The man in the canoe lifted his chin in greeting and brought his boat alongside theirs.
“Close call,” Cross muttered, lowering the rifle.
Rick’s eyes flicked toward Drew. “She’s got good instincts. Stays low. Watches her six.”
“I taught her that,” Cross said.
Rick smirked. “Sure you did.”
“I’m dropping her at Devil’s Elbow.”
“No.” Rick’s voice was so quiet, Cross thought he’d misheard.
“What?”
“It’s not safe. Someone came through the outer edge of the slough an hour ago. Real quiet. Didn’t get through, but got close enough to set off the trip line.”
Drew shifted slowly, pushing the netting aside so she could hear better.
“You see who it was?” Cross asked.
“Nope. Too dark. But it wasn’t one of ours.”
“You sure?”
Rick shrugged. “Could’ve been, but…,” he shook his head, “it wasn’t. No gear. No light. Whoever it was, they were moving with purpose—and stealth. Stepped right over the root traps like they knew where they were. That ain’t local. None of us would go near them just in case we fell or forgot exactly where they were.And whoever they were, they passed the second trip line about a hundred yards from the water path.”
Cross’s jaw tightened. That was too close. “Damn,” he muttered softly. “How the hell could they find me back here?”
Rick shrugged. “Like I said earlier, one person saying something is all it takes, and money makes people remember a whole lot.
Cross’s gut churned. He’d wanted to think it was Rodriguez or Charlie or someone like that, but he knew deep down, instinctively, it was the Weasel.”
Drew met Cross’s gaze in the ambient light. “It’s the Weasel, isn’t it?”
“How the hell did he get involved in your mess?”
“Supposedly, Rodriguez hired him.” Cross frowned as he glanced at his watch. They didn’t have much time before they were supposed to meet with McGuire.
Rick was silent for a moment, and then he nodded. “Could definitely be the Weasel. Feels like him. Quiet. Surgical. Got that... predator vibe. You know what he looks like?”
“Not many do. He changes constantly. The only reason I ever saw a photo was because he killed someone on our side once. He’s former military. Intel flagged him as ghost-level. Dangerous enough to burn cities down for the right price.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard the stories,” Rick said. “Hell of a ghost to have on your trail.”
“Do you think we can make it to meet McGuire?” Drew asked.
Cross looked at Rick. The other man shrugged slightly but then shook his head. “If it’s the Weasel, I think your window of opportunity has closed. He’s between you and Devil’s Elbow. You’ll have to go past him to make it.”
Cross had been thinking the same thing. If they went, and they made it… Two very big ifs…they’d have to keep on going. Both of them. There was no way he’d make it past the Weaseltwice without some kind of contact. He didn’t care so much about his vulnerability, but he needed to make sure Drew was safe, and then there was the question of Tessa. Rock and a hard place sucked. “Shit.”
“It’s safer to go back,” Drew stated. Her tone was even, but her shoulders sagged.
“Yes,” Cross agreed. It was killing him that he couldn’t get her out of there. “I’ll call McGuire once we’re back at the shack. We’ll have to regroup and come up with a new plan.”
Drew nodded but said nothing.
“Give me your friend’s number,” Rick suggested. “I’ll text him and tell him what’s up. Then I’ll poke around a bit and let you know what I find.”
