Page 69 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

“All right. You’ve earned the right to know.” Mac drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “We are going to hit the main headquarters for the ATF,” he said, and Barry howled. “Federal building in the capital. If we’re lucky we might take out some secret service, too.”

Rocco’s gut clenched.

Not only was the ATF and secret service in that federal building, but the US district court as well. The building was made of reinforced concrete, spanned almost two acres, and had guards. It wasn’t a quick and simple target, but it was teeming with people. More than two hundred federal employees worked inside, and countless civilians passed by there every day.

“That’s a big, fortified site, isn’t it?” Rocco asked. “Maybe we should pick a smaller target. Easy pickings, you know. Molotov cocktails won’t do much there.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” The horse guy gave his arm a playful punch, and Dennis laughed.

“I’ve got an inside person working in the building,” Mac said. “Security guard who has been there about a year. We’ve worked it out. He’s going to pull the fire alarm once I give him the signal. As everybody pours out of the building, milling around, we’ll strike. The site is large, taking up an entire square block. That’s why we’ve got four vehicles to cover all the exits. I promised you blood in the streets and I always keep my word.”

MARSHALLSTOODINthe foyer as Shawn hauled his daughter inside the house. Mercy glared at him, seething and silent. They both removed their shoes, and Shawn brought her up to him.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Marshall gave her a sympathetic smile.

She looked ready to spit in his face, but then schooled her features. Standing with a sense of grace and decorum that belied her anger, she now appeared so composed, so poised that he might have believed this was any other day.

Except that her hands trembled ever so slightly.

“We will speak later, my dear, and all will be made clear,” he said to her. Marshall looked at Shawn. “Take her up to her room. Lock her inside.” He handed him the padlock and key.

She thought she hated him, but his work wasn’t finished yet. After this was all said and done, what she was feeling now would only scratch the surface.

Marshall watched them ascend the stairs and returned to his office. He’d broken her heart, wounded her deeply in his actions. This did not please him. He found no joy in her pain.

Now that Mercy was safe under his roof and locked away in her room, Marshall picked up the radio. Once Rocco was dead and she had no one else to turn to on the outside, she would finally fall into line. Take her vows.

The commune, this family, would help her heal. The memory of Rocco would fade in time.

And she would find true happiness in the Light.

If she never forgave Marshall for what he was about to do, so be it. Defining relationships and responding to them with exactly what was needed was one of his greatest skills. He would make the same choice again, sacrificing her love for him, to save her soul from darkness.

But Rocco had to die for this to work.

Everything Marshall was doing was necessary. This was his responsibility as father. As prophet. As Empyrean.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

STARINGOUTTHEwindow at the trees rushing by, Rocco struggled to come up with a way out of this. To his left was an escarpment, a slope falling at least two hundred feet. No guardrail, only a precipitous drop with trees along this stretch of road. To his right was the rocky, equally steep mountainside.

A bad place to ask them to pull over so he could answer nature’s call.

In a few more minutes, they’d pass Wayward Bluffs and clear the mountains. Just before they hit the interstate, he’d get them to make a pit stop. Blame it on nerves or a weak bladder. Anything to give him a chance to get a message to Nash so he could warn the folks at the federal building.

The radio up front squawked. “Mac. Are you there?” Marshall’s anxious voice crackled over the static.

Rocco’s heart squeezed, a flurry of worries whirling in his head.

Was Mercy okay? Had something happened to her?

He met Mac’s gaze in the rearview mirror, a thought suddenly niggling his mind. What if Marshall wasn’t calling about Mercy?

What if it was about him?

Only a blind fool would think her father incapable of a double cross. But if things kicked off in the cabin of the truck it would not bode well for Rocco. All he had was a long assault rifle. Trying to fire it in a confined space that required close-quarters combat would prove disastrous.

Not to mention there were three more trucks of heavily armed men right behind them.

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