Exit Strategy (25 page)

“It’s handy if you don’t want to make noise and have time to reload. What’s our status? Any casualties?”

They stood beside each other, an oak tree at their backs. Mason slung his crossbow over his shoulder and kept his pistol trained slightly to the right while Buchanan kept his trained slightly to their left. They both kept an eye on the trees around them.

“A few cuts and bumps but so far our team is intact. The tide is turning in our favor. I got three of the bastards. You?”

“Four.”

“Overachiever. We got a handful more when we got here, a few since. It’s hard to find the little cowards. They won’t come out and play face to face. We’ve spotted some of them running away, abandoning ship. Don’t be surprised if you see some of them handcuffed to trees here and there.”

Mason half turned. “Handcuffed to trees?”

Buchanan winced. “That would be Pierce and Logan’s doing. They both brought cuffs and chains with them. They prefer the catch-­and-­release method.” He shrugged. “What can you expect from a chief of police and an FBI agent? They’re really touchy about using lethal force.”

“You have some odd friends.”

“Since one of them is my brother, it’s not like I can dump them. They got the idea when I told them about EXIT’s cleanup crews. They figure Cyprian will have to sweep these woods when this is over so none of the tourists or local LEOs stumble across any evidence that might point back to EXIT. The crew can deal with letting the fellows go, after we’re long gone. You ready to find a few more of these cowards?”

Mason popped the magazine out of his pistol and checked the loading. “I’m almost out of ammo. Been using my bow and knife mostly, to conserve rounds.”

“I’m getting low myself. Ramsey might have some.”

“He’s watching over Sabrina.”

“Good. I wondered where she was. I’m sure Logan has plenty of ammo to go around. He’s the epitome of being overprepared. We’ll have to keep an eye out for him. If we don’t run into him you’ll have to go all Robin Hood on anyone we see. Or we can do some hand-­to-­hand.”

“Either is fine by me. You heard about Ace?”

Buchanan’s jaw hardened. “I’m keeping an eye out for him. I sincerely hope we run into each other.”

“Has anyone gotten Stryker yet?”

“No. He’s like an oiled pig. Keeps slipping away. We’ve only caught glimpses of him here and there, trying to rally his troops. Last I heard he was heading due north, which seems odd since that’s deeper into the mountains and he’ll just be trapped that way.”

Mason stiffened. “North?
Exactly
where was he when you saw him heading in that direction?”

“About five hundred yards southeast of this point. Why?”

Mason did a quick mental calculation of the possible destinations Stryker might have in mind, then swore and took off running.

Buchanan took off after him. “What’s wrong?”

“Stryker’s heading to the cavern.”

“Why do we care about a cavern?”

“That’s where I told Ramsey to take Sabrina.”

S
ABRINA KICKED
ONE
of the rubber rafts against the wall and aimed an irritated glance at Ramsey on the other side of the cavern. “I appreciate that you took the handcuffs off me, but I’d appreciate it even more if you let me out of here. We should both be helping everyone else instead of hiding.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You say that you’re sorry but I don’t see you unlocking the door.”

“No, ma’am. Mason’s orders. I’m to keep you here until it’s safe to go back outside.”

“Can we ditch the
ma’ams
please? If I had to guess, I’m about five years younger than you but you’re making me feel ancient.”

“Yes ma—­ ah . . . Miss Hightower.”

“Sabrina. And why are you taking orders from Mason anyway? Aren’t you an enforcer like him?”

“He’s my best friend. Has been since he joined the army. A lifetime ago, before EXIT. I’d do anything for him.”

She nodded, fully understanding his loyalty. “I’d do anything for him too. I’d probably do it much better if I still had my gun—­which you took—­and if I was out there fighting alongside him.”

“Sorry, m—­ Sabrina. He told me to take your gun or you’d probably shoot me trying to get away. And I’m sure he can fight much better not worrying about you out there in the crossfire,” he reminded her.

She sighed. He had a point. She certainly didn’t want to distract him and get him hurt. She didn’t know how she and Mason had slipped into such an easy relationship so fast. And she had no idea what to expect down the line. All she could hope for was that they survived. Then she’d take everything else one day at a time.

Since there weren’t any chairs, she was about to slide to the floor when a knock sounded on the door.

In the space of a breath, Ramsey’s entire demeanor changed. Instead of the laid-­back, lighthearted rogue he’d been since she’d met him, he was suddenly on full alert, his face grim, his pistol out and aimed at the door.

He motioned for her to back toward the cavern wall. Obviously he didn’t believe that whoever had knocked was Mason. Maybe the two of them had agreed on a specific signal instead of a regular knock.

The lights went out.

“Get down!” Ramsey yelled.

