Pure Dynamite (42 page)

While Adam had expected it, Renata had not. He moved toward her, grasped her wrists. When she resisted, he snatched her close and shook her, aware that they were being observed.

"Cooperate, and this will be easier for both of us. Otherwise, you're likely to be hurt."

The look of terror and betrayal in her eyes was genuine. Working quickly, Adam bound her hands, then blindfolded her and tied a gag over her mouth.

Following the others, he led her out the door and lifted her into the rear of a brown van. He sat beside her on the floor, leaving the back seat for Lyle to lie on.

No one spoke as they pulled out of the lot. Once inside the van, Burt and Tristin holstered their handguns, and took up assault rifles. Crouching near the middle windows, they watched the road. Nevin sat slouched in the passenger seat, his rifle close as he scanned the horizon with high-powered binoculars. They expected trouble and were prepared.

So was Adam. The nine-millimeter in his hand had a full clip. In the event of a showdown, he'd take Burt, Tristin, and Nevin out, rapid fire, with head shots. Two seconds, max.

While the driver hadn't brandished a weapon, Adam
suspected the man was armed. He hoped he would surrender rather than take a bullet.

They traveled for less than fifteen minutes. Lyle groaned as the van lurched to a stop. They were at a makeshift airstrip.

Adam heard the
whoosh-whoosh
of an approaching helicopter. He turned Renata away, sheltering her from the sand and grit the dark chopper kicked up as it landed a short distance away.

As soon as Burt carried Lyle to the aircraft, the van pulled away. Inside the chopper, Lyle was propped up long enough to take the painkillers he'd been moaning for.

Adam frowned. "Is anyone keeping track of how frequently he's popping pills?"

Nevin shrugged. "Keeping him sedated is easier for now."

"Yeah, if it doesn't kill him."

Nevin narrowed his eyes, but checked his watch. "That should last him till we're home."

Home.
Growing up, that word had meant the equivalent of hell to Adam. How fitting to think of Willy McEdwin, at home waiting for his sons.

They were in the air for several hours. He'd guess the chopper, stripped down to maximize fuel economy, was one bought as surplus from the National Guard. It probably belonged to one of the militia groups sympathetic to Willy's cause.

The pilot used visual flight rules and a handheld GPS to navigate. They flew low, about three hundred feet above ground level, Adam estimated. By keeping under seven hundred feet—and avoiding major airports—they stayed in Class G airspace. Basically uncontrolled and off the radar.

When they landed at yet another small airstrip,

Adam glanced around and spotted a small sign:
grassyfield, idaho—private airstrip
. He took Renata into the small bathroom. He loosened her bonds briefly, but had to bind her hands and blindfold her again when she finished.

"If you're gagging me to keep me from crying out, I won't," she whispered.

"Remind me, later, to tell you how much you amaze me." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before opening the door.

They shifted to another van. Adam checked Lyle. He looked terrible. For the first time since the initial shooting, Adam worried the kid wouldn't survive. Once Willy McEdwin saw the shape his youngest son was in, he'd have to recognize Lyle needed a hospital.

This time Nevin drove, heading directly into the mountains. Tristin passed around a sack containing candy bars. "Grab a couple."

As before, they sat on the floor, but this time Renata sat on Adam's lap. He fed her a chocolate bar, breaking off small squares and holding them up to her mouth.

Burt snickered. "They domesticate wild birds that way. Clip their wings, hood them, and make them totally dependent on the hand that feeds them. Makes 'em do anything."

Adam felt her stiffen and pressed a hand to the small of her back, where no one could see. She relaxed slightly. While he'd had second thoughts about telling her the truth, now he was glad she knew. To be held under these conditions, without hope, would be terrifying.

After thirty minutes of winding along a desolate stretch of highway, Nevin pulled onto a road heading up the side of a mountain. For a moment it seemed the van might stall out. It coughed, the idle set too lean for the high altitude, but sputtered and chugged on.

Dusk was falling by the time they came to a gate across the road. From nowhere a man appeared, rifle in hand. He nodded at Nevin and opened the gate—then disappeared back into the trees. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a two-storv building tucked beneath some pines.

