If I never see that green jungle pattern again, it will be too soon.
Chapter 18
“I am not a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I’m a wolf in wolf’s clothing.” — Ricky Gervais
Axel
My chin lifted, I count two survivalists in the doorway. There’s at least a couple more behind them. Dammit. How did I let this happen? I know better. I should’ve insisted Gwen leave the office the moment I arrived. The FBI would’ve found the damn microdot. Mother of God, my wife will be the death of us both.
After helping her to her feet, I nibble her neck and kiss her ear. “No matter what, say nothing. You hear me?”
I wait for her nod before lifting my hands in the air. For whatever reason, James Lewis needs the data she sent flying out the window. His next logical step would be to torture one of us until the other one gives him the location.
The small army turns to their leader to take command. However, judging by his glassy countenance, he’s in shock. It would be comical if not so damn deadly.
In the confusion, I lower my elbows to lace my fingers behind my head. “Who’s in charge here?”
Sergeant Scarface swivels toward the sound of my voice. “That would be me.”
“Listen up, we need out of this building.” As if to make my point, more gunfire erupts.
Again, we drop to the floor. After a couple of rounds dislodge a picture from the office’s back wall, the shooting stops. Cautiously, we rise to our feet.
“To the tunnels.” No longer pale or shaken, the David Koresh cosplayer stands tall.
“What about them?” When the minion aims his weapon at my wife, I step in front of the barrel. I may die, but sure as hell, I’m taking those two with me.
The cult leader ignores our pissing contest. Moving to the door, he glances behind him. “Bind them. See they remain unharmed. They stole something from me. I need it ASAP.”
Once he trots down the stairs, the sarge zip-ties our hands behind our backs and motions us forward. My spouse steps ahead of me. We follow the entourage past a door and down another flight of steps. Finally, we exit into an unfinished storage area below the first floor.
“Move that desk.” The end of his rifle pokes into my side, giving me no choice but to shove the heavy furniture.
“Leave it there.” Private Longbeard rolls up a rug, and my jaw drops when he opens a trap door.
“Ladies first.” At Sergeant Asswipe's orders, Gwen bites her lower lip.
When she lifts her gaze, I wish I could tell her help is coming. However, I can’t tip my hand. We just need to hang tight until our friends rescue us. “Do it, babe.”
Our underground trek follows the same line as the path above. Instead of the sky, steel beams hold the tons of earth over our heads. Thank God they replaced the original wood. If I had to guess, this passageway dates to the Civil War. Without the updates, this ancient mine would be a death trap.
Begrudgingly, I give credit to the mad genius. I can’t imagine a better place to build his survivalist compound. Soon, the incline steepens. When we reach pine-scented wooden stairs, Gwen stops, turns her head, and mouths, “I love you.”
As I say it back, a shout comes from behind me. “No stopping, Mrs. Wulf.”
“FYI, it’s Doctor Wulf.” Her feisty tone makes me chuckle.Way to go, babe.
We continue our climb to the beat of muffled rat-a-tats overhead. I pray the weapons belong to the other half of our team who got tired of waiting for our signal.
At the top landing, Lewis, still in the lead, pounds on the door until another armed soldier, a middle-aged woman, opens it.
“Sir.” Standing at attention, she stares at him with such adoration, it turns my stomach.
I’m still processing the woman’s cult-like worship when Gwen gasps. “Oh God, no.”
Two steps more, jail cells appear. Now, I understand her distress. Not only have our women been recaptured, but Slate, Suds, and Dolly are also behind bars. This is not the time, but at some point, I will make the conniving operative wish she had never taken advantage of my wife’s kind heart.
Once I’m locked inside, my thoughts shift to breaking us out. We have to be gone before Lewis tortures us for intel.
