She couldn’t speak.
“The guy in the cabin will get you out. If he can. Supposed to get a heavy snowstorm later today.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He scratched his beard and didn’t look her in the eye. “Don’t cotton to killing women. No matter who they are or what they’ve done. It’s not right.”
“Killing?” Her voice was hoarse.
“Pete decided a few hours ago. He’d already told everyone that you’d decided to leave, and he told us senior members that you’re too big a risk.” He looked away. “Killin’ women isn’t right,” he said forcefully, as if to assure himself.
Beckett’s old-fashioned code of honor was saving her life.
When he looked at her again, his expression was all business. “The ravine is pretty steep but not impossible. You’ll find a less steep place where it’s easier to get to the bottom a hundred yards south of here.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how to—”
“Don’t thank me. Your odds of making it aren’t very good, but I had to give you a chance. Nelson Dean lives in the cabin. He won’t be happy to see you, but he won’t kill you.”
Is that his idea of an endorsement?
“Nelson founded America’s Preserve. When Pete convinced the members that he should be the leader, Nelson left.”
“Did Pete convince you?”
“Enough talking. Get going before the sentry comes by.” He shot her one last glare before turning around and limping away.
Mercy watched him for two seconds.
I’m out of here.
As she started toward the ravine, tiny flakes of snow began to fall.
TWENTY-NINE
Mercy stumbled and plodded a hundred yards south as Beckett had suggested and then slowly inched down the slope toward the bottom of the ravine. Her shivers wouldn’t stop. If she wanted to warm up, she had to keep moving.
Which sucked because all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
Memories of Pete’s fury and fists kept her feet moving.
After Beckett had left, she’d checked the bag he’d given her and nearly cried at the sight of the old bottle of Children’s Tylenol. She immediately chewed and swallowed five, remembering the pleased expression on Noah’s face when he’d tasted the grape medication.
I hope he’s healthy.
She’d done her best by the boy.
The bag from Beckett held a small bottle of water, several stale slices of the mess hall’s dark bread, sliced cheese, a pair of mismatched gloves, a tiny flashlight, a compass, and a Leatherman tool. She had fingered the multi-tool, peering at it in the dim light, positive it was the one Pete had taken from her.
Did Beckett know that?
She had immediately put on the gloves, thankful the men hadn’t taken her heavy coat. Since she didn’t want to use her flashlight yet, she tripped several times on the way down the ravine. Her knee pounded with pain but bore her weight. She took several breaks to catch her breath and brush off the snow sticking to her face. The bottom wasn’t much farther.
“Jessica.” A hoarse whisper behind her.
Eden.
Mercy whirled around as the teen caught up and hugged her, nearly knocking her down the hill. “Eden, what are you doing? You need to go back.” Panic for the girl seized Mercy. She knew what Pete was capable of.
“I’m not going back,” Eden whispered, her face stubborn in the moon’s pale light. “I hate them. My dad and Noah are gone, and I don’t trust that he’ll come back for me.”
“Your dad has a brand,” Mercy argued. “He’s committed to Pete. He’ll be back.” The teen had a small backpack over her coat. Mercy had to convince the girl to return to the compound.
“I don’t care. I’m done.” She peered at Mercy from under her hood and tentatively reached to touch her nose, yanking her gloved hand back at the last second, a look of pity on her face. “You’ve got two black eyes. They beat you, didn’t they? Are you okay?”
“Barely. And I fear the same for you if they catch you with me.”
“Pete told everyone you decided to go home, but I didn’t believe him.”
“How did you know where to find me?” Mercy asked.
“I saw you with Beckett.” She wrinkled her nose. “And got close enough to hear him tell you where to go. I ran back to the cabin, grabbed my stuff, and followed your trail.” Eden looked up at the gently falling snow. “We’re going to lose the moonlight to the clouds soon. I hope it snows hard enough to cover our tracks by morning.”
“My tracks. You’re going back.”
“No. I’m not.” Her chin lifted, and stubbornness rolled off the teen.
What if I never find the cabin?
Eden would die too.
Mercy was too tired to argue. And she knew that two were better than one in a survival situation. Especially when she could barely stay on her feet.
“Let’s go then.”
Eden surprised her by pulling Mercy’s arm over her shoulder. “I saw you limping.”
“Pete did a number on my knee.”
“Asshole.”
They worked their way down the slope, and the teen’s support made a big difference in Mercy’s balance. They reached the bottom and trekked south, the snow blowing at their backs. The gentle snowflakes grew thicker and dropped faster. Mercy was thankful their tracks would be covered, but she was miserable, hurting, cold, and worried.
Very, very worried.
“At least it’s not too deep,” Eden murmured. Their boots sank a good six inches with every step, and Mercy’s thighs burned from the unfamiliar, awkward stride needed to efficiently walk in the snow.
“Were they going to kill you?” Eden asked after several minutes of silence.
The blunt question startled Mercy. “I think so. Beckett said that’s why he was releasing me.”
“Was it because you helped Noah?” The teen’s voice hitched.
“No.” Mercy glanced at the girl. Snowflakes coated her eyelashes below her hood. Both of them wore knit caps under their coats’ hoods and had pulled their collars up over their mouths and noses.
“Then why?”
Lie to her.
There was no point. Pete already knew the truth. If caught, Eden would not be tortured to reveal what she knew about Mercy; Pete would simply do away with both of them.
She halted and faced the girl. “You need to know that I only wanted to help the people here,” Mercy started. “I knew the children in this compound were at risk. Noah proved that.”
“I don’t understand.” Eden frowned, her eyes searching Mercy’s.
“My name isn’t Jessica, it’s Mercy. I work for the FBI.”
Eden’s expression blanked, and she went still, her wide blue eyes stunned.
“Chad worked for the ATF. Two ATF agents were murdered during a robbery of a large number of stolen weapons which were tentatively traced to America’s Preserve. Chad and I were undercover to find the truth and the weapons.”