Exit Strategy (14 page)

“I know how to clean a gun.”

“I’m sure you do. But I don’t mind doing the work.” He settled himself on a bale of hay so she could take the only chair at the desk in the corner.

She opened a drawer and rummaged around inside, picking up old coins and pencils and odds and ends then tossing them back.

“How long have you had this place?” she asked, as she opened another drawer.

He finished with the Sig and snapped it into her ankle holster before answering. “Five years or so. Bought it with my first big paycheck.”

She shot him a look, as if she’d just remembered what he did for a living, then quietly went back to exploring the desk.

After finishing with the Glock, he holstered it, put the cleaning supplies in a tool box, and washed his hands at the sink by the outside shower. When he stepped back into the tack room, he froze. Sabrina was standing by the desk.

Holding a box of condoms.

He swallowed. Hard. “Uh, Sabrina. What are you doing?”

She flipped the box open and pulled out one of the foil packets as she lifted her gorgeous blue eyes to his. “I found this in the desk. I’m guessing they’re Zack’s?”

He slowly nodded, afraid to even breathe.

“Do you think he’ll mind if we use one?”

His legs almost went out from underneath him. “
Sabrina.
”

She crossed the short distance between them and slid one hand up the front of his shirt, a caress he felt all the way to his heart. In her other hand, she held the condom packet. She thumped him
on the chest with it.

“I don’t want a roll in the hayloft, Mason.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s Zack’s territory. But a cornfield, well, I’ve never tried that before.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“How are your ribs feeling?” he asked.

“I took my pills this morning.”

He swallowed again. “And your cut?”

“I’m feeling no pain.”

“Good.” He swung her up and held her against his chest. “Let’s tour the cornfield.”

She giggled and put her arms around his neck as he snagged a blanket off one of the hooks on the wall. But instead of heading out of the tack room, he detoured to the desk, shuffled Sabrina in his arms, and grabbed the entire box of condoms.

C
YP
RIAN SHUT THE
door to the room that housed the mainframe and pressed his code into the digital panel beside it. The electronic lock clicked, securing the steel door. With everything that was happening, he’d wanted to see for himself that the physical security to the computer room was still intact and that no one who shouldn’t have been in this room had gained entry. He’d just spent the past half hour reviewing security videos and was pleased that no breach had occurred. At least
one
thing was going right this morning.

His phone buzzed and he took the call as he headed toward the mouth of the main tunnel that led into the hallway just outside his “official” office.

“Eddie, you have something more for me?” Eddie had already given him the list of Mason’s properties. And now he also had the results of the searches he’d performed through the computer’s logs. Cyprian listened with growing anger as Eddie explained exactly what Bishop had accessed and what he’d done. Eddie continued to list the particulars but Cyprian had already heard more than enough. Damage control was going to be dicey. He’d have to contact a handful of enforcers and give them a lame excuse to explain why he was canceling their EXIT orders, orders that Bishop had faked, just like the one he’d given to Mason. Unfortunately, some of the other orders that Bishop had manufactured had already been carried out. Innocent ­people had died.

If this were the only thing that had gone wrong on his watch this year, Cyprian would have immediately alerted the Council. But this could be the nail in his own coffin if it came to light. His only hope was to bury the evidence, at least until he got things back under control. If the Council found out what Bishop had done
after
everything was resolved, Cyprian might stand a chance of pinning everything on his assistant,
including
the Hightower business, if it came to that. But it would be much better if the Council never found out.

It would be less risky if he just allowed the pending executions to move forward. But he was growing weary of all the collateral damage that was racking up. It was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making him feel like a complete hypocrite when the entire purpose of EXIT was to save innocents.

As for Bishop, Cyprian felt no guilt now over his impending fate, which had been decided the moment Eddie began speaking. But he wanted to focus his resources on the Mason/Hightower problem first. For now, Bishop was still spinning his wheels performing surveillance on an empty house. Stryker had snuck into the back of the house to verify that it was empty, right after he’d taken care of Ace’s punishment.

