Page 18 of Final Exit

Ten minutes later, Kade shoved himself out of his chair. A few curses and some leg massages after that and he was able to stiffly hobble toward the archway.

Gannon had been more accommodating than expected. Kade had flat-out told him that he couldn’t reveal any details about his current mission. But that didn’t bother Gannon. He respected the need for secrecy. He’d simply listened to Kade talk about the inconsistencies with Dominic and Jack, and then he’d promised to call tomorrow afternoon, Monday at the latest, with a full background report.

Kade couldn’t ask for better than that.

Just before leaving the room, he glanced down to look at the picture of Abby taped to the wall by the bookshelf, as he did every night.

But the picture was gone.

Chapter Seven

Saturday, 3:05 a.m.

Bailey kept her gun tucked behind the seat back as she studied the second car to zoom up behind the minivan since they’d left the Ghost’s house. The first one had quickly passed them, without incident. This one would likely end up doing the same. Apparently, eighty miles an hour on a remote back road wasn’t good enough for the people who lived around here. And what the heck were they doing out and about at this time of morning anyway?

Suddenly the car whipped around them, horn honking as the young driver gave them the finger. If her hands weren’t cuffed together with a gun clasped between them, Bailey would have returned the favor. The kid couldn’t be more than sixteen, seventeen at most. Where were his manners? What was the world coming to?

She shook her head and plopped down in the seat just as Atwell slowed the van.

“What are you doing?” Alarm spiked through her as he slowed even more and turned down a gravel road.

“This road isn’t used much so I figured it would be a good place to pull over. You want those handcuffs off, right? Austin probably has an extra key around here somewhere. ‘Always be prepared’ seems to be his life’s motto.”

Bailey clutched the gun, her finger nervously twitching against the frame. Damn it, she never should have gotten into the van.

After rounding a curve in the gravel road that left the highway far behind, Jace parked on the shoulder. Only then did he bother to glance at her in the rearview mirror, his face a study of shadows, lit only by the dashboard lights. He flipped on the overhead light. Bailey tensed.

Atwell began to riffle through a bunch of papers in the glove box.

She relaxed, but only slightly. Was he really looking for handcuff keys, or was he looking for something else? If there was going to be trouble, she’d face him on equal terms, not cowering in the backseat of a grocery getter. She squeezed between the two captain’s chairs and plopped down in the passenger seat beside him. The backpack he’d had on earlier was on the floorboard. She picked it up, more than a little curious at what was inside, and set it on the floor behind her seat.

“Who’s Austin?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence as he dug through what appeared to be a stack of car maintenance receipts and a jumbled mound of cheap sunglasses. “Is he some Boy Scout type on your team?”

The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “He’s one of Devlin Buchanan’s brothers. And he’s about the farthest thing from a Boy Scout that I could imagine. He calls meAsswell if that’s any indication of his personality.”

She liked this Austin guy already. Not that she planned on ever meeting him. Signing up with this group of yahoos calling themselves Equalizers wasn’t on her radar and was the last thing she’d do. She’d been alone too long to know how to play nice with others, even if she wanted to.

He jangled a small ring of keys in triumph. “Bingo.”

She propped her hands on the armrest, the pistol still clutched between them.

“Lose the gun, Bailey. I’m not going to unlock the cuffs while you aim that thing at me.”

It was aimed at the dashboard. But she doubted he’d appreciate her pointing that out. She hesitated, not wanting to relinquish her only weapon again.

“If I’d wanted to kill you,” he said, and leaned slightly toward her, his eyes narrowed, “I’d have left you outside with the sniper.”

He was right. He could have just let those agents kill her. Still, it took all of her willpower to set the gun in the console and let it go.

“Angle your right wrist the other way.”

She repositioned her hands. “You’re from the Carolinas aren’t you? Or Georgia? I can’t quite place the accent.”

He unlocked one of the cuffs and twisted her wrist to unlock the second one.

“I used to know an Enforcer based out of Georgia, Savannah I think,” she continued. “Long time ago. Ramsey Tate. Haven’t heard from him in a long time. Do you know him?”

The cuff clicked open, and he finally looked at her. “Iknewhim.”

---