Page 28 of Don't Let Go

“Two,” I countered, moving to my knees slowly as I scanned our surroundings. The cabin had taken a beating. The roof’s damage was significant. It was a pity. The building held a kind of rustic charm.

“Three.” McQuade strode out front, a gun in each hand and I kept watch as he went body to body. “Are we getting takeout?”

I didn’t answer right away. We’d discussed some of it. But this was a huge mess to clean up and we weren’t going to be able to scrub the whole scene.

“I want to know how they’re locating her.” They weren’t tracking us. If they were, it would shock me. We’d had the trackers removed from her, sohowdid they keep finding her?

“So takeout then,” McQuade said, a faint hum vibrating along the underside of the words. “Any preferences?”

I sighted the man who came up out of the snow behind McQuade, a knife in hand. One shot and down he went. I angled it to go clean. The last thing I wanted was the bullet going through the target to McQuade.

For his part, McQuade jerked as he spun to face the now downed man. He lifted his chin, and I didn’t have to be face to face to imagine the scorn in his eyes as well as the irritation.

“You’re welcome,” I said easily enough.

“Right, thanks mate.” He smirked and I rolled my eyes.

Once he’d done a sweep of all those close by, I descended to join him. We had a vehicle to load. More vehicles to destroy too. They’d brought a lot of hardware and firepower.

“You getting the impression they don’t want her alive anymore?” McQuade asked as I emptied out the glovebox and the console on one of the vehicles.

None of the men had identification. The cars were even missing VIN numbers and I’d bet my favorite gun, the plates were also fake. The men themselves were generic, size and build suggested military. They were also from a cross-section of ethnicities.

Nothing pointed a finger in a single direction. Smart.

Aggravating, but smart.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, addressing his question. “Did they want her alive in the first place because of what she took? Or because of who she might have told?”

We didn’t have the answers.

With a sweep of my hand, I motioned to the bodies we were going to need to deal with sooner rather than later. “This could also be here to deal with us. They’ve figured out she isn’t alone.”

McQuade let out a grunt. “I’ve got three live ones. You want the pick of the litter?”

I glanced to where he’d secured three men. They all had various injuries. One of them was currently soaking his shirt with blood. He wasn’t going to last long. The other two were bleeding but not as heavily.

“If they’re just grunts, it’s a waste of time.” They wouldn’t know anything more than their orders.

“True,” McQuade said, scratching his jaw. “Let me do a process of elimination. You pack the truck.” Without waiting for my agreement, he pulled out a rather large hunting knife and headed straight for the three men.

One of them blanched so hard, I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d just pissed his pants. McQuade was in his element as he squatted in front of them and made that huge knife dance. Shaking my head, I finished my inspection of the remaining bodies and vehicles. Even if all I expected to find was more nothing, I refused to leave anything to chance.

The crack of a gun pulled me around. McQuade stared in consternation down at a body. At my look, he spread his arms. “He ate his own gun.”

Death before capture? I shrugged. The more I learned about the types of people hired and the things they would do to get Patch back, the more determined I grew to end this threat. Section Five may or may not be government sanctioned, but Patch was never going to be free as long as they were after her.

“I’ve got two,” McQuade said when I finally made it back to him. They were both unconscious, the bleeding had turned sluggish and he’d pretty much stripped them of all clothes before he dumped them into the back of our truck. There was also a dead body inside.

“I thought you said you cleaned him up before.” The man had started following Locke on his last trip out for supplies. When Locke hadn’t been able to shake him, McQuade met him on the road.

“No,” McQuade said, rolling his head from side to side to crack his neck. “I told you I took care of it. Besides, he’ll be motivational.”

While the colder temps had definitely delayed decomp, the smell was distinctive.

“We need to grab the last of our things.”

Then we’d need to scrub the location.

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