Sabrina lunged to the floor just as a gunshot boomed through the cavern, sounding impossibly like it had come from behind her. An answering shot echoed from where Ramsey had been standing, the muzzle flash illuminating his taut face like a macabre strobe light. More flashes lit the back of the cavern where a dark hole had appeared in place of the wall that had been there moments earlier. Sabrina covered her ears and scrambled away from the muzzle flashes behind her.

A grunt sounded from Ramsey. The sound of his body falling against the door and slumping to the floor was almost as terrifying as the complete silence now that the gunshots had stopped. She had to get to him, see if she could help him. And if she could retrieve his gun, maybe she could keep both of them alive. But where was the shooter?

She ducked down, her hands out in front of her so she wouldn’t run into a wall as she hurried toward where she believed Ramsey had fallen. The room was pitch black and as quiet as a tomb. No, wait, there—­a slight wisp of sound, a shaky breath, coming from in front of her toward the floor. Ramsey, it must be. She dropped to her knees and crawled until she bumped into him.

Running her hands up his torso, the rise and fall of his chest beneath his bulletproof vest reassured her that he was still alive. The dents and tears in the fabric told her he’d been hit several times, but it seemed as if the vest had protected him. That left only one terrifying possibility for why he was now unconscious. He might have been shot in the head. She shied away from that thought and focused on what she had to do—­try to protect him until she could get help.

She listened intently for the gunman, trying to locate him while gently sliding her hand up Ramsey’s neck, searching for injuries. With her other hand she patted the floor, trying to find where his gun might have fallen.

When her hand touched his scalp, it came away wet and sticky.
Oh no, Ramsey.
She pressed her palm to the wound to staunch the bleeding and ran her hand on the rocky floor all around him.
Where is that gun?

The lights switched on.

“Looking for this?”

She jerked her head up and stared into the dark maw of a pistol muzzle just inches from her face. But it wasn’t the pistol that terrified her, or even the familiar face behind it that had her shaking so hard that her teeth were chattering.

It was what he held in his other hand.

Chapter Twenty

Day Five—­8:30 a.m.

M
ason slammed his body against the door to the cavern again. Pain radiated up his shoulder but he refused to give up. The steel door wasn’t going to break but the door frame would have to give way eventually, even if it had been reinforced. Buchanan was off trying to find another way in, but Mason didn’t remember seeing another exit when he’d been inside.

Neither Ramsey nor Sabrina had answered when he’d done the special knock that he and Ramsey always used, so he knew something must have gone wrong. Though what that could be with the door still locked, he didn’t know. He just knew that he had to get inside, as quickly as possible, to check on Sabrina. And Ramsey, of course.

“Sabrina,” he called out again. “It’s Mason. Sabrina? Can you hear me?”

He backed up to charge the door once more.

“Hold up,” Buchanan yelled, jogging through the trees to stop beside him. “I found another way in.”

They took off running. A few minutes later, after a steep climb up some rocks and then a sharp descent on the other side, they were at the hidden back doorway to the cavern.

Buchanan waved at the body lying just outside the open doorway partially obscured by a rock wall and thick bushes. “I probably never would have found the opening because it blends in with the rest of the mountain except that I saw the white of Stryker’s sneakers poking out. Looks like he was stabbed multiple times before his face and throat were mutilated. Overkill. This was personal. Whoever did this knew him, and hated him.”

Mason pushed past Buchanan into the cavern, sweeping his pistol out in front. His insides went cold when he saw Ramsey lying near the front door, a pool of blood beneath his head. He steeled himself against the sharp pain of grief and sorrow that slammed into him. Later. He would grieve for his friend later. Right now he had to keep his focus. He had to find Sabrina. When a quick search of the cavern didn’t reveal her lifeless body, relief swept through him—­but only for a moment. Whoever had killed Stryker and Ramsey now had Sabrina.

A groan had him whirling back toward Ramsey. To Mason’s surprise, his friend was blinking his eyes and trying to push himself up off the ground. Mason shoved his gun in his holster, grabbed Ramsey beneath the armpits, and hauled him into a sitting position against the wall. He probed his head wound, trying to see how bad it was.

Ramsey hissed in a breath and knocked Mason’s hand away. “Save the torture for the bad guys, will ya?”

Mason crouched in front of him, swallowing against the thickness in his throat. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and had to take a moment before he trusted himself to be able to speak. “Looks like you got lucky.” His voice was hoarse. “The bullet grazed your scalp.” He flicked Ramsey’s dented and torn vest. “You were in a hell of a shootout. What happened? Where’s Sabrina?”

Buchanan joined them, swearing softly before heading to the boxes and supplies stacked on the other side of the room.

