Mercy's Angels Box Set (94 page)

“I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?” she cried behind her hand. “Eli’s out there, and I’m . . . I’m . . .” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“You’re looking for comfort, needing a break from the pain, which is completely normal,” I whispered. She shook her head furiously, obviously appalled with herself, which was completely ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with needing touch and comfort at a time like this. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, trying to ignore my throbbing dick that didn’t care what was going on outside this room. “And this is my fault. I shouldn’t have shaved; I’m obviously too irresistible,” I said in an attempt to lighten the moment. It worked as I felt Annie’s body shake with laughter. “Come on, I need to put on clothes; otherwise, I’m going to take you against the wall like a damn caveman.” The flare of heat in Annie’s eyes forced a groan from my throat. “We are exploring your reaction to that later. Come on,” I said a little gruffly as I led her out of the bathroom. Thankfully, Annie waited in the living room while I got dressed; otherwise, her, me, and the wall were going to get intimately acquainted. The shrill ring of my phone pulled my attention from my gun holster, and noticing Braiden’s name flash across the screen, I quickly answered it.

“How’s it going?” I asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

“Annie with you at the moment?” Braiden suspiciously asked.

“No, what’s up?”

“I found her husband.”

“Ex,” I corrected him, “where is he?”

“Definitely an ex now,” Braiden muttered. “He’s dead, swinging from the rafter of a hunting cabin.”

“Fuck.” I spat out.

“Room’s pretty much empty except for the painting by Eli, and from the look of the body, it was recent.”

“Shit, have you called the local PD?”

“Done. I’ll wait for them to show, give my statement, and get back there. Sam filled me in on the prepper angle; you need me there.”

“Yeah, I do,” I said quietly.

“Be home soon.” Braiden hung up, and I threw the phone on the bed behind me.

“Motherfucker,” I growled, clutching my pounding head in my hands. Could we catch a fucking break? At least we knew Phillip had nothing to do with Eli’s abduction.

“What happened?” My head snapped out of my hands at the sound of Annie’s voice.

“Not Eli. It’s okay,” I calmly reassured her as she walked cautiously towards me. I held my hand out, and she took it, though instead of sitting on the bed beside me, like I assumed she would, she knelt at my feet. I brushed her hair back from her face.

“That was Braiden,” I began, not wanting to continue. I knew Annie no longer loved her husband, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care what happened to him. Annie couldn’t help but care; that was my Annie—loving, caring, nurturing, and forgiving. “Phillip took his own life, baby. I’m so sorry.” She just knelt there and stared for the longest time before a single tear slipped free. She nodded her head.

“After the flowers . . .” she trailed off.

“Yeah, he wanted you to know he was sorry. He was saying goodbye.” I hugged her close, and she laid her head in my lap. Thankfully, my hard-on was appropriately MIA right now.

“It’s okay,” she said, and I wondered if she was trying to convince herself or me. Her body remained still, but I knew her tears fell. Silent tears for a man that had captured her heart and subsequently broke it. She still cried for him, though. Me? I hated Annie’s pain, and the thought of telling Eli once he was home consumed me with dread, but I found it difficult to find any remorse for Phillip. Focusing on Eli helped me move into action.

“I need to call Sam, Sunshine. Braiden is on his way home, and I want to be ready to move when he gets here. We need to get Eli home, soon.” Annie moved back and gracefully stood. Before I had a chance to call Sam, though, he called me.

“Boss, I tracked down a man by the name of Wayne Lynch, coordinator of the local prepper society, and, Boss, it’s fucking huge, over a hundred members right here in Claymont. Go figure,” Sam said with wonder. “Anyway, our perps didn’t seem familiar to him, but he emailed their pictures to a few members and got a hit. A woman by the name of Cora Knight recognized Alison. They had coffee a few times, exchanged recipes, farming ideas, that kind of stuff. According to Cora, Stephan and Alison were gifted a small pocket of land and a cabin in a remote location of the Black Ridge Mountains. Cora said Alison told her that she and Stephan had been given a large sum of money and the land a few years ago, and they had been working on making it a livable location, completely self-sufficient. I backtracked through their bank records and found a deposit from nearly five years ago for $25,000. The money was deposited by a Lisa and Dale Remone. I found a number for Dale Remone of Kentucky and put in a call a few minutes ago. And get this—Alison was a surrogate mother to their five-year-old daughter, Shelly,” Sam paused, as if for effect or something.

“I thought they couldn’t have children?” My mind was spinning with possibilities.

