Chapter Eighteen
To Garrett’s surprise, Sam followed without protest. She was right behind him as he opened the glass doors that led out to the deck.
The deck had a flight of stairs going down to the ground. She turned to them, but he shook his head and went the opposite way. Using the stairs probably made more sense, but he was going to show her how to survive.
This was serious business, and he intended to be tough on her. Enough to get the point across.
“This way,” he said and walked to the far end of the deck. At the railing, the deck met up with the steep hill behind the house. “If something happens and I tell you to run, this is where you need to go. Remember that. It’s very important.” He looked her right in the eye so she understood the seriousness of the situation.
For a second, he got caught in the green warmth of her gaze. Her eyes were the color of springtime, with shots of amber coming from the center.
She nodded. “Important. Got it.” She looked back at him expectantly.
He fought to remember what he was saying.
Damn.
Right. Escape route.
He deftly swung a leg over the railing and leaped to the bank below. She followed his movements exactly and, thankfully, didn’t sprain her ankle. He took it as a good sign.
He climbed up the bank using some strategically placed rocks as stairs. At the top, the ground flattened out slightly onto an abandoned rail bed. They walked easily for a few hundred yards, then he pointed to a tree on the left of the trail with a mark on it—a roughly drawn arrow pointing straight up.
“Do you see this? At this arrow, you want to go left into the woods,” he told her.
“Ah. That makes sense.” The smile on her face vanished, immediately replaced by a wince. “Sorry. No smartass comments. I remember.”
Obviously, she was trying to follow his orders. He smiled and guessed being a smartass was out of her control.
“This is where it gets a little tricky. Pay close attention. It could be a matter of life and death.”
People used that expression so much it had become a cliché, but in this case, it was very true.
“If I’m taken down, your best hope is to run. You need to know where to go, and it has to be so second nature you can do it in the dark, in the rain, or while completely panicked.”
Again she nodded, and scanned the area to orient herself. He hoped she had a decent sense of direction.
There was no trail, just briars and pine needles, bushes, and downed limbs. He moved in a straight line to the next landmark.
“Look for that fallen tree over there and head in that direction. But before you get to it, you’ll want to go left again.”
She glanced back at where they’d come from and rubbed her forehead. When he turned around, he saw it from her perspective. Just a lot of woods with nothing descriptive about them.
“Memorize tree shapes, knot holes, bushes, rocks. Anything that’ll keep you on track.”
He kept going. The nonexistent path started to taper downhill slightly. He rounded a huge tree and turned sharply to the right. “Right at the big tree,” he said.
By the time they’d lost visual on the big tree, it was easy to see where they were headed. He heard a sigh of relief next to him when she spotted the bunker.
It was maybe eight-by-eight feet, with a door and a single window. It was painted the same dark brown as the trees around it. It looked like a shack. It was meant to blend in.
He held his hand to a similar digital panel as the main house, tapped the screen to reset it, and stepped back.
“Hold your hand here.” He tipped his head at the screen.
She held her hand up to the glass and the blue light swept over her hand twice. He pulled her hand off and added her ID to the security matrix. When he finished, he gestured again to the panel. “Again.”
This time when she held her hand up, the blue light scanned her hand and the lock popped open, causing a small smile to twitch at the corner of her lips.
She was pretty when she smiled. She was also pretty when she frowned. Hell, she was pretty when she was looking at him as if expecting him to cut her up in tiny pieces. But he especially liked her smile.
He stepped inside and went to a keypad on the wall by the door. “The code is zero, three, one, three. Repeat it.”
“Zero, three, one, three,” she said with a nod.
“Don’t forget,” he warned. He didn’t remind her about the life or death thing again. She’d probably gotten the idea by now.
A hatch in the floor clicked, and Garrett pulled up on the handle to reveal steps that led under the building.
Rather than go down the steep metal steps one at a time, Garrett simply put his forearms on the handrails and slid down to the bottom. He waited while Sam took the steps one at a time like a normal person. She’d learn.
He flipped a silent switch, and the room illuminated in a dim blue glow. She examined the tight space. She jumped when she saw the white cement block walls were lined with weapons.
“If you were coming here because I told you to run, you would obviously pull both doors closed behind you.”
She swallowed as she looked over the arsenal. But she didn’t comment.
Good girl.
“There’s enough food and water here for ten days,” he said. “If I tell you to run, you will wait all ten days before you come out. And when you do, it will be with a weapon in your hand. Understood?”
She swallowed again. “Yes. Ten days. How will I know when ten days are up?”
“Keep track with your watch.”
Her eyes dimmed and she glanced away. “You took my watch to put on my fake body in the car when it caught fire.”
“Actually, I found an identical one at a pawn shop and swapped them.” It was totally unlike him to get sentimental, but he’d seen how much it had meant to her. And, well, he’d asked his boss, and Thorne had reluctantly agreed.
Garrett pulled the watch from his jeans pocket and held it out to her. “No crying. You already used your pass.” He’d been holding on to the watch until she was more stable and wouldn’t break down in gratitude.
She laughed, but some tears came to her eyes as she slid it onto her wrist. “Thank you so much, Garrett. Really.”
He changed the subject while before she started gushing. “Pick one,” he ordered, indicating the guns on the wall. “Preferably a rifle.”
She gave him a clueless look. “Um…”
He barely refrained from letting out a frustrated groan. “One of the big ones.” This was clear evidence that she shouldn’t even be touching them.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a choice in the matter. She needed to be able to handle a weapon.
She pointed tentatively at the most conservative looking one, with a shiny wooden stock, a short black barrel, and a large, matte black scope. He appreciated her choice. She had good instincts.
“Thirty-aught-six,” he informed her, but didn’t move. “Go ahead. We’re taking it with us.” He turned toward the stairs and paused. “It’s loaded, but grab an extra box of ammo.”
“Uh…?”
He indicated a row of boxes lined up against the opposite wall. He didn’t offer any instruction, so she studied the boxes until she chose one that said “30-06.” He almost glowed with pride. She’d actually listened.
They might just survive this ordeal.
She wedged the box in the back of her jeans and picked up the gun. “Ready.”
He helped her get the thick leather strap over her shoulder before he went up the steps. “Be sure to keep the useful end away from yourself and friendlies at all times, and finger off the trigger,” he said without looking back.
She cleared her throat.
Going up, the gun banged into the railing twice at first, but after that, it didn’t happen again. He could tell she was really trying, so he didn’t comment despite cringing inwardly at the possible damage to his beautiful gun.
He waited outside as she secured the building. She set the rifle against the wall in order to close the hatch.
Big mistake.