“Sabrina’s missing,” Mason said, lightly shaking Ramsey. “Tell me what happened.”

He blinked, looking glazed and pale. “I’m not sure. I don’t . . . We were waiting for you. I took off the handcuffs and she wanted me to open the door but I wouldn’t. That’s . . . that’s all I remember.” He looked around. “My gun. Where’s my gun?”

Buchanan returned with a handful of the bright green EXIT T-­shirts that they passed out to clients. “I know it sucks to use one of these but this is all I could find to bind your head wound.” He pulled out a knife and proceeded to cut up strips of the cloth.

“He must have lost consciousness, doesn’t remember what happened.” Mason let out a shaky breath and whispered a silent prayer of thanks that Ramsey was okay as he pushed to his feet. “Whoever took Sabrina had to have gone east, downstream back by the river. It’s too rocky here to head deeper inland. And any other direction would have taken them back toward us and the others.”

“It has to be Ace,” Buchanan said. “None of those mercenaries would have been able to get the drop on Stryker. And it’s unlikely any of them knew him well enough to have some kind of vendetta. But what did Ace have against Stryker? I always thought of Stryker as a lone wolf kind of guy. He doesn’t associate with any other enforcers that I know of.”

“I’m not really sure. But Ace was bruised up like someone had beaten the pulp out of him. Maybe Cyprian thought he needed a lesson and ordered Stryker to be his teacher. I don’t give a damn. I just want to find Sabrina.”

Buchanan wrapped a long strip of cloth around Ramsey’s head and tightened it into a knot. Ramsey hissed with pain.

“Sorry.” Buchanan reached for another piece of cloth.

“I can’t wait around here. I have to find Sabrina.” Mason hefted his pistol, remembering he was almost out of ammo. He spotted Ramsey’s gun and took it, along with an extra magazine from his pocket. He decided to take Ramsey’s phone too, since his own phone had been ruined in the river. He spun around and headed toward the back exit.

“Wait,” Buchanan called out. “I’ll get the others to help us search for her. Don’t go looking on your own. It could be a setup.”

He paused at the doorway. “Of course it’s a setup. But I can’t wait around here while Sabrina’s out there alone with a psycho like Ace.”

“What makes you think she’s even still alive?”

He winced.
Because he couldn’t bear the thought that she might be dead.

“If that was Ace’s only goal he’d have killed her and left her body in the cavern with Ramsey while he hightailed it out of here. He’s definitely got something else planned. And I have to find him before he does whatever sick, twisted thing he’s probably wanted to do all along. I have to find him before he gets holed up somewhere.” He started to turn away, but hesitated. “If I don’t find a trail to follow, I’ll head toward the river. Tell the others to head that way too and I’ll meet up with you if I haven’t found her. But you should stay here with Ramsey.”

“I’m not a baby,” Ramsey muttered. “Give me a gun and I can help too.” He tried to push himself up but Buchanan shoved him back down.

“Save the heroics for the ladies,” Buchanan said. “You don’t need to impress us. You aren’t in any condition to go anywhere.” He looked back at Mason. “You’re just worried that Ace will be gunning for me.”

“If he gets you in his sights I can’t imagine he’d miss the opportunity to end your feud once and for all. Like I said, you should stay here.”

Buchanan shook his head, clearly exasperated. “You’re not worried about Ace hurting me. You’re worried about
me
hurting
him
. You want to make sure that
you
get to take him out.”

Mason narrowed his eyes. “Can’t I be worried about both? I’m going to save Sabrina. But after that?” He clenched his jaw. “I guarantee Ace won’t live to see another sunrise.” He headed out the back of the cavern, ignoring Buchanan’s shouts to come back.

S
ABRINA STOOD ON
the zip line platform, wearing the vest Ace had been holding in the cavern. She was also harnessed and attached to a pulley hanging from the cable. She would have looked like a typical tourist except for the duct tape around her hands and over her mouth. She wasn’t sure if Ace had gagged her to keep her from screaming for help or just to keep her from cursing at him anymore. She certainly hadn’t left him with any doubts about how much she despised him for what he was doing, and what he’d done to Ramsey. But there was no way she’d even think of screaming.

Because she didn’t want to draw Mason or the others into Ace’s trap.

While Ace stood on the railing a few feet away, taking one of his “little surprises” out of his backpack and tucking it under the eaves, he didn’t have to worry about Sabrina trying to get away. The vest ensured that. She was afraid to even move.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face. She’d have liked to pretend it was just from the humidity and summer heat. She wanted to be strong, to face what Ace had in store for her with dignity and poise. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that inside, she was terrified of what was to come.

Please let me die quickly. And please, please don’t let Mason find me until it’s too late. Keep him away. Keep him safe.

