Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
No cars had passed on this lonely stretch of road. He kicked himself now for sticking to back roads. They’d have been safer on the interstate.
Where was Bartlett? Even if he was in Boston, he could’ve called the police, at least sent someone to check on him.
Patience, he told himself.
As if that would help.
When he heard an engine approaching, he kept to the shadows, afraid it might be more of Gagnon’s men.
Three vehicles came into view. Asher pushed himself up from where he’d been sitting against a tree trunk and praying. His makeshift bandage pulled tight against his shoulder, the stinging pain a constant reminder of his failure.
A sedan, a pickup truck, and a familiar black SUV parked along the shoulder, their headlights sweeping across him as he hobbled into view.
His chest loosened for the first time since he’d woken up in the gorge. Bartlett and Alyssa had gotten his message.
The sedan’s doors opened first, and a tall blonde stepped out of the passenger side. This had to be Alyssa, though he hadn’t seen Cici’s older sister since high school.
Another man emerged from the driver’s seat. Short blond hair, his bulk unmistakable even in the dim light. Was this the fiancé Cici’d told him about?
Asher recognized Grant Wright, one of the first protection agents, who’d arrived in a pickup with New Hampshire plates.
Bartlett exited the SUV.
“How are you already here?” Asher directed the question to all of them, glancing at his watch. It’d only been forty-five minutes since he’d texted.
Alyssa reached him first. “I tracked your phone when we talked earlier, figured your ETA. When you didn’t show up in Shadow Cove, I knew something was wrong. I tried calling you, but—”
“So she called me,” Grant cut in. “I contacted Bartlett. We were already moving when your text came through. Called Michael. He was out of town, but he’s flying in tonight. Gavin is staying with Evelyn, but he’s offered to get whatever we need.”
Michael and Gavin were Cici’s cousin and father, both willing to run to her rescue.
“We met up in Millerville,” Bartlett gave Asher a once-over. “I shouldn’t have sent you out on your own.”
The barb stung, but Asher had no defense. Obviously, he hadn’t handled the solo job well.
He touched his wound instinctively, feeling sticky blood that had seeped through his makeshift bandage.
“We need to deal with that.” Alyssa’s friend had gone back to the car for something. Now he approached, holding a black canvas case. He nodded to the wound. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing—“
“It’s something.” The man’s tone brooked no argument. “You’re bleeding through your shirt.”
“Once we find Cici—”
“You’ll be unconscious by then.” The guy nodded to the sedan. “Come where there’s a little light.”
Asher figured arguing would only cost precious time. He followed the man and leaned against the sedan, Bartlett, Alyssa, and Grant following.
“I’m Callan Templeton, by the way.” Alyssa’s fiancé helped Asher shift the sweatshirt out of the way so he could remove the T-shirt-turned-bandage. “I have zero medical education, but I do have a kid who gets hurt a lot, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Doesn’t,” he muttered.
Callan laughed. “Wise man.” He seemed to know what he was doing as he dabbed stinging antiseptic on the wound. “Gunshot wounds get infected, so…”
Asher fought to hide the pain.
“Gunshot? What happened?” Grant demanded. “How did they find you?”
“No idea.” Asher gave them the condensed version—the ambush, the crash, waking up to find Cici gone.
And then the guys who came back to search.
Each word felt like swallowing glass, but he forced himself to stay clinical, professional.
These people needed facts, and his guilt would only cloud the issue.
“I put the phone in the pickup.” He looked at Alyssa, who was standing beside Callan. “Hopefully, you—”
“I got it,” she said. “The truck stopped at a paper mill. It’s been stationary since then.” She held up her phone, showing a map with a red dot. “Industrial area on the outskirts of Millerville.”
Thank God his idea had worked. “That’s where they have her.” Every second they spent talking was another second Cici remained in Gagnon’s hands. He itched to get moving.
Easy,” Callan murmured, pressing a fresh bandage against his shoulder. “The wound’s too wide for stitches. Hopefully, we can stem the bleeding.” He secured the dressing with tape, his movements quick and efficient. “You’re going to be hurting, but you won’t bleed out.”
Asher adjusted his sweatshirt, ready to be done talking about his near-death experience.
“Got two guys there, Whiteman and Yartym.” Bartlett glanced at his phone. “They’re getting into position.”
Asher pushed away from the sedan, testing his range of motion. The pain was manageable. “Ideas?”
Grant stepped into view, his dark eyes calculating. “Looks like it’s surrounded by a chain-link fence. Hopefully, they’ll see that as protection. If they’re smart, they’ll have lookouts posted.”
“The thugs who came back here were no brain surgeons,” Asher said. “But they’re survivors. Souza seems calculating, and Gagnon’s managed to stay one step ahead of us for days. Don’t underestimate them.” Like he had, and paid the price.
Rather, Cici was paying it now.
Alyssa’s jaw tightened. “How many are we talking about?”
“I only know about those four. They thought I was dead, but when they came back, they realized my body wasn’t here. Even these guys are smart enough to recognize that dead bodies don’t just up and walk away.”
“So they know you’re alive.” Bartlett’s expression darkened. “They’ll be expecting us.”
