Final Exit Page 6

  Kade couldn’t ask for better than that.

  Just before leaving the room, he glanced down to look at the picture of Abby taped to the wall by the bookshelf, as he did every night.

  But the picture was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, 3:05 a.m.

  Bailey kept her gun tucked behind the seat back as she studied the second car to zoom up behind the minivan since they’d left the Ghost’s house. The first one had quickly passed them, without incident. This one would likely end up doing the same. Apparently, eighty miles an hour on a remote back road wasn’t good enough for the people who lived around here. And what the heck were they doing out and about at this time of morning anyway?

  Suddenly the car whipped around them, horn honking as the young driver gave them the finger. If her hands weren’t cuffed together with a gun clasped between them, Bailey would have returned the favor. The kid couldn’t be more than sixteen, seventeen at most. Where were his manners? What was the world coming to?

  She shook her head and plopped down in the seat just as Atwell slowed the van.

  “What are you doing?” Alarm spiked through her as he slowed even more and turned down a gravel road.

  “This road isn’t used much so I figured it would be a good place to pull over. You want those handcuffs off, right? Austin probably has an extra key around here somewhere. ‘Always be prepared’ seems to be his life’s motto.”

  Bailey clutched the gun, her finger nervously twitching against the frame. Damn it, she never should have gotten into the van.

  After rounding a curve in the gravel road that left the highway far behind, Jace parked on the shoulder. Only then did he bother to glance at her in the rearview mirror, his face a study of shadows, lit only by the dashboard lights. He flipped on the overhead light. Bailey tensed.

  Atwell began to riffle through a bunch of papers in the glove box.

  She relaxed, but only slightly. Was he really looking for handcuff keys, or was he looking for something else? If there was going to be trouble, she’d face him on equal terms, not cowering in the backseat of a grocery getter. She squeezed between the two captain’s chairs and plopped down in the passenger seat beside him. The backpack he’d had on earlier was on the floorboard. She picked it up, more than a little curious at what was inside, and set it on the floor behind her seat.

  “Who’s Austin?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence as he dug through what appeared to be a stack of car maintenance receipts and a jumbled mound of cheap sunglasses. “Is he some Boy Scout type on your team?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “He’s one of Devlin Buchanan’s brothers. And he’s about the farthest thing from a Boy Scout that I could imagine. He calls me Asswell if that’s any indication of his personality.”

  She liked this Austin guy already. Not that she planned on ever meeting him. Signing up with this group of yahoos calling themselves Equalizers wasn’t on her radar and was the last thing she’d do. She’d been alone too long to know how to play nice with others, even if she wanted to.

  He jangled a small ring of keys in triumph. “Bingo.”

  She propped her hands on the armrest, the pistol still clutched between them.

  “Lose the gun, Bailey. I’m not going to unlock the cuffs while you aim that thing at me.”

  It was aimed at the dashboard. But she doubted he’d appreciate her pointing that out. She hesitated, not wanting to relinquish her only weapon again.

  “If I’d wanted to kill you,” he said, and leaned slightly toward her, his eyes narrowed, “I’d have left you outside with the sniper.”

  He was right. He could have just let those agents kill her. Still, it took all of her willpower to set the gun in the console and let it go.

  “Angle your right wrist the other way.”

  She repositioned her hands. “You’re from the Carolinas aren’t you? Or Georgia? I can’t quite place the accent.”

  He unlocked one of the cuffs and twisted her wrist to unlock the second one.

  “I used to know an Enforcer based out of Georgia, Savannah I think,” she continued. “Long time ago. Ramsey Tate. Haven’t heard from him in a long time. Do you know him?”

  The cuff clicked open, and he finally looked at her. “I knew him.”

  She blinked, her stomach knotting at the implication. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she truly was. “I liked Ramsey. He was funny, had a wicked fascination with NASCAR.”

  Something dark flickered in his eyes. Remembered pain? He frowned and motioned toward her shorts before removing the handcuffs. “What’s that hanging out of your pocket?”

  She looked down at the paper she’d accidentally grabbed off the wall while fleeing from the Ghost. She’d forgotten all about it.

  He stowed the keys in the glove box and clicked it shut. “Looks like a picture.”

  She pulled it out, held it up. “It’s the Ghost and some woman. I haven’t had a chance to look at it closely yet.”

  She took the time to do so now, peering down at the smiling couple. Was the pretty blonde woman his girlfriend, wife?

  Lucky girl.

  Not the wife part, of course. Bailey wouldn’t trust someone enough to be tied to them for all eternity. But girlfriend? Hell, Bailey would take a man like him for one night if that’s all she could get. She could totally see herself enjoying the Ghost, fitting her curves to his hard planes, smoothing her hands across all those glorious muscles as they bunched beneath her fingers. The man was buff, the type of guy who’d probably had women drooling all over him before whatever had caused those scars on his face and injured his leg. Bailey didn’t mind the scars. They added character. They were the mark of experience, the brand of a survivor. Everyone had scars, whether you could see them or not.

