What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(24)
Kellen reached into Rae’s bag, grabbed the crumpled brown bag and pulled out the first thing she found. “Here. Eat this!” She shoved a muffin studded with cranberries into Rae’s hand.
Rae debated for a moment, crying or eating, and eating won. She gobbled the muffin.
Thank God. The rule was that an Army always traveled on its stomach. Kellen needed to remember—so did Rae.
She stared at her child and for one painful moment she remembered Afghanistan and...
A burned-out house. A melted coil of metal. The stench of desperation and death.
God. God. Kellen had tried so hard not to get involved with Rae, to care so much she hurt herself...and the child. More than anything in the world, she didn’t want to hurt her own child.
Rae stared at her. “Mommy, are you sad?”
Was she crying? Kellen put her hand to her face. No. Her cheeks were dry. But somehow, Rae saw too much. “I’m okay. I’m just concerned about what we do next.”
From down the road, they heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.
“It’s Daddy!” Rae leaped to her feet.
“Or it’s the bad guys.” Kellen grabbed her arm, pulled her down and tucked her close.
“No, Daddy!”
Wishful thinking, kid. “If it’s Daddy, we’ll see and come out of hiding. If it’s the bad guys, we won’t. Okay?”
Rae struggled to answer.
Kellen put her finger on Rae’s lips. “Let’s climb a tree. Do you know how to climb a tree?”
“Daddy and Grandma won’t let me climb trees. Not since I fell out and hurt myself.”
“We’re superheroes, and the tree-climbing is one more thing we’re not going to tell Grandma or Daddy.”
Verona stood in the door of Max’s room, watching him pack. “What’s happening?”
“I can’t get Kellen. Her phone goes directly to voice mail. I called that bastard who set her up with the job and told him to bring her back. Brooks said he had no way to reach her, and when I told him Rae was with Kellen, he finally admitted it wasn’t the straightforward job he told me. The first courier is dead, Kellen and the guy she was with have disappeared into the mountains in a van and—” Max choked.
“Why doesn’t he send in his team?”
“He hasn’t got a team! He hasn’t got a staff! The MFAA is underfunded, barely hanging on as a federal department. I don’t even know if the guy who was killed was a part of the operation or somebody Nils hired!”
Verona moved swiftly into the room and put her hand on his arm. “Max.” She shook him. “Max, listen to me. Kellen is a lousy excuse for a mother. But she had experience in the mountains. Right? In Afghanistan?”
“Right.”
“She’s loyal to her people, and I know without a doubt she would lay down her life before she allowed anything to happen to Rae.”
He stopped packing and looked at Verona. “You’re right. But what if it doesn’t matter if she lays down her life? What if that’s not enough to save Rae? If the worst happens—how can I live?”
Verona stared back at her son and saw anguish and a loneliness she had hoped was vanquished forever. Time to do more than offer words of support. “What can I do to help you get ready?”
“I need food I can easily carry on an on-foot search. Toilet paper. Water filter. Headlamp.”
“I’ll round up the camping gear.” She went to the door and paused. “Rae and I made banana bread yesterday. I’ll send a loaf. You can share it with Kellen and Rae when you find them.”
12
Mercenaries were like deer. They never looked up.
Kellen sat on a tree branch, one arm wrapped around the tree trunk, one holding Rae with her hand over her mouth, and using all her powers of observation to figure out who they were and what they wanted. Thank God for her Rolodex brain. Thank God!
There were two groups:
GROUP 1: THE GREEDY BASTARDS
THREE MEN WITH GUNS AND KNIVES HELD CASUALLY, AS IF THEY KNEW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO WITH THEM. FROM THE CONVERSATION, THEY WERE VERY SERIOUS ABOUT WANTING THE MUMMY’S HEAD AT ANY COST, AND THEY WOULD KILL KELLEN AND RAE IN AN INSTANT FOR THEIR CUT OF THE REWARD FOR THE HEAD. NO ONE BELIEVED SHE HAD DIED IN THE VAN FIRE (TOO BAD), AND EVERYONE BELIEVED THEY COULD CATCH HER, KILL HER AND RETRIEVE THE HEAD.
GROUP 2: THE COLD-EYED MERCENARIES
FOUR MEN AND ONE WOMAN, IN JEANS, DENIM BUTTON-UP SHIRTS AND JACKETS, NO WEAPONS IN VIEW, EXAMINING THE GROUND FOR TRACKS AND SPEAKING BRIEFLY AND SHARPLY TO GROUP 1 FOR RUINING THE TRACKS. THEY HAD A CLEAR HIERARCHY AND AN AGENDA THAT DIDN’T INCLUDE THE MUMMY’S HEAD. THEY WERE HUNTING A PERSON. THEY WOULD BE PAID FOR ACQUIRING OR KILLING...A PERSON.
Observations:
GROUP 1 DIDN’T BELONG OUT HERE; THEY WORE SHINY SHOES AND CITY GARB, AND A FEW HOURS ON THE FOREST TREK WOULD PUT BLISTERS ON THEIR HEELS, AND A NIGHT SPENT IN THOSE SUITS WOULD TEACH THEM HOW DIRT AND COLD WOULD STRIP A MAN OF AVARICE AND REPLACE IT WITH A NEED FOR COMFORT.
GROUP 2 WERE PROFESSIONALS, USED TO DISCOMFORT, PREPARED FOR THE TERRAIN, READY TO KILL.
It was Group 2 she feared, and as she watched, she remembered Roderick Blake’s lunge at her and his hoarse command, Run, bitch.
Fine. Maybe she had made an enemy she didn’t know about. But Rae didn’t deserve this.
Kellen watched them, hoped they would all die of a sudden terrible rash and knew they wouldn’t. Bad guys never conveniently perished. But eventually they divided up into two teams, four people in each team, both teams directed by one of the Cold-Eyed Mercenaries. Together they would go to meet their leader, whoever that might be, and get their next instructions. Then they would go on the hunt for the head, one team going one way, one team the other. Kellen’s job would be to evade them both.