Surrender A Section 8 Novel

Chapter Thirty-two





Avery and Gunner waited for a long while in the woods after the explosion leveled the house. Even though Gunner’s bike was well hidden, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Avery remained as quiet as he did. She felt strong. Vindicated. But she knew that she’d chosen a life of living off the grid, above the law . . . she’d done that from the moment she’d avenged her mother. But this solidified it.

She had no remorse for killing killers. But she did need to mourn her mother and the life she’d tried to save Avery from. And sitting here quietly in the middle of the bayou, which teemed with life, she mourned. Let the tears stream down her face; she’d never let herself cry for her mom until now, didn’t bother to wipe them away.

Gunner didn’t ask what was wrong, try to stop her. Instead, he sat close enough to her that their shoulders touched, two soldiers in the aftermath of battle trying to absorb what had gone down. Trying to let it all settle in.

As it started to grow dark, Gunner stood and helped her up, led her toward his bike. She stared over his shoulder for most of the ride, not really taking anything in. Trees whizzed by and finally they were back in the city. Gunner looped around, checked the shop and entered from the garage three doors down.

“What now?” she asked.

He showed her the string of texts he must’ve written when she’d been having her quiet mini-breakdown.

Basically, staying clear of the place had been the very best thing they could’ve done.

“Wait a second—you agreed with this?”

Gunner stared at her. “Yes.”

“Dare is going to call Rip?”

“The guy’s going to know the boy’s not dead, and he’ll keep coming for you. Dare won’t let you live like that.”

“You think Rip’s going to listen to that?”

“For the right price, any man will listen.”

She had the distinct feeling they weren’t talking about money any longer.


* * *

Dare asked Grace to draw the compound as she remembered it. She bent her head over the paper and drew furiously as Jem watched and Key remained with an ear pressed to the door in an attempt to hear anything.

Dare could understand Key’s hatred of being cut off from the outside world. Knowing they were safe here helped moderately. Grace’s confession, more so. She’d finally admitted what she’d been holding back, and Dare could understand exactly why. It was a good tactical move. She had no idea if he would’ve tried to use her, the way Powell had. He wouldn’t have—but it changed nothing. Powell still wanted her dead, along with the rest of them.

“Here you go,” she told him. He glanced at it, but Jem held out his hand and Dare passed it along to him, for him and his brother to study. It appeared for now that they were going into Powell’s sanctuary at some point, to hunt him in his home the way he’d hunted them.

“If you don’t believe me, Dare . . . after everything we’ve been through . . . I don’t know what I’ll do,” she told him quietly. “You have to understand why I didn’t tell you.”

He put his hand over hers. “Yeah, I get it. I wish you’d told me—all of us—but in the end . . .”

“You saved our asses,” Key interjected. Grace turned to him and gave a small smile.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and he nodded. She turned back to Dare, asked, “How did Rip find me?”

“I don’t know if he found you so much as Darius told Powell where you were to try to pass a message on to me,” Dare admitted. “He’s been missing for a year. And I’ve been thinking about how long a man could deal with torture and not break.”

Key gave him a hard look. “Forever, if he wants.”

“Right. Especially someone like him. But if he pretended that Powell broke him—if he gave away intel to Powell that I know he never would’ve, beyond purposely . . .”

“Darius is sending us a message about Powell,” Jem said.

“I thought about it when the house caught fire. After that, and the fact that Powell’s men found the house but didn’t know about the shelter below convinced me.”

“Darius didn’t know we’d be here, though,” Key said.

“Didn’t matter. He knew I’d find out it’d been bombed,” Dare pointed out. He looked at Grace. “You’re supposed to not be in New Orleans, right?”

“I was never supposed to come back here,” she agreed.

“Darius disappeared right after I was almost killed on my last SEAL mission. He never came to the hospital. I assumed he was MIA or KIA. Now I think he might’ve been searching for Powell. And if I’m right and Darius is being held and tortured by Powell . . . he might’ve assumed that Grace was gone or that I was with her. Either way, message received, loud and clear. Darius gave away this locale—and the house—purposely because it was the only way to tip his hand.”

“Even if it meant giving me away?” she asked.

“You had a number to call, right?”

She nodded reluctantly. “Darius and Adele gave it to me.”

“I’d be the one on the receiving end of it. Luckily, Avery got me up and moving before you ended up in Powell’s hands.” Dare looked troubled.

“And we’re . . . dead?” Key asked. “Because if he doesn’t find traces of a body, he’s going to keep searching for proof of life.”

“No way Powell’s going to stop now. But at least we’ve got a secure place to plan. You need to keep Avery and Gunner away,” Jem said.

“I’ll call Gunner,” Dare agreed, motioning for Grace to follow him. She did, to the corner, where one of the cots was set up. “You okay?”

“He’s got Darius—and if you’re right, he’s had him for a year. And I never thought to call you. I was upset that I didn’t hear from him. Selfish.”

“Did he tell you he’d call?”

“He never made any promises like that.”

