“It’s not a coincidence she busted out after we left and came here to the middle of nowhere—whether it’s her home or not. When the crops are fully grown, the house will be almost impossible to see,” Grace said.

  “Seems like a smart place for a safe house, doesn’t it?” Hollis asked. “Again, you are one smart cookie.”

  “If I even own this house.” She bit her bottom lip.

  “What’s worrying you?”

  “Just... How does one even become an agent?”

  “Some people apply and go through training, but more covert agents...they’re usually recruited.”

  “Why would I be recruited?”

  Hollis eased onto the dirt road. By now, Miss Ryland had time to get inside. But not enough time to get Dr. Sayer out—if she was even in there. “Well, your parents died before you went to college and it appears you have no other family.”

  “Except that man at the funeral. It felt like I’d known him my whole life.”

  Hollis pulled the truck over. “We hoof it from here, okay? Don’t want to give ourselves away.”

  “Like a navy SEAL mission?”

  “Or a spy mission.”

  She gave him a sly grin. “I wonder if I had all my faculties—and do not make a joke—if I could take you, you big, bad navy SEAL.”

  Something about that idea sent a fire through his gut, shot clear into his neck and sent his pulse into dangerous levels. “I don’t know—” his voice sounded dry and raspy even to himself “—but I’d be willing to give it my very best shot.”

  She leaned in, flirt in her eyes as she whispered, “I just hope your very best is good enough.”

  The truck felt like it’d heated up to a billion degrees and he swallowed hard. This was how she deceived men like Hector Salvador. Fiery charm with a heavy dose of flirt and confidence. And that thought brought him back to reality. They couldn’t be sitting in a cornfield flirting with one another. A mission was only a few feet ahead. Not to mention they were friends, and he had to keep his heart in check.

  “Let’s put it to the test right now—on what’s up ahead.” He redirected them to the task on hand.

  Grace stiffened and straightened her shoulders. “What’s the game plan?” All business. Just like that.

  “We give her the element of surprise, which means we aren’t knocking and being polite.”

  “I have a feeling I’m good at not being polite. Sadly.” She exited the truck and kept to Hollis’s side as they stalked up the gravel drive, using the short cornstalks flanking it as cover.

  Hollis crouched, sweeping the perimeter. A huge red barn was about twenty feet from the house. It was open and didn’t appear to hold a vehicle other than a tractor. No garage. Looked like the only mode of transportation was the truck Miss Ryland had driven here in.

  “Okay, I’m going in the back door. Stay here and if anyone runs, holler.”

  Grace nodded and Hollis’s SEAL instincts kicked in. He moved with stealth staying low of windows until he was crouching at the back door. The sound of a TV came from inside. No other noise, but that didn’t mean anything. Slowly, he opened the screen door, hoping it wouldn’t squawk and screech. He carefully turned the door handle. Unlocked.

  Not smart, Miss Ryland. Good thing he wasn’t the bad guy. Cracking the door, he peeked inside a kitchen that hadn’t been updated since the 1970s. Gold and green. Old faded linoleum. But the place was tidy and a hint of bacon still lingered in the air from breakfast.

  He slipped inside. Voices came from the living room. He reached for his gun holstered to his ankle and walked straight into the living room.

  “Ladies,” he said and trained his gun on Dr. Sayer. He recognized her from the photos Wheezer had sent. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

  Miss Ryland rushed him, hollering, “Run, Patsy!”

  Patsy flew out the front door. Hollis growled and subdued the secretary. “I’m a good guy, here.”

  Grace didn’t holler for him. Had Patsy run the other way and Grace not seen her? Hollis wrenched Ryland’s arm behind her back—without using too much force but enough to let her know he wasn’t to be tested. “Dr. Sayer is in danger. We’ve come to help.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  A truck door slammed. Patsy was going to get away. Moving quickly, Hollis surveyed the room, yanked the wooden blinds from the window and used the cords to tie Ryland’s hands behind her, then he placed her in the chair by the window. “Stay.”

