Talk about being on a roll! I've actually managed to get 3 chapters up this week! Woo-hoo! Only 5 more to go.
Again, I'm sorry for the fact that this chapter has so much of my OC's in it. It's got the guys in it too, but like I said before, I'm just trying to flesh out the story a bit, and I can't help but delve into Ally's background and thoughts. I did warn you way back at the beginning of all this, though! Matters of fact, take this as a warning for the rest of the story: there will be many scenes from here on out that involve my OC's, including my bad guys. But I promise that there's a lot of Ezra too! Matters of fact, there's a whole lot of Ezra coming up real soon! Things are going to get way hotter from here on out, and there's going to be tons more of our favorite conman and undercover agent, not to mention a bunch more Chris, Vin, and Buck too, besides my characters, so don't write me off yet, okay?
Hang onto your hats and secure your seatbelt, because I promise that this ride is going to get a whole lot wilder from here to the end!
And finally, again, your reviews are greatly appreciated and indeed much anticipated, so please, let me know what you think!
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CHAPTER 17Eddie Thomas drove the rented SUV up the graveled driveway and parked outside the ranch house the next morning, looking around for the guard that he knew was just out of sight as he entered the house quietly. Outwardly, he appeared nonchalant and casual, but inside, he was nervous and apprehensive. As Ally had promised, no one else was around save the guards outside and the man that Larabee had left—wasn't it that kid, Dunne? Yes, that was who Ally had said would be around.
Good. It would be easier to pass off a plausible excuse to him should he stumbled upon the exchange than it would be to any other members of team seven.
The thought did little to sooth his nerves, though.
He again ran through the brief phone conversation in his head as he silently crept through the living room toward the hallway.
He and Johnson had been sitting at the conference table in the FBI offices, going over the coming operation with the agents they were trusting to be involved in the upcoming arrests. He wasn't paying very close attention; instead he was contemplating a good excuse that could take him back out to the ground floor and the bank of payphones there, or at the very least, somewhere secluded so he could make the call that he had been dreading to make ever since Tim had told him where they were going and why.
He didn't want to contact Bartinol, had been avoiding it, but knew he couldn't put it off too much longer. While he hadn't had much contact with the man since the demise of Sanders and Alex's disappearance, Bartinol had made it clear that if she should ever show back up, that he was to be notified immediately. But Eddie had been waiting until the last possible second because while he knew he couldn't let Bartinol be swept up in the sting, he wanted to see Larabee's team get Randolph. That way at least some justice would be carried out.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how his life had become such a mess. Just as Tim looked at him to clarify a point, his cell phone rang. He answered it and was surprised to hear Alex's voice on the line, telling him that she was willing to exchange the disks. With everyone's eyes focused on him, he knew he couldn't finish the call here, and told her he would call her back in five minutes. She had agreed and given him her number. He hung up and told the others with a grin that it had been his girlfriend and that he was going to skip out for a few moments to complete the call in private. Johnson just rolled his eyes and smirked but nodded, giving him permission to leave. One of the local feds offered to let him use his office if he wanted to keep it private and he had quickly headed for that room to make his call. Alex picked up on the first ring.
"Eddie?" she asked.
"Yes, it's me. Now what's this about being willing to exchange the disks?" he demanded, getting down to business.
"Just what I said. I have the disks, and I'm willing to give them to you."
"You have the disks?!"
"Yes, I have the disks. The key was for a locker in a bus station in Virginia. There was a letter with the key, explaining the location. After I left North Carolina, I went to Roanoke and got the disks. I wanted to keep them safe, but now I'm willing to hand them over."
"Why? You were pretty adamant against that the last time we discussed this," he pointed out suspiciously.
"Then, I was a kid and had just been through an emotional hell. I was scared and wasn't thinking clearly," she answered.
"Why now? What happened to the desire for justice and all that?"
"Like I said, I'm no longer that naive, thirteen year-old kid. Now, I'm older, wiser and have spent the last six years living on the streets. It's not easy, Eddie, and I don't want to live like that anymore. I'm tired of it all. I want to have a normal life again. I want to be able to sleep at night without being afraid of monsters in the dark. I want to go to college, get a job, do something with my life. I can't do that if things stay the way they are now."
"No, you can't," he mused. "I'm glad you've come to your senses; I'm just sorry it took this to do it."