Typical. So f*cking typical. “None of this is your fault.”

“You look like you think it’s yours,” she countered. “Can we just agree to share the burden of guilt and figure out how to move forward?”

“Yes.”

“Darius believed in me when I didn’t. So do you. I never want you to think I’d do anything disloyal to you.”

“Trust doesn’t come easily to either of us. I think we’ve come far in a little less than a week.”

It was the best he could give her. And it was what he wanted to believe. She touched his cheek because she knew, and said, “I’ll make something to eat for you guys while you plan the next steps.”

“Why don’t you sleep, Grace? You need to, and this is the best time.” Dare didn’t have to ask twice. She looked exhausted, and even though she protested a little, she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. He pulled the covers over her and she curled into a ball.

He went back over to Jem, who was still looking over the plans. Key had moved to the corner, pulled out a sleeping bag and laid himself down across the door, his back to them.

Jem looked up at him. “The fact that she can’t see things on command goes a long way toward proving she’s not a fake,” Jem offered. “The fakes, they work their shows all day, seeing future after future. The real thing, their gift is way more temperamental. Makes it difficult to use them in any law enforcement capacity.”

“Psychic, Jem?”

“Worked with some of them at the CIA. I guess they think all crazy is the same.”

“Grace doesn’t seem crazy.”

“Unlike you, I don’t think crazy’s a bad thing,” Jem said. “Her mother was a con, but not a great one. She was two-bit. So I don’t think she hooked Powell. I think it was the other way around.”

“If Grace was the real deal . . .” Dare trailed off.

“Now, that’s a secret worth keeping.”

“But if she can’t see the future—”

“Doesn’t matter to him now. She’s a game to him. He set it up so that, no matter what, he can get to her. We think she’s guilty, she bolts from us, he picks her up—or off. Or we do.”

“She’s as f*cked as we are,” Dare muttered. “Unless she’s good enough to play all of us.”

“No one’s that good,” Jem said.

“Except Powell,” Dare pointed out. “He’s played us like puppets, and it took me too damned long to see Darius’s hand in all of this. Powell’s men found us too easily.”

“You really think your father did this on purpose?”

“Yeah, I do. I know how S8’s brand of crazy works.”

“You’re sure?”

“Darius would’ve blown this place up himself if anyone knew about it before this. He’s done it before when he claimed a location was compromised. I just never knew who was compromising it.”

“So Powell’s been after him for years and now he’s got him. Do you think Powell could’ve truly broken him and all the intel he gave Powell wasn’t on purpose? Honestly, Dare, he’s not a young one anymore.”

Dare shook his head. “There are a lot of things I can say about my father. Him surrendering isn’t one of them.” Instead of commenting further, he glanced at Key, sleeping across the doorway. “What’s his deal?”

“He hasn’t killed you yet, so I’m taking that as a good sign.” Jem stared down at the map Grace had drawn for them. “She’s missing something here.”

“What do you mean?”

Jem slid the paper toward him and pointed to the lower floor. “She drew this tunnel—these doors. And she started to draw more. Paused. Erased it.”

“She made a mistake.”

“You know, I read people. Before I did it for a living, I did it for sport and survival. I knew when my daddy was over the edge, when he wasn’t. I know what I saw in Grace’s eyes, her face, when she drew that line. She started thinking about something, then realized she didn’t want to take that walk down memory lane.”

“Okay, even if you’re right, why should she have to?”

“Because if I’m right, the rooms she doesn’t want to draw will have the best point of entry and exit.”

“And you know this because . . . ?” Dare pressed.

“She had a way out and she didn’t take it.” Jem shrugged. “I see that look in my brother’s eyes all the time. I’ve got to live with that. So does he. Don’t make Grace.”


* * *

Key lay on the floor, listening to every word of Dare and Jem’s conversation. He wished he could call Jem a liar, but he wasn’t.

Key could’ve left. Found Jem. Done anything but stay in that house and deal with enough abuse for two boys.

He closed his eyes, rested briefly but couldn’t escape from the dreams that circled his mind, the old house, seeing Dare hanging in the jungle.

No man lived through that without scars. No one lived through anything they had lived through without them.

Finally, he shifted, stood. Jem was in the kitchen area, Dare resting next to Grace.

“She’s good,” Key said.

“Avery’s fine, too,” Jem responded. “I know you didn’t want to say much in front of Dare.”

“Nothing to say.” Key wiped crumbs from his mouth and grabbed for more muffins. Jem snorted and Key went to study the plans on the table.

“You know she’s not sharing shit if we’re here,” he told Jem. His brother didn’t seem surprised that he’d listened in on the conversation.

“Think they torched the old place?”

“Could’ve only improved it.” Key stared at Jem. “Bet that old Jeep in the shed would work with some rigging.”

“The old man sure took care of it.”

“Better than us,” Key agreed. “Guess that actually works in our favor now.”

“You ready to check it out?”

“Never,” Key told him, even as he readied his weapon and prepared to open the door to let them out into the bayou.