Chicago. I'll handle things here until we can move them.”

“And the kid and his parents?” Luke prompted, already guessing at the answer.

Jack shifted a little in the front seat. “I'm going to need you to bring them into protective custody.”

“It's only Sarah and Eli,” Maddie added. “Sarah's husband was killed in a car accident three years ago.”

Luke clenched his jaw, not liking this plan one damned bit. “This is more Ian's thing, brother,” he pointed out to Jack, referring to Ian Cooper, another of his brethren who was a former U.S. Marshal and had a personality far better suited to babysitting duty.

“Ian's on his way back from the Sudan, and you bloody well know it,” Jack replied evenly. “Take the jet that's on standby and get your ass to Oregon to retrieve the woman and her son. Is that clear?”

Luke bit back his retort, not wanting to tangle with his friend. Jack was the one who'd recruited him, and he'd been the first—and pretty much the only one—in the Alliance to attempt to befriend him when he'd come on board. But regardless of their personal relationship, Luke had only been with the organization for five years compared to Jack's fifteen and wasn't gonna win this one. He bit back the snarl of rebellion that came to mind and said instead, “I'll need an address.”

Sarah Scoffield stood at the door of her classroom, ushering her students out with a smile and the occasional hug. Their happy chatter and constant enthusiasm for everything at this age never ceased to amaze her. She wished she had even a modicum of their untainted optimism.

“Bye, Mrs. Scoffield,” they chirped one after another, their sweet little voices music to her ears.

She loved her job teaching first grade in Bakersville, welcomed the opportunity to shape young minds and help them grow, to foster that sense of wonder and belief in the magic of possibilities. The world would leave them jaded and cynical soon enough. A lot of these kids were the sons and daughters of farmers and ranchers, so they'd already experienced the mysteries of life and death, understood that all life eventually came to an end. But at the tender age of six or seven, they still saw the beauty in the world around them and could give the darkness just a passing glance.

Sarah felt a tug at her long denim skirt and looked down at the little girl with blond curls and wide blue eyes grinning up at her. “Yes, Mary Rose?”

Little Mary Rose pointed to a tiny gap in her mouth. “I just lost a tooth!”

Sarah gasped dramatically. “No way! Just now?”

Mary Rose nodded enthusiastically and held out her palm, where the little tooth lay. “Well, let's make sure you take it home for the tooth fairy,” Sarah laughed, going to her supply cabinet and taking out a box of thimble-sized plastic treasure chests that she kept on hand for just this sort of occasion. “You don't want to miss the chance to put it under your pillow.”

Mary Rose selected a pink chest and helped Sarah secure the tooth. “Do you think the tooth fairy will remember to come to my house tonight?” she asked. “Or will she be at the Fall Festival, too?”

Sarah grinned and guided Mary Rose toward the door. “I'm sure that even if she drops by the festival for a while, she'll still find time to stop at your house and leave you a little something. Just be sure to tell your mom and dad so they can make sure your tooth is under your pillow.”

Mary Rose nodded solemnly. “Good idea.”

“I do have them now and then,” Sarah chuckled, gently scooting the girl out the door so she wouldn't miss her bus. “Now, have a great weekend. I'll see you Monday!”

Sarah was still grinning when her son, Eli, entered the room, the strong resemblance he bore to his father already at the age of eleven breaking her heart a little. It'd been three years since Greg's death and the pain had finally started to lessen a little with each day, but every time she looked at Eli, it came rushing back in a quick stab right in the center of her chest. The boy had her dark eyes, but everything else about him was his father, from the unruly dark hair to the arch of his brows to the hint of a dimple in his chin.

“Hey there, pumpkin,” she greeted him, gathering him into her arms for a hug and ruffling his hair when she released him. “Did you have a good day?”

“Mom!” he admonished with a huff, smoothing his hair back down. “I told you not to do that. I'm not five anymore.”

Sarah repressed a grin and held up her hands. “Sorry. Can't help myself. It's a mom thing.”

“So, we're still going to the festival tonight, right?” Eli asked as Sarah went about the room, tidying up.

“Yep,” Sarah said with a grin, looking forward to it as much as he was. “I promised to work at the school's booth for a while, but then we can walk around together.”

Eli's face fell. “But I told Hunter I'd meet him at the haunted house.”

