Do I have any backup?
“It’s time for a trial!” McDonald shouted.
Cade blinked his one good eye in the bright light of the mess hall. Two men had untied his ankles, hauled him off the floor of the pantry, and dragged him onto a bench seat at the front of the room. His feet had been too numb to cooperate. The men of the ranch shouted their pleasure at McDonald’s words.
Immediate sweat ran down his back.
They’re bloodthirsty. And looking at me.
His eye was swollen shut, and he breathed heavily through his mouth, wondering how bad he looked. His nose ached unbearably, but at least the pain in his sides had diminished to simple discomfort. He turned his head to scan the room with his good eye.
What the hell?
On a bench ten feet away was Kaylie’s aunt. She sat up straight, staring directly at him, her face expressionless. Her hands were fastened behind her back the same as his. She wore boots, dark jeans, and a half-zip sweatshirt, looking like any other woman he might see on the streets of Eagle’s Nest, not like an FBI agent. He glanced at the crowd and felt a stab of fear at the way some of the men were staring at her.
His parents had taught him to respect everyone, and it wasn’t respect he saw in the men’s eyes.
He turned his good eye back to her. She hadn’t moved a hair. If she’d been anyone else, he would have thought she was petrified. But the calm in her eyes told him she was in full control.
“I like ’em tall and lean,” shouted one man from the audience. Mercy gave the crowd a brief glance and rolled her eyes, triggering bouts of laughter and more comments.
“She’s not interested in you!”
“Which one you talkin’ about?”
Louder laughter.
Cade ignored the crass comment as terror ripped through his heart.
“Settle down!” McDonald ordered. “Everyone take a seat! Now!”
The men in the room jumped to obey, pushing and shoving to get the seats closer to the front of the room. Cade looked at Mercy again. The two of them sat on identical benches, facing the crowd. McDonald stood between them.
Which one of us is on trial?
McDonald turned and smiled at him, his eyes nearly disappearing in the folds above his cheeks.
It’s me.
McDonald’s face stated he already knew the outcome of the trial. He’s stalling to create a show for his men.
Mercy didn’t hide her frown. Her gaze bounced from Cade to McDonald and then to the men. But still she wasn’t scared. Cade was ready to shit his pants, but Mercy acted as if she were memorizing faces for execution later.
“As you know,” McDonald began in an official tone, pacing between the two benches like a senior statesman, “Cade Pruitt is accused of leaking our secrets to the FBI and leading them to our doorstep.”
“What secrets?” asked Mercy.
“Out of order!” McDonald pointed a fat finger at her face.
Mercy glanced at the audience. “Does Cade not have representation? Surely you’ll allow someone to argue his case. Or are you afraid of what you’ll hear?”
The audience was silent, but every man turned his gaze to McDonald. Frustration flitted across his face and vanished.
“This land is no longer part of the United States,” McDonald intoned. “Things are run differently here.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
No one answered.
“I bet your men would appreciate representation if they ever found themselves on trial,” Mercy stated, raising a brow.
The audience shifted in their seats, and Cade felt the tension rise in the room.
“Owen.” McDonald gestured. “Get up here and help this traitor defend himself.”
Mercy’s head turned with a jerk and froze as she spotted her brother. He slowly stood in the back of the room. Cade’s lungs tightened. Kaylie said he hates Mercy.
Owen Kilpatrick took his time walking to the front. “May I have ten minutes to talk to the defendant?”
“You have one,” McDonald snapped as anger flushed his face.
“You’re talking about this boy’s life,” said Owen. “I think that deserves more than sixty seconds.” He turned and looked over the room, holding his head high. “I know we’re all new to this place, but I think we need to set a precedent of not making snap decisions when someone’s life hangs in the balance. Who knows if it might be you sitting on this bench? How would you want it handled?”
Cade saw a few scattered nods and heard a few mutters. Do they agree? He couldn’t tell if Owen had swayed the crowd. Owen took two steps closer to McDonald and whispered to him loud enough for Cade to hear. “Trying to make you look more objective.”
McDonald’s expression said he didn’t believe that was the reason at all.
“Your time is up,” McDonald stated. He looked at Cade. “What information did you tell the FBI about us?”
“He didn’t tell us anything,” said Mercy.
“Liar!” “Bullshit!” “Don’t let her talk!” came from the audience.
Mercy looked to the group. “He never said a word,” she shouted back. “I didn’t know who he was until I came out here the other day. And I haven’t seen him since then!”
The men didn’t believe her.
Cade couldn’t move, his limbs made of lead. He tuned out the audience’s shouts, his focus on Mercy and Owen, the only two people in the room who seemed to want him to live. Everyone else wants me dead. He couldn’t look at the men he’d worked alongside anymore; they’d become a pack of animals, any friendships he’d started forgotten in their need for blood.
McDonald jerked his head at the two men who’d dragged Cade out of the kitchen. They grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.
This is it. They’re going to kill me.
His legs felt like pudding; his heartbeat was the loudest sound in the room.
“Do it in the woods,” McDonald ordered.
The men faltered. Out of his good eye, Cade saw a questioning glance on the face of one of his handlers.
McDonald saw it too.
“Get it over with and you’ll get the woman for your trouble.”
The smile on his handler’s face made Cade nearly vomit again. His legs gave way as the men yanked him toward the door, and a loud roar started in his ears. Beyond the noise in his head, he heard Mercy vehemently argue against his fate.
She’s powerless.
The man on his right kicked open the door, and together the two of them hauled Cade out into the freezing night.
He started to scream.
THIRTY-ONE
He’s still alive!
Truman silently jogged behind the two men, a sickening feeling in his stomach as they pulled Cade toward the woods. There were no other buildings in their path. Wherever they were taking the young man, it wasn’t to make him comfortable. Cade shouted and fought, but the men handled him with ease, ignoring his cries. Truman crept closer, trying to see if either man was armed.
“When he said the woman, he meant the FBI agent,” said the man on Cade’s right.
“But he didn’t say specifically that woman,” argued the other. “For all we know he was talking about that bitch Shelly. I’m telling you, when McDonald isn’t specific, it’s for a reason.”