Chapter 10 #2
And the words just bubbled out of her, broken through her thickening throat. “Please don’t shoot him, James.” Yes, she knew that wasn’t his name, but—“For all we went through together. Because for a little while, we were friends. And deep down, I know you’re not that man.”
“You don’t know me, Selah. Not really.”
Not at all, actually, but, “I know James. Or at least enough of him to know there is a good man inside you. I met him. He saved a man and bought a little girl a teddy bear and…and told me that maybe, well, that there was more to the story about North. But there’s more to the story about you, isn’t there?
You’re not just…this evil man trying to destroy the world. ”
He had pointed the gun at North. “Put the canister on the ground. Then get on your knees, hands behind your head.”
North complied, on his knees, hands clasped behind his head.
Alan hauled Selah up by her hair and dragged her over, closer to North. Ten feet away.
And suddenly, all she could think was Shoot him. Someone, anyone. The rest of the guys had to be watching. Ford—he was a SEAL. And Reuben, a rancher, and RJ—she worked for the CIA. Certainly…
“Selah, you get that canister for me. And don’t think of doing something crazy, or I shoot him.” Alan released her hair.
She fell forward, then crawled over to the canister. Met North’s gaze.
He smiled at her. No fear, no anger, just…“It’s okay, Selah.”
It wasn’t okay. None of it. Evil didn’t get to win today.
And she realized exactly what North had meant when he said that for the sake of peace, he went to war.
Shoot. Him.
But no barrage of bullets shot from the house, so she picked up the canister.
“Give it to him,” North said softly.
But—She closed her eyes. I’m trusting You, God.
So she turned and tossed the canister at Alan. Then to North: “Run!”
But he’d already moved, already grabbed her, tackling her to the ground.
Shots fired, hitting the grass around her, North’s body over hers, holding her. “Head down, honey. Just keep your head down.”
More shots barked into the night, so clearly they hadn’t gotten Martin.
Finally, silence, and North looked up.
She did too.
Alan Martin had vanished.
North leaned up, and she rolled over, staring at him. “Really? Really? All these shooters and not one gets him?” She was breathing hard, her gaze in his, staring at his grim look. “What?”
“For the sake of justice, we let him go.”
She blinked at him. “You what?”
And it hit her then. Yes, she wasn’t so different from North when it came to reacting when someone evil threatened someone she loved.
Which meant they both needed forgiveness, and humility and grace.
“Tate called Ford. York’s gone dark. We don’t think Alan has him, but…we don’t know. What we do know is that the Petrov terrorists escaped with the obsidite. And the only way to figure out where is to let Alan get away and lead us to them.”
“So…”
Shouting came from the house.
“So Scarlett put a tracker on the canister. And…”
“You let him get away.”
“We let him think he escaped on his own.” He sat back on his ankles. “You okay?”
She stared at him and the truth settled in. “I am. By the grace of God, I am.” She grabbed his jacket. “And so are you.”
Then she sat up and kissed him.
And good man that he was, he kissed her back.
* * *
Of course Dakota and West had shown up for breakfast.
North stood in the kitchen of the Marshall family home, watching, not sure how to help as Gerri and Gilly and Knox’s wife, Kelsey, made pancakes and scrambled eggs while Knox grilled steaks on the patio outside, chatting with Dakota, West, and Ford, and as all the grandchildren—he counted five total—played in the yard outside.
A glorious blue sky stretched to the dark humpback mountains on the horizon and beyond, and the air smelled of the rich grasslands and cattle country.
Knox had shown up this morning and helped Reuben track down his bull—the distraction Alan had created so he could grab Selah.
North’s gut still seized at the memory of Martin’s voice on the walkie.
And Selah’s…
But she seemed okay now, sitting at the island, drinking coffee, talking with Scarlett.
Scarlett had chased Martin with the drone across the back pasture to a pickup he’d parked on a side road. She’d checked her tracking system—it worked.
So just…relax. Breathe. Selah was safe. And justice was on the way. He just had to trust…
Okay, maybe he needed some air.
He headed out the front door, away from the ruckus and over to the bull pen, watching the big bucking Brahma as it lumbered around the yard.
Last night, the animal had tried to run him down, twice. He’d had to shoot into the air to scare it away. Ford too. Now, the bull stood still, glassy eye watching him from across the field. Ready for another go, maybe.
“You okay, tough guy?”
He glanced toward the voice, smiled. Selah had come out, dressed in a flannel shirt, her jeans and Cons, her hair loose. She almost looked like a cowgirl.
