Page 18 of The Foreman
He activated the emergency escape tunnel hidden beneath the hay rack. "Move. Now."
They slid inside, closing the hatch behind them. For a moment, the blackness was absolute, cool air brushing against their skin as the silence pressed in.
Trace flicked on the overhead light, revealing a narrow concrete corridor that stretched forward like the barrel of a gun. The walls were lined with cold steel panels and shallow recesses for emergency gear. Each step echoed dully beneath their boots as they followed the passage beneath the field, tension clinging to them like sweat.
At the far end, the corridor opened to a reinforced steel door, beyond which sat a camouflaged utility truck hidden in the thicket a half mile out, engine already primed for escape.
Macy’s hand found his."You ever gonna explain how you became Batman with a barn?"
"Right after we live through this and put whoever's responsible behind bars."
They reached the truck. Trace scanned the horizon before unlocking it. Once inside, he keyed the secure line to Jesse.
"We’ve been hit. Package is secure. Moving to Safe House Echo."
"Copy that. We’ll reroute overwatch to you."
He slammed the gear into drive, the truck jerking forward with a growl of acceleration. Dirt and gravel spat from under the tires, rocks rattling against the undercarriage as they tore down the overgrown path. Dust swirled in their wake, the jolt of each rut and dip reverberating through the chassis as Trace kept one hand firm on the wheel, the other hovering near the holster at his hip, ready for whatever came next.
Macy leaned back, panting. "That was... not boring."
He glanced at her. Dirt smudged her cheek. Hair a mess. Eyes still burning.
She was the most dangerous woman he’d ever met, not because of the threat she posed to his safety, but because of the way she unhinged his control. His blood still pounded from the kiss, the adrenaline, the fire she’d sparked just by being close. Every instinct he’d buried came roaring to life when she touched him, and now, even in the aftermath, his body hadn’t caught up to the command to stand down.
And in that moment he knew, he was never letting her go.
They didn’t speak for the first half of the drive. The road wound through scrubland and mesquite, cutting across ranchland Trace knew like the back of his hand. His body wastight with tension, but not just from the firefight. From the way Macy had looked at him. The way her body had felt under his. The taste of her mouth.
"That kiss..." she started.
"Wasn’t part of the plan," he finished.
"Yeah. Well. Neither was getting shot at."
He glanced at her, with a wry smile. "You did good back there."
She looked out the window, voice quieter. "I just reacted."
"Exactly. You reacted right."
She turned to him, searching his face. "So what happens now?"
He tightened his grip on the wheel, the leather warm beneath his fingers. His jaw locked, thoughts racing. "Now we disappear," he said, voice low and resolute. "We go completely off-grid. No contact with anyone outside of the top people at Silver Spur. Just you and me until I find out who sent that team, who gave the order, and what they're willing to kill for."
"And then?"
"Then I burn them down."
Macy smiled faintly. "You say that like it’s a promise."
"It is."
"Then it's we. We burn them down."
He glanced at her but didn't say another word.
When they finally reached the hidden turnoff for Safe House Echo, the sun had begun to sink, casting long shadows across the land. The structure ahead was low-slung, stone-faced, and buried partially into the hillside—secure, defensible, and entirely off-grid.