"Yeah, me too," she agreed. "Look. You told me before that if Bartinol had the disks, then he would leave me alone, that I wouldn't be a threat to him any longer. Do you think that's still true?"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, yes. With the evidence no longer a danger, you couldn't hurt him. Bartinol's a businessman first and foremost, and he didn't have anything personal against you. I'm sure he'd let you alone."
"Okay. I'll meet you here tomorrow morning, say nine o'clock?"
"Why not give them to me tonight?" he asked.
"No, there will be too many people around tonight. We're better off waiting until tomorrow morning when most of them will be gone."
I don't like meeting there," he disagreed.
"I know, but I can't exactly slip away, now can I?" she pointed out sarcastically. "Besides, like I said, Larabee and his team will be gone by then, except for the one he'll leave on guard, and I think that's the kid. And you shouldn't have any trouble getting past him or the guards outside. You're a member of the case team. Just tell them you wanted to check up on me, or that you came after some papers or something. You're a smart man—I'm sure you can think of something."
"Alright, the guards outside aren't a problem; they know me now and know that I'm working the case. The kid shouldn't be too hard to get by, either, but what about Standish? He's not going to be fooled easily."
"Standish doesn't get out of bed before noon unless he has to. Get here early enough, and you won't have any problems from him."
He hesitated for a moment, thinking it over, before finally agreeing. "Alright. I'll be back out there at nine the next morning. Where will I find you?"
"If you follow the hallway past the back bedrooms all the way to the end, you'll come to a closed door. It leads to a family room. Larabee keeps that room closed off, and no one goes back there, so we should be able to do this without interruption."
"Alright," he repeated. "The family room at Larabee's ranch tomorrow at nine. I'll see you there. And Ally? You're doing the right thing," he said softly.
There was a brief pause for a minute before he heard her mutter, "I hope so." She then hung up the phone.
He heard a sound in the kitchen and stopped, silently peaking through the doorway to see the kid with his back to the door, making a sandwich. Ear phones covered his ears, and he was bobbing his head in time with what Eddie guessed to be some kind of rock song. JD was completely oblivious to everything going on behind him, and Eddie quietly slipped on into the hallway.
He stopped at the first closed door on the right and gently opened it, peering through the dim light at the twin beds across the room. A large lump could be seen on the bed to the right and auburn hair peaked out from under the comforter. Eddie could hear quiet snoring coming from the form, and he watched it rise and fall slowly with each breath. Satisfied that the man in the bed was indeed asleep, he eased the door closed and padded on down the hallway, shaking his head.
A kid that was supposed to be on guard but wasn't paying a bit of attention to what was going on around him. A undercover agent who could sleep like the dead. If those two, along with the rest of the cracked pots on team seven, were supposed to be some of the best agents this side of the Mississippi, then the west was in sad shape.
* * * * * * *
JD continued making his sandwich, pausing only when he saw Eddie's reflection in the toaster disappear as the man entered the hallway. He had headed for the kitchen as soon as Vin had given the word over the radio that Eddie was coming up the driveway and had quickly busied himself, listening on his headset to the occasional rustle as one of the others tried to get more comfortable.
As soon as Eddie disappeared from view, he fingered the mike button on the receiver at his waist and slipped out the back door. "The fox is in the henhouse, and he's headed your way, Ez." He whispered, taking up his position at the end of the deck.
He muffled a small chuckle as he picked up the soft snores that started immediately after his warning, and checked the video and audio feeds coming from inside once more.
It was just about show time.
* * * * * * *
As soon as he heard JD's warning, Ezra pulled the comforter up over his head, leaving a slight crack between the blanket and the pillow so that he could clearly see the door. He grimaced as the ear piece was pressed further into his ear by being caught between his head and the pillow, but he ignored it, concentrating instead on keeping his breathing even as he watched the door open slowly.
When Eddie left, he waited a few seconds before climbing out of the bed and quietly padding to the door, easing it open ever so slightly to make sure the man was out of sight. As soon as Alex's voice came over the earpiece, he slipped out into the hall, intent on being in a location where he could quickly get into the room should something go wrong.
* * * * * * *
Right after he saw Eddie enter the house, Vin left his surveillance position from the hayloft and slipped through the corral beside the barn, making sure to remain concealed from the house itself. He crossed the yard and turned the corner of the addition that housed the family room, coming to a quiet stop behind the team leader. Larabee glanced up and acknowledged his presence before turning his attention back to the conversation coming over the radio.