“Okay, Eddie. Thank you. If you can dig a bit more, to see
why
Bishop might have faked the orders, I’d be most appreciative. And, again, utmost discretion.” He hung up the phone just as Ace and Stryker stepped out of the door to the tunnel that led outside.

“Thank you for meeting me so quickly,” he told them. He judged the swelling on Ace’s face and arms from the beating Stryker had given him just hours ago. “Do we have any problems, Ace?”

Ace shook his head. “No, sir. We don’t.”

“Excellent. I’ve reviewed the list of Mason’s holdings. He has homes in several strategic areas throughout the country. But there are four properties in and around Asheville, only two of which have homes on them. We’ll focus on the local properties to start.”

He pulled two pieces of paper out of his pocket, handing one to Ace and one to Stryker. “I split the list, two for each of you to cover more ground. If none of these pan out, we’ll pick the next most likely locations. Gentlemen, I don’t want to see or hear from Mr. Hunt or Miss Hightower ever again. Make it happen. Now,
go
.”

M
ASON PRESSED
S
A
BRINA
back against the blanket, their arms and legs tangled up in each other. The kiss was hot, wild, completely out of control. Someone whimpered. It might have been him. He rolled with her in his arms, desperate to get closer, to pull her shirt off her.

Her eyes were slightly glazed as she looked up at him. He imagined he looked about the same way. His fingers shook as he tried to undo the ridiculously tiny buttons on her blouse. For some reason, the task seemed beyond his mental capabilities right now. He slid his hands down the shirt, ripping it open instead, sending buttons flying across the blanket and the ground.

Sabrina laughed, then sucked in a breath as he spanned his greedy fingers across her narrow waist and moved across her warm, soft skin to the underside of her breasts. Perfection. No other woman had ever felt so right. He’d have ripped her bra off her if the hooks hadn’t been so strong. But he soon had it removed and the full glory of her rosy-­tipped breasts shined in the sun, demanding his attention.

“Mason, if we’re going to do this, shouldn’t I know your last name?”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“But—­”

“I’m going to kiss you now.
Everywhere
.”

Her pupils dilated and her breath left her in a soft rush that had him tightening even more. They were suddenly a flurry of arms and legs and they both stripped out of their clothes. Mason quickly rolled the condom on, then covered her body with his. The feel of her sun-­kissed skin was like coming home, so soft, so warm. He rose up on his forearms and slid lower, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. She arched off the ground with a ragged moan, her legs moving restlessly beneath him.

She was so soft, so sweet, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, so much more. And he couldn’t wait another second. He slid down her body to the very center of her and dipped his tongue inside.

S
ABRINA ARCHED OFF
the ground, digging her hands into the blanket. The pleasure Mason was giving her as he made love to her with his mouth was almost unbearable. Nothing had ever felt this right. He was a master, stroking her with his fingers, his tongue, exquisitely gentle, building the pressure inside her higher and higher.

Her pulse slammed in her ears as her belly tightened to one desperate center of need. She couldn’t keep her legs still, drawing them up, her toes curling against the backs of his thighs. Just when she thought she couldn’t go higher, he increased the pressure, his mouth and tongue worshipping the very heart of her, spiraling her higher and higher until her world exploded from the inside out. A tidal wave of pleasure swept through her and she screamed his name, her nails digging into the muscles on his shoulders.

He moved up her body, planting kisses as he went. Fire. She was on fire. From his kisses. From his clever hands stroking her everywhere. From the feel of his muscles rippling against her, beneath her fingers as she ran them down his arms, his chest, enjoying the springy feel of his hair.

His ragged breath tickled the hairs on her neck as he kissed her there, then captured her mouth in another, heady kiss. She clung to his shoulders, her tongue dueling with his. And then he took her glasses off, and set them aside. She hadn’t even realized she still had them on. Everything seemed to fade away but him. He was the center of her world, the air she breathed. And if he didn’t do something about this unbearable tension building inside her again she thought she might die.

