Marc skidded to a stop outside the warehouse, lights burning brightly from inside with the wide doors open. Having been warned by Jack that Bayley left her vehicle, the Saints jumped from the van, weapons raised as they raced inside, cautiously but quickly.

The laundry truck had the back open, an older man looking up at them, his face a mask of fear. Raising his hands, he quickly said, “Don’t shoot. I’m Dr. Kovenov. Don’t shoot!”

Nick observed several women slumping in the back of the truck, their drunk appearance cause for concern.

“Keep your hands where we can see them!” Blaise shouted.

Nick’s gaze swept the room, desperate to find Bayley. Unable to locate her, he turned to the doctor, calling out, “Where’s Bayley? Where’s the blonde who was here?”

The doctor’s confused expression slowly morphed into understanding. “The one with the gun?”

Blaise answered, “Yes!” as Nick’s heart sank at the idea of Bayley having to use her gun.

“Over here!” Chad shouted.

Nick and Blaise sprinted to the front of the truck, seeing Harlan lying against a box, his arm bandaged but still bleeding.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nick asked, dropping to Harlan’s side.

Before an answer came, several ambulances careened to a stop outside the warehouse. Chaos ensued as rescue workers and FBI swarmed the area, immediately moving to assist the women in various stages of drugged stupor.

Recognizing Amy Willis moving slowly, Nick rushed to her, checking that she wasn’t gravely injured. Hearing a noise behind him, he stood, allowing an EMT to move in to evaluate her. Blaise stepped up, his face full of concern.

Dr. Kovenov looked at Marc and confessed, “There were too many. I lost some.”

Marc turned and glared at the much smaller man. “What are you talking about?”

“I drugged the women to make them appear dead and as I was waking them up, one got frightened and wandered off. I couldn’t get to them all and patch up the lawman over there.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Marc growled, turning to Chad. Pulling out his phone, he placed a call to Jack, giving him the quick and dirty intel. “And we need Nathan, that tracker friend of Blaise’s. Get him here immediately with his dog.”

Harlan called out weakly, “Nick…you’ve got to get her.”

Nick stomped over, grabbing Harlan by the shirt, disregarding his injury. Several agents pulled their weapons, but Nick still held his up to Harlan’s chest. “You better start talking right fucking now. I don’t give a shit what you were involved in. Where the hell is Bayley?”

“She was here. She followed Agnes and the truck. I had a deal with Agnes to get the women out. She would testify against her family and I’d give her immunity.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care!” Nick roared. By now, the other Saints has circled around, the tension between the agents and Saints palpable. “Where is Bayley?”

Harlan’s pain infused eyes cleared, as he groaned, “Jesus, Nick. She and Agnes ran. One of the Gruzinsky’s men came after Agnes and then took off in his car after them. He’s got to kill Agnes to keep her from turning against her family. And he won’t mind taking Bayley out either.”

“Where did they go?”

Shaking his head, Harlan said, “I don’t know. But I heard cars behind the warehouse.”

Staring at the crowded warehouse, the chaos now somewhat organized with agents and EMTs handling the women and Harlan, Nick looked at the other Saints and darted out the door with Blaise on his heels.

Prissy’s headlights only pierced the dark woods so much, leaving Bayley having to lean forward in hopes of staying on the road. Agnes twisted her head, still seeing the headlights behind them. Neither woman spoke, Bayley gripping the steering wheel as Agnes clung to the dashboard, every bounce on the rutted farm road sending grunts from them both.

The gravel road had climbed upward, twists and turns making the driving difficult but, with limited visibility, Bayley had no idea where they were. “I don’t know if we’re going to get off this,” she groaned, stepping on the brakes as another turn in the road had Prissy fishtailing.

“He’s getting closer!”

“I know!”

Prissy’s tires tried to grab onto the gravel when Bayley went into another curve but this time, she was unable to stay in control. Both women screamed as Prissy slid off the side of the road,and down the ravine, landing with the passenger side pressed up against a tree.

Dazed and heart pounding, Bayley looked quickly at her passenger, thankful to see Agnes looking back at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Shaken, but I’m okay,” Bayley acknowledged. Looking out her window, she saw headlights at the top of the ravine. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Trying her door, she sent a prayer of thanks when it opened. Seeing Agnes’ door propped against the tree, she said, “Come out here.”