  Running out the front door he paused at the sight.

  Grace stood in front of the truck, battery cables dangling from her hands.

  “Going somewhere?” she asked Patsy, who’d hopped in the truck to run. She tsked her and stalked toward the driver’s side. “Don’t even think about pulling a weapon on me. You know what I’m capable of.”

  She must be banking on the fact that Patsy had no clue she had amnesia. If Grace had gotten Patsy out of a foreign country from secret agents, then Patsy would know exactly what Grace was capable of, even if Grace had no inkling.

  It worked.

  Patsy’s face blanched and she raised her hands in surrender. Grace tossed the cables—the woman had disabled the truck but she had no idea what an Oscar award was—and motioned with her index finger for Patsy to come to her. She didn’t even have a weapon—while Hollis, at six-foot-three, had to tie up a petite secretary’s wrists with a wooden blind cord.

  Patsy slowly exited the truck. “Lucy! I thought you were dead—or—or I wasn’t sure.” She kept her distance. If this woman was a friend and Grace had stashed her for safekeeping, then why did she seem afraid of her? Something was off-kilter.

  “I’m going to go inside and see about our Miss Ryland.” He was fairly certain he’d scared her into sitting tight, but on the off chance she was braver than he anticipated and had gotten free, he better check. “I think you have things under control here.”

  “We’ll join you.” Grace thumbed toward Hollis. Patsy trudged along.

  “Why did you wait so long to come for me?” Patsy asked.

  “Inside, Doctor. Go.” Grace’s voice held serious authority, and a hint of the anger that popped out from time to time.

  Inside, Miss Ryland worked extra hard to get out of the makeshift binds.

  “If I untie these, will you behave?” Hollis asked.

  “She will. It’s okay, Judith,” Patsy said. “Lucy, what happened? Where have you been? You said you’d be back in a few days. A couple of weeks tops.”

  “Why didn’t you leave then, when you realized I wasn’t?” Grace asked.

  “And go where? If Hector didn’t find me, you can believe Clive would. I thought he found you. Killed you.”

  Clive. A new name to add to the mix.

  Grace kept her face blank. “Well, he didn’t.”

  “Have you been in hiding? Has it been too risky to come or contact me? Where’s the toxin? The research? Is it safe? Out of Clive’s hands?” Patsy’s expression turned worried and she wrung her hands. “If that gets into the wrong hands, Lucy, you know what will happen.”

  Except she didn’t.

  “How have you stayed off anyone’s radar?” Grace asked. “And how do you fit into this picture?” She pointed to Judith Ryland.

  Judith licked her lips. “I knew your mom. I came to work in Administration two weeks before she moved, but she was kind and I liked her. I’ve helped Patsy stay underground all this time. A friend of your mom’s is a friend of mine.”

  Patsy added, “Your mother and I had kept in touch. I knew she taught at State, so I did my own recon, found someone who knew her. Judith. Once I knew I could trust her, I confided in her.”

  Seemed like she used and manipulated her, but Judith must not see it that way. Hollis scowled, glanced between the two women. “So why run from Lucy?”

  “It’s been two years,” Patsy said. “I had to be careful. I know what Clive meant to you, Lucy, and I was afraid he’d made his case all too well, which means you’d come for me—but not to protect me. To either kill me or trap me in a prison forced to research under Clive’s direction—no thanks.”

  This Clive person must be powerful and diabolical.

  “Then why not leave and go underground somewhere where Clive or I couldn’t find you?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t play spy games, Lucy. I don’t have farmhouses like this purchased under shell company names and fake passports, money from all nations. I don’t have contacts all over the world to hide me or help me. So, I took my chances and stayed.” She raked a hand through her hair. “Judith said you came in the office because you were trying to find a professor who happens to be your mother. So what game are you playing? We both know she’s passed.” She opened her mouth. And it was there in her eyes. “You got dosed with the toxin. You must have. Someone’s after you and instead of showing up here—you went searching, hoping for information on your mother that might link to this house or me...”

