“Not really.”
“I’m listening.”
Dalton glanced at everyone, removed the syringe he’d obviously pocketed back in the facility. “We’ve got samples of both compounds and living proof of what they’ve done. This isn’t a coverup anymore. It’s a fire they can’t afford to leave burning.”
“You think they’ll come after us.”
Dalton raised a brow. “Wouldn’t you?”
Rowan inched closer. “You want to use the tracker to our advantage. Lure them to us.”
Dalton released a weary breath. “You heard the message. They’re already on their way.”
Rowan looked at her father, drew herself up. “Then, let’s control what they find.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The helicopter bucked in the shearing winds, engines screaming, the scent of smoke swirling through the cabin as Foster flared hard into the tree line. The skids kissed the dirt, Rowan and her team jumping out before Foster had to fully settle — lose the fragile control he still wielded over the machine.
They stayed low, crouched against the blast of downwash before Foster lifted the bird, limped out of sight, skids barely clearing the treetops. She stared at the silhouette until it vanished into the storm, a hollow feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach.
Bodie shouldered up beside her. Calm. An unmovable force in a changing landscape. “They won’t let anyone hurt him. I promise.”
She leaned into his touch, aware now wasn’t the time but too damn scared to care. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt.”
She swept her gaze over him. Hair spiked up in every direction, blood, mud, and grime from the laundry chute smeared across one cheek, he looked more than formidable, and she couldn’t stop herself from falling harder. For wanting that future he’d talked about.
He tugged her against his chest. “If you’re having second thoughts…”
“Foster’s gone. It’s ride or die time.” She drew in a deep breath, forced one foot to step back — ease out of his embrace. “Just don’t die on me. I can live with Walsh getting away. With my dad never knowing who I am. But losing you…”
She wouldn’t survive it.
Which sounded cheesy and cliché, but damn it, it was also true. He was the other half of her soul.
The piece that made her whole.
“Rowan, I…”
“Just don’t die.”
Bodie opened his mouth, then closed it, answering her with a tight smile before Nick jogged over to them.
He looked between them. “Do you two have to stare longingly at each other for another five minutes or are you ready to join the class?”
Rowan shoved him as she took a step. “I see why Sloane wants to shoot you all the time. You’re an ass.”
He merely smiled, led them across the open area toward the main structures. She tamped down the surge of panic. The plan had sounded clever in the chopper — lure Graves to the off-season camp using the tracker, disable his forces in an epic ambush. But now that they were standing in the middle of the campground, rain drizzling around them as fog breathed throughout the forest, it seemed ridiculously overzealous.
Buck stood next to an old, rusted generator, grease smeared across his knuckles. He grabbed the backup cord, yanked it a few times until the unit bucked, coughing out clouds of thick, obnoxious fumes before roaring to life. A handful of lights winked on around the main lodge, the soft, dim glow just enough to draw Graves’ attention. — funnel him into their kill box.
Dalton lit a diesel-soaked rag on fire, tossed it in an old metal barrel. He rolled it just out of sight of the gate, the smoke and the smell creating the illusion of a downed chopper. “It’s not great, but with the rain and the fog, the strobe light blinking behind the shed, it’s enough to get them through the gate.”
Rowan toed at the mud. “I’m not sure I know how to thank all of you for what you’ve done. Rescuing my father like that…Then, this…”