“The birth didn’t go well, and Alison had to have a partial hysterectomy which, from what I’ve discovered, can make it difficult to conceive again. The Remones felt so guilty they paid out a large sum of cash and gifted Alison and Stephan the land and cabin. Dale couldn’t remember the address; the land had originally belonged to his grandfather, and it was so remote and off the grid they never bothered to do anything with it. His grandfather used it for hunting, but from what Dale could remember, it was pretty rough. Dale is locating a copy of the deed that passed over ownership to Alison and Stephan. It will have an address on it.”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmured, running a hand over my face. The information Sam had just given me was tumbling through my mind in a chaotic swirl. In a method I had developed as a soldier, I began finding order with the information I had been given, starting with Alison’s gift of surrogacy. Once everything was in place, I could clearly establish a number of alternative possibilities, narrowing it down to the fact that Stephan and Alison had not gone through the police check points and had to be somewhere inside them, unless, of course, they had patiently waited at this unknown location until the police blockades were removed. If that were the case, they could be anywhere, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that possibility just yet. It didn’t feel right; something inside me, call it instinct, my gut, whatever it was, was telling me they were close, hiding within the safety of their established home. Annie was practically standing on top of me, the concern and anticipation on her face palpable.

“Tell me about it,” Sam huffed. “I’ll call the second I have the address.”

“You did good, Sam,” I said before hanging up.

I looked into Annie’s hopeful eyes. “Sam is going to have an address for a hunting cabin in a very remote area of the mountains soon. We don’t know for sure if Eli’s there, but it’s the best we got.”

“He’s there,” Annie said with determination. “He has to be.”

I nodded in agreement. Waiting for Sam’s call was going to be most difficult moment in my life.

Hours passed and Sam still didn’t have the address. Apparently, the man who had gifted the land could not find the deed that transferred the title to Alison and Stephan, so he was trying to get in touch with his lawyer who was currently on vacation in Europe. Family members could only give vague and conflicting reports of where the land sat. It was hard being so close yet so far away from finding Eli, and my body felt taut and uncomfortable as I tried to sit still and watch the hands on the clock slowly tick by. My thoughts kept skipping back to Eli, leading me to feel restless and fearful, and when I tried to push that fear away, my thoughts of Eli were replaced with thoughts of Phillip. He was dead, and I hadn’t really had a chance to absorb that information yet. I wasn’t sure how I felt, my emotions conflicting. There was definitely remorse and sadness, but also a slight pang of relief, which, of course, led to guilt. As I did with any other thoughts that upset me, I pushed them away and recalled holding Celeste in my arms earlier today. She was beautiful, perfect. My memories of Eli as a baby were cloudy. It seemed as he grew, the memories of those first few years became almost untouchable. I could recall moments, his favorite toy and the fire engine red overalls I dressed him in as a toddler. I remembered the gentle and comfortable weight of him in my arms. But everything felt so distant that eight short years could have been a lifetime. I had no keepsakes from Eli’s time as a baby. No memoirs of when he took his first steps or what his first word was. I had no pictures, everything left behind when I fled Phillip that fateful evening, so I clung with frantic desperation to the vague memories of what he looked like as a baby. I was terrified that one day it would be gone, those snap shots in my mind would fade like old Polaroid photographs. I shook off my morose thoughts, again, and glanced back at the clock. It had only been five minutes since I had last looked at it.

Braiden had arrived home a short time ago with Emily in tow, and now Emily and I sat on the couch as she tried to calm herself with her favorite pastime, the Xbox, and I tried to ignore the fact it was also Eli’s favorite pastime. Braiden and Dillon were at the kitchen counter loading up an arsenal of weapons. Bomber sat on the couch opposite us, typing away on his cell phone. The room felt tense, the mood somber. When Dillon’s phone rang, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the innocuous device.

“Sergeant?” Dillon said tersely.

Dillon’s eyes widened with what looked like surprise, and I couldn’t help but stand and gravitate towards him. “On it,” he replied before disconnecting the call. He spared Braiden a brief glance before moving to me. With his strong hands on my shoulders, he said, “Local PD found Grayson’s right hand man. He’s been taken into custody.” Dillon gave Braiden a sideways glance before looking back into my eyes. “They also found Stephan Walters and have him in a holding cell.” I didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare move, waiting for his next words. “He was alone, in a small convenience store on the outskirts of town. The clerk recognized his face from TV and phoned police. He’s refusing to speak.” Dillon turned to Braiden. “Sergeant Maitland heard about your persuasive abilities to get someone talking, and he wondered if we might go by and pay a visit. We might prompt Stephan to talk.” Braiden nodded as he slipped a wicked looking knife into a holster at his thigh. “We can’t lay a finger on him, Braiden. We shouldn’t even be left alone in a room with him.”

