Page 25 of Be Courageous

“Get up, kid. You’re goin’ home.” With the shotgun loaded, Brian propped it against the end table and picked up the serrated knife lying by the empty planter.

Grayson stared at the knife not moving an inch. Going home, as inheaven? Had Brian decided to kill him, after all?

Brian reached for him, grabbing the rope at his wrists and hauling him to a sitting position. With relief, Grayson realized Brian was just cutting off the bindings, not stabbing him. Silence fell between them as Brian sawed away at the rough rope. When it fell from Grayson’s chafed wrists, Brian went down on one knee and sawed at the rope encircling his ankles. Once it was cut away, his captor pushed stiffly to his feet.

Grayson didn’t move. There had to be a catch. If Brian was setting him free, then why the air of doom hanging over him?

Brian’s dark eyes seemed to look straight through him. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Grayson stared back, afraid to ask, “What for?” in the off chance that Brian still intended to kill him.

“You’re free to go.” His captor gestured at the front door with the knife he still wielded.

Something in the man’s voice made Grayson loath to leave. A thickness in his words that conveyed despair.

Grayson finally found his voice. “Are you going to shoot me in the back?”

The incredulous twitch of Brian’s eyebrows reassured him. “’Course not.”

Then why the grim resolve in his voice?

But with hope leeching into his bloodstream, Grayson focused on himself and the future being handed back to him. Hope gave him strength to rise on legs that felt like rubber. For a second, they stood mere inches apart, and Grayson fancied he could feel the cloud of sorrow encompassing his captor.

“I meant what I said last night,” he told the man. “I won’t tell anyone what you did.”

The ghost of a smile curled Brian’s mouth.

The fear that had gripped Grayson for days eased suddenly, making room for the sympathy that had pricked him from time to time. “My dad wants you to know he’s sorry, too.” Then, before his courage could fade, he headed briskly toward the door, still not completely confident that Brian was letting him leave.

Beneath his hand, the door swung open, admitting a puff of chilly, wet air that smelled vaguely like the ocean. With a glance back at Brian, who wasn’t even looking at him, Grayson darted onto the crooked porch and closed the door behind him. His heart began to gallop.

I’m free!He ran off the stoop and, with a fearful backward glance, broke into a jog, heading past Brian’s car to lope down the long driveway. It was still early morning, and a thin mist obscured the main road, but Grayson could hear cars moving in either direction. He lengthened his stride, his heart bursting from his chest as he pushed himself to run faster.

The crack of a shotgun nearly sent him sprawling face first onto the patchy gravel as his head whipped around and his stride broke. Drawing to a stop, breathing hard, he peered back at the house, the skeletal remains of a once-quaint home.

“No.” His cheeks turned cold as he realized what might have just happened—had Brian just taken his own life to avoid going back to jail? Then he hadn’t believed Grayson would stick to his story about running away.

“No!” he shouted back at the house, but it was too late to persuade Brian he would keep his word. Rocking back on his heels, he pressed a fist into his empty stomach, sick at the mental picture of Brian lying in his living room with his brains blown out.

But then a movement at the front of the house caught his eye. With an indrawn breath, Grayson spotted Brian as he stepped out of the house onto the crooked front porch, no shotgun in sight.

Dizzy with relief, Grayson raised a hand in farewell and held it there until Brian responded, slowly raising his own hand.

With a sob of nameless emotion, Grayson whirled around and resumed his escape to freedom.

* * *

Faith had been standing in the breakfast area in the hotel lobby eyeballing the unappetizing offerings when Fitz’s cell phone rang. She glanced over at him, holding her breath.

“Fitz here.” He put his plate of eggs and sausages down on the counter.

She could tell by the immediate shift in his demeanor that this was the call they’d been waiting for.

“Perfect. Thank you. Text that address to me now. I’ll keep you advised.” He hung up and met her gaze before announcing to the rest of the agents, “We have an address. Let’s go, people. We’ll eat later.” He looked back at Faith. “You should stay here.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I’m going with you.”

He sighed and firmed his lips. “Only if you agree to stay in the car when we get there. It could be dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

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