As if sensing her urgency, he broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. And then he was pushing inside her. She sucked in a breath as he gyrated his hips, knowing just the right angle, just the right pressure to spiral all those delicious sensations out of control.

She moved with him, drawing her knees up, pulling him deeper inside. He groaned against her and clasped her to him as he plunged faster, harder inside her. The magic of his touch, of how perfect they were together, was so beautiful, so exquisite that her throat tightened with emotion.

She clung to him, wanting to draw him even closer. Sliding her fingers over his back, she tensed at the feel of dozens of rough, raised scars crisscrossing his back. She sucked in a startled breath. What could cause such horrible scarring? Burns? Knives? Horrified at the brutal treatment he must have endured to earn those marks, she feathered a shaking hand over one of the scars, wishing she could just as easily soothe away the hurt he’d suffered.

Mason froze above her, then swore and grabbed her hands. He tugged them down and pressed them over her head, his fingers threaded with hers.

Her heart lurched at the wary look in his eyes, and the horrible possibilities in her mind about what he might have endured. She tugged one of her hands free and gently cupped the side of his face. “Mason, the scars, what happened?”

“Don’t.”

Just one word, raw, ragged, but in it she heard everything. Pain, anger,
betrayal
. She wanted to ask him to confide in her, to tell her what awful things had been done to him, to hold him and help him work through the pain she sensed still deep inside him. But he covered her mouth with his and began to move again, easing in and out of her, fanning the flames to an exquisite pitch, making her forget everything but the feel of his body loving hers.

Using his hands, his hips, he urged her to match his rhythm, to touch him as he was touching her. Their bodies moved in perfect unison as the pressure spiraled inside her again, higher, and higher, until every nerve ending seemed to pulse with pleasure that couldn’t possibly get better. And then it did.

Her climax caught her by surprise this time, the force of it bowing her back, shattering her from the inside out. As pleasure rippled through her, Mason pumped harder in a near frenzy, his hands clutching her bottom, pulling her up at an angle that had her crying out and climaxing all over again as he convulsed inside her. He pushed into her once, twice more, his entire body shuddering against her. And then he collapsed onto the blanket, rolling with her, one hand on her bottom and one on her back, locking her to him as he remained buried deep inside her.

They lay entwined for a long time, tangled in the blanket, with the bright sun shining down on them. As their heartbeats slowed and their breathing gradually returned to normal, the world around them began to come into focus again.

The green leaves on the corn stalks rustled against each other in the breeze, swaying gently and dipping like nature’s dancers to music only they could hear. Crickets chirped. A crow’s raucous cry called out from a nearby tree. And somewhere very far away, the dull roar of a tractor engine started up.

Mason gently pulled out of her and rolled her onto her back. He rose above her on his forearms. His smile was sleepy, satisfied, and arrogantly male as he gave her a slow, lazy wink. Then he gifted her with one of his über-­sexy grins that had her belly tightening all over again. He kissed her softly, then pulled back.

“So, what’s your opinion of cornfield sex?”

She laughed and pushed at his chest. “Proud of yourself, aren’t you? It was amazing, okay? I won’t lie.” She shifted her shoulders against the ground. “But it’s starting to get a bit hard.”

He cocked a brow. “Yes, it is.” He shifted against her.

She blinked in astonishment as she realized exactly what he meant.

“Already?”

He held up the box of condoms and shook it. “There’s an outdoor shower behind the barn. How do you feel about shower sex?”

She laughed and pulled him down for another kiss.

Chapter Twelve

Day Three—­11:00 a.m.

A
ce lowered his binoculars and idly ran his hand over the small, flesh-­colored bandage on his neck that he’d finally been able to switch to instead of the larger white gauze from earlier. The cut seemed to twitch right along with the excitement sluicing through his veins.

Time for payback.