Braiden nodded. “I won’t need to lay a finger on him. He’ll talk.” There wasn’t an ounce of concern in Braiden’s voice; he was just as self-assured and confident as always. I went to grab my purse, but Dillon stopped me.

“I need you to stay here, baby. I’m gonna go get your boy . . . our boy . . . but I need to know you’re safe and sound here. Can you do that for me?” I didn’t want to—I wanted to be out there looking for Eli—but the sincerity and need in Dillon’s eyes made me pause. “Bomber?” Dillon called out over my shoulder.

“I’ll keep the ladies company,” Bomber easily answered.

Dillon pressed his lips to mine, a hard, fierce kiss, over faster than it began. Then he and Braiden, dressed in matching black Montgomery Security uniforms, laden down with weapons that reminded me of a scene from Rambo, left the house. If just the sight of those two men, so dark and dangerous, couldn’t persuade Stephan to talk, I had no doubt Dillon would find another way. I turned back to the couch where Emily and Bomber watched me with concern. I rubbed my arms, feeling fidgety and anxious.

“I need to bake,” I said. It was something to help pass the time, and I knew keeping busy would help keep me calm.

Bomber nodded. “As long as you let Em and me eat the leftover batter of whatever it is you are going to bake, I’m all for it.” Emily even managed a small smile at that.

The kitchen was huge and sophisticated, every house wife’s dream come true. Certainly the type of kitchen I dreamed of anyway. Opening cupboards, I found the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. I didn’t miss the cupboard filled with coffee. There was so much it would probably expire before they had a chance to drink it. I knew what Dillon had been doing. I didn’t like handouts, so instead he tried to sneak them to me through legitimate purchases. Silly man, silly, kind, generous, loving man. The kind of man that would make a wonderful father, the kind of man that would never hurt his wife. I knew that now and trusted him without hesitation and doubt. Dillon made me want things I never dreamed I would want again—a home, another baby perhaps, a husband. As soon as he got Eli back, I was telling him just that.

I don’t know how much time passed, but my cookies were finally in the oven, and Bomber was in the bathroom cleaning sticky batter off his hands and face when the home phone rang. The cordless sat right beside me, and I reached for it without conscious thought.

“Montgomery residence,” I said quickly, hoping to hear Dillon’s voice on the other end. Instead, I was greeted with a pause.

“I need to speak with Dillon Montgomery,” said a male voice I didn’t recognize.

“He’s not here right now,” I replied quickly, wanting to clear the phone line in case Dillon tried to call.

“I’ve been trying his cell phone, but he’s not answering. My name is Dale Remone, and I have an address for him.”

My heart was suddenly beating so fast that my hands shook as I reached for a pen and paper. “I can get a hold of him. What’s the address?” The voice on the other end was quiet. “Please, it’s my son he’s looking for. We need this address, and I promise I can get it to Dillon.” The desperation in my voice wasn’t feigned; I had never felt so utterly useless and frightened.

“Do you have a pen handy?” Dale asked, his voice now more determined.

“I do.” I wrote down the address, my writing barely recognizable. “Thank you,” I breathed.

“You’re welcome.” Dale paused for a moment. “I’m sorry all this happened to you. I would never have believed Stephan or Alison were capable of something like this. They were obviously desperate, and I feel somewhat responsible for that.”

“They made their own choices. They know the difference between right and wrong. This is on them, not on you or your family.”

“I hope you get your boy back,” Dale said with a sincerity that brought tears to my eyes.

“We will. Thank you.” I pressed the button on the phone that disconnected the call.

“Who was that?” Bomber’s voice startled me, dragging my gaze from the piece of paper before me. Emily was standing quietly at his side.

I lifted the paper with shaky fingers and held it out. “That was Dale Remone. This is the address for the cabin.”

Bomber’s eyes widened as he stepped forward and took the address from me. Reaching for his phone, which was stuffed in his back pocket, he dialed and raised it to his ear. “Come on, Boss, answer your fucking phone,” he grumbled after a short while, pacing from one side of the dining room to the other. Finally he hung up and dialed again. After a few frustrating moments, he spoke. “Braiden, you and Dillon are obviously busy, but I need to speak to you now. Call me right back, man.” He hung up and became intensely focused on his cell phone once more. He glanced at me and then Em. “I’ll call Sergeant Maitland.” Bomber moved away, sliding the back porch door open and carefully closing it behind him. Impatience screamed at me to move, to take action, and I couldn’t ignore it. I was going to get my boy back. I grabbed the keys to Dillon’s SUV off the key-hook by the kitchen entrance and headed for the garage.

“Annie?” Emily asked in a small tentative voice.

