Chapter 20 #2
With obvious reluctance, she let go of the door, allowing him to shut it. The moment the locks tumbled into place, he darted back up the stairs. Checking the cameras again as he tied his boots, he noted their visitor was heading straight for them, a ballsy move on his part. Ballsy and stupid.
After dashing out a quick text to Daphne telling her he’d be back, as promised, as soon as he caught their trespasser, he slipped his phone into his pocket, tugged on his winter gear, and stepped out the back door onto the porch.
Ignoring the aggressive buzzing of his phone, he snagged the snowshoes hanging on hooks beside the door.
As soon as he had the bindings adjusted, he headed out into the night.
With a full moon hanging high in the sky, and the trees casting shadows on the pristine snow, it wasn’t a night for hiding. But he had the security system and snowshoes, and the element of surprise was on his side.
Pausing in the shadow of a tree, he sent a quick text to Tucker, telling him he was on the hunt as well.
Tucker pinged him back a thumbs-up and three-minute ETA.
Doing a quick calculation in his head, he suggested the two operatives split up, with one coming in from the northeast and the other circling behind Weeks and coming in from that direction.
He ignored the furious texts from Daphne, even the one threatening to come after him.
He didn’t think she’d really do it. She had her car, but he’d taken the snowshoes.
The car wouldn’t make it through the woods, and he doubted another trek through the snowy forest in her boots was on her wish list.
Pulling up the cameras again, he gauged his position relative to their visitor, then headed deeper into the woods.
It didn’t take long for his breathing to quicken.
Snowshoes helped, but it wasn’t like running on pavement.
His feet crunched with every step, and he timed his breathing to the movement.
Cold stung his ears and cheeks, and while he’d grabbed his gloves, he hadn’t had time to snag his scarf, and cold air snaked down his collar over his shoulders.
His phone buzzed with another text, and he fumbled with his gloves before pulling it out of his pocket. Now that he and the operatives were coordinating, he couldn’t ignore it.
Daphne: It’s Weeks. He’s changed direction and is cutting toward the lake. I think he plans to skirt the edge, then come at the house from the back
He didn’t deceive himself that she’d forgiven him, but ever practical, she’d taken to monitoring the cameras from inside the safe room.
Her help was welcome; she had a full bank of screens in the room and could see nearly every angle at once.
Unlike viewing it through the app, which required him to scroll through each camera.
Lovell: Thanks, let Tucker and Ryder know. Veering west now
Daphne: This doesn’t mean I forgive you
Lovell: Never dreamed it did
Despite the situation, including the freezing temps, he smiled as he slid his phone back into his pocket, his finger brushing against another object. Curling his hand around it, he identified the familiar shape. With another grin, he pulled his earbuds out and slipped the right one into his ear.
He’d need to keep his voice down, but maybe it would work.
Giving the command, he brought his texting app to life.
It took a few seconds for the virtual assistant to respond, but when he heard the “Texting Daphne, what would you like to say?” he smiled.
Not exactly the comms he used to have in the field, but it would do.
Lovell: Found my earbuds, shouldn’t talk much, but will be able to listen to your messages. Send updates as needed
After directing his app to send it, he focused on the sounds around him. His phone dinged in his ear with a text and he mumbled, “Read text.”
Daphne: He’s a hundred yards almost directly south of you, still heading to the lake. Snow will be less thick there, which may be his thinking
Lovell: Roger
She’d send the same info to Tucker and Ryder, so he remained silent.
Tucker: Heading toward the lake. Lovell, meet him as he passes, Ryder you come in behind, I’ll come in from the front
He adjusted his stride and direction as he voiced another text confirming the plan. Five minutes later, he paused behind the thick trunk of an old tree.
Daphne: He’s a hundred feet south of you
He didn’t dare reply but gave a thumbs-up. If she could see him well enough to know he was one hundred feet from the visitor, he assumed she could see his response.
Then he heard it, the huffing of labored breath, the crunch of feet breaking through fresh snow.
Kneeling, he unlatched the bindings of his snowshoes and stepped out. He needed to be quick and agile to take their visitor down, which meant he required full use of his body in the way he was used to. Setting them aside, he waited.
Daphne: Tucker and Ryder in position, waiting on you
Damn, the woman was amazing. She’d still be pissed as hell at him, but right now, she was cool as a cucumber.
Peering around the tree, he spotted the man walking toward him, picking his way along the bank of the lake. Lovell stilled, not wanting to call attention to himself or even give Weeks a reason to look into the woods. If he did, he’d easily see the tracks Lovell laid through the snow.
Fifteen feet away, he could make out Weeks’s features in the moonlight.
Daphne’s fantasy of him leaving town and not returning hadn’t come true, but maybe it was better this way.
They’d capture him, get the info they needed, then bring this whole thing to a close.
He hoped. Not a fantasy. His fantasies were a whole lot less G-rated than Daphne’s, or less G-rated than the ones she admitted.
Weeks trudged by, oblivious to Lovell waiting in the woods.
He needed space to gain the right momentum, so he let him pass.
When he deemed it far enough, Lovell launched himself from behind the tree.
In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Tucker stepping out of the woods ahead of them, but he kept his attention on Weeks, who spun.
Lovell hit him straight on, ramming a shoulder into his stomach and taking them both down.
To his credit, Weeks didn’t hesitate or freeze at the ambush, and his fists and elbows flew into action as they hit the ground.
Lovell rolled, putting enough space between them for him to draw his fist back.
Weeks had the same idea and knuckles collided with Lovell’s cheek as his connected with the underside of Weeks’s jaw.
A knee came up and caught Lovell in the stomach, as his hand closed around Weeks’s wrist and squeezed.
Weeks yelped like a puppy as the bones cracked and gave way, distracting him enough for Lovell to get a knee up and launch the killer off him.
Not a move he’d make if he’d been on his own, but he wasn’t alone.
The moment Weeks landed, Ryder and Tucker were on him.
Well, the Taser Ryder held in his hand was on him.
Weeks’s body jerked, and a gurgling sound crawled from his throat. He shook one more time, then went limp.
Lovell glanced up at the trees, hoping Daphne hadn’t seen that. She didn’t need any reminders of her own abduction. Then again, knowing Daphne, she might feel vindicated.
A hand appeared in front of him, and he looked up at Tucker.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it and allowing the operative to pull him up. “You call Ryan?”
“He’ll be at the house by the time we make it back with him,” Tucker replied, jerking his head at Weeks before all three turned in the direction of the cabin. It wasn’t far, but carrying nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
“Think we can drag him?” Ryder asked, zip-tying Weeks’s wrists behind his back before moving to his ankles.
“Do we care if he hits a rock or two? Or gets a face full of snow?” Tucker countered.
They all looked at one another. Lovell shrugged. “I’ll take his left shoulder.”
“I’ll grab his right,” Ryder said.