16
Keeneston, Kentucky
The morning rush at the Blossom Café was in full swing. The mismatched tables and chairs were completely full as Cy and Gemma squeezed into a table with his brothers, Miles, Marshall, and Cade and their wives. Cy didn’t feel like coming to breakfast with everyone. Not after the chewing out his wife had given him for overreacting to his daughter’s love life. That is, once she had let him back into the house. Cy rolled his eyes as Gemma began talking to Katelyn about how excited she was about Reagan and Carter dating. No one asked Cy if he was excited. Well, they all knew he wasn’t. And it wasn’t because something was wrong with Carter. He was actually a really good man. But it was Cy’s job to protect his little girls and if someone hurt them, he would track them down and cut out their heart. Figuratively . . . okay, maybe even literally.
Cy wanted to talk to Miles about it. Miles had been just as bad as Cy with his daughter, Layne. Then Layne had brought home a DEVGRU man, of all things. A freaking SEAL Team Six Navy man. A froggie! And instead of losing his mind, well, not for too long, Miles was now waxing poetic about how great his “son” was. Don’t get him wrong, Walker Greene was a great guy, but he was a great guy living with and taking care of Miles’s daughter. Cy wasn’t able to step back like that. Just ask Matt, his own son-in-law. Riley kept telling him that she and Matt were good and didn’t need looking after, but he was her father. For eighteen years plus, his sole job was to look out for her and then suddenly he wasn’t supposed to. But looking out for your children was all good when it was done with love, right?
“So, is today the big day?” Marshall whispered.
Cy grunted. Yeah, today was the big day. Carter and Reagan were flying to Florida and when they got back this evening his daughter would be engaged.
“You’re lucky. Carter is a great guy. She could have eloped with a hipster,” Marshall reminded him.
“Or a lumbersexual,” Cade said, leaning in so the men were talking on one half of the table and the women were in their own conversation on the other.
“What the hell is a lumbersexual?” Miles asked right when Cy was about to.
“These city boys who like to play dress up as real men. They wear the beard and the flannel, but have never chopped wood or done manual labor in their lives. Instead of hanging out in a bar, they hang out at the local organic coffee shop,” Cade explained with a roll of his eyes.
Cy shook his head. “Why the hell do you even know that? It’s embarrassing.”
“Marshall told me,” Cade said, calling out his brother.
Marshall shrugged a muscular shoulder. “Sydney told me about it. It’s big in the fashion world right now.” Considering his daughter, Sydney, was a former model and ran a fashion and design house, she’d know.
Ugh, and Cy couldn’t even talk to Marshall about not being happy his daughter was about to become engaged. Sydney was happily married to Deacon, a private investigator, and Cy had even overheard Marshall talking about potential grandfather names he wanted to be called. And Cade was definitely a no go. His daughter, Sophie, was married to Nash Dagher, the second-in-command of the Rahmi Security Forces. Cade wouldn’t shut up about how his son-in-law was the biggest badass in town. That is, until Layne beat the shit out of him during a boxing match. Cy smiled at the memory as the door to the café was flung open.
DeAndre Drews, the local Kentucky state trooper, stood in the doorway as he searched out the room. His eyes locked with Cy’s and he hurried toward him. Great, it was about to become official. Reagan and Carter were engaged. Actually, Cy was a little proud of Reagan and Carter. They’d managed to keep their relationship secret from DeAndre and John Wolfe, two of the biggest gossips in town. Prevailing theories on how they knew everything were: aliens, the town was bugged, or the Ouija board talked to them. And the two men were complete opposites. John was a hundred and then some. Most of his white hair was gone and kept in a pullover and his belly was more Santa Claus than anything. DeAndre was a tower of man in his early twenties. His dark skin, short, precision trimmed black hair, and boxer build was the complete opposite of John’s squishiness.
“Cy!” DeAndre called out as the room went quiet. It was clear DeAndre knew something. Cy’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at the Blossom Café betting app. It was exploding with last minute bets on Reagan and Carter being engaged.
“I know,” Cy said grimly as his wife perked up next to him.
“Know what?” she asked hopefully.
DeAndre stopped at the table with concern etched across his face. “You know? How are you just sitting here then?”
“Do you expect me to be celebrating? You know me better than that,” Cy said with a huff.
“Celebrating?” DeAndre’s brow knit as he shook his head. “No, Cy. Reagan’s plane went down. They declared a mayday and landed at a small airstrip in the Tennessee mountains near the Georgia state line. The plane crashed. When emergency services arrived, the owner of the airfield was found shot, two people were severely injured and unconscious in the cockpit, and two dead bodies were found in the cabin of the plane. The co-pilot and flight engineer were evacuated and are in critical condition. The flight mechanic was alive, hiding in the wheel well.”
Cy felt his whole world collapse. Gemma clutched his arm, and he blindly put his hand on hers. “Reagan and Carter?”
“They’re missing.”