  Busted. Hollis didn’t trust Patsy, but they had no other options. She was on to them. “Tell her, Grace.”

  “Is Grace the name you go by now? And who are you?” Patsy asked Hollis.

  “I’m none of your concern.”

  “The truth is, Patsy,” Grace said as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “I have no idea who I am.” She told her every detail and everything that had transpired since Monday. “I don’t even know who this Clive person is.”

  “Oh, child.” Patsy jumped from her chair and embraced Grace. “You must have been dosed with the sample we had when we escaped Hector’s compound. It affects your central nervous system and one of the many possible side effects is a coma and retrograde amnesia. You could have died if this man hadn’t found you.”

  “She almost died anyway,” Hollis said.

  “I’ll tell you everything, but we may not be safe here now. If Clive Epps is tracking you, you won’t know—”

  A bullet pierced the window and Judith Ryland fell to the floor dead.

  “Down!” Hollis boomed and shielded Grace and Patsy. “We have to get out of here. Now!” They were going to take them all out!

  The kitchen door busted in.

  “There’s a secret passage to the cellar,” Patsy said as Hollis ushered them out of the living room and into the dining area. They took cover behind a large antique buffet. “But it’s in the storage pantry in the kitchen under the rug. We can get into the cellar and climb outside.”

  Hollis put a finger to his lips, then motioned with two fingers his intent to sneak up on whoever had kicked in the door and disable him.

  Grace shook her head like a dog with a bone.

  He gave a resolute nod and slipped out from behind the buffet, tiptoeing to the door, gun in hand. Creaking on the stairs caught his ear, but noise in the living room did as well—the hall closet door squawked open. Two of them at least. Hector’s men or agents? His thoughts were swirling a mile a minute.

  Edging against the wall and creeping to the living room, he slipped behind the man built a lot like the assailant from the storage shed the other day. Using the butt of his gun, he knocked him unconscious, catching him before he thudded to the ground. He quietly dragged him into the hall closet and closed the door while Grace and Patsy hustled through the living room into the kitchen.

  Hollis followed.

  Suddenly he felt a presence behind him.

  Grace moved like the speed of light and snatched something, threw it. Hollis felt the air rush across his cheek in the wake of what she’d thrown.

  The second assailant hissed and Hollis whipped around as the man’s gun clattered to the floor. A kitchen knife protruded from his shoulder.

  Hollis didn’t have time to process Grace’s quick move and perfect aim. He kicked the gun away, wrenched the man’s wounded arm behind him, then quickly used a SEAL technique to press a pressure point and send the attacker night-night.

  “Let’s go!” Grace commanded and shoved Patsy toward the door; no need to use the secret passage now. Hollis was on their six. “He won’t be out but maybe thirty seconds. Move. Move. Move.”

  Patsy tossed open the door and screamed as another dark-clad figure appeared.

  Grace knocked her out of the way and in a few thrusts disarmed the attacker, kicked him in the face and slammed the door shut. “Other way! Go!”

  Footfalls on hardwood coming from the living room put some pep in Hollis’s step. They ran into the pantry and tossed aside the rug. Heart beating wildly, he shoved Patsy down, then Grace. He went last, working the rug over the secret door as he lowered it and entered the cellar.

  Rotting vegetables smacked his senses. Dank. Patsy led them to a rickety ladder against the wall. Grace moved her aside and began climbing but Hollis stopped her.

  “I’ll go first.” He didn’t want any more surprises or Grace to end up with a bullet in her.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “End of story.” Hollis hauled himself up. “Send Patsy after.” He raised the cellar door an inch and peered out. Coast was clear. He climbed out, then helped Patsy.

  Just as he reached for Grace a shot fired in the cellar.

  Grace cried out in the dark.

  NINE

  Fire ripped through Grace’s shoulder and she landed on the earthy cellar floor. Mold and rotting vegetables hit her gag reflex. She felt along the cool ground and found something glass...a jar. She chucked it at the assailant, then dove for him.

