Page 68 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

As if all the times she’d gone into town, looking for something to change, for something that was uniquely hers, for something to spark in her heart, she’d been searching for him.

Not simply a man. Not someone like him, but Rocco.

She hated her father for wanting to take this away from her.

Shawn keyed a radio. “Empyrean. Come in.”

A strange fear crept over her.

“Do you have Mercy?” her father asked, making her temples throb and her breath grow shallow.

“I do.”

A tingling sensation spread through her arms down to her fingers. Her heart raced, each beat pounding through her.

“Good. Hurry home.”

Facing forward, she tried to swallow the bitter dread rising in her throat at what her father had planned for her at the compound.

The sense of impending doom wormed through her veins, tightening in her chest, blurring her vision.

What was happening to her? Was it another anxiety attack? It was nothing like her allergic reaction, but she still felt like she was dying.

Panic washed over her in a cold, blistering wave, and all she could do was roll down the window, letting the fresh air rush over her, close her eyes and pray.

Chapter Seventeen

Two hours.

Mercy had been gone only two hours, and it felt like a lifetime.

Rocco was split down the middle, a war raging inside his heart as he rode in one of the trucks. He would’ve done anything to stop her from leaving...if he didn’t have a job to do. If lives weren’t hanging in the balance.

After reading the note, he understood. Her father’s trap. Her choice to save him.

Fury was a noose strangling him.

Any minute, she’d be back at the compound, if she wasn’t there already. What was going to happen to her then?

The uncertainty had unease slithering through his veins.

At least Alex would be locked up, unable to hurt her again.

He tightened his grip on the AK-47 in his hands. He’d been given the weapon along with a bulletproof vest that would protect the Brotherhood from shots fired by law enforcement. But it wouldn’t protect Rocco from their armor-piercing rounds.

Their vehicle hit a pothole, jostling them. They’d left about thirty minutes after Mercy and were almost out of the mountains. He was in the back seat of the lead truck—the black dually that had run Dr. Percy Tiggs off the road. Rocco was sitting beside Barry—a man who smelled like he’d been sleeping outdoors for one too many nights without a shower. Mac was in the passenger’s seat and behind the wheel, in front of Rocco, was Dennis.

Although Rocco had an assault rifle, the two up front also carried backup 9 mms while Barry had a Calico M950 submachine gun slung over his right shoulder and a bowie knife holstered on his left hip.

Rocco gave a furtive glance down at the knife on Barry’s hip beside him. “I heard about how you two took care of a federal informant.”

“Sure did,” Dennis said with a nod. “Barry shot him, and I ran him off the road.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Rocco patted Barry’s shoulder. “Wish I had been given the chance to do the same to the ATF agent who wormed his way into the compound.”

“Don’t worry. That one might’ve gotten away, but you’re about to have a much sweeter opportunity.”

“So, where are we headed?” Rocco asked. “The not knowing is driving me nuts.”

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