Erasing Faith(98)

“Hey.” Wes shook me softly until I looked at him. “Don’t worry. We’re safe out here. No one will find us. And, if they do…” A cold glint filled his eyes. “They won’t touch you ever again. That’s a vow.”





Chapter Fifty-Four: WESTON


ORDERS



“Abbott.” I glanced back at Faith to ensure she was still sleeping soundly before slipping onto the front porch to take the call. It was five in the morning — I didn’t want to wake her, yet.

“It’s Benson.”

I sighed. “What is it?”

“Careful,” he warned. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to.”

“What’s happening with Szekely?” I asked, my tone a little less sharp. “I want a timeframe for how much longer I’m going to be out here.”

“And where exactly is out here?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t about to disclose that to anyone, even if he was my boss.

“Abbott, Abbott, Abbott — always so mysterious.” He chuckled but it sounded forced. “Well, I assume you can at least confirm that you still have the girl and she’s in a safe location.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His tone was light, as though we were discussing nothing more than the weather. “It seems you two are the only ones left after Szekely’s little murder spree. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you — if he’s taken in alive, your testimony will help put him away.”

My jaw went tight.

“Of course,” Benson continued. “It would be simpler if he was taken out permanently.”

“Of course,” I agreed, my voice cold. “Any leads on where he is?”

“Nothing credible. But we did manage to identify Istvan Bordas in the footage we collected from the airport. Apparently, he didn’t die in that fire, after all.”

“I know. Faith saw him,” I muttered. “And we have no idea where he went after the airport? How is that possible?”

“Why don’t you do your job, Abbott, and stop worrying about mine.” Benson’s voice went cold. “As of now, we believe Bordas is still in California, trying to track you and Miss Morrissey down. If you hadn’t insisted on doing this yourself, he would be no threat to you at all.”

“He’s not a threat,” I growled.

“You can’t ensure that. Tell me where you are, and I’ll send backup to your location within the hour. My men will relieve you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. No f*cking way would I trust someone else with Faith’s safety — not Benson, or anybody else. I hadn’t trusted anyone inside the agency for three years… Not since I learned there was a mole in our ranks, leaking information to Szekely. I wasn’t about to start putting my confidence in them again now.

“She’s safe and secure,” I bit out. “No need for another agent here.”

There was a frosty silence over the line. “I don’t particularly enjoy my authority being questioned, Abbott. You will tell me where you’ve taken her — that’s an order.”

I stared at the crooked boards of the porch beneath my feet, and my thoughts turned to the beautiful girl sleeping just inside the cabin. Nothing was worth jeopardizing her. Not even my career.

“If you find Bordas, call me. I’ll happily put him down for you. As for handing over Faith…” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sorry, sir, but in all sincerity… You can go f*ck yourself.”

I disconnected and pulled the SIM-card from my phone before he could initiate a trace. Back inside the cabin, I tossed my phone onto the table, threw another log in the fireplace, and climbed back into bed with Faith, wrapping my arms around her body and absorbing her warmth until I forgot about Benson and Bordas and all the other bullshit.

She was the only thing that mattered.





Chapter Fifty-Five: FAITH


THE PERFECT LIFE



“How about that big one?” he suggested, pointing to the mammoth tree ten feet from us. “The old oak, by the edge of the clearing.”

I huffed in indignation. “A twelve year-old could find that mark. Give me something a little less insulting, please.”

Wes chuckled.

“Don’t laugh at me.” I glared playfully. “I’m armed.”

He only laughed harder, even when I waved my Lady Smith in his direction.

“Fine, fine,” he said, looking at me like he thought I was the funniest person alive — which, normally, I wouldn’t have minded but, right now, when my shooting skills were being called into question, I found more than a little annoying.

“You want a tougher target? How about…” His eyes swept the clearing. “Okay, there. The apple tree.”

I followed his gaze to the thick-trunked, heavily-gnarled tree, about thirty feet away. Its branches hung heavy with ripe red apples, though many had already scattered to the earth and begun to rot with the last days of autumn.

“Let’s see if you can hit the big knot in the trunk,” he challenged, his voice full of skepticism.

He didn’t think I could do it. I laughed.

“I’ll do you one better,” I muttered, planting my feet and taking aim. Cocking my head, I made sure to breathe, blocked out everything except the vantage in front of me, and pulled the trigger.