Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(52)

“Are you all right, Dark Avenger?” Sam said. “I didn’t think you could get hurt.”

“Everyone can get hurt, Sam. How’s your foot?”

“Mommy told me I can’t run around the mountains anymore ’cause I twisted my ankle.”

“Your mommy is a very smart lady.” Zach shifted and came to a sitting position. “Jenna, grab a long bandage out of the first aid kit. We need to immobilize my arm.”

Within moments, he’d talked her through bandaging. He tested the ties. “Something else you’re a natural at,” he said. Zach rose and reached for the backpack.

“You might be indestructible in the movies, but this is real life, Dark Avenger. No way are you carrying anything heavier than Sam’s flashlight after I nearly pulled your arm off.” She shoved his hand away. “I’m carrying this.”

He opened his mouth to argue, and she glared at him, giving him her best I’m serious look. It worked with Sam. Zach’s brow arched. Jenna simply ignored him, heaving the pack with both arms. She planted her feet and gripped the straps tight. “Which way?”

“Fine,” he said. “Can I have the flashlight, buddy?”

Sam handed it over.

“At least someone around here does what I tell them,” Zach groused. “There’s a cave a few hundred yards away. I’ve used it as shelter during a summer rainstorm.”

Zach led the way, and by the time they reached the dark hole in the side of the mountain, the moon had risen enough to light their path a bit. “Get behind that boulder,” he said, and stood to the side of the entrance.

Jenna pressed Sam to her side, peering into the inky blackness. Zach tossed a rock into the opening. It clattered inside and rolled to a stop. He repeated the action three times before motioning them out.

“No one’s home,” he said. “I’ll go first.”

He ducked his head and stepped through into the cave. The flashlight swept around. “It’s clear. Bring Sam in.”

Jenna helped her son through the darkened entrance. They picked their way into an eerie combination of dampened walls and a strangely glittering floor as Zach’s beam of light sliced through the shadows.

“Look, the ground sparkles, Mommy.”

“It’s called granite,” Zach said. “There are crystals in the rocks.”

Sam crouched down and ran his fingers along the ground. “How did they get there?”

Zach stared at her son as if he were a strange alien, then let out a laugh. “I don’t have a clue, buddy. Maybe you’ll be a geologist when you grow up and teach me.”

Sam scraped at the sparkling floor and Jenna set the pack down. She rubbed her hands together. “It’s getting chilly.”

“You wait with Sam. I’ll get firewood.”

“With one arm?” Jenna said.

“Sam needs you,” Zach said quietly. “It’s been a rough afternoon.”

Jenna searched his eyes, recognizing the stubbornness. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“You’ll come back, right?” Sam asked.

Zach knelt in front of her son.

“I promise, Sam. I won’t let you down.”




Each thud of Farzam’s feet on the dusty road pounded another nail of hate into the coffin of his life. He held a bag in his hand, all that was left of his menial job.

Khalid and his terrorist contacts worked fast.

Farzam stood outside the hovel he called home. The wretched place would be too expensive now. He didn’t know how he would tell his wife how far they’d truly fallen. He’d be lucky if she didn’t leave him and beg her parents to take her back.

He pushed open the door.

His wife sat on the dilapidated couch and stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear. She blinked.

Farzam shoved away the panic that squeezed his lungs. He whirled around. A man stepped back, hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I am here to help.”

His accent was unusual. As if he knew numerous languages but owned none of them. With a glance up and down the man’s shabby clothing, Farzam let out a snort. “What can you possibly do? You’re worse off than I am.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” He took a step toward Farzam. “You lost your position today.”

His wife gasped, and Farzam glared at the man. “This is my business. Not yours.”

A woman wearing a full chadri stepped from behind the man, her movement confident. The netting across her eyes hid their color from Farzam, but he could tell from her demeanor she was foreign.

“You’ve been asking about Zane Morgan,” the woman said, her voice soft, but her accent clearly American. “Why?”

Farzam rubbed his tired eyes. He’d gotten nowhere in his search, and without any income, he wouldn’t be able to buy information, let alone have enough to survive. His son was lost. His shoulders slumped under the burden. “If you’re going to kill me, don’t bother. We’ll starve to death in a matter of weeks and save you the trouble.”

The woman stood quiet and still, then tilted her head toward the door. Without hesitation, the man Farzam assumed to be in charge obeyed the silent order and left. Odd.

“Your son has been taken. Your job has been taken. Your sister is dead. Your life is over,” she said.