Chapter 16
Two weeks.
That’s all the time remaining before Enders had to deliver on Duncan’s accident. He’d found himself dwelling on that fact more often than he’d liked, at times to the exclusion of almost everything else.
Something had to break soon.
That’s why he had to stay focused. If not, he’d lose hope that he’d ever go home again.
So, he shook off the sense of dread that had begun dogging him the last few days and concentrated on his laptop.
Somewhere in all the information crossing his screen—financial data and suspicious movement from the handful of possible suspects they’d narrowed the pool down to—something would eventually jump out that might point them in the right direction.
It had to.
“Fuck.”
“What’s happened?” Duncan growled at Enders’ yell as he bounded from the couch. The other man’s scowl and tight jaw wasn’t a good omen as Duncan took the few steps to the dinette table.
“Our location is about to be compromised,” Enders gritted out, his expression dark—closed off—as he slammed his fist next to his own open laptop on the table.
“How do you know?”
“I’m getting alerts.” Enders’ glare lifted to him. “And don’t think that doesn’t piss me the hell off.”
“Couldn’t this be a good thing?” It shouldn’t be, but this knowledge sparked an anticipation deep inside him that he hadn’t felt in weeks. “Let whoever this is come to us.”
“You don’t want that. Believe me,” the other man groused, standing. “Besides, it won’t be our mystery person.” He went over and yanked open his dresser drawer hard enough Duncan wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come all the way out. “They’re tired of waiting.”
“So…” None of this boded well.
“Yeah,” Enders grumbled flinging items toward the bed—and missing. “It’s my replacement. And you can bet your ass they don’t want me coming out alive either.”
“Any ideas on who it might be?” Duncan asked, rounding his bed.
“Not yet.” The man paused, the silence prompting Duncan to look over his shoulder at him. “But you can damn well know I’m going to find out.”
Enders didn’t say another word but continued to haphazardly toss his clothes on his bed before hauling his large backpack from under his bed.
Following suit, Duncan turned and grabbed the duffel bag he kept beside his bed. It had been a surprising find. Who would have thought he’d locate a brand-named, heavy duty, water and fireproof duffel in a thrift store? When this was over, it was the only thing he was taking back home with him.
Home…
Any thoughts that he wouldn’t make it home were quickly snuffed.
“Do you have an exit strategy?” Duncan asked, unzipping the duffel.
His gaze automatically fell onto the only fragments of his real life he’d allowed himself to take with him—a framed photo of him and a beaming Haven at her college graduation, wallet with all his identification and credit cards inside, and the clothes he’d been wearing that morning when he’d walked out of the EPA.
His jaw tightened as he opened the drawers he used for his few, meager things. The clothes he pulled out weren’t his, but some he’d purchased at the same thrift store where he’d found the duffel. They didn’t fit properly. But they were clean and kept him covered.
“Canada.”
That gave Duncan pause and he lifted his head.
“We’re running?”
“Hell, yeah, we’re running,” Enders groused, then narrowed his eyes on him. “Are you in a hurry for someone to take this situation out of my hands?”
“Of course not,” Duncan said, while his fists crushed the shirt in his hand and everything inside him rebelled. “But running isn’t something I do.”
“Don’t think of it as running, then,” Enders said, stuffing his clothes inside the backpack. “Think of it as a strategic retreat.”
“I don’t retreat either,” he said, glancing down at Haven’s smiling face in the open duffel, his jaw clenching as he once more focused on Enders.
“If I hadn’t been concerned about my family and team, I wouldn’t be here now.
I’ve put them at risk before and I only agreed to this plan of yours to keep them out of harm’s way. ”
“Well, the plan’s changed.”
Duncan didn’t like this new plan. He threw the shirt into the bag—covering the picture. Why bother with folding? The rest of his clothes were crammed inside, while frustration built inside him. Then, laughing, he zipped the duffel closed and secured the special seal.
“What’s so funny?” Enders said, glowering at him—his face growing more thunderous as Duncan moved across the small room and met the other man head-on.
“You,” Duncan said, looking up at the man who was at least four inches taller than his own six-foot-four. Was he flirting with a death wish? Perhaps. But he wanted this over. “Of all the people I know, you were the last one I would have expected to choose running over taking a stand.”
“Listen to me,” Enders said, not backing down, his face like stone and tone holding a warning. “I committed to keeping you alive, and that’s what I’m going to do. If you have a problem with that, you’re on your own.”
Duncan stared up into the resolute gaze of the other man for several seconds. He had more than a problem. But he’d gone this far, he might as well see the whole damn thing through.
“Fine,” he finally said. “I hear Canada’s lovely this time of year.”
Duncan peered out the small, oval window of the Gulfstream IV and took in the view of the Southern Rockies breaking through the clouds. Thirteen hours before, they’d left one sketchy airport, only to refuel at another before they’d crossed the border into Canada.
He still had no idea exactly where they were going. Enders had yet to say anything other than Canada, no matter how many times he’d tried to pin the man down about it. That told him nothing. Canada covered a lot of area.
After another noncommittal, Canada earlier, he’d finally left the cockpit and caught a short nap. That a had been a couple of hours ago. Surely, they had to be landing soon. He peered up ahead at the closed cockpit door and held back the urge to yell out, are we there yet?
“I’m getting delirious.”
The door opened and Enders walked through it…
Strapped into a parachute.
“Are we jumping?” Duncan stood and eyed the other man up and down, his gaze stopping on the gun in his right hand, hanging by his side.
“What the hell, Knight?” He flashed his gaze back up to the other man’s eyes. The look he gave Duncan gave nothing away.
“No, we aren’t jumping. This is the only parachute,” he said, matter of fact while raising his gun. “And the hell is, I’ve renegotiated the terms of my deal.”
Time is up.
“Another two million just hit my offshore account,” the other man said, pulling a stun gun from his left pants pocket and shrugged as he pointed it at him as well.
“Can’t have bullet holes. It still has to look like an accident.
I think this jacked-up stun gun will do the trick to incapacitate you. ”
“You son of a bitch…”
Duncan had come to trust this man. How stupid could he have been?
“Yes, I am.” Enders’ face lost all expression, leaving the assassin standing in front of him. In that moment, Duncan understood the fear this man instilled. “And I’ve got a situation that has only one solution.”
Duncan couldn’t believe he was going to die this way. He had more living to do. He had Haven to return to. A grandchild to meet. And Solace…
He had to find a way to get the chance to make things right with the women he loved. And he wasn’t above begging. Not with everything he had to lose.
“If it’s the money?—”
“It’s not the money. It’s my reputation.” The man’s killing gaze stared straight into him as the stun gun buzzed to life, snuffing out any notion he might live beyond the next few seconds.
“So, you have to die.”