Ace jumped off the railing onto the platform and eased her closer to the edge, careful only to touch her shoulders and not the vest he’d put on her. She was tempted to throw herself against him and end it all right now. At least that way he would die too. But he must have read her intent because he quickly stepped back, out of her reach, his eyes narrowing in warning.

Instead of getting behind her, to push her down the zip line, he got in front of her and hooked another pulley to the cable—­a pulley that looked very different from hers. Next went a spacer bar onto the cable between the two pulleys; obviously to make sure she wouldn’t run into him on the line. He was certainly careful about his own safety. She glared her anger at him, but it was wasted. He was too intent on his work.

Finally, he attached his harness to the pulley and pulled a strap with carabiners on each end out of his pocket. He connected one end to his harness and one to hers, attaching the two of them together at the waist, just beneath the edge of her vest. She couldn’t figure out why he was doing that, or why he was going out on the cable with her. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to send her down the zip line by herself to the other platform? She certainly wouldn’t have been able to escape, not all trussed up and taped up like she was.

“Ready for some fun?” He laughed and eased off the platform, one gloved hand on the pulley above him and the other on the cable.

The tension in the strap connecting them pulled her off the platform after him, and they immediately started down the cable. But instead of the fast descent she’d expected, this descent was much slower, more controlled. The squeak of his pulley had her looking up, finally understanding why it looked so different. It had a hand braking system. And as soon as they reached the middle of the line, he stopped them both.

She sucked in a breath as she swayed and looked down at the vest he’d put on her, then down farther at the sharp boulders at least thirty feet below, and the water rushing around them, plunging over the largest waterfall she’d ever seen up close.

She was going to die.

There was no way around that. She just prayed that it happened quickly, and that it didn’t hurt too much.

“Careful, little Hightower. You’re shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. If you shake too hard, well . . .” He leaned in close. “Boom.”

She jerked away from his hot breath and got a little thrill of enjoyment from the startled, worried look on his face at her sudden movement. He turned a light red, whether from embarrassment at his reaction, or anger, she didn’t know. But he was suddenly all business, through playing around. Using a pair of needle-­nose pliers he’d taken out of his pocket, he went to work on her pulley.

Her stomach lurched. Was he going to make her drop to the rocks below?

“You know,” he said, in a conversational tone, “what you’re wearing was supposed to be for my friend Buchanan. But he’s a slippery SOB and I never could get to him. Once I thought about it, this will work even better. You’re the perfect bait to lure all of them into my trap. I really couldn’t have planned it better.” He laughed, like they were sharing jokes at a dinner party.

Sabrina called him every foul name she could remember her brother ever saying, including words she’d never used before. Too bad the duct tape kept him from hearing any of them.

With a quick twist and a jerk, he let go of her pulley and removed the spacer bar from the cable. Instead of sliding forward with gravity toward the other zip line tower, she stayed right where she was. The sides of the pulley had been smashed against the cable, locking it in place.

“And this, sadly, is where we must part.” He shoved the pliers in his pocket and disconnected the strap between the two of them, leaving it to dangle from her waist. “I wish I could stay to watch the fireworks. It should be very exciting.” He laughed again and released the hand brake on his pulley, quickly sliding down the cable away from her to the other platform.

Sabrina hung like a cocoon from a branch, suspended over the rocks and the water rushing below. On the far platform, Ace unhooked himself from the cable and tossed the pulley and his harness into the river. After taking off his backpack, he unzipped it and slipped another of his little surprises under the eaves on the second tower just like he had the first one. He was nothing if not thorough. A few minutes later he was on the ground, emptying the storage room at the bottom of the tower, tossing all the harnesses and pulleys into the river.

When he pulled his gun out of his holster and raised it over his head, Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. He must have changed his mind about using her as bait. He was going to kill her now. Her torture was about to be over. And Mason would be safe.

The gunshot rang out, echoing against the rocky sides of the riverbank.

Her eyes flew open. She was still alive. He hadn’t shot her. Then what had he shot?

Then she heard it—­shouts in the distance, the sounds of ­people running through the woods on the other side of the river, following the sound of the gunshot.

No. No, no, no!

Ace saluted her with his gun before taking off into the trees.

For the first time since Ace had dragged her out of the cavern, tears slid down her cheeks.

Please, Mason. Don’t come for me. I can’t bear it if you die because of me.

But a few minutes later, in spite of her prayers, a group of men burst from the trees beside the zip line platform where she’d been just minutes ago. And in the middle of the group, leading the charge, was Mason.

She shook her head back and forth, trying to warn him not to help her. But to her horror, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

“Hold on, Sabrina. I’m coming for you.”