Page 165 of In the Pursuit of Haven
“How many do you need?” Bette Ann’s familiar voice resounded through the room. She must’ve gotten through the narrowed entrance during the fight. Standing next her was no other than Scrooby. His broad chest heaved as he took in our struggle. I hadn’t expected our friend to be one of the Shepherds since he’d seemed so mystified by them—but it was very possible he’d just been recruited.
Leading them was Caitlyn. Her red hair still dripped from the pond.
Had they brought anyone else? Straining against the rope, I didn’t catch sight of any more reinforcements.
Bette Ann’s usually pleasant expression was gone and in its place was hard steel. “Luther, I can’t say I’m surprised you’re the culprit here. I warned Haven about you.”
Luther’s hold tightened over Abby. “Then you know I’m serious about this.”
“And you need us to make up your nine,” Bette Ann said. “Throw out that gun and we’ll consider it.”
Luther’s head tilted with defiance, though sweat shone against the bald spot I could see from above.
“No more arguments,” Bette Ann said. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you’ll either try to kill that sweet little girl now or later, and if you keep that gun then you’re likely to succeed, along with taking out the rest of us. Now do you want our help or not?”
Luther drew back his gun.
“Throw it!” she ordered.
Luther’s gun landed against a gunnysack bulging with more treasure. I hoped that jerk was going crazy surrounded by everything he desired and couldn’t take with him.
Abby broke away from him. Scrooby caught her in one of his big bear hugs he was famous for. “You okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. Silent tears fell down her cheek. I knew this was killing Jessie. He was stuck high in the masts where he couldn’t reach his baby sister. His best friend had to be his arms now.
Bette Ann pushed forward. “This is how we’re doing it.” The woman was used to wielding her army of candymakers on a daily basis; taking charge was second nature to her. “Caitlyn goes first, then Abby, me, followed by the two of you—side by side if that’s what you prefer, and then Scrooby. He’s the insurance you go through with this, you see.”
“No.” Luther shook his head. “You go last. I know you want to get your baby down from there. I’m not so sure about…him.”
Scrooby? Luther didn’t know him at all. Scrooby’s eyes had gone to Jessie and then to me, though his most protective looks were reserved for Abby. He’d do anything for his friends, but what did Luther know about love? He was only moved by greed.
At hearing Luther’s conditions, Scrooby glanced at him over Abby’s shoulder and agreed… as long as Bette Ann was also good with it. The older lady gave a single nod.
I steadied myself. If anything happened to anyone, I’d feel responsible. It was my idea to grab these “treasures from heaven,” and yet, somehow Bette Ann’s confidence made it seem like the right choice.
“Are we ready to try this again?” she asked.
Luther muttered his compliance, though I could see he wasn’t happy to be outnumbered. The odds of him taking off with all this treasure by himself had just shrunk considerably.
Caitlyn bravely approached a crystal bottle of what might be bronze-colored perfume. It rested on a large cannon. They must’ve been hiding out here and listening for a while—she knew the rules of this game without anyone saying a thing. She seized the bottle. The rope sliced up, looping over her wrist, and the netting caught her up, dragging her high into the masts.
Brecker kicked against the rigging to swing closer to her. “You came!” he said.
“Yeah, I didn’t have much of a choice.” Her fear made her irritable. “You need me.”
A small smile touched his lips. He looked pleased, but something was off with Caitlyn. She scowled. Hunter’s inside info was spot on—their relationshipwason the rocks.
Luther turned to Abby. She still hadn’t left Scrooby’s embrace. “Time’s up,” he cut in brutally. “Get going.”
Taking a steadying breath, she stepped back from Scrooby like she’d been asked to walk the plank.
Scrooby found her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
She nodded. Running her fingers down her arms like she was trying to comfort herself, she approached a plain iron necklace hanging from the rigging. She looked up at me. “Roxy?” her voice was far huskier than usual. “Does this look right?”
“Yes.” I could barely get the word out, but she’d heard. Steeling herself with a lift of her shoulders, she grasped at the chain. The trap was set off, and she was the next to fly through the rigging to join the rest of us.
Her grunt echoed through the cavern, along with my cry of relief. She was finally out of Luther’s reach.