“I need to go get him, Em. I know the address, and Dillon’s SUV has that fancy GPS thingy. The boys will be right behind me, anyway.” I pulled open the door.

“Annie!” Emily’s voice was more determined this time, and a small hand on my arm stopped me. “Here,” she pressed a key into my palm. “Dillon carries a gun in a safe under the front passenger seat. This will open the safe.”

I squeezed her hand gratefully and quickly climbed into the SUV before Bomber realized what I was doing. I backed out of the garage and watched Emily’s solemn gaze staring out from one bright window at the front of the house. As I backed the car into the street, I didn’t dare stop, knowing Bomber would be hot on my tail. I put the car in drive and pressed my foot hard on the accelerator. I had never had a driver’s licence, but I had learned how to drive; my father had taught me. It had been a while, though, and the urgent response from the vehicle gave me a fright. I backed off slightly, and soon found a familiar rhythm. I found the art of driving familiar, kind of like riding a bike . . . or driving a car, I thought with a shrug. When I finally reached the turn off for the Black Ridge Mountain Range, I somehow figured out how to key the address I had memorized into the GPS. The monotone female voice directed me to turn right onto the winding road that would take me up the mountain. I didn’t hesitate. The instinct every mother possessed to protect their child forced me to go to my son. I needed to find him and make up for failing to protect him when he was taken. I needed to make everything right. I just needed Eli.

***

I had never been up into the mountain range. The road twisted and coiled around the mountain like a snake, and the higher I got the more narrow the road seemed to get. Thankfully it wasn’t winter; otherwise, the asphalt would be coated in a slick, deadly glaze of ice. As it was, I was driving so slowly I felt like a hesitant old grandma behind the wheel. I was thankful it was nighttime and couldn’t see the sheer drop-off that peeked out of the thick forest pines every now and again. I had passed through the wealthy vacation homes that sat in the forest like towering rural mansions. Every now and again I had caught lights twinkling from a window, suggesting people were tucked away safely inside. I had felt a little more comfortable knowing I wasn’t completely alone in the mountains, but the upscale cabins and wider roads were far behind me. Now, in the inky blackness of the mountain range, the crushing darkness felt almost claustrophobic, and I felt far too alone. The GPS in Dillon’s car had stopped working about twenty minutes ago, and I assumed it was no longer able to connect to a satellite. I had a fair idea where I was going, though, the mountain range drive was easy to follow with few turn offs. At the last direction given by the GPS, I had fifteen more miles to reach my destination. The road no longer seemed to twist and coil, and I figured I must have reached the peak and was now driving through the abyss of empty wilderness that sat atop the Black Ridge Mountain Range. I had been carefully watching the odometer tick over for the last fifteen miles, and as it clicked down to the last mile, I slowed the SUV to a crawl and eventually pulled off to the side of the road. The key to the safe sat in a small compartment in the center console, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it and take the gun. I wasn’t fond of weapons and didn’t think I would even know what to do with it, anyway. Climbing from the car, I stood on the dark, silent road. The wind was crisp and cold, slamming into my body with a sharp bite. I suddenly wished I had grabbed a jacket. Ignoring the discomfort, I stepped away from the car. The door was slightly ajar allowing the dull interior light to penetrate the impossible darkness. I turned in a full circle on the spot, looking around for a sign of life, perhaps a distant light that might tell of a cabin amongst the tall pines which were sparser now at the top of the mountains. I had been driving for what seemed like forever, and I had hoped Bomber or Dillon would have caught up to me by now. I walked along the road, my ears straining for sounds, looking around my surroundings carefully. I noticed a weathered looking gate set back off the road. I glanced at the SUV and figured no one would steal it from up here; I left it where it was, with the light on, to help Dillon find me. I stepped off the broken asphalt and the crunch of dry leaves and dirt under my feet was the only sound. I easily climbed over the fence and followed the overgrown path. I couldn’t see much around me; it was too dark. I wished I had a flashlight, but then again, I didn’t want to give away my approach, which made me think of the sound my footsteps were making. I moved to the side of the path and walked on the grassier patches, hoping to muffle any noise. Soon I came to an opening in the forest which allowed light from the moon to fill the area, illuminating  a small, yet well-kept cabin. I stopped and crouched behind a tree, hoping that, if this was the right place, no one had seen my approach. Since Stephan was in custody, I assumed Alison would be alone with Eli, but just in case there was someone with her, I needed to be careful and quiet. I wanted to find Eli and sneak him silently out of the cabin with his abductors being none the wiser. If I could just get close enough to peek through the windows, I could check if he was inside. If he was, I could concentrate on sneaking him out, perhaps through a window or back door.