  She toppled him and grabbed his wrist to keep him from shooting her again. She was certain it was a graze, but it burned like lava. Her pulse raced and sweat trickled down her temples, but she couldn’t cower or cry. Her life was at stake.

  He knocked her onto her back as they struggled.

  Suddenly he was wrenched from her. Hollis dodged a fist to his face and defended himself with a punch to the shooter’s ribs.

  “Get up the ladder and get her out of here. Now! She has the keys.”

  Grace wanted to stay and help Hollis but he was right. Patsy was up there alone and with no training skills. She flew up the rickety ladder into a now drizzly rain. Dr. Sayer was crouched behind an old red tractor. “Come on!” Grace called. “We need to get to Hollis’s truck.”

  Patsy nodded and Grace scanned the area. One was in the cellar with Hollis. One was outside and one was still inside somewhere.

  “Stay low,” Grace commanded and started the trek from the house to the truck. Instinct told her stop. She paused behind a tree. Patsy’s breathing was labored. The only way out of here was Hollis’s truck. She’d disabled Judith Ryland’s. Grace had no weapon. The attackers, who were fighting like skilled men, would have to know they’d make a break for it.

  “We can’t go to the truck. Is there any other vehicle on the property?”

  Patsy shook her head. “Just a tractor but it’s not going to go fast enough to get away.”

  Grace didn’t see another vehicle either. The men after them must have parked somewhere else too. Where would she have parked if she was going to come in quietly? “Is there any other road beside the main one that leads to the house?”

  “Behind the barn. A dirt road—for tractors.”

  “Where does it lead?” They were running short on time. Any minute they’d be ambushed. Where was Hollis?

  “It leads to a gravel road that connects with another field but if you take a right it will lead you to the highway.”

  A tractor would be too slow, make too much ruckus and be seen over the cornstalks.

  “Actually, there’s a four-wheeler. Key’s in it.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Grace tamped down her temper. “Come on.” She raced for the barn, keeping her eyes on the lookout. Inside the barn, she spotted a yellow four-wheeler. “Jump on.” Hanging on the wall was a shotgun. “You ever use that?”

  “No. I’ve never shot a gun in my life!”

  Grace raced for the gun, checked to see if it was loaded. Two shells. Two shots. Something seemed familiar about this barn. She touched the gun rack.

  A memory came! She knew exactly what to do.

  Grace pulled on the gun rack and it opened. Inside a secret compartment dozens of weapons were displayed. All loaded and locked.

  Voices sounded.

  She grabbed two Glocks, a SIG Sauer and ammo along with another rifle—slinging it behind her back.

  Patsy’s eyes widened.

  Grace didn’t have time to be shocked. Everyone’s life was at stake. She had to go on muscle memory and push the fear away.

  Shoving the Glock 43 and the SIG in her waistband while keeping the Glock 17 in her hand, she cranked the engine with the other. Patsy was seated behind her.

  The four-wheeler sputtered and died. She cranked it again.

  “What about your friend?” Patsy asked.

  Not in a million years would she leave Hollis behind. No matter how frightened she was, how rattled and jittery. She owed him her life and if it cost her everything to see him safe, then so be it. He’d do the same for her—had been doing the same for her. “We’re going to go get him.”

  The ATV came to life. Grace’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. Fear raced through her blood. Her shoulder stung like a swarm of bees and blood had seeped through her shirt.

  But Hollis needed her.

  As they sped from the barn, Hollis leaped from the cellar. One of the armed men toppled him to the ground.

  Grace beelined it straight for them.

  A shot rang out and Hollis flinched. A smaller man came around the corner, his gun trained on Hollis. Grace’s heart jumped into her throat. She reacted, aimed. Fired.

  The man fell to the ground, wounded but not fatal—as she intended. Hollis rose up and spotted Grace, then kicked his attacker’s face, crumpling him to the ground. Hollis tore after the four-wheeler as the third shooter appeared with a rifle.

 

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