“Have you heard anything yet?” Birch asked as he leaned in close to Humphrey at the picnic.

“No.”

The one word was enough to worry Birch. That one word conveyed the fear and worry Humphrey had about Lizzy and Crew.

Tate smiled and took another bite of hamburger. She chatted easily with the other people on their blanket, but by the looks she kept sending him, Birch knew she was worried, too. They all were. It had been over thirty minutes since Crew left the party, and they hadn’t heard a thing from him.

“The article is offline. It was taken down five minutes after it went up, but I grabbed a screen shot. Alex tried the writer’s house, but there was no answer,” Humphrey whispered.

Birch nodded. When Tate looked at him, he gave a barely perceivable shake of his head. Tate lost a little color but kept the smile plastered on her face. Like him, she was starting to crack, but only a force of will kept them holding it together. They refused to let these bastards win by showing that they were hurting.

Crew knew how to push a helicopter. When Lizzy went flying from the hood, Crew had reacted instantly. He’d spun around so he could see the front of the SUV. The door opened, and Crew dropped the helicopter fast. He hovered a foot or two off the ground between Lizzy’s still body and the SUV.

The man started at him, his eyes never leaving Crew’s. Crew didn’t wait to see what he would do. Crew’s window was already open, and while he wasn’t the best shot with his left hand, it would be enough to keep this asshole away from Lizzy.

Crew fired and the man ducked behind the open door. The second Crew paused in his firing, the man was up and returning fire. “Dammit,” Crew cursed as a bullet pinged off a blade. The man wasn’t aiming for Crew. He was trying to disable the helicopter.

The sound of someone slamming against the side of the helicopter had Crew turning quickly, ready to fire on a second enemy. Instead, he found Lizzy shaking the haze from her head. Blood ran down her arm from road rash. Her hair was windblown and streaked with blood. And she was pissed.

“Give me your gun,” she yelled as she used the helicopter to steady herself.

Crew reloaded his gun and handed it out the window to her. One of his hands instinctively went to cup his balls because the look on her face said she’d happily cut them off anyone who crossed her right now. Thank goodness that look was directed at the man coming around the side of the SUV door. Poor dumb bastard—Crew almost felt sorry for him.

Lizzy didn’t bother talking. She didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she straightened up and walked toward the man, not even flinching when he fired off a couple shots at her. A shiver ran through Crew. This wasn’t the Lizzy he knew from the bar or the one his grandfather loved as if she were his own granddaughter. This woman was tough as steel, deadly, and didn’t have a flicker of emotion in her.

Crew watched as Lizzy raised both arms and fired. The man leapt behind the door, and Lizzy pushed her advantage by charging. She ran with a hitch in her gait. It was the only sign that she’d been hurt when she’d been flung from the top of the car. When the man rose to fire his gun, it was too late. Lizzy slammed the door on him, knocking him to the ground. Crew swallowed hard as he watched her pull the door back and slam it against the man again.

Crew flew higher and looked down at the scene. Lizzy was bleeding and breathing heavily. The man was not moving. His head seemed to take the brunt of the hits. Lizzy motioned for Crew to come closer.

“Return the helicopter and take my car back home. Call the team and have someone meet me where I held Phylicia for questioning.” Crew nodded as Lizzy handed him her car keys. “And, Crew, thanks for your help.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” he yelled over the noise of the propellers.

Crew lifted the helicopter and again felt for his balls just to reassure himself they were still there. He was never going to get on Lizzy’s bad side again. Thank goodness he’d apologized for his behavior. He was man enough to admit tears might be involved if he had to apologize now after seeing her in action.

Lizzy turned from Crew’s departure and let out a shaky breath. She was hurting badly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a switchblade. She opened it and walked around to Jeff’s door. He looked at her wide-eyed and pale-faced. When she approached him, he shook his head and tried to pull away from her, his muffled voice begging her not to hurt them.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to rescue you,” Lizzy said as kindly as the pain she was enduring let her.

Jeff didn’t look as if he believed her and pulled away from her again.

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Fine, have it your way.” Lizzy slammed the door and opened the back door. Mrs. Sargent’s blue eyes were wide with terror. “I’m here to rescue you. Do you believe me?” Mrs. Sargent nodded and Lizzy ripped the tape from her mouth.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Sargent asked as Lizzy moved to slash the zip ties on her hands and legs.

“Just a person who knew you needed help. Now, Mrs. Sargent, I need your help.”

“Of course. Can you let my husband go?” she asked as she wriggled from the backseat.

“I will in a minute. But before all these people start coming out of their houses, we need to get out of here. Come help me toss this guy in the trunk.” Jeff let loose with a string of muffled yells, but Mrs. Sargent followed Lizzy anyway.

“Oh my,” she gasped when she looked down at the man who had kidnapped her. “Is he . . . dead?”

Lizzy put her fingers to his neck. “Not yet. Grab his legs.”

Mrs. Sargent bent down and grabbed his legs. She and Lizzy moved him to the tailgate and hefted him inside. “Maybe we should bind his legs then? I’d hate for him to pop back to life and kill us. It happens in movies all the time.”

“Do you have anything to tie him up with?” Lizzy asked.

