Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (5 page)

“Is there another way out, other than this and the front door? A basement? Anything?”

“No.” Her eyes widened at his grimace. “This is it.”

“Okay. Follow me.”

As if she would do anything else. She shadowed him to the living room in a crawl. Her throat constricted. She smelled...smoke? Her eyes darted around the room. A thin wisp of gray rose like a dragon from beneath the door, growing wider by the second.

“Is that...?”

“Fire. Damn it.” He moved to the window. “They’re trying to smoke us out.”

She fell back on her heels. “My house...”

Her photographs. Ryker’s toys. His clothes.

His medication.

She sprang to her feet and dashed down the hallway. Keith tackled her from behind and she went down. Her palms slid across the rough carpet. A thousand stinging points blazed along her skin. Keith’s weight settled against her body and pinned her to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” He spat the question directly in her ear through gritted teeth.

“Get off of me! I need to get Ryker’s things!”

“Are you insane? There are men outside with guns. And you’re taking the time to
pack
?”

She jabbed him in the ribs and he slid off her. “I have to get Ryker’s medication. He’ll need it when we find him.”

He glared at her. “We don’t have time.” He rolled to his feet.

She stood and glowered back. “I’m making time.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I—”

The sound of splintering wood ended the argument. Keith grabbed her wrist and yanked her into her bedroom. He slid open the window and mashed the screen out with a vicious kick.

“Go.”

He pushed her ahead of him and before she could get her bearings she landed on the ground. Her feet fought for purchase on the damp ground as Keith suddenly grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the wooded area beside the house. The staccato rhythm of gunfire burst from behind. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped, stunned.

Two men, dressed in black from head to toe, raced behind them, guns pointed at her and Keith.

“Run.”

Keith’s harsh command yanked her to attention. He pushed her in front of him and she ran, weaving in and out of the trees. Her property backed up to the National forest. They could run for miles, get lost in the woods.

“Where are we going?” She gasped, her heart pounding, her skin clammy with sweat.

“Just move it.”

Okay. She could do that.

A gust of wind tore through the fabric of her cotton shirt. A large dark cloud cast an eerie grayness to the trees and ground.

Not more rain.

A single drop pelted her in the nose and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. Before she knew quite what had happened, they’d circled back to the house. A bit of the rock chimney poked through the thick trees. Surely he didn’t mean to go back there?

She stopped. “Keith, why are we going back?”

He tossed her a quick censured glance. “I’m going for the Jeep. You still got the keys?”

She patted the pockets of her jeans. “Yep.”

“Good. Hand ‘em over.”

A tree exploded in front of them. A piece of the bark flew off and smacked her in the cheek. She yelped and started running again. Keith picked up the pace. His long legs ate up the ground, forcing her much shorter ones to do double-time.

The ground had soaked up the moisture from yesterday’s rain, making the dirt soft and slippery. Keith angled sharply to the left, away from the house. Her foot slipped as she righted her course.

They weaved, left, right, until the trees began to blur before her eyes, burying them deep into the thick forest. Keith hopped over a thick fallen log, the prickly pine needles sticking up from the branches like a porcupine, and pulled her down beside him.

“Give me the keys.”

She fished them out of her pocket and tossed them at him.

“Good.” He pressed them into her palm and closed her fingers over them. “You get the Jeep. As fast as you can. I’ll draw them away from the house and circle back to meet you.”

“No, Keith, that’s not—”

“It’s the best way. If I can take one or both of them out, or at least buy us some time—”

She shook her head. “It’s too risky. I need you to—”

His eyes flashed irritation. “If we’re both dead, who’s left to find your son?”

She swallowed. He was right. But the thought of leaving him behind as target practice for those men made her stomach churn.

No. This was not her fault. These men were after
him
. He’d brought them here. Her first priority was to Ryker. She had to go...even if it meant romping on that gas pedal and leaving Keith behind.

He gripped her fist in his strong hand and she forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw her own thoughts reflected in his eyes.

“Go.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be fine.” He released her hand and gave her a gentle shove.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. Adrenaline kicked into overdrive and she ran for the Jeep. The closer she came to the house, the stronger the smell of smoke. She coughed, trying to remove the acrid stench from her throat. Through the pine branches she could see the bright orange flames that licked at the left side of her house. Smoke spiraled upward and mingled with the gray sky. Another drop of rain struck her cheek, but it wasn’t enough to curb the growing fire.

Pain squeezed her heart and she bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood. She shook herself and forced her to see the blaze for what it was: a distraction that could work in her favor. She kicked her pace up another notch. If she just kept running, she would finally see the Jeep—

Her feet hit something solid and she tripped. She struck the ground with her knees. The pain jarred straight into her hips and sliced into her palms as they connected with the rocky ground. She struggled to her feet, turned to see what she’d stumbled over and froze.

She hadn’t tripped over something, but some
one
.

A scream trapped in her throat. She dropped back to her knees. Her breath choked past her lips, black spots swam in front of her vision, blessedly obscuring her view. She blinked, but the spots crowded in, overlapping one another and making her lightheaded. Bile rose in her raw throat.

“Grace!”

The sharp sound of her name opened up her tunnel vision. She lifted her head. Keith was barreling down on her, his eyes wide with incredulity.

“Are you okay?”

The harsh words sounded like a roar though she knew he was deliberately keeping his voice low. His eyes darted to the ground and his feet stuttered to a stop.

