Page 82 of Montana Freedom

“Not stealthy,” I pointed out. “He’ll see us coming.”

“He’ll already have seen you coming,” Phillips said, expression grim. “Simon Derine is a cold, calculating psychopath. There’s a reason he’s been able to keep an iron grip on the entire northwest while also evading detection. He has people everywhere, as you saw. His resources are layered and nearly infinite.

“All the things Emma gave us? That was good information. But I guarantee it doesn’t even scratch the surface of his true network.”

“So what makes us think we can catch him at all?” Liam looked at me. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t go after Emma. I’m asking what chance do we actually have?”

“One advantage.” Phillips checked his phone briefly and tapped out a text. “Both his strength and his weakness. Derine doesn’t believe in computers. Not for the hard-core stuff. When he had Emma doing the books and low-tier stuff, it was to keep up appearances, and that’s all it ever is. Everything real is a single hard copy, and it’s the same for his supplies. So if you find him—and that’s a big if—you can get to him. He’s slippery, but not invincible.”

I moved my shoulder and winced, glancing down at the tracker again. “So getting him to surface last year was pure luck on our part?”

“Luck, and idiocy. No one, at least no one I’ve ever met, takes on Simon like that.”

Noah’s jaw went tight enough I thought it might snap. “We didn’t think we were going up against a warlord. We thought we were saving a kid from a gang that’d gone too far. If we’d known who Simon was, we still would have done it, but we might have gone about it a bit differently.”

I looked at him. “Noah, call Kate. She deserves to know where you are and how you’re involved in this. Especially if there’s a chance you’ll come face-to-face with him again.”

He sobered and looked down at the band on his wrist. It looked like a watch but wasn’t. It was a dual heartbeat monitor. Both he and Kate wore one after what they’d experienced at Simon’s hands. What I wouldn’t do to have one of those monitors on Emma’s wrist right now for the simple, comforting reassurance her heart was still beating.

I wished I had that.

“Okay,” Jude said. “We have a line on the chopper. Are we stopping to get Harlan and Grant?”

Looking over at Agent Phillips, I asked him with a look. “We have equipment at the ranch. Probably not enough, but more than what we have now. I’m assuming there’s no way for the FBI to get anything to us?”

“Not in time.” His expression bordered on thunderous.

I stared straight ahead. We needed to make the stop. “The guy’s ready for us to be there?”

“He is,” Jude nodded.

“And he’s prepared for whatever this is?” We had a lot of skills, but as far as I knew, none of us could fly a helicopter.

Jude shrugged. “Seems to be. He’s a rescue flyer. They see some shit.”

Phillips nodded. “Field office is monitoring your frequency, and yeah, whatever equipment you have would be good.”

Agent Jones’s van sat in front of me, a symbol of my failure. “Let’s do it,” I said. “Jude, tell them to get everything ready for when we land. The faster we do this, the better chance we have.”

Chapter27

Emma

My hands were bloody. I was already fully immersed in the panic seeing myself bleed could send me into, so it didn’t make a difference anymore.

There was one sharp edgejustwithin reach of one of the straps. And it wasn’t easy to force the material against the metal. The action was enough to fray the strap slowly, but it was tearing up my hands in the process. Still, if I had any kind of chance to untether the cage and take them by surprise, it would be worth it.

I pushed down the voice in my head telling me that freeing the cage didn’t give me a wayoutof the cage. While I was in here, I needed to do something…anything to keep myself sane.

How long had I been in the van? It seemed like it was getting darker, but it was hard to tell. It felt like a lifetime, but I knew more than anyone that fear made you perceive time differently.

The strap was frayed almost all the way. Could I…could I snap it?

No one would call me physically strong, but I was going to try. Not like the guys holding me would care if I screamed. Forcing my fingers under the tight fabric, I closed my eyes andpulled, letting my voice lend me strength.

The strap suddenly snapped, tossing me back against the other side of the cage. This time, it moved a little, one side free.

Abangsounded from the front of the van—someone hitting the divider between the drivers and me, presumably telling me to shut up. Fine. I’d gotten what I needed.

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