Page 69 of Be Courageous

The man swiveled to face him, and Miles raised his weapon, stalking the van with determination. “FBI! Put your hands in the air and step away from the vehicle.”

The man assessed the immediate area, saw no one else and, with a shout at the driver, jumped into the cargo area, slamming the doors shut behind him. The engine roared and the van peeled away.

Oh no you didn’t.Aiming his weapon at the left rear tire, Miles fired. But in the gloom and with the van in motion, he missed, howling with frustration. His rental vehicle was parked near the front of the hotel. His odds of catching up with the van were slim, at best.

But then a second pistol barked, and the van wobbled, though it didn’t stop. At a hampered pace, it continued to make its getaway.

Miles edged around the building looking for the other shooter, as well as for his car. Seeing it closer than he thought, he raced toward the dark-blue Taurus without spotting whoever’d helped him. With a rev of the engine, he peeled out of his parking space, having parked tail-end-in.

As he neared the road, a silhouette detached itself from beneath the hotel’s raised sign and marched toward him. “Dad!”

Sure enough, it was. His father had followed him here and helped him.

Too grateful to be upset, Miles slowed just long enough to let Drake slip into the passenger seat. Before his father’s door slammed shut, he took off again. Even in the dim light, his father’s scowl was evident.

“So, I think I know what’s going on. You don’t have to explain it.”

Really? How could his father guess without knowing McKenzie had called him? But, hey, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine with Miles. Besides, the less his father knew, the less he might get in trouble for helping him.

Keeping an eye on the dark shape of the van bumping up the four-lane highway a hundred yards ahead of them, Miles tried to think through his fear. Where would Centurions be taking her? Wouldn’t their intent be to kill her? Ice cycled through his veins as he tried to close the distance between them.

He glanced at his silent father. Even if Dad had guessed this was about McKenzie, didn’t he even want to make sure? “Look, I appreciate you helping me out back there, but it would probably be best for you if I let you out right here. I’m about to step way out of my jurisdiction.”

Dad gave an easy shrug. “I don’t think so. They’re heading toward the highway, by the way.”

“I can see that.” Gunning through a red light, Miles managed to avoid losing sight of the van completely as it lurched up a ramp off Harrelson Blvd. onto Route 17. As followed it, gratitude sat like a fat pill in Miles’s throat—necessary for his health, but hard to swallow. Miles sped up as he spotted the van again.

His father shot him a frown. “No, no. Hang back. Let’s keep the element of surprise here.”

Miles didn’t agree, but he’d always heeded Dad’s advice. It was hard to avoid being noticed on the scantily populated six-lane highway, especially with the sun brightening the eastern sky. Hiding behind a semitruck first, then changing lanes to get behind a car, Miles hung back as far as he dared.

As they passed a strip of rubber lying in the road, Dad shook his head. “I can’t believe they’re driving on a flat tire.” A minute later, he added, “Whatever you do, keep the LE out of it.”

LE was local law enforcement. The comment told Miles his father had guessed accurately that he was dealing with Centurions. The quasi-religious, civic organization had been around since the late-nineteenth century. Springing up first in Savannah, Cohorts were seeded throughout the south, preaching clean living and closed mouths while collecting pledge money that lined the pockets of the corrupt elite. New pledges were encouraged to seek careers in law enforcement, where they protected their own kind from prosecution.

“Gotcha.” With Myrtle Beach just 227 miles from Savannah, there might well be former Centurions staffing both the county and state police. “So, what’s the plan?” He wasn’t too proud to ask for his father’s input.

“Let’s just see where they’re headed.”

“Next exit, apparently.”

The van was signaling an imminent exit off the highway. Miles edged his rental into the left lane, making it look like he planned to continue straight. At the last second, he horsed across two lanes of traffic and up the ramp, just in time to see the van turn down a long, tree-lined road. The last of the tire was peeling away, and the rim sparked on asphalt.

Braking at the stop sign, Miles waited for the van to disappear behind a stand of trees before accelerating after it. The sun was now cresting the treetops, turning the leaves incandescent.

When they next glimpsed the van, it was slowing before a brand-new building overlooking an elegant, modestly sized marina. Tall sailboats and several yachts were moored to a wide pier.

Farther inland, boats had been pulled out of the water for maintenance. Miles drove the car slowly past them until his father cautioned, “Better pull over.”

Miles complied, nosing the sedan in the shadow of a landed sailboat. “Why is there a marina this far inland?”

“We’re next to the Intracoastal Waterway.”

“Oh.” Miles had to admit Dad knew more than he did about most things. The bottom fell out of his stomach as he realized, “They’re trying to take McKenzie out of here by boat.” It was the first time he’d mentioned his rescue target, but Dad didn’t seem surprised.

As Miles tore off his seat belt and jumped out of the car, his father followed suit, whispering for him to slow down. Desperate to keep McKenzie within view, Miles did not slow down. He wove his way through the large, landed boats, heading straight for the brand-new marina store and restaurant, both closed at this early hour, with his father right behind him. Beyond the dredged inlet, the Intracoastal Waterway was a glimmering ribbon of dark water cutting through a forest.

The van had backed right up to a pier. One of the three kidnappers was carrying a slack McKenzie toward the large, sleek yacht moored at the very end of the L-shaped pier and buttered in morning sunlight. His two companions went to work changing their flat tire.

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