Carter didn’t let go of Reagan’s hand the entire time they ran. He felt her slowing, but squeezed her hand to encourage her to keep up. He’d seen the hard fall she took and saw the way her jaw tightened with each step. She was hurt, but he’d rather her be hurt than dead. And right now, the only thing preventing that was to put as much distance between them and Mick as possible.
Carter made sure to break some sapling branches as they ran so that Mick would follow their trail. When they reached a clearing his legs were burning from running the incline of the mountain. The trouble was that the airfield was only part of the mountaintop, and right now he didn’t hear sirens or see anything to indicate they were close to it. That left going back to the town as the best option. At least they knew how to get there. Carter also hoped this path would cause Mick to head to the airfield and hopefully allow Reagan and him some time to make it to the small town in the valley below them without Mick on their tail.
He breathed heavily and slowly began to pick his way through the brush surrounding the clearing as to not leave a trail. “What are we doing?” Reagan asked.
“I’m making a distraction.” Carter helped Reagan sit down behind a large tree away from the clearing and a bit south of where they’d left a trail for Mick to follow. “Stay here. I’m going to leave a false trail.”
Reagan nodded, but her face was white and etched in pain. He hated leaving her, but if he could buy them some extra time, then it was worth it. He worked his way through the woods back to where they originally came to the clearing and then ran across the open field trampling down the grass. For ten minutes he ran uphill across from the opposite side of the entrance to the clearing and into the woods on the far side leaving enough twigs and trampled grass to draw Mick’s attention. Then he turned around and headed back on the same path he made back into the clearing, praying the whole time he wouldn’t run into Mick.
Carter was breathing hard. His heart was pounding. Fear raced through him, but knowing he had to help Reagan pushed all that fear away. He was focused, and he would do anything it took to keep her safe.
It took longer to pick his way back to Reagan than it did to make the decoy path since he had to be careful to cover any trail he made. But finally Carter saw the tree she was sitting behind. Stepping carefully as to not leave any evidence of their being there, he tiptoed around the tree. Carter was looking down, watching his footfalls to make sure he wasn’t leaving a trail and didn’t see the large branch being swung at him until the last second. Carter flattened himself to the ground as the branch barely missed his head.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Reagan whispered. “I heard something and thought it was Mick.”
Carter looked up to find Reagan looking at him. She held a massive branch and had a worried look on her face. And Carter understood why. He heard it too—the sound of something, or more specifically someone, moving through the woods.
Carter reached up and grabbed Reagan’s hand and pulled her down. He closed his eyes and focused all his attention onto what he was hearing. Mick was moving along the path Carter had laid out for him, but hadn’t reached the clearing yet. He and Reagan stared at each other as they opened their ears to every sound Mick made. Every branch he pushed aside and every blade of grass he stepped on seemed to echo through the woods as Mick grew closer and closer.
Reagan tightened her grip on the branch and Carter worked on slowing his heart rate. He was too afraid Mick would hear it pounding as he struggled to not make a sound. The deafening sound of Mick moving close by them seemed to last forever. He wasn’t moving fast. He was taking his time, which made Carter worry he’d left a trail right to where they were hiding. But finally, the noises started to become more distant.
Carter stood up enough to look around before bending at his waist and crouching down. Reagan instantly followed suit. With his finger to his lips to tell Reagan they needed to be absolutely quiet, they began a very slow exit of the area. Bent at the waist, they ducked under limbs and moved around bushes. Reagan led and was meticulous. He didn’t expect anything less from someone raised by a spy.
They zigged, zagged, and curved their way back toward the stream. Every so often they stopped and listened. Silence.
“I know it’s noisier, but I think we should head down the middle of the creak. It’s stone bottomed, so we shouldn’t kick up too much dirt, which will make it hard to track. We need to make sure we don’t leave any footprints on the bank,” Reagan whispered. They were both still too scared of being discovered to talk above a whisper.
Carter nodded his agreement. The creek was moving at a good clip and while it was only a foot deep at that spot, he hoped it would deepen enough for them to float down. Reagan patted his arm and pointed to a large limestone ledge twenty feet downstream. They would have to jump three feet down into the creek. But by using the rock, there wouldn’t be footprints left in the mud of the creek bank.
Reagan slowly made her way ten feet back from the creek to avoid the soft ground as she approached the rock ledge. “Go first,” she whispered. Carter walked up onto the ledge and lowered himself to a sitting position. He took off his shoes and tied his laces together and then draped them around his neck before quietly dropping into the water. It would be a lot more comfortable if they could keep their shoes dry for the long hike they would have to make to reach the town Reagan had seen.
The water was warmer than he expected. His toes felt the smooth, cool river rocks beneath his feet and the silt of the creek bed. Reagan was bent over, walking backward up to the ledge, and using her hand to erase their footsteps they’d left behind. Reaching the ledge, she sat and similarly took off her shoes and looped them around her neck. Carter reached up, and trusting him completely, Reagan dropped into his arms.
“Let’s go,” she whispered as she clasped his hand and together they began their careful walk downstream.