* * * * * * *
Chris shifted a bit, trying to ease the ache in his knees as he crouched down beside the house right at the deck steps, his gun in hand. Agent Johnson squatted beside him, his face set in a hard expression as he cupped a hand to his ear to better hear the conversation coming from inside the room.
Chris could easily make out the betrayal mingled with grief and anger in the older man's eyes, and he sympathized, imagining how it would feel to find that not only had one of your closest friends been lying to you over the years and collaborating with the enemy, he had knowingly fed information to said enemy that resulted in the death of another close friend.
It must be pure hell.
To say that he hadn't been pleased when the quartet had told him their plans early that morning was definitely the understatement of the year, but by then it had been too late to call it off without jeopardizing the entire case, and he had been forced to go along with it. At least they had seen fit to tell him before it began, instead of waiting until after they had Thomas handcuffed to the corral fence.
That could be considered progress, he supposed.
And after he heard the rest of Alex's story and the details of their plan, he had to grudgingly admit it was a good one. Johnson had protested until JD played the tape of the phone conversation. Any doubts that Thomas wasn't involved with the other side were vanquished after that. The older man had just sat back in stunned silence for a moment before turning to the girl and apologizing profusely, a combination of sadness and regret flooding his voice. It had definitely come as a shock to the older man.
JD had shown them the disks as well, and Chris couldn't believe the depth and detail of the evidence on them. Allen Sanders had been one h**l of an agent, and even though he hadn't known the man, Chris could feel anger welling up in his heart at his death. There were few good men left in this world, and even fewer good agents, and the loss of one of that caliber was indeed a blow to the whole law enforcement community. He could still feel the fury that had swept through him when he heard the evidence of Agent Thomas's betrayal. As far as he was concerned, that put the man on a scale lower than that of the murderer himself. Dirty cops were the lowest of the low, but one that knowingly sold out his own partner, his friend—that one didn't even deserve to be called human. Chris silently vowed to himself that he would personally see to it that the man, his wife, and his daughter received justice, starting with the agent that had betrayed them.
He would make sure that particular roach rotted in the darkest cell he could find.
* * * * * * *
Buck hunkered down on the towel in the bathtub behind the shower curtain and watched in the mirror as Eddie slinked past the doorway with barely a glance into the room before turning the knob and slipping into the appointed room. While Buck had a clear view of the double agent in the mirror, because he was crouched down below the mirror's level, Eddie couldn't see him.
As soon as he heard the family room door close, he slipped out of his hiding spot, thankful that he had the foresight to lay the towel down to muffled the sound. Gun in hand, he crept to the door where he nodded silently to Ezra as he came up the hall and positioned himself just outside the door.
Buck too had been furious when shown the tape of Thomas's betrayal, and he had readily agreed to the plan that the others had come up with to bring Thomas down. He thought back to the weariness and pain in Alex's eyes, the hell she must have gone through over the years, and his face hardened as he gripped his gun a little tighter. He would make sure that the men who had been responsible for the girl's suffering paid for their crimes.
No one hurt a woman and got away with it, not if Buck Wilmington was around.
The man would pay, and pay dearly.
* * * * * * *
Alex looked up from her seat on the piano stool as Thomas entered the room and her heart beat a little faster. Even though she knew that Ezra and Buck were right outside the door, that Chris, Vin, Johnson, and JD were just out of sight around the corner of the deck, and that Nathan and Josiah were even now positioning themselves under the window to cut off any avenue of escape, she couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. She could hardly believe that after all these years, it was finally coming to an end, that soon, Bartinol would be in custody and she would be free. It was hard to take in.
But first, they had to bring down Agent Thomas.
She fingered the floppy disks in her pocket absently as she composed herself. Before giving her the disks for the sting, JD had burned two copies onto CD, ensuring that if something should happen to the originals, her father's work would still live on.
She took a deep breath, put a neutral expression on her face, and stood to her feet to face the man. It was time to end this.
Eddie glanced out the window and the French doors leading to the deck before turning toward her, his face showing his conflict and relief. "You have them?" he asked expectantly.
She nodded. "I do. But I have one question before I give them to you."
Eddie again glanced out the doors while running a hand through his hair, looking as though he were going to protest. "And that would be?" he asked impatiently.