He cursed. “What happened?”

“I—I tripped and I thought—but it wasn’t—it was...” She gestured to the body.

The man, clad in black from head to toe, lifted a bloody hand. “I’m...sorry...Grace...”

Her hand flew to her mouth. He knew her name?

Keith narrowed his eyes and bent forward to rip the black covering from the man’s head.

The shock of the man’s bright red hair made her gasp.

Keith’s head whipped in her direction. His eyes gleamed. “You know him?”

She nodded, tears burning against her eyelids. “Mark’s...friend. Business partner. Ryker calls him Unc—” Her voice cracked. “Uncle Jack.”

Hearing his name, the man opened his pain filled eyes. “I couldn’t let them...I didn’t know...never wanted...you and Ryker...hurt.”

“Where—where is he?”

Jack swallowed, gasped for breath. “Please, forgive me.” He closed his eyes.

She leaned forward and clutched his shoulders. “Where is he?” Damn it, she didn’t understand any of this. Her fingers twisted in the coarse fabric of his uniform as she shook him. “Tell me!”

Jack’s light blue eyes focused on her face. “Ph...”

She held her breath, anticipation and impatience knotting her stomach.

He licked his lips. “Phantom...” His eyes drifted shut and his body went limp.

“Phantom, what?” she whispered. She tugged on Jack’s shoulders, his slack face scaring the crap out of her. “Phantom, what! C’mon, answer me!”

Keith touched her shoulder. “Grace. We have to keep moving.”

She shook her head. “No. We can’t just leave him here. We have to...we have take him to a hospital. He knows where Ryker is! We can’t leave him here to die. He
knows
.”

He hauled her to her feet, his eyes stony and resolute. “He’s already dead.”

Chapter Four

If Keith didn’t say something soon, Grace was going to lose it. “Grace.”

Her face paled and her eyes remained focused on the body of the man she’d called Uncle Jack. Keith waited for her to acknowledge him. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound crossed her lips. His throat throbbed in sympathy as he watched her force the words back down with a hard swallow.

He swept the surrounding area with his gaze. Flames climbed the walls of her small house, licking at the roof. The hand-painted welcome sign melted from its perch on the wall and crumbled to the front deck.

Fire crews would be on the scene soon, and he really didn’t want to stick around to answer questions.

He blinked smoke out of his eyes, ignoring the sting. “We need to keep moving.”

She nodded, but didn’t move off her knees. “He—he knew...” She clapped her hands over her mouth, hunched her shoulders and drew her body into a tight ball. “He
knew
.”

Damn. She was losing focus. He’d seen it often enough with green recruits to recognize the first time shock of a grisly dead body.

He crouched beside her and took her face firmly in his hand. “Look at me.”

Her chin jerked beneath his fingers. He waited until she turned her teary eyes on him. “The bastard’s gone. He can’t tell you a damn thing.”

Keith released her and shifted the familiar solid weight of the MP5 to his left hand. Then he snatched the dead man’s sidearm off his belt and pressed it into Grace’s palm. “Let’s go.”

“I need...a minute.” She curled her fingers around the pistol, but didn’t move.

“We don’t have a minute, Grace. Get your butt in gear.” They may have lost the other gun-toting bastards for the moment, but that kind of luck never lasted long.

She mutely shook her head, her lips pressed tight.

He stifled a curse. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he yanked her to her feet.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.

Oh, yeah. This was just perfect
. “You can be sick later.”

She reared back, forcing him to tighten his grip on her wrist.

“Unless you want me to lose it on your shoes, you’d better let go.”

He dropped his hold on her. “Go.”

Grace whirled away, stumbled in a wide arc around Uncle Jack, and dropped to her knees in front of the nearest tree.

He grimaced and, in an effort to give her a semblance of privacy, turned his back on her. Not that it mattered since he could clearly hear her retching. It brought him back to the days of his first mission. The tension, the knot in his stomach that expressed itself in much the same way as Grace once the op was over.

“I...” From behind him, she cleared her throat.

He tossed a look over his shoulder.

Grace dragged the edge of her shirt across her mouth. “I’m ready.”

She retraced her footsteps until she reached Uncle Jack. She drew a deep breath, her spine stiffened, and focused her eyes on the dead body.

Her gaze shifted to the house. The faint orange glow of flames mingled with horror in the depths of Grace’s eyes. She dipped her head and her eyelids slid closed. How did it feel to watch a beloved home go up in smoke? Keith would’ve set fire to the shack he’d grown up in if it could have exorcised all the ghosts there.

The wood crackled, the wind kicked up, stirring the hair that curled around her ears. A sudden whoosh and pop broke away from the roaring of the flames. He grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back as the fire engulfed the roof and the trusses began to collapse.

She yanked her shoulder out of his grasp, clutched the pistol tighter with both hands, and shot him a look of pure steely determination. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The raw, whispered words were such a direct contradiction to the resolve in her eyes they struck him dumb for a moment. Her tears had left a trail down her dirt-streaked cheeks, proof that just minutes ago she’d fallen apart on him.

Thick smoke pressed in on them. He coughed and swiped at his burning eyes, sure he must have misinterpreted the look, but she still wore it. Most of the men he served with took time to learn the necessity of distancing themselves from death and loss.

Grace set her jaw and took off for the Jeep. He caught up with her, rounded to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. She took the passenger seat without argument.