  She sighed and idly ran a finger across the glossy surface, as if she could feel his skin beneath hers if she only imagined it hard enough. Sadly, there were no incredible one-night stands looming in her future, not with the Ghost. He was her enemy. The next time she saw him she’d probably have to kill him. What a waste.

  “Why do you call him a ghost?”

  She glanced up sharply. Atwell was studying her with open curiosity. She lowered the picture. “Hawke didn’t tell you our nickname for the guy who’s heading up the search for the Enforcers?”

  “Who’s Hawke?”

  Her mouth went as dry as a desert canyon after a long, hard drought—pretty much like most of Colorado before the recent downpour.

  “Hawke is one of us, an Enforcer,” she said haltingly. “Isn’t he the person who contacted Buchanan to tell him that I needed help? I assumed Hawke had smuggled a tracker on my phone or something, and that’s how you found me.”

  He was already shaking his head before she finished her question.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone named Hawke. Maybe Devlin has.” He shrugged. “I was never an Enforcer so there are a lot of them I don’t know. The people I work with—Devlin Buchanan, Mason Hunt, others—we call ourselves Equalizers. The distinction helps us keep the good guys and bad guys straight.” He grinned.

  She stiffened. “And the Enforcers are the bad guys? Is that what you’re saying?”

  The grin faded. “With EXIT defunct, I suppose—in theory—that should make the remaining Enforcers and Equalizers allies. Don’t you? I still don’t understand why you call Quinn a ghost.”

  Her mind was still dissecting what he’d meant by “defunct, in theory” when his question pulled her up short. “Quinn? You know his real name?”

  He gestured toward the photograph still clutched in her hand. “FBI Special Agent Kade Quinn, thirty-three years old, originally from northeast Florida, currently on assignment here in Colorado. Unfortunately, that about sums up what I know about him. For now. But I’m working on that.” He cocked his head, studying the picture. “The woman doesn’t look familiar. May I?” He held his hand out.

  Not seeing a point in arguing, she passed the picture to
him.

  A bright light clicked on, flashing across the glossy surface. Atwell had pulled a small LED flashlight from his pocket, much like the one she carried with her—when she had her keys, which she didn’t.

  “How do you know him?” she asked. “For that matter, if you don’t know Hawke, why were you even in that house tonight?”

  His gaze rose to hers. “Maybe the question you should be asking, is why were you in that house tonight?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  He handed her back the picture. “While you and the other remaining Enforcers have been playing cat and mouse, mostly mouse, we Equalizers are working to bring everything to an end, once and for all. We want everything to do with EXIT Inc. to fade into history. But someone in the government seems intent on going after everyone who ever worked for the clandestine side of EXIT. Which means we aren’t safe, none of us is safe, until we figure out who’s behind this . . . hunt, or whatever it is.

  “We figured out weeks ago that someone was rounding up Enforcers, and that their immediate boss, at least in this area, is Quinn. But we need more information, like who else is involved, how many more ‘Quinns’ are out there, and who’s giving them orders. We need to figure out how high this thing goes, and how to stop it.”

  He flicked off the LED light and pitched it into the console beside the gun. “Lucky for you, I was following Quinn tonight, gathering intel.” He motioned toward the backpack in the floor. “I realized you were in trouble and stepped in to help. You can thank me anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She shoved the picture into her pocket.

  “You’re welcome.” He grinned.

  She studied his eyes, the relaxed, friendly expression on his face, his smile. And then she glanced out the windshield. It was still dark, dawn a few hours away. And they were parked in an isolated location, with thick woods pressing in on them, no cars passing by. She’d known him for all of an hour, give or take. Did she really want to gamble her life that he didn’t mean her harm?

  Her gaze fell to the gun just inches away in the console. She lunged for it. The pistol was snatched away before she could even reach it. Atwell made a show of holstering the gun and snapping the safety strap over the top of it.

  Bracing one arm on the back of his seat, the other on the steering wheel, he effectively caged her in with her back to the passenger door. Her whole body flashed hot and cold. Was this it? Was he going to try to kill her now?

  “Go for my gun again and that’s the last thing you’ll ever do, Bailey. I promise you that.” His lethal tone left no doubt that he meant every word. But if he was hoping to intimidate her, he was going about it all wrong. He was just pissing her off.

  “I wouldn’t have shot you,” she said.

  “You’re right. You wouldn’t have.”

  His arrogant confidence made her bristle with irritation. “I’m sorry.” She forced the apology through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t have tried to take your gun.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have. Why did you?”

  She frowned, genuinely surprised at his question. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing? You’ve parked us in the middle of nowhere and spouted off about Equalizers and Enforcers being on the same side in theory, implying that the opposite is true, that we’re enemies. You somehow know my name even though we’ve never met. And you just happened to follow the Ghost tonight, of all nights, when I was cornered and needed help. Given all that, I think I have the right to be suspicious and proactive about my personal safety.”

  His eyes had widened with each sentence, probably because she’d spoken faster and faster and was practically shouting by the time she’d finished. Heat flushed her cheeks, which had already been hot with anger. Now they were positively burning. Thank goodness the light wasn’t bright enough for him to notice.

  “Your face is almost as red as your hair.”

  She grabbed the door handle.

