Chapter Nineteen
Beau came awake with a start, surprised to see daylight seeping in through the window blinds.
It definitely wasn’t dawn. He’d overslept by at least an hour, judging by the light.
He sat up, then groaned and lay back down.
The room seemed to be spinning around him.
He was light-headed, dizzy. He closed his eyes and drew slow deep breaths. What the heck was wrong with him?
“Sierra?” He reached out toward her, but his fingers only touched air. “Sierra?”
He opened his eyes, wincing at the still-spinning room.
The bed was empty. The bathroom—she must be in the bathroom, probably mad as a hornet that he’d overslept.
He smiled at the anticipation of seeing her eyes narrow and her hair bouncing around her shoulders as she yelled at him in a mixture of English and Spanish.
Wait. Her brothers were supposed to meet them here at dawn.
Was everyone in the living room, letting him sleep?
They were wasting time. Including the hour it would take just to reach Chattanooga from Mystic Lake, it would take nearly seven hours to drive to their father’s home on the outskirts of Memphis.
He’d mapped out the route last night. They should have been on the road long before now.
He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side, groaning when a bout of nausea had him breathing fast and hard. When he finally felt like he could move without throwing up, he opened his eyes. The room wasn’t spinning anymore. But he still felt like hell. What was going on?
It wasn’t like he’d stayed up late partying and drinking. Well, he’d had one drink. Sierra had brought it in when she came to bed and… His gaze flew to the nightstand. There was his drink, or what was left of it. And sitting beside it was a note.
His stomach sank with dread even before he read it. He already knew what it would say.
Beau, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Or at least understand. I care about you too much to let you risk your life in this mess my brother created.
No, not my brother, my father. This is his fault.
He’s an evil man to have taken away the precious gift that my mother was.
I couldn’t bear it if he took you away too.
I’m so, so sorry I ever dragged you into this. But now I’m getting you out.
I put a little allergy medicine in your drink last night to make you sleep.
Drink water and take a hot shower to help you feel better in the morning.
I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe.
Please don’t follow us to Memphis. We’re leaving at three, so obviously we’ll have a huge head start.
By the time you get there, it will all be over.
I’m almost positive I know exactly where my mom would have hidden the evidence in the library.
I know her favorite books, and there’s an inspirational poetry volume she loved called Safe and Secure.
Pretty obvious, right? I think she did that on purpose, put that hint about safety and security in her journal in case things didn’t go as planned.
Everything’s going to be okay. When I see you again, the bargain will be made, and we’ll all be safe.
Forgive me. Sierra.
Beau swore viciously and hurried to the bathroom, bumping into furniture as he went.
He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and shoved his finger down his throat, forcing himself to throw up.
A splash of water on his hair and face helped wake him up.
After quickly taking care of his other needs and brushing his teeth, he threw his clothes on.
A shower would have been great, as Sierra had recommended, but he didn’t have time to spare.
After grabbing a burner phone and his pistol and shoving an extra magazine in his pocket, he jogged into the living room. As soon as he reached it, he stopped. They’d left at three. He didn’t even have a car, just the boat tied up at the dock. And Mystic Lake was landlocked. The boat was useless.
Think, dang it. Think. How could he get to Memphis in time to keep those three fools from getting themselves killed?
He thought about calling the Memphis police, but quickly discarded that idea.
Getting police involved would mean there’d be no way to make that bargain with Michael Covington.
Without that bargain, they were as good as dead.
How could he get there in time to stop them?
A commercial flight could work, in theory.
He quickly calculated in his mind the drive time to the airport, the duration of the flight.
The math worked, but only if there was no traffic, no delays at the airport, a flight leaving just when he needed it, no lines at a car rental agency and no traffic around Memphis.
And he wouldn’t be able to bring his gun.
He shook his head. No way. Too many variables.
Heck, he didn’t even have a car to get out of Mystic Lake to begin with.
Nix the commercial flight idea. What else?
How could he get there on time, or better yet, early enough to get the documentation and make the deal before Sierra and the others even arrived?
He blinked. Of course. That was it. He clawed for his cell phone and quickly punched in a familiar set of numbers.
The line clicked. “Mystic Lake Marina, Bobby speaking.”
“Bobby, it’s former Police Chief Beau Dawson. I need a favor.”
Sierra clutched the thick packet of papers to her chest and stepped out of her father’s office, closing the door behind her. She looked to her left at Rafael, then to her right at Esteban.
“We did it,” she whispered.
“We did,” Rafael agreed.
Esteban remained silent.
“Let’s get out of here before he calls his men to come to the mansion and they try to take the papers from us,” Rafael whispered.
“We need to get it hidden before that can happen. That’s the only way the bargain we just made will keep us safe.
” He led the way to the back hall where they would exit through the bolt-hole the same way they’d arrived.
Rafael pressed the panel in the wall, and it clicked open, revealing the dark tunnel beyond.
Sierra followed him inside, with Esteban behind her.
Lights would come on once they were about twenty feet in, by design.
That way if it was dark in the house, no one would see the light shining around the panel.
The lights flipped on.