“He tossed the tape in the back with me. Hold on, I’ll get it.” A second later, Mrs. Sargent, her mouth red from the tape being ripped off, helped Lizzy tie his hands and feet together. “Here, I use this to hide my purchases at the mall, but it’ll work now, too, I guess,” she said as she pulled a cover over him.

“Thank you. Let’s go.”

Lizzy walked to the driver’s side and got in. She handed her knife to Mrs. Sargent and drove off. “You can free your husband now.”

God, her head hurt. Her vision wasn’t completely there and her side hurt so much that her leg shook as she pressed on the gas. She had a bit of a drive to the abandoned warehouse she had used to interrogate Phylicia Claymore, and she wanted to make it there before she passed out.

Jeff grabbed the knife from his wife once he was freed and pointed it at Lizzy. She took a deep calming breath as his wife scolded him. “Jeff, I have a gun. Put the knife down.”

Jeff looked down to Lizzy’s left hand that rested on her lap with her gun pointed right at him and set down the knife. “Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m here to help.”

“You know who that was?”

Lizzy tried to shake her head but groaned instead. “No. I just know where he comes from. I’ve killed others like him.”

“Where are you taking us?” he asked.

“Someplace safe. You and your wife are safe now even though you were a dumbass and posted that article. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Jeff gasped. “I knew it! I knew there was more to Joel’s story, and I bet . . . I bet that bitch set me up.”

Lizzy reined in her temper because she had a pretty good idea who he was talking about. “Who’s the bitch you think set you up?”

Headless of the warning in her voice, Jeff answered quickly. “Tate Carlisle. She’s the president’s press secretary, and the only other person who knows I had this information.”

“I’ll tell you this once. If I weren’t driving, I’d kick your ass. Tate’s the only reason you’re alive right now. Show some damn respect,” Lizzy ground out between clenched teeth.

“Wait,” Jeff said, his reporter instincts kicking in. “You know Tate? And you know what I wrote about. So it’s real. There really is someone or a group out there trying to . . . well, trying to do what?”

“Sorry, I’m not some exclusive. Now let’s get something straight. You and your wife are alive because of us. You’re the one who broke your word to Tate to not say anything, and then you blame her. I think you owe her a big apology. For now, you will go where we tell you. You will not get on the news or on social media. You will not call anyone, and you will not email anyone. You and your wife will be completely off the grid until we come get you. Do you understand?”

“Where are we going?” Mrs. Sargent asked, cutting off whatever her husband was about to say.

“I’m thinking Africa. Ever wanted to go on a safari? Or how about the summer in a remote cabin in Canada? The point being, you need to stay the hell away from everything you’ve ever known. Do you understand the consequences if you don’t? Not only will you two be killed, but you’ll be tortured first. I have to have your promise that you will stay put—a promise you actually intend to keep this time.” Lizzy stared at Jeff, but it was his wife who answered.

“Canada sounds lovely. Jeff has always said he wanted to write a book. A cabin in the woods sounds perfect for him to write. Doesn’t it, Jeff?”

“It does,” Jeff said slowly. “And thank you. It’s hard to fight years of journalistic instinct for a story. But I will. You have my word.”

“I hope it’s a better word than you gave Tate. You’ve put her in enough danger already.”

Jeff nodded as the suburbs gave way to rolling hills. “I was being followed, and I lost it. I found the bugs. I saw people outside my house and my work. It was clear someone had been at my desk and gone through my files. I just went off. I’m sorry. I never thought of Tate being the one in danger. I thought she was the one trying to cover for the government.”

“Now you know better. Do any of you have any electronic devices—cell phones, workout bracelets, anything that transmits a signal?” Lizzy asked.

Jeff handed her his cell and his wife handed her a workout tracker. Lizzy slowed as they crossed a good-sized stream. It wasn’t a river, but it would do. She tossed the devices into the water and then sped off. She just hoped backup wouldn’t be too far behind because she felt her body weakening.

Tate saw Humphrey hang up the phone. She walked over with a smile on her face as Humphrey and Birch stopped to pose for photos with various celebrities, families, and politicians.

“Doesn’t your face hurt?” Humphrey asked once they were alone.

“The pain is the only thing stopping me from crying,” Tate said, widening her smile. “I’ve been called every name in the book today, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

“You’re giving a Herculean effort. If I didn’t know you so well, I would think nothing was bothering you.” Humphrey dropped his voice. “I heard from Crew. Lizzy got to the Sargents in time. Apparently it was a sight to behold. Crew said something about Lizzy jumping from a helicopter and being thrown from a roof of a moving car. She’s pretty banged up but is taking them to an extraction site.”

“I wish I was strong like Lizzy or Valeria,” Tate said sadly.

“But you are. Do you think they’d have held up like you have today? There’s all different kinds of strong, Tate. And from where I stand, you’re just as strong as they are,” Humphrey said, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

When Birch looked over, worry for her was clear in his eyes. She smiled back at him—a real smile this time. He’d fight everyone here for her if she let him. His belief in her gave her the strength to continue through the day. She gave him the thumbs-up sign, and he visibly relaxed. How was it only one o’clock in the afternoon? Tate took a deep breath. She was strong. She held the power. She released the image. She had a plan. She would cut off Mollia Domini’s line of communication to the public. The more Tate repeated it, the taller she stood. She could do this. She had to do this. It wasn’t about her. It was about the entire country.