Agnes unbuckled and crawled across the console and followed Bayley out her door, falling next to her on the leafy forest floor. The dark night was only illuminated by Prissy’s headlights still shining a beam out into the woods. A shot zinged over their heads and they grabbed each other’s hands as they scrambled around the car and into the woods.

With a huge oak trunk shielding them from the road above—and hopefully any flying bullets—they pressed their backs against the bark, their breaths ragged.

“What now?” Agnes asked, turning her face toward Bayley’s.

Bayley, chest heaving, shook her head for a moment. “No cell phone…no gun—” Another shot pinged off the bark on the other side of the tree. “Shit! Come on.”

Bolting deeper into the woods, the two ran, tripping over tree roots and slick leaves. Unable to see where they were going, they managed to dart between thick trunks and through underbrush that snagged their clothing, attempting to get away from the danger. Stopping in another clump of trees, Bayley tried to hear if they were being chased, but their heavy breathing was all her ears could discern. Clamping a hand over her mouth to lessen the sound, she motioned for Agnes to do the same. From the distant left, she heard sounds of someone moving through the leaves.

Whispering, “Come on,” Bayley led the two deeper into the woods, their steps more measured and soft.

Nathan Washington gently led the missing woman back toward the warehouse, now lit with searchlights, spotlights, headlights, and just about any other type of light to be found. Patting the head of his bloodhound, he called softly, “Good girl, Scarlett. You did good.” With his arm around the woman, he made his way inside the building, relieved to have found her quickly and not too far from the area.

Marc approached as an EMT immediately took the woman from Nathan’s care and led her away. Several more of the Saints walked over as well, head jerks acknowledging each other. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?”

Rubbing his head, Chad said, “A royal cock-up. How’s that for an explanation?”

“It looks like it.” Nathan’s gaze moved over the swarming mass of Feds, emergency personnel, women looking worse for the wear, and a group of angry Saints.

The sound of Blaise’s voice came over their earpieces. “Need Nathan. Is he there?”

“He’s here,” Marc replied.

“Take the road behind the warehouse and get him here. Bayley’s car went off the road and there’s someone else here. We can hear shots in the background but can’t find the girls.”

Glad to leave the warehouse to the Feds and have a new mission, the Saints fled to their vans, calling for Nathan to follow. With a light tug on her collar, he looked down and said, “Let’s go, Scarlett. Got another job for us, ol’ girl.”

The wrinkly brow and droopy jowls of the beautiful, red-coated hound obeyed, trotting alongside him, her tail wagging.

Crawling on their hands and knees up a steep ravine after crossing a small creek, Bayley and Agnes stopped to catch their breath in a cave-like hiding place at the base of some fallen trees. Shaking from cold as well as fear, they huddled together, steadying their breathing. Settling in, Bayley knew Nick would come for them. Other than a few nighttime critters, they heard nothing out of the ordinary for nighttime, deep in the woods. No sound of footsteps following. No gunshots.

Wiping her hands on her pants, Bayley looked next to her, trying to discern Agnes’ facial features in the dark. Her mind swirled with all the information from the last hour. “Why?” she asked, her words coming out in a hoarse whisper. She had wanted to ask more but, at the moment, the one word was all she could conjure.

“Why? Jesus, the better question would be why not?” Receiving no response, Agnes continued, “I grew up in the heart of a loving family. The little sister treated like a princess. But I always wondered what it would be like to have the respect that was given to my brothers, just because they were men.”

Both women listened again for sounds of being followed, but only the crickets filled the night. Leaning her head back against a tree, Agnes continued, “When I got older, my mother decided that I could help with the family business…in the way that a woman could help. I learned a bit about the hotel, but it was the rooms in the back that fascinated me. The other rooms held guests, but there were back rooms that only some men were led to. Always escorted. When I was fifteen, my mother allowed me to visit with her, checking on the occupants. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside.”

Bayley turned her head to face Agnes, hearing the agony in her voice as it shook. “What did you see?”

“Just a plain bedroom with a small bathroom. And the only occupant was a woman. Pale. Thin. Her face looked…haunted. She barely looked at my mother, keeping her eyes down the whole time we were there, but when my mother placed the food on the table and turned away, I saw her look at me.” A long pause slithered between the two, before Agnes whispered, “Haunted…her eyes were haunted.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I did absolutely, fucking nothing.”