She jumped in surprise to see a man standing in front of them, blocking their way.
“Beau, I don’t—what are you doing here? How did you get here so fast?”
“Plan B,” he growled. “Helicopter. I commandeered the town’s medevac chopper hoping to get here in time to save your pretty neck.
What the hell were you thinking?” He glared at Rafael.
“What were you thinking, letting your sister put herself in danger this way?” He paused, then looked down at the stack of papers in Sierra’s hands. “You found it?”
“We did,” she said. “Right where I thought it would be. How do you feel? Are you okay? Dizzy?”
“I was. Thanks to you. Just how many allergy pills did you put in that drink to make me that sick?”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I’d do it all over again to keep you safe.
My brothers and I made the deal with my father.
He agreed to leave us alone, to not send anyone after us as long as we never turn over the evidence to the FBI or any other agency. He was hurt and angry, but he agreed.”
Beau let out a deep breath, then pulled her close. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. Things could have gone completely wrong. It was a sketchy plan at best. I wanted to be the one to do the negotiating, to keep you out of danger.”
She hugged him tight. “I know. But it worked out. It’s over.”
He kissed her, a quick fierce kiss before stepping back. “This isn’t the way I wanted it, but what’s done is done. Let’s go.” He took her hand and they started down the hidden passageway.
“Wait,” Rafael called out from behind them. “Where’s Esteban?”
They stopped and turned around. “He was just here,” Sierra said. “Esteban,” she whispered toward the darkened section of the tunnel. “Esteban, come on.”
Rafael jogged into the dark. A moment later he called out. “He’s not in the passageway.”
Sierra took off running.
“Sierra, stop!” Beau yelled behind her.
She shoved Rafael out of her way and threw the secret panel open, slipping and sliding on the marble floor as she rounded the corner toward her father’s office.
“Stop!” Rafael and Beau both yelled, their footsteps pounding in the hallway.
She ran faster, adrenaline and panic giving her a burst of speed.
Bam! Bam!
Her heart sank at the sound of gunshots coming from behind the double doors in her father’s office. She yanked out the gun she’d taken from Beau again and threw open the doors, then stopped in shock just inside.
“No!” she screamed, staring in horror at her father standing by his desk with a gun in his hand. And there, on the floor in front of the desk, Esteban lay in a bloody heap, eyes closed.
“You bastard,” Rafael yelled, running past her, firing his gun.
Her father jerked back, blood beginning to seep from his shoulder even as he fired at Rafael.
Rafael silently fell to the floor, dropping beside Esteban, bleeding.
Sierra screamed again.
Beau’s footsteps sounded right behind her.
She dodged away from him, escaping his outstretched hand as he tried to stop her, and turned her gun on her father.
As if in slow motion, she saw her father swinging around, sweeping his pistol toward her.
She tightened her finger on the trigger.
Something slammed against her. She squeezed the trigger as she fell to the ground, but her shot went wide.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
She shoved herself up from the floor, bringing up her gun again, then froze.
There was no one to shoot. Her father’s body was draped across the desk, blood dripping from his hair. His gun lay on the rug beside his desk where it must have fallen when he was shot. Beau. He must have shoved her out of the way and shot her father.
She whirled around. He wasn’t there. “Beau? Beau?”
A low groan had her looking down. There, just past one of the wing chairs, he was on his side, his face contorted in pain.
“Oh my God. No, Beau.” She threw her pistol down and ran to him, dropping to her knees and turning his face toward her with shaking hands.
Jeremy, her father’s housekeeper, ran into the office. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“Call 911,” she told him. “We need an ambulance and police. Hurry.”
His eyes widened as he looked past her.
“Jeremy, call 911. Now!”
He whirled around and ran out of the office.
“Beau?” She ran her hands up and down his chest, searching for injuries. There, a small hole in his shirt. A bullet hole. Her entire body began to shake.
He blinked and looked up at her. Before she could say anything else, he shoved her down on the floor and brought his pistol up, aiming toward the desk.
“Your aim was true,” she whispered. “He’s gone. It’s over.”
He lowered his pistol and struggled to sit up.
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “You’ve been shot. Jeremy’s calling for an ambulance.”
“I don’t need one.” He tore open his shirt.
“I put a Kevlar vest on beneath my shirt so your father wouldn’t know I was wearing one when I confronted him.
Hurts like a son of a gun, but I’m okay.
” His expression turned from pain to fury.
“Remind me to yell at you later for almost getting yourself killed. Right now I need to check on your brothers.”
He shoved himself to his feet, then stopped her when she tried to go with him.
“Don’t. Let me do it. Please, Sierra. Wait right here and let me check them first. Okay?”
She swallowed, closing her eyes when Beau bent down to check Rafael for a pulse.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered, not even sure what she was asking for. She’d seen the blood, the carnage. She knew what to expect. But part of her refused to believe it. She clung to a tiny glimmer of hope that at least one of her brothers was still alive.
Until Beau returned, his face pale, and pulled her into his arms.
Her knees buckled. He scooped her up and strode out of the office with her in his arms, quietly sobbing against his chest.