“You know that fight I had in fifth grade? The kid who beat up Kurt Morris?”
“Bobby Jenkins?” She reached up and touched his chin. “The one with the ring?”
“Yeah.” He caught her hand, met her eyes. “He came back.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Yeah. So my dad was…mad. Really mad. Said I’d set a terrible example for the family—Baptist preacher’s kid brawling in the playground—”
“But—”
“I was grounded for a month, after school. And that’s when Bobby found Kurt again, and this time…” He let out a breath. “Kurt was in the hospital for a couple weeks. Bobby had hit him with a metal bar—so Kurt had a head injury.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah. As it turns out, Bobby had a beef against Kurt, something about Kurt’s dad and his dad—I don’t know.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Bobby went to juvie. And Kurt was never the same. And…for a long time—”
“You blamed yourself for not being there.”
He nodded. Sighed. “Unfinished business.”
She cocked her head. “Alan Martin.”
He shrugged. “He’s…well, he’s like Bobby Jenkins. A terrorist. And the last thing I can let him do is hurt more people. Even the ones I don’t know and love.”
She stepped up to him. “Of course not.” Then she wound her hands around his waist. “Listen. I have this summer camp I’ve committed to, and frankly, I can’t abandon them any more than you can abandon your mission. I’ll finish the summer.”
“And I’ll finish this with Alan Martin.”
“And then?” She lifted her face.
“Then,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers. Kissed her sweetly.
And she kissed him back, lingering.
Then.
“North!”
The shout came from the porch door. Dakota, waving. “Ham and Logan are on Zoom. They want a sitrep.”
“You did say you were in charge,” Selah said, lowering herself down.
“Regrets,” he muttered.
“Hardly.” She put her hand in his as they walked back to the house.
In the den, a computer sat on the desk, turned to face the group—RJ, Dakota and West, Ford and Scarlett, and North, who walked in holding Selah’s hand.
Ham smiled, nodded.
“Okay, so RJ and Scarlett filled us in on last night’s events.
And Scarlett’s been tracking the canister.
It’s currently in Kalispell. We think Martin’s getting on a plane.
And on our end, Coco has found a reservation for one of his old aliases—Alexander Steele.
It’s routed to Vegas, and from there, LA, and then…
it looks like Hawaii and over to…Thailand. Specifically, Chiang Mai.”
Next to him, Selah stilled. North glanced at her, frowned. “You okay?”
She nodded her head.
“We can’t find a connection between this northern Thai city and the Bratva except…well, it sits in the middle of an old volcanic belt.”
“The obsidite is mined out of a volcano,” said North. “The Russians had an obsidite mine on Mariposa until it was shut down last year. We thought it might be the only place on earth the mineral was found.”
“Maybe not,” Ham said. “We need eyes there. Feet on the ground. Dakota, I’m sending you and Skeet to Thailand. You’ll meet in Chiang Mai. West, head back here—I have a different assignment for you.”
“Meanwhile,” Logan said, “Tate and Colt and the rest of my team will keep tracking the Petrovs. RJ, don’t worry about York. I’m sure he’s fine—he’s always got a plan.”
RJ nodded. “If Alan Martin really had him, well, Alan would be dead.”
And the room went quiet.
Ho-kay.
RJ lifted a shoulder. “You don’t know their past like I do. Trust me on this. York is on the trail of Alan Martin. He’s not going to give up. And he’s not going to let Martin win.”
Selah had stiffened beside him. He glanced at her again. “You sure you’re okay?”
She looked up at him while Ham gave Dakota details about his flight.
“Is there…I mean…any reason why…”
The room had gone quiet, everyone looking at her. She took a breath. “My sister Chloe lives in Chiang Mai. I just…It’s weird, right?”
Ham frowned. Logan seemed just as flummoxed. “Okay. I’ll have Skeet find her. He’ll get there first. In the meantime, can you get ahold of her—tell her to, I don’t know…go to the US consulate there? I can make some calls, get her under protective custody.”
“Yes. Okay. I’ll do that.”
North put his arm around her, tucked her in.
Ham smiled at him, nodded. “Okay then. North, head back home with West. We’ll regroup with Logan, try to untangle all of this.”
Logan nodded, and his mouth tightened, a fire in his eyes. “Alan Martin is on the run. But it’s his last gig. He won’t get away. We will find him, and this time we will stop him. For good.” He nodded, his mouth a tight line. “Team. Let’s not screw this up. It’s time to hunt down Alan Martin.”
* * *
Thank you for reading NORTH!