He scooted back down the ridge that overlooked the farm below. He rubbed his aching shoulder. Stryker was going to pay for that bruise. And Cyprian would pay for the rest. But not yet. Right now he had an appointment with Hunt and High­tower, two more ­people on his list.

Too bad he hadn’t brought a rifle. He could have taken them out with two quick shots as they’d run naked from the cornfield to the back of the barn. No worries. He had plenty of firepower. He just needed to get closer.

He stood and jogged to his reliable, beat-­up Chevy that no one ever paid attention to. The perfect car for assignments like this. Killing Hunt and Hightower was going to be pathetically easy, but immensely satisfying. He pitched his binoculars on the seat beside him, revved the engine, and headed down the road.

S
HOWER SEX HAD
turned out to be just as fun as cornfield sex. But Sabrina imagined that being with Mason would always be amazing, no matter the setting.

She tied the edges of her ruined blouse together,
sans
buttons, and sat on an old barrel beside the barn to pull on her shoes. Across from her, Mason pulled his shirt over his head. He’d just finished his Crocodile Dundee impression as he’d sheathed his knife in his boot, comparing it with her little pocketknife, saying, “Now this, this is a knife.”

Who knew he had such a corny sense of humor, or that he was a devotee of old movies and could quote lines from so many of them? His favorites seemed to be sci-­fi, particularly
Star Wars
. She decided not to admit she wasn’t a fan and that she preferred
Galaxy Quest
, or the newer laugh-­out-­loud funny
Guardians of the Galaxy
.

She tucked the tiny pocketknife inside her shoe again. It seemed silly to keep it, but since Mason had given it to her it was more like a memento, and she couldn’t bear to leave it. Their time together this morning was something special she never wanted to forget. And the past half hour they’d spent swapping funny and sometimes touching stories about their families had kept her fears at bay, at least for a little while. But no matter how cute, or silly, or sexy he was, it couldn’t distract her forever from what she’d felt beneath her fingertips when she’d run them across his back.

“Mason, tell me what happened. Please.” She didn’t have to tell him what she was talking about. The knowledge was there in his eyes, in the way his smile faded.

“It’s from my time in the army,” he said, his voice quiet. “And it’s why I can’t wear seat belts. I can’t stand to be constrained in any way.”

He’d been tied up then. Had the ropes cut into his flesh? Her heart broke at the thought, but she didn’t dare let it show on her face. He was talking now, about things she imagined he rarely spoke about, and she didn’t want to do anything that would stop him from opening up to her. “You were in the army? When?”

He looked out over the fields behind the barn. “A lifetime ago. I joined right after graduating from UNC. I’d majored in physics and astronomy because they were easy, but I didn’t want to work in those fields. The idea of being confined to a lab or a windowless office sounded like torture. But I had no real clue what I was going to do. Then I met Ramsey.”

Sabrina couldn’t imagine physics and astronomy being “easy.” She’d struggled just getting a degree in management. “Ramsey, the enforcer who convinced you I was innocent, right? You went to school together?”

He shook his head. “No. I went to school with his younger brother. We were roommates. Ramsey was Special Forces in the army at the time. When he visited his brother, Ramsey and I talked about the army life and it appealed to me. So I signed up.”

“I bet your parents loved that, after you spent all that time studying science.”

His smile made a brief reappearance. “They definitely weren’t thrilled, especially since they’d mortgaged their home to pay for my education.” He turned toward her. “But I paid my debts years ago.” His smile disappeared again. “All except one, and that one I can never repay, because the man I owed died before I found him again.”

She curled her fingers against the barrel she was sitting on. “You’re talking about the person who scarred your back?”

He nodded. “He was called the Jackal. But I wasn’t worried about making him pay for what he did to
me
. I wanted to make him pay for what he did to my men, my unit.” His lip curled in derision. “But the army wouldn’t let me go after him. There was some kind of political tug of war going on, and killing the Jackal would have jeopardized the negotiations with some tribal leaders. As soon as my tour of duty was up, I quit, with every intention of going back overseas on my own to find him.”