  Strong fingers encircled her wrist, yanking her hand back. And just like that, she was a prisoner, just as surely as if she were still wearing the handcuffs.

  “What do you want from me?” she snapped.

  “I want you to listen. I didn’t have to rescue you tonight. But you’re right, my being there wasn’t a coincidence. I’ve been following Quinn and his men for weeks, scouting things out, passing information back to my team. It’s called surveillance. So, yeah, I’ve seen you a few times—this wasn’t the first night Quinn’s men tried to capture you. I’ve taken pictures, sent them to Devlin. He knows every Enforcer who ever worked for EXIT Inc., at least while he was there. And he told me your name.”

  He started to turn away, then seemed to change his mind. “Oh, and the answer to your question is, no, I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I wouldn’t pull a gun on a man who’d risked his life to save mine. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, talk to him, especially since we’re both fighting the same enemy. If you’re going to survive, you need to start being nice and making friends. Otherwise those mercenaries will catch you and you’ll disappear just like everyone else seems to be doing.”

  She’d been on the verge of another apology. But something he’d said caught her attention. It was the second time tonight he’d said something similar, and mirrored her own concerns.

  “What do you mean, mercenaries?” she asked. “You said Kade Quinn is an FBI agent. His team wears FBI flak jackets. Are you saying his men aren’t FBI, that they’re hired guns?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time the government hired assassins to do its dirty work.” He cocked a brow.

  The insult launched, and hit its target.

  Because he had a point.

  What was an Enforcer if not a hired gun when it came down to it?

  Did that make her a mercenary? The idea put a sour taste in her mouth. Mercenaries had no loyalty to anything but money. And although working for EXIT had certainly been profitable, extremely profitable, that wasn’t what had driven her over the years. Okay, to be honest, she’d become an Enforcer to save her own hide. But it hadn’t taken long for her to realize the opportunity that had been given to her.

  The money was great, but it wasn’t about the money. What drove her was her belief that the innocent should be protected and that it didn’t make sense to wait until after a mass murder to stop the person who was about to commit it.

  Working for the government, even indirectly as she had at EXIT, had been a bitter pill to swallow for a woman who’d devoted her younger years to fighting “the man.” But it had been a way to continue her fight against injustice, without ending up in a Ruby Ridge standoff or burned to a crisp like Koresh’s nutty followers in Waco. Did that make her a mercenary? She’d never thought of herself that way before.

  And she didn’t like it.

  She gave another hard tug on the wrist he was still holding. “You obviously don’t hold people like me in high esteem. I’m surprised you didn’t leave me with Quinn to die. Why did you help me?”

  He studied her for a full minute. Then he sighed heavily and let her go. Her sudden freedom surprised her enough to make her hesitate, then she popped the door handle.

  “Wait.”

  She hesitated, the door open.

  “We have a common enemy,” he said. “There’s no reason we can’t become allies and pool our resources. Devlin told me he tried to recruit you once but you turned him down. I’m giving you a second chance to join the Equalizers, to have an entire team with considerable resources at your back. Together we can plan a way to stop Quinn and whoever’s calling the shots above him.”

  “Seems like the world’s just full of second chances tonight.” She tilted her chin defiantly. “Not interested. I already have a whole team at my back. They’re called Enforcers.”

  He made a show of looking around. “Really? Because I don’t see them anywhere. And I didn’t see them earlier either. You know, when you almost got shot.”

  She hopped out of the car.

 
“Bailey.”

  “What?” she demanded, ready to slam the door shut.

  His jaw worked, like he was struggling with some kind of inner demons before he replied. “At least let me drop you off somewhere. I assume you’ve got cars and go bags stashed all around the city, right? That’s what most Enforcers do. Hell, it’s what the Equalizers do, too, even though we’re a team. We’re all self-sufficient, like you. We plan for the worst. But this fight we’re both fighting is easier, and safer, in numbers. I’ll tell you all about the Equalizers and what we’re doing, if you want to listen. But at least let me take you to one of those stashes so you’re not stranded in the middle of the woods.”

  She eyed him warily, considering her options. She’d made a point of noting the Ghost’s—Quinn’s—street and house number as Atwell drove them out of the neighborhood. But a street name by itself was useless when she’d never heard of the street before.

  Her phone had a map app that should help her find her way back to civilization. But it wasn’t like she’d had a chance to charge it when she’d gone to bed. The thing was probably dead by now, or would be soon. Life was definitely dealing her some sour lemons right now. And she’d never been the type to make lemonade.

  But this man could. At the very least, she could use him as her taxi. But it was difficult to trust someone when you weren’t on a level playing field. Her gaze fell to the gun holstered on his hip.

  “Would it make you feel more secure if I gave you a gun?” he asked.

  Her gaze whipped to his. “You offering?”

  In answer, he pulled a Cobra Derringer .38 special from a strap on his ankle. It was a small gun, which made it ideal for hiding. Normally Bailey wouldn’t even consider carrying the Cobra. The trigger pull weight was horrendously heavy for someone her size, which made aiming difficult at best. But she wasn’t about to turn up her nose at his generous offer. A gun of any kind was better than nothing.