"How did you know?" she questioned softly. "How did you know about Seattle, Vancouver, the yacht? How did you know what dad was planning on doing?"
Eddie rubbed his forehead nervously, debating on telling her or not. Alex saw his hesitation and quickly pressed her point. "Come on Eddie, you at least owe me an explanation. It's not like I can use it against you. You proved that six years ago."
He studied her for a moment then nodded, taking a seat on the arm of the overstuffed armchair sitting beside the door. "At first, your dad was just a minor annoyance to Bartinol, like a fly or something. He managed to get in a blow or two, but nothing that worried Bartinol too much. But Allen was good at his job, and he was determined to bring Bartinol down. He kept digging, kept worrying the situation, kept working at it, and his persistence paid off. Soon, he began getting breaks, taking down large chunks of Bartinol's cartel and getting close to the man himself. And that's when Bartinol realized he would have to do something about him. He tried buying Allen off at one time," he snorted. "I'm sure you know how that went. When Bartinol realized that Allen wasn't going to bend, he began trying other deterrents. And that's when he approached me with an offer I couldn't refuse. There in the beginning, your dad talked the case over with us, kept us informed of his movements, but the closer he got to Bartinol and the more he learned about the man, the more he kept to himself. It was my job to pass information along to Bartinol, but I can tell you that got harder and harder to do. Many of the busts your dad organized, I knew nothing about until after they occurred."
He stood up and walked to the French doors, gazing out into the gloom of the overcast day. "They kept squaring off, your dad and Bartinol. At one point, Bartinol even sent a hired assassin after your dad. The man almost succeeded. Remember when your dad was shot?" Alex nodded, remembering the nightmarish week the September before her parents' death, when her mother had received the call telling them her dad was in a DC hospital with a bullet in his chest. Though her father had recovered quickly and no one had given her the details of what had happened, she knew she had come close to losing him then.
Eddie glanced back at her for a moment. "That was courtesy of Bartinol. But your dad didn't let up. He kept digging, kept hacking away at the man's empire. Then came the day Allen disappeared. He called me and Tim, telling us that he had finally had a break to some inside information that would bring Bartinol down once and for all and that he would contact us as soon as he got it." He sighed. "He was gone for two months. We didn't hear from him again until the night before Seattle. I warned Bartinol, of course. The man was furious, demanding that I find out what Allen had, do something to stop him, but what could I do? I didn't have a clue where he was."
"So how did you find out his plans?" she asked in confusion.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and chuckled bitterly. "I got d**n lucky. Your dad and I had worked a case a few years earlier involving a man and his sister in Italy. They weren't exactly on the straight and narrow mind you, but they were good hearted people. They helped us out of a jam and got us info on the case, and we let them be. We all got to be good friends, and me and Caroline, the sister—well let's just say we were a little closer than that. I was finishing up an Interpol assignment in Athens when I ran across her. During the course of the conversation, I found out your dad had been in contact with her and her brother not three days earlier, asking for a favor. Of course, it was easy getting her to cave in, even though your dad had asked her to keep quiet. All I had to do was put on a little show about being worried about my friend being alone on this without backup, and she told me everything she knew. I traced the brother to Vancouver and after doing a little digging, found out about the yacht. When you dad finally contacted us two days after that, I put two and two together and figured out what was going on."
Alex's eyes narrowed. "And you passed what you knew along to Bartinol."
He averted his gaze from her glare and nodded sadly. "Yes."
"So you were responsible for the death of not just my dad and mom, but another man that you called friend as well." Alex shook her head in disbelief, finding it hard to reconcile this Eddie with the man she had remembered from her childhood, hard to believe that he could be so callous, so uncaring. She fingered the cover on the piano absently as she tried to gather her composure before asking her next question. "What about the guy they found and blamed for the leak?" she asked quietly without looking at him.
"He was a leak for Bartinol, but he didn't know about me. When Bartinol found out about the investigation into me, he set the other guy up to take the fall. Even made it look like he knew one of the guards your dad was using, and since those men were dead, no one was around who could prove otherwise. That neat little trick also got Caroline off my trail as well," Eddie commented as he leaned back against the door frame and ran a hand down his face. "Bartinol definitely did a good job of cleaning up that mess," he sighed.
Silence filled the room for a moment before Alex finally voiced the one question that had been haunting her thoughts for the last six years. "Why, Eddie?" she almost whispered as she finally looked up at him with a piercing gaze filled with grief, anger, and complete bewilderment. "Why did you betray your partner, your friend to what you knew would be his death?"