“The Jackal.”

“Yes. But before I could go back, he was killed. And then I met Cyprian. Or rather, he met me. He sought me out, based on my history, I suppose. He knew I wanted justice for those who couldn’t seek it for themselves. And then I mentioned Ramsey, and how he might like the same opportunity. The rest, as they say, is history.”

He stared at the ground for a long time while Sabrina watched him. He still hadn’t told her exactly how he’d gotten the scars. She hoped he would tell her someday . . . if indeed there would be a someday for them. If she even had a future. A shiver went up her spine and she couldn’t help but feel that something very bad was about to happen.

“Come on.”

Mason held his hand out toward her, with no signs of the darkness that had come over him just moments ago.

“I’ll cook us a mean breakfast,” he said, his Southern accent deliciously swirling the words together.

“I thought you already had breakfast? I had a bowl of cereal.”

“I worked off all of those calories. I’m hungry again.”

His sexy wink had her remembering exactly how he’d worked off those calories. She cleared her throat. “I also thought you couldn’t cook.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Technicalities. I’m sure between the two of us we can figure something out.”

They started to pass the truck on the way to the house, when Mason pulled his hand out of hers. “Wait, I left my watch in the tack room.”

Because he’d taken it off for shower sex. She sighed dreamily. He winked, apparently knowing exactly why she’d sighed, and bent down to kiss her.

Bam!

The deep-­throated bark of a gun shattered the morning. A shower of wooden splinters rained down from the side of the barn, right where Mason’s head had been a half second before he’d leaned down to kiss her.

He swore and grabbed her, throwing her to the ground as more shots rang out.

“Where are they coming from?” she yelled, as he scrambled backward and yanked her behind the barn with him.

“The house.” A beeping noise sounded from inside the tack room. “And that would be my perimeter alarm going off. Damn it. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have taken off the watch.”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that ‘screw up’ statement since I’m the screw-­up.”

He winced and pulled her farther away from the corner as more shots cracked against the barn. “Sorry,” he said, as he grabbed his gun. “Didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She raised her leg and grabbed the Sig out of her ankle holster. “You’re forgiven, if you get us out of this alive.” Another shot burst through the wood right beside her shoulder.

Mason grabbed her and pulled her down closer to the ground. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Another bullet whined by.

He scanned the area, but Sabrina didn’t know why he bothered. There wasn’t anywhere else to hide but the barn. The trees were too far away. She checked the loading on her Sig. “Will bales of hay stop a bullet?”

“I’d rather not find out. And we’ll just get trapped if we hole up inside. He could prop the doors closed and burn us out.”

Sabrina swallowed against her suddenly tight throat. Burning to death definitely wasn’t an appealing option. “He? Did you see who was shooting at us?”

He nodded. “Ace. The son of a bitch is on my porch.”

“Well, the nerve.”

He grinned, then swore as another bullet tore through the wood a foot away. “All right. That’s enough. I’m going for the truck. I need you to lay some cover fire.”

“What? You’re crazy. You don’t have your Kevlar.”

“Yeah, that’s a bummer.” He hefted his Glock. “Ready?”

“Don’t you dare get shot, Mason.”

“I’ll try not to. You do the same.”

He held up three fingers.

She wrapped both hands around the Sig, pointing toward the ground.

Two.

One.

Mason took off running for the truck, firing his Glock toward the house as he ran.

Sabrina crouched by the corner of the barn, firing as fast as she could toward the porch although she didn’t see anyone there. Had Ace ducked for cover or was he on the move?

The truck door slammed shut and Mason started the engine.

Sabrina held her fire, puzzled at the silence coming from the house.

The truck’s tires threw up dirt and gravel as Mason floored the accelerator and spun toward the barn. The tread grabbed hold and spit the pickup forward. He slammed the brakes and the truck nosedived to a stop behind the tack room. Mason shoved his driver’s side door open.

