Breaking Point (Article 5 #2)(71)

“Do you think Tucker’s telling the truth?” I whispered to Chase. I reached into my pocket to feel the copper bullet once again. I wanted to show him, but not with Tucker around.

“No.”

“Do you think Cara’s really dead?”

He nodded once.

So it wasn’t her death that he questioned, but the manner in which she’d died. I felt the shiver run through me. Tucker had seemed genuinely affected by the sequence of events that had led him to my door. But what if he’d lied? What if he’d reported us, and somehow turned Cara in? And then turned Billy in, just after?

And now Sean, wherever he was, was willing to risk his life on Tucker’s supposed contact in the MM. If Chicago didn’t offer any better options—and I really hoped they did—Chase and I would, too.

We were seriously considering placing our safety in the hands of the one person I trusted least in this world.

We searched the garage and the outlying area, calling for Sean only as loudly as we dared. As the minutes passed, my dread began to build, until Tucker finally admitted he’d last seen Sean near the terminal. With a harsh word, Chase took off immediately in that direction, and I followed closely behind, feeling Tucker clinging to my shadow.

We crossed what had once been a street and went left around a large base of construction waste. We found him there, just beyond the bend, facing the opposite direction.

“Sean!” called Chase. “What are you doing out here?”

Sean jumped at the sound. “Thought I saw someone. Over there, behind…”

Three men in ragged clothes emerged from the asphalt and concrete dunes, twenty feet away. Two were in their thirties, and handled their rifles with an unsettling degree of confidence. The third man was younger, close to Chase’s age, with a massive muscular torso, and a baseball bat resting over one shoulder. He looked like the type that might bulldoze anyone that got in his way.

Resistance. They had to be. But if they were, Marco and Polo were right. They did not look friendly.

Chase deliberately placed himself in front of me.

“You lost, strangers?” asked the man in front with a rifle. He had a crisp, city accent. His dark hair was tussled and he hunched slightly to hide his immense height.

“I doubt it,” said Chase.

My pulse quickened.

“Then how may I be of service?” The tall man grinned.

“Knoxville sent us,” said Chase. “Before the FBR burned it to the ground.”

The man snickered. “Any weapons?”

“Possibly,” said Chase.

“Yes,” confessed Sean. “But I’m sure as hell not giving it to you.”

The tall stranger’s smirk dissipated, ratcheting up the silence to a tighter, tenser level of unease as he clicked his dirty fingernails along the rifle shaft. He was clearly trying to intimidate us.

I was tired of being intimidated.

“Stop,” I said. “We’ve come a long way, so if you’re not planning on shooting us, put your gun down. Please.”

My words hung in the air. All eyes locked upon me; all but Chase’s, as he was still watching the tall man. Someone began to chuckle. I turned toward the bulldozer with the baseball bat; he was missing one of his top K-9 teeth.

The leader lowered his gun. “You got a name, Sister? Or should I just call you the Mouth?”

I really didn’t like him. I wasn’t sure if he bought my disguise, or if he was simply mocking me, but my legs itched within the wool skirt, flexing and ready to run, and my jaw snapped shut.

“No? Shame. How about you?” He turned to Chase. “Wouldn’t be Jennings, would it?”

Chase stilled. My eyes widened. They had recognized Chase, not me, even with my photo posted. How did they know him? He didn’t seem to recognize them. He didn’t say a word.

“Told you,” said Toothless. “Didn’t I tell you, Jack?”

Jack grinned sadistically. “Maybe you can test out your theory.”

“What theory?” I asked. No one answered.

The third guard searched Sean and Tucker while Toothless came to pat me down. He was surprisingly appropriate—maybe because Chase watched him like a hawk. Still, there was too much pressure in the air. Something was wrong. The three shared too many knowing glances, too many sly smirks.

They took our weapons. Two guns, and a screwdriver Tucker had stolen from Greeneville.

Jack whistled. It was a piercing noise, one that pinpointed the back of my jaw and made me cringe. Toothless chuckled again.

In moments we were surrounded.

They came from every hidden corner of the graveled battlefield, encircling us, blocking us in. Thirty or more of the scariest people I’d ever seen. Brawny and sneering, tattooed and scarred, the type you’d find in a prison gang. Those closest were shooting hard stares our direction, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. No one smiled except the guy with the baseball bat.

My breath came faster. I glanced from side to side, suddenly aware of how close Chase had become. Sean drew in as well, blocking my right side.

“See, we’ve got a problem,” hollered Jack, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve been watching you all morning. Watched you drive up in your little MM cruiser and park in our garage. Watched you change out of your uniforms into street clothes—well, all except the Sister here. And the thing is,” he said, and smiled, stepping back to join the ring. “The thing is, we really don’t like snitches.”