“Maybe. But unless they found the phone in the truck, they don’t know that I know where they are.” Asher flexed his fingers, testing his grip strength.
“What’d they come back for?” Grant asked.
“Looking for something. It has to be in the bag Cici took from the jewelry store.”
“The necklace,” Alyssa guessed. “What else—?”
“She had the necklace on her.” He explained about the zipper pouch she’d bought. If not for the thugs having returned, he’d assumed Cici would be dead as soon as they found the jewels.
Maybe it was only desperation that kept his hope thrumming now.
He tamped down that thought. “They were looking for something else, something small, by the way they scoured the ground. Something that has Gagnon scared enough to risk everything.”
Alyssa’s golden eyes were sharp. “What kind of something?”
“No clue. But whatever it is, they’re willing to kill for it.” The weight of those words settled over the group like a shroud.
“Where is it? The bag. Did they find it, or—?”
“I hid it.” He described where he’d stashed it, and Alyssa jogged into the woods, Callan following.
Bartlett’s phone buzzed. He answered. “Talk to me.” His expression grew grimmer as he listened. “Copy that. Hold position.”
He ended the call and faced the group. “My men witnessed a van arrive. Eight guys got out, geared up. There were already two vehicles there, so we’re looking at ten or more.”
“Twelve.” Asher refused to bow under the weight of what they were facing. “Gagnon, Falcone, and…Pretty Boy.” He couldn’t recall the guy’s name. “Two came back looking for me. We have to assume Souza stayed with Gagnon and Cici. If eight more showed up, then—”
“Twelve.” Bartlett nodded once. “Okay. The mill’s got three buildings—main factory, office complex, and a smaller outbuilding. Four of the new guys went into the factory. The rest fanned out to surveil the perimeter.”
“Six against twelve,” Grant said. “I’ve faced worse odds.”
“Seven.” Alyssa’s response emerged from the forest a moment before she did, Callan at her side. “I’m going to help.”
Callan said, “Sweetheart—”
“Don’t sweetheart me.” She snapped, then turned to Bartlett. “She’s my sister.”
“Don’t freak, cuz,” Grant said. “You can provide overwatch.”
Callan swiveled on him. “She’ll stay where it’s safe.”
“I absolutely will not!”
Grant looked between the two of them and smirked. “Yeah, good luck with that, man.”
Alyssa and Callan engaged in a useless staring contest.
“We need her,” Asher said. “She’s smart and competent, and we need all the help we can get.”
Alyssa stepped close to her fiancé and rested a hand on his arm. “Callan, you have a sister. What would you do to protect Hannah?”
Callan looked away, obviously wanting to argue the point.
Alyssa dug into Cici’s purse, pulled out the velvet bag, and scattered the contents on the roof of the car.
Grant drew Asher’s attention back. “Tell us everything you know about these guys.”
“Gagnon’s the mastermind. Mid-sixties. He’s made his fortune by digging up dirt on bad guys and then blackmailing them with it.”
“The others?” Bartlett asked, checking his sidearm.
“If I had to guess, I’d say Souza’s next in charge after Gagnon, but these guys don’t have history.” He glanced at Alyssa, expecting her to explain how the muscle came from two different operations in two different cities.
She was too busy picking through the contents of the velvet bag, Callan holding a flashlight so she could see.
Asher explained quickly their theory that Gagnon had used leverage against the leaders of organized crime operations in New York and Boston. “They aren’t friends with Gagnon, and they aren’t friends with each other. The two who came back here bickered the whole time they searched.”
“Good, good,” Grant said. “Disorganized, not a team.”
“That’s true for the guys we’ve dealt with,” Asher said, “but this new crew—”
“According to Yartym, they worked together seamlessly,” Bartlett said. “Mercenaries, maybe.”
Which meant they were well-trained, probably former military.
“What about Souza?” Bartlett asked. “What’s your take on him?”
“Bald, built like a brick wall, determined and competent. No idea if he was acquainted with Gagnon before this all began. Gagnon’s ostensibly a business owner in Philly. Souza’s with a gang in New York.”
“I got something.” Alyssa held up the locket Cici had shown him the night before, the black one she claimed was silver.
“What about it?” Grant moved closer.
She shook it, eliciting the tiniest rattling sound, then opened it up.
“Whoa,” Callan said, peering over her shoulder.
“What is it?” Grant asked.
Asher stepped closer and saw what they were looking at—an SD card.
Her eyes widened. “Power down all your phones. Now.”
Bartlett said, “We can’t. We need—”
“We need them not to know we found it!” She looked at Asher. “My guess is it’s got some kind of tracking device, a locator.”
A tracker, in that tiny locket? That explained how Gagnon and his men kept catching up with them. It wasn’t a mole in Forbes’s operation.
They’d been carrying it with them all along.
While everyone powered their phones down, Alyssa opened the passenger door and came out with a laptop. She powered it up and slid the SD card inside. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Asher forced his gaze away. It didn’t matter what was on that card. It didn’t matter what Gagnon was trying to find. All that mattered was saving Cici’s life.
He met Bartlett’s eyes. “Let’s make a plan.”