Sarah grabbed an eraser and started clearing the white board of the day's lesson. “Well, I guess you'll have to tell him you were mistaken. I'm not comfortable with you wandering around on your own, Eli. I'm going with you. End of discussion.”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you
serious?
Mom, all the other guys get to go around by themselves. How come I can't? I'm eleven years old—I'm not a baby!”

“I know you're not, Eli.” Sarah glanced at her phone as she was tossing it into her purse. Noticing she'd missed a couple of calls from her sister, she made a mental note to return her sister's call in the morning, then grabbed her bag and gestured toward the door.

“Then why can't I go to the festival with my friends?” he demanded.

Sarah took a moment to lock her classroom door before answering. The truth was, she knew Eli was one of the most responsible kids around, that he'd never given her any reason not to trust him. And he was scary smart—another trait he'd inherited from his history professor father, who could've made even IRS tax guidelines fascinating—and was wise well beyond his years.

The rational side of her knew she'd have to let go sooner or later and trust that Eli would make the right decisions when he wasn't with her. But after losing her husband, the thought of losing Eli too . . .

“Look, kiddo,” she said on a sigh. “I know you're old enough to hang out with your friends, but I'd feel better if you hung out with me instead, okay? Don't roll your eyes at me, Elijah Scoffield—I'm serious.”

“Mom,” Eli said, giving her a sardonic look, “we live in Bakersville. Nothing
ever
happens here.”

* * *

Luke pulled up to the quaint yellow Queen Anne, complete with white picket fence. The place was so freaking cute he was afraid he'd go into sugar shock if he stuck around too long. Good thing he was gonna tell them to get their shit and get the hell in the car. Of course, he'd say please
.
No need to be an asshole about it.

He climbed the porch steps, the aging wood groaning under his weight. Lamps shone through the window, but when he knocked on the door there was no sound of movement inside. He glanced up and down the street, grunting at how freaking picturesque it was. Old-fashioned streetlamps lined the street, their pale light illuminating the growing darkness on the crisp night. The whole street was deserted. Since it was an unseasonably mild fall night, he'd expected kids to still be playing outside, cars coming and going.
Something
.

“Where the hell is everybody?” he mumbled, turning back to the door and knocking again, louder this time. He was going to be seriously pissed if he'd traveled all this way for nothing.

“No one's home.”

Luke whipped around toward the sound of the voice, his hand instinctively slipping under his jacket to grasp his gun. A man with white hair and a loud cardigan sweater was standing on the sidewalk with his dog—some kind of collie from the looks of it. Luke withdrew his hand and patted his pockets to cover for his reaction. “Can't find my key,” he said, forcing a friendly smile. He jabbed his thumb toward the house. “Know when they'll be back?”

The man shrugged. “No telling. Just about everyone's at the festival downtown. Goes to midnight. You a friend of Mrs. Scoffield?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “She hasn't had many visitors since her husband died a few years back. Funny she's suddenly had so many people stopping by tonight. And you're supposed to have a key? Did you try calling her?”

A hot shot of adrenaline spiked through Luke's blood. “Who else has been here?” Luke demanded, ignoring the old man's questions. “Did he give you a name?”

The man shook his head. “Didn't tell me his name.”

“What'd he look like?”

The man tilted his head to one side, considering the question. “Oh . . . young fella. Nice looking, I guess. I thought maybe Mrs. Scoffield had finally started dating again. Been a few years since her husband passed, after all.”

Luke bounded down the steps. “Did you tell him Sarah was at the festival?”

The man nodded. “Sure. Didn't see the harm in it. Seemed to know a lot about her and little Eli already. Everything okay?”

Luke jogged to his rented Ford Expedition. “What's the quickest way to the festival?”

The man gestured toward the north. “Just follow the main road that way. Can't miss it.”

Luke peeled out of the driveway and sped off down the street, hoping like hell that he got to them in time. He dialed the number Madeleine Blake had given him for her sister, but the call went straight to voicemail just as it had when Maddie had attempted to call earlier in the day. Knowing her sister kept her ringer off when she was at work, Maddie hadn't seemed worried about Sarah's lack of response and had texted Luke a few recent pictures of her sister and nephew. But he was betting whoever else was looking for the woman and her kid had more than that to go on.