“Get in,” he yelled.

The sound of another engine, pitched high, had her looking back toward the other corner of the barn.

“Get in, Sabrina. Now!”

The urgency in his voice spurred her forward. She ran to him and he lifted her inside, shoving her into the passenger seat as he hit the gas again. The door slammed shut on its own as the truck swerved and barreled into the cornfield.

Sabrina was about to ask him why he’d done that when the answer plowed into the field almost on top of them. She instinctively ducked as the Chevy spun toward them, with Ace at the wheel, holding a pistol out the window.

Mason fired his Glock through his open window and jerked the wheel. Ace’s windshield cracked in a spiderweb pattern as the car whipped past their rear left side, narrowly missing them.

“Get down,” Mason ordered, as he pressed his foot all the way to the floor, making the pickup leap forward.
Thump, thump, thump.
The stalks of corn pounded against the sides of the truck and bumped against its underbelly.

Sabrina ignored his order and turned around in her seat. She slid the rear window open and shoved her arms through, aiming the Sig at Ace’s car as it came up fast.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
She fired at the cracking glass pattern on the driver’s side.

The glass shattered and fell mostly inside the car. She could hear Ace’s curses as he hit his brakes, then swerved off to their left. He fired a parting shot that cracked through the glass, narrowly missing her.

“Get down,” Mason yelled.

“Just drive. I’ve got this.” She held the Sig Sauer as she hung farther out the back window, trying to lift herself high enough to see the stalks of corn being mowed down by Ace’s car. She could hear the engine close by, but she still wasn’t high enough to see the path he was taking.

She let out a squeak of surprise when Mason grabbed a handful of her shirt and yanked her back inside. She slid across the leather seat and plopped down on the floorboard on the passenger side.

Mason glared at her. “Stay down and hold on!”

She glared right back and tried to remember what exactly it was that she liked about him. She definitely didn’t like being ordered around, particularly when she was a good shot and should be protecting both of them instead of lying in a floorboard.

The truck went faster and faster, the corn a green and gold blur as it hit the sides of the truck. Mason looked left, gritting his teeth. “Almost there.”

“Almost where?” She clutched her gun, ready to do battle whether Mason wanted her help or not.

He didn’t answer. He glanced left again, his jaw tightening. “Brace yourself. This is gonna be close.”

Whatever he was planning couldn’t be good. She shoved her gun in her ankle holster and wedged herself into a tight ball.

Another engine revved, impossibly close. Mason held his hand out the window, shooting over and over as he jerked the wheel. The truck kicked up dust and dirt as it jackknifed a one-­eighty. It was all Sabrina could do just to hold on as her body was slammed back and forth.

“Ouch,” she bit out as her head hit the glove box.

A shot rang out, followed by a sickeningly loud crunch of metal somewhere close by. Had Ace crashed his car? What would he have crashed it into out here in the middle of a field of corn?

Mason stomped the accelerator again and drove about twenty yards before he stomped the brakes and shoved the truck in park.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, finally sparing her a glance.

She rubbed the back of her head. “Just dandy.”

“Wait here.” He popped the door open and jumped out.

“No,
you
wait. I’m coming with you.” She grabbed her Sig but by the time she unpretzeled herself from the floorboard, he was gone. The man was far too stubborn for his own good.

Without knowing exactly where he was, she couldn’t risk going outside and possibly getting in his way. As much as it galled her to do nothing while he was risking his life for her, she settled down to wait. With her knees on the floorboard, she braced her elbows on the seat, watching the broken corn stalks through the open driver’s side door. Except for the low hum of the engine, quiet reigned once again. But this time, even the crickets weren’t chirping.

“Come on, Mason,” she whispered. “What’s happening?” A minute passed. Then another. That was it. She couldn’t wait any longer. Mason must need her help or he’d have come back by now. And she wasn’t the type to cower anyway. She’d rather go down fighting if she was going down.