Several outbuildings and barns were scattered beneath other trees. From the air, the place would be practically invisible. Adam guessed they were at a secret militia compound. One of the first things he needed to do was find out how many men were here. And exactly where
here
was.

Keeping Renata close, he followed the brothers inside. The interior, while dark, was larger than expected. Tristin and Burt still supported Lyle when their father stepped into the room.

Willy McEdwin's hair was more gray, the lines in his face more harsh than Adam expected. Other than that, the older man looked exactly like the mug shot on his reward poster. Like his sons, Willy had made no attempt to disguise his looks, yet another way of thumbing their noses at law enforcement.

Willy clasped Lyle in a hug. "Good to have you home, son."

The younger man flinched. "Easy, Pa," he slurred.

Willy frowned. "Get him upstairs." Next he turned to Adam, extended a hand. "I owe you for getting my boy out of prison and keeping him alive. Is this the doctor?"

Adam nodded.

"Get her upstairs, too," Willy said. "I don't claim to know a lot about medicine, but if you ask me, he looks like he's got one foot in the grave."

* * *

Renata looked wild-eyed when Adam freed her, but with the McEdwins present, she didn't say anything. She rubbed her wrists and glanced around.

Adam guided her toward the staircase. "You need to check the kid."

Lyle was in the first bedroom on the right. Burt brought in a large footlocker filled with medical supplies and set it beside the bed.

Adam rifled through it, handing her a thermometer, stethoscope, and blood pressure cuff. He checked the rest of the supplies, pulled out several pair of scissors. "We need to control her access to these; but keep them readily available for legitimate use."

Burt nodded and took the scissors.

Except for the hiss of air escaping the cuff, the room remained quiet while she worked.

"His fever is climbing. One-oh-three-point-six," she said. "And he's dehydrated. He'll need IV fluids and antibiotics around the clock."

Tristin looked at her suspiciously. "I thought he's been on antibiotics."

"He was, but only for a couple days; enough to start but not finish the job. The wound's never received proper care. Getting dirt in it certainly hasn't been good." She held up one of the bags of antibiotics that Adam had handed her. "Even this may not be strong enough—"

"Then again, it might," Willy's voice boomed from behind. "And if we need something stronger, by God we'll get it. Burt, get your little brother undressed while I talk to the doctor."

Grasping her by the arm, Adam tugged her out of the room, and down the hall.

Willy kept his voice low. "Give it to me straight, doc. How's he doing?"

"The truth?" Renata crossed her arms. "He will likely die if he's not taken to a hospital."

"I know that. How long has he got?"

Her mouth opened, closed. "If he doesn't respond to these antibiotics, it's impossible to say. It could be days or weeks. I've seen people linger, going in and out of comas, improving slightly, then getting worse."

"I get the picture." Willy raised a hand and sighed. "Just do what you need to do and keep him comfortable."

"Comfortable? You keep an end-stage cancer patient
comfortable.
There are still options available, still time to save him. But only if we act quickly. Your son needs—-"

Adam squeezed her shoulder. "He heard you. So shut up."

To his relief, she lowered her head. To everyone else it appeared she was sulking—expected behavior for a captive. He knew she was madder than a cat on fire.

Willy turned back to Adam. "We need to talk. Downstairs. Tristin and Burt will stay with the woman and help her get Lyle cleaned up."

As soon as Willy had disappeared down the stairs, Adam pulled her close, voice low. "You can't stand up to these men, Renata."

Fury glistened in her eyes. "I can't believe a parent could be so callous about their child's life."

Adam could. "He's not like us. He's blinded by his cause. I have to go. I'll be back up as soon as I can."

"Bet she's not real happy with her circumstances," Willy said when Adam came downstairs. "Abducted by a convict and all."

Adam knew what
and all
implied. Everything from mental abuse to rape. "She doesn't exactly have a choice."

"She's got grit."

"Why do you think I've kept her?"

Willy looked thoughtful then laughed. "Guess it don't matter in the long run. Are you hungry?"

"Hungry. Tired. Wired. Feels like we've been on the road for a month instead of eight days."

They were in the kitchen. A long table was set up, with enough chairs to seat twenty. How many people were here? The room had few windows. Tucked in the far corner of the room was a computer. Adam wondered what incriminating treasures he'd find on the PC's hard drive.