He stretched up to the side of the window and peeked through the gaps in the downward-pointing slats of the wooden blinds on the inside. Two men in their early twenties sprawled on an orange couch. One had a shaved head and brown eyebrows, the other’s short blond hair was mostly hidden beneath a snap-back cap. Both sported tattoos down their muscular arms.
Damn. He should’ve known they’d be jacked. Didn’t mean they were good fighters, but it didn’t bode well, especially if they significantly outnumbered him and Lindsey.
Blue light flickered across the men’s faces, and Blondie laughed at something on the TV screen, nudging his buddy with an elbow.
Sliding carefully to the other side of the window, Todd got a narrow glimpse of a galley kitchen and a pair of legs clad in black cargo pants. The other two rooms in the house were hidden behind closed doors.
Lowering himself to Lindsey, he held up three fingers.
“Megan?” she said so softly he had to read her lips.
He shook his head and pointed left. He hadn’t seen any women, but maybe Megan was in a different room. None of the cabins appeared to be individually guarded, but they would check them all, if necessary.
He crept past one of the closed-off rooms he’d seen—based on the small, frosted glass window, probably a bathroom—and continued on. The far side of the house sat in shadow, but a faint glow came from the single window. Rough, orange curtains had been drawn wide.
Todd stood to the side and hazarded a glance. Beside him, Lindsey peeked in and frowned, then met his gaze, eyes wider.
Inside, two men stood at a table, their backs to the window. The repurposed bedroom looked like a war room. Maps of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming covered the walls, with little red Xs scattered over each. More worrisome was the stack of paper-and-plastic-wrapped bricks of what Todd could only guess were drugs.
Not his area of expertise.
But the weapons? Those were easy enough to ID. The men were filling crates with AR-15s, M-16s, a variety of handguns, and boxes of ammo.
What the fuck had he and Lindsey walked into?
Whatever it was, there was no sign of Megan. As quietly as possible, he and Lindsey darted from tree to tree, working counterclockwise through the camp to check the smaller buildings for occupants. They found no sign of her friend until they reached the shack at the top of the circle, and heard indistinct voices from inside.
Nearly all the paint had peeled off the siding of the one-room cabin, leaving behind cracked, gray wood slowly rotting away at the base. Overhead, wind-propelled pine boughs scratched at the shingles, providing some cover for the soft crunching of his and Lindsey’s boots in the snow.
They stilled beside the nearest window. After ensuring neither of the perimeter guards was doubling back, Todd focused his attention on the filtered bits of conversation. There were at least two voices, one deep, one much higher-pitched, most likely female. His brain perked up. Could they have found Megan?
Lindsey caught his gaze, her eyes bright with excitement.
Todd stared at his feet, trying to picture in his mind where the people were in the building and determine if they were the only ones inside. Gesturing Lindsey to stay put and keep an eye out, he crept around the backside of the cabin, past a narrow frosted window, and stopped on the other end of the house next to a window mostly covered by faded green curtains.
“This is fucking boring,” the woman said, her voice louder than from his previous position.
“What did you expect?” the man grumbled.
Holy shit.Pete. Todd’s body throbbed with adrenaline. He was ninety-nine percent sure.
Moving carefully but quickly, he returned to Lindsey. He pointed to himself and then to his eyes and the window. If the pair was facing the other direction as he suspected, they shouldn’t see him.
Revealing as little of himself as possible, he peered through a gap in the curtains. Inside, Pete lounged on a stained brown sofa with a TV remote in one hand and a beer in the other. Todd’s hands curled into fists and he had to force himself not to rush the door. A blonde sat at the other end of the couch with her legs curled under her and a paperback book in her hands. If it was Megan, she must not have been considered much of a flight risk. There was no sign of Pete’s gun, which likely meant he had it holstered. And his posture was relaxed as he watched the silent MMA fight playing out on the small television across from him.
Todd’s mind raced as he turned to scan for threats and let Lindsey take a look. Her friend had appeared unharmed, so she could probably get the woman to safety even if something happened to him. Even better, with the element of surprise, he might get the jump on Pete.
The only problem—one he’d been too distracted by Lindsey and their predicament to give serious thought to until now—was what to do with Pete after that. He couldn’t shoot the man in cold blood, regardless of the asshole’s history. He couldn’t drag the man down the mountain with them. He couldn’t hold him at gunpoint and call the police—basically his original plan—when the police were the enemy right now.
Todd glanced at Lindsey. Could Todd give up catching the man who’d murdered his cousin and nearly killed Todd’s best friend for her? To save her friend?
How were those even legitimate questions? He wasn’t in the killing business, he was in the saving business.
Fuck.
Lindsey retreated from the window, a mile-wide grin on her beautiful face that rendered him mute. She threw her arms around him and excitedly whispered in his ear, “It’s Meg!”
He hugged Lindsey tight and silently asked Bethany and Jason for forgiveness.