Luckily, the old man was right—Luke had no problem recognizing the downtown area. He parked the Expedition in a lot and handed five bucks to the attendant before hurrying toward the center of activity. Hundreds of people milled around, talking and laughing as they celebrated the season.

Strands of yellow lights were draped on all the trees and store fronts, illuminating the dozen or so food booths and carnival games that lined the streets. In an adjacent field, carnival rides had been set up and were bustling with activity, the bright flashing lights and upbeat music blaring out of the speakers at various rides conflicting with one another and creating a disorienting cacophony of sound that put Luke's teeth on edge. But the aroma of artery-clogging goodness in the form of corn dogs, funnel cake, and pretty much every kind of meat on a stick made Luke's mouth water, reminding him he hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. And the sweet tang of hot spiced cider about did him in. But as soon as he felt the pang of hunger, it vanished. His focus was on getting to the Scoffields before whoever the hell else had been looking for them.

Luke shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders a little, trying to blend in but drawing curious stares from several people he passed. Unfortunately, none of those faces belonged to Sarah Scoffield or her son.

How the hell was he supposed to find them among all these people? They could be anywhere. And for all he knew, they'd already left and headed home.

He groaned inwardly, liking this mission less and less. He needed backup. If he'd had one more set of eyes on the crowd, that would've at least been something. But his partner was in Seattle, pulling strings to protect the senator and his daughter and somehow keep the news of the incident from leaking to the press. And there hadn't been time to try to grab somebody from the Alliance commandery in Seattle or Portland. That's what he'd had to tell his commander a couple of hours ago when Asher had called with the express intent of chewing his ass out for going along with Jack's cluster-fuck of a plan.

That
was a fun conversation. Nothing like getting your balls busted for going along with what you thought were orders and then getting an encore ball-busting for taking on
new
orders without backup. He'd be sure to thank Jack when they all got back to Chicago.

“You look like you could use something warm to drink.”

Luke's head snapped up toward the sound of the voice. Behind the counter of a homemade wooden booth that sported cartoonishly large red apples painted on the front, was a woman so striking Luke actually felt his chest grow tight. Her lips curved into a smile, bringing dimples to her cheeks. Long dark auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, framing the curves of the full breasts beneath the crimson turtleneck she wore. He was so taken aback by her loveliness, it took him a full twenty seconds to realize that he was staring at Sarah Scoffield. Holy hell . . . was it really gonna be that easy?

“Yes, I'm talking to you,” she teased with a laugh, motioning him over. “I guarantee this will be the best apple cider you've ever tasted, and all proceeds go to Bakersville schools. I promise you won't regret it!”

Luke sauntered over, unable to repress a grin. Sarah Scoffield was even more breathtaking the closer he got. And the picture her sister had sent didn't even begin to do her justice. Looking at her standing there smiling at him with those adorable little dimples, her wide dark eyes sparkling, Luke began to think this job might not be so bad after all.

* * *

What the hell was wrong with her?

Sarah wasn't the kind of woman to hit on a complete stranger, and yet here she was flirting mercilessly with the man on the other side of the booth. She'd seen him skulking through the crowd, his height and powerful build making him hard to miss. And that profile—she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a man so heart-stoppingly handsome. And when he'd turned toward her and pegged her with that dark stare of his . . . well, it'd been a long time since she'd felt her heart skip a beat, let alone since she'd felt the other areas of her anatomy sit up and take notice.

As he came toward her, Sarah busied herself filling a paper cup with cider to hide her sudden onset of nerves. By the time she lifted her eyes again, she was able to steady her hands as she handed the cup over.

He took the cup from her, his fingers brushing over hers briefly during the exchange. As he lifted it to his lips, he peered over the edge and took a careful sip. “You're right,” he drawled. “I don't regret it one bit.”

Dear Lord . . . that
voice
! It was deeper than she'd expected and velvety smooth. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and offered him a nervous smile. “I'm Sarah,” she said, extending her hand. He took it in his massive paw and gave it a quick shake, but he didn't immediately release her, continuing to hold her hand gently in his grasp.

“Luke,” he replied. “Can someone fill in for you here, Sarah?”

“I . . . uh . . . I'm supposed to be working here for the full hour. Sorry.” She drew back slightly, but his grip tightened on her fingers, keeping her where she was.