Move the Sun (Signal Bend #1)(78)

Isaac held Show and Len back. He needed to get some things straight with his VP and SAA. Now that Lilli had refused to handle her job in the clubhouse, they had to decide how they would proceed. They talked it out fully, Show offering several scenarios. He was a long view guy.

But Len had the simplest, and thus likely the best, take. “Why don’t we let her do what she wants to do?

I say we stay out of it. If she needs help, I gotta figure she’ll ask you for it, boss. We decide then.”

Show nodded. “He’s right, Isaac. She wants us as far out as we can be. That’s not far enough, but it’s the right call for the club. Give her the reins. She came in with a plan. Let’s let her work it.”

Isaac knew they were right. It was the right call for the club. They would have their hands full keeping a lid on Wyatt. But Lilli was his woman. In many ways, ways he’d not thought possible until now, she was his life. He had no idea how he was going to sit back and let this happen without offering her his aid. But he’d have to figure it out.

“Okay. You’re right. I need to call her, tell her we’re out of her way.”

She didn’t answer. He called Rover. He didn’t answer, either. He called Ray. Strike three.

Isaac looked at Show. “I need to know what Wyatt’s been doing since he left this room.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


As soon as she hung up with Isaac, Lilli got to work. She logged out and closed down the work she’d been doing, changed into hiking shorts, a light tank, and her terrain runners, and quickly loaded her pack— double-checking her ammo supply and attaching a silencer to her Sig. She almost ran to her car, where she fitted her M25 with its silencer as well. This was broad daylight, which had not been part of Plan A, so she wasn’t sure she’d be able to use the M25. The situation would have to be perfect to get her all the way to Hobson’s on foot with a sniper rifle strapped to her back. But she wanted it fitted just in case.

Most likely, this job had moved to Plan B—up close and personal, with the Sig in play. That was concealed in her pack, allowing her to move freely.

Time was way too short. Lilli had a long hike to get from a safe place for her car to Hobson’s shack of a house. Seven miles at least—and she’d have to stay low for the last couple of miles, which would slow her up considerably. If Isaac had done as she’d asked, Hobson would be there well in advance of her. She needed to book it when and where she could. She couldn’t imagine she had more than today, at best, before he’d made her.

The clubhouse would have been the safer, for her, arena. But she wasn’t going to kill a man in the middle of Isaac’s club—it was more home to him than his ancestral land. That wasn’t even a momentary consideration. Yet now that her plans were known to the club—to Hobson’s brother—her time was short. It was now.

She parked in the rough lot of a well-known hiking area. Nine other cars in the lot. So much for the M25. She grabbed her pack and got to hiking, moving at a trot, as quickly as she could without undue notice, while there were other hikers around. She veered off the path at her first clear chance and headed apace into woods which had become familiar to her over the past weeks.

When she was within a couple of miles of Hobson’s place, she slowed and heeded the sounds she made. She had to be alert and ready to hide. Hobson had taken, toward the end of her surveillance, to wandering in the woods; twice she’d almost come up on him, or vice versa, and she’d had to take quick cover. One of those times, he’d passed by her so closely she almost could have touched him.

She almost hadn’t recognized him. He was fully bearded, and it was long and unkempt, like his hair.

Hair and beard had gone dully grey. He was thin—emaciated, really—and no longer had the bearing of military service. Instead, his shoulders sagged. He looked like a man carrying a heavy load of guilt. As he f*cking should. It didn’t affect Lilli’s resolve in the slightest. Remorse was meaningless as long as he drew breath the men who died that day could not.

The day he’d passed so near her, she’d struggled hard to stay still and not simply handle the situation right then. But they had a plan, and she’d needed to stick to it. Part of the plan was settling into town some before taking action. Another part of the plan was not firing an unsilenced handgun less than a quarter-mile from a working farm. Even in the country, that was an undue risk. So she’d stayed in cover and let him pass.

That was all while Plan A had been in effect; everything had gone ass-up since then. Plan B was more guerilla than sniper. In many ways, she preferred it. Plan A would have resulted in his death, but a clean one he might not even feel. Plan B put them face to face, made sure he knew what was happening, why, and by whom. She’d told herself—and Isaac—repeatedly that it was justice she and her team wanted, not vengeance. But vengeance would be sweet if she could get it.

Finally, she crept up to a rise over which she could see his ratty little house. It was barely a cabin, really, without even an indoor toilet. The house sat up strangely off the ground, on stilts maybe 18-24 inches high.

Lilli figured the little creek that ran past it on the far side must occasionally flood, though it was barely a trickle now. A weathered board hut with a half moon in the door stood off a short distance. Outhouse. The place was a literal shithole.

There was a dark grey van parked next to Hobson’s beater pickup. She knew that van. She pulled her camera and zoom out and took a closer look. Yes—it was the Horde van. Somebody from the club was still there. Fuck. She lay down on the far side of the rise and waited.