Page 22 of Don't Let Go

There was also a 12-gauge with specialized frag shells. Those could take out an IED or blow the hinges off a door. Removing limbs wouldn’t be a problem.

“Shotguns behind us. Use the notch to get them out, point and shoot.”

“More or less.” I wasn’t going to go over it any further. She knew how to shoot a gun. That was enough. If it came down to her having to fire one of those guns, we were going to be in a world of hurt.

I checked my watch then hit the remote on the sun visor. The double doors on the far side began to roll open swiftly and silently. They’d been oiled to hell and gone to prevent the sound from carrying. Putting the truck into gear, I accelerated out slowly.

One glance at my side mirror told me the running lights were still off. So we pulled out onto this narrow little road that barely qualified for the designation. The gravel under the snow crunched as the tires left deeper grooves. Again, we were gonna leave a footprint.

Ideally, it would be a very long while before anyone saw it. The slow pace might have aggravated me if I hadn’t spent a lifetime cultivating patience. Every job was different. Faster was not always better. In fact, faster could sometimes just get you caught and nothing else.

Behind us the huge doors to the barn would have closed once we’d cleared them. I didn’t look back or turn us around to check. Everything important was already on the hauler except for the two men who would be meeting us down the road.

If they made it…

I kept that part to myself too. The seriousness of the situation was absolutely present. We agreed to only split up if the arriving force was too much for two people to take easily.

Five SUVs?

That was easily twenty guys, probably more. It was always the ones we couldn’t see. I resisted the urge to keep scanning the skies as we crawled along the tree canopied road deeper into the frozen night.

The first turn was to the left and I eased us around it and then we were on a slightlylargerroad. This one had two lanes instead of only one. It wasn’t as heavy with the snow. Sand and salt mixture provided grit for the tires. It also let me accelerate.

Patch sat silently next to me. Almost too silent and too still despite the agitation vibrating the air around her. She was worried, and who could blame her. The plan had been solid because we’d mapped the route to follow to get away and to avoid the most natural routes that approached the cabin.

The barn wasn’t even located on the same property as the cabin. So it wouldn’t necessarily get flagged right away. Fifteen grueling minutes later, I flicked on the headlights and the running lights. Patch let out a little gasp of surprise. I kind of wanted to tease her, but I would save that for later.

At the state highway, we turned fully south and increased our speed. There were more vehicles on the road. Trucks like ours. A handful of cars. It would get thicker soon. In fifty more miles, we’d reach the interstate and a main transit artery for the state.

For now, we looked clear. I checked the side mirrors and then glanced at Patch. “We’re good.”

“Are you sure?” she asked in the shakiest voice I’d ever heard from her.

“Yep,” I said, injecting a little more confidence than I probably should at this point. But it was seventy-thirty in ourfavor. Okay sixty-five, thirty-five, but close enough. “They’ll handle the cleanup and we’ll see them by the end of the day.”

She blew out a long breath. I could almost feel her trying to get her breathing under control. It was okay for her to be scared, but she didn’t need or want platitudes right now.

“I’ve learned a very important thing this morning,” she said finally.

“What’s that?”

“I have serious control issues.”

The deadpan delivery of the unexpected line made me laugh. She glared at me as I chuckled, but not for long. Soon her laughter joined mine.

Was it a little hysterical? Probably, but we could both use a break.

Chapter

Seven

PATCH

They’d mentioned a mobile unit, but I had no idea the size or the scope of it. The flight through the woods in the dark hours of the morning reminded me of how tenuous our whole situation was. More, it left me terrified for Remy and McQuade.

Locke just radiated confidence, from collecting the gear, and carrying my computer tower, to the hike through the darkness. If he worried about a single step, he didn’t betray it.

It was my first real hike out of our safe house since I’d woken up there. Not that there was much to see under the heavy canopy of darkness beneath the trees. The scents of snow, crisp pine, and a hint of something muskier—maybe Locke wore a particular aftershave? I wasn’t sure—filled my nostrils with every breath.

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