In front of her was thick forest, hemlocks and rhododendrons, easy to vanish into and escape pursuit if you knew the area. Clint would leave that way, she was certain. Oshiro and Liz Harding had agreed, although they’d stretched their cordon as wide as possible, to cover all options.
It wouldn’t work, she’d argued before Jenna had called in reinforcements. Clint knew this area too well. But Jenna was former law enforcement, placed her faith in protocols and training and operating procedures. After all, Clint was just one man, she’d said. Morgan had been half tempted to grab the cash and do the exchange on her own, but the others hadn’t let her out of their sight, so she had no choice.
No, that was a lie. She’d always had a choice. Just this time she was choosing to trust that the others were as determined to save Andre as she was.
Clint came from her left, the ATV’s headlight piercing the black night. More forest there, but also a few cabins. And behind her, far behind her, lay the gravel road that led to the two-lane highway and civilization. The forest behind her had been logged more than once, leaving it thinned out, littered with clearings and deadwood, easy to spot anyone approaching.
The ATV paused at the edge of the clearing. She wondered if it would get mired in the mud at her feet but knew she couldn’t get that lucky.
The others wanted her to wear a wire and carry a weapon, but for once in her life, Morgan had forsaken weapons. She’d come to this battle naked except for her coat, armed only with her wits and her fists. But after almost an hour standing in the wind and rain waiting for Clint, she was stiff and frozen solid, her mind almost as numb as her body.
“I’m here,” she called out. “Just like you asked. No weapons. No cops.” She raised the bag, her arms shaking with its weight and the cold. “Just the money. Like you asked.”
The ATV’s engine revved in reply. “Open your coat, let me see for myself.”
Setting the bag at her feet in the mud, she fumbled the buttons open on her coat, the wool now frozen hard, no longer soft and pliable. She slipped it off and circled around, wind slicing into her bare flesh. As soon as she made a full revolution, she quickly retreated into its feeble embrace, the buttons slipping through her numb fingers, going into the wrong holes, but she didn’t care, she needed the warmth, any warmth, even if it was merely a faint promise of protecting her from the wicked wind that swept across the clearing.
“Where’s Andre?” Her voice wavered as her teeth chattered. “Is he okay?”
“I’m here,” came a reply. Andre’s voice but choked and a bit blurred as if he were having a difficult time enunciating. From pain or injury, she couldn’t be sure. “I’m okay.” The last was a lie, she was certain of that.
“Stone will wait here,” Clint called.
Morgan jerked at the sound of his voice. Filled with command and certainty, as always. Every fiber of her being yearned to obey—once upon a time, obeying that voice was all that had kept her alive.
But not now, she reminded herself, the thought slicing through the muddle the cold had made of her brain. Never again.
“No. I want to see him.” After all, what was to stop Clint from slicing Andre’s throat and leaving him to bleed out. “Bring him with you.” She raised the bag again. It was getting heavier and heavier. “If you want your money.”
No answer for a long moment but then the ATV drove into the clearing. Two men on it: one driving, one draped over the rear storage area like a deer carcass. It stopped just outside of the shadows cast by the forest beyond. The driver shoved the other man off as if he were a bundle of laundry.
“Andre,” she shouted.
Andre rolled toward her voice. Finally she could see his face. It was swollen, too dark to see the bruises she knew were there, but he was alive. His wrists and ankles were bound behind him, so all he could do was raise his head. And he still wore the damn vest with the damn bomb.
“Your turn,” Clint said. “You and the money are coming with me. No funny business. Or your friend here gets blown to bits.” He raised a detonator.
Exactly what they’d expected. Now she just had to play her part while the others rescued Andre. Only flaw in their plan was no one could guarantee that the jammers they’d brought would actually block the signal from the detonator. Which meant everything had to go according to Clint’s plan until he and the detonator were either out of range or neutralized.
“Come and get me,” she called to Clint. Then she added the one word she knew he could not resist. “Father.”
The ATV spun toward her, its headlights blinding. It pulled to a stop before her. Clint was dressed like a hunter in layers of thick camouflage that left him toasty warm, no doubt. Unlike Morgan who could barely move, she was so stiff with the cold.
“Climb on,” he ordered.
“First, give me the detonator.” No way in hell would she trust him to keep his word and not use it before they were beyond its range.