Eddie shied from her accusing stare and turned to look out the doors as he rubbed his eyes, his posture one of defeat. He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before finally giving her an answer. "For Lindsey," he sighed. "I did it for Lindsey".
"Your daughter?" Alex asked in confusion.
He nodded sadly. "Yes. She lives with my ex in Texas. You didn't know her, but she was the light of my world then." He smiled fondly as a picture of a carefree little redhead with brown eyes, freckles, and a bright grin that she reserved especially for her daddy flashed across his mind's eye, but the smile quickly faded away as he remembered the events that he was now recounting. "It tore me up when my ex-wife got sole custody of her. I got to visit once in a while, but it was hard." He looked down at his hands. "Nine years ago, when she was fifteen, she became deathly ill. We found out she had a bad heart. She needed an immediate transplant, or she wasn't going to make it. But she was so far down on the waiting list and time was running out. We did everything we could, but it didn't help. Finally, just when I was at my wit's end, Bartinol approached me. He said he could get me a donor, if I would be willing to get him some information. A simple trade, he said." He turned to her, his expression fierce. "Lindsey was my life, my joy. Without her, I had no reason for living. I would do anything, anything for her." He closed his eyes and let out a breath of air in a long, slow sigh as he leaned his head back against the door frame. "Even sell my soul to the devil," he whispered miserably.
"And that's what you did," Alex said softly.
"Yes," he nodded slowly and looked her straight in the eye resolutely. "It came down to my daughter or my partner. There was no decision."
"You could have told dad or Uncle Tim. You could have done something else!" she countered as she stood to her feet and crossed the room to face him.
"There was nothing they could do!" he disagreed fiercely. "My daughter was dying, and Bartinol was the only one who could save her. I'm sorry, Ally, but I had no choice."
Alex turned from him and hugged herself tightly, trying to get control of her anger and regret. "Did she make it?" she asked finally, keeping her back to him.
A ghost of a smile flitted across his features. "Yes," he answered fondly. "She graduated college last year and is working in an elementary school in Dallas." The smile disappeared as the clock in the hallway chimed the half-hour, and he glanced at his watch. "We're taking too much time. I answered your questions; now hold up your end of the bargain. Give me the disks." He walked up to her and held out his hand expectantly.
She licked her lips, hesitating, but finally reached into her pocket and pulled out the small case, staring at it for a moment before slowly handing it to him. He flipped it open and rifled through the disks, nodding as he recognized the handwriting on the labels. He snapped the lid closed and slipped the case into the inside pocket of his coat. "I'll check these and then call Bartinol in the morning, right before the bust," he said as he crossed to the hallway door. "That should give him enough time to escape without tipping off Randolph."
"Or you could just let the bust go on and capture Bartinol as well," Alex pointed out softly. "You cold let it end here and now, Eddie. You could turn the disks over to Uncle Tim and Mr. Larabee, tell them what you know. Work with them and bring Bartinol down once and for all!"
Eddie paused with his hand on the door handle, his head hanging low. He glanced back at her and smiled wearily, shaking his head at her words. "It's too late for that." he whispered sadly.
"No, it's not!" she insisted as she crossed to him and laid a hand on his arm. "Please, Eddie," she pleaded. "If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for Lindsey."
He turned back to the door, his back to her, and shook off her hand. "That's exactly who I'm doing it for," he declared. "I'm sorry, Ally."
"And I'm sorry as well."
Eddie spun around, recognizing the voice of his friend, to find Chris Larabee and Timothy Johnson standing just inside the French doors. "It's over, Thomas," Chris said simply, pointing his gun at the man. "Give it up."
Eddie's eyes widened in fear and he jerked the door open, only to run headlong into the tall form of Buck Wilmington. Buck shoved him back into the room before spinning him around and slapping a pair of handcuffs on him. "Like the man said," he declared harshly, "It's over."
Eddie struggled for a moment, pulling out of Buck's grasp and stumbling further into the room. "You can't prove anything!" he shouted, backing up against the cloth-covered piano. "It's your word against mine. The disks are fine! Ally was just giving them to me for safe keeping! You have nothing on me!"
… It was my job to pass information along to Bartinol, but I can tell you that got harder and harder to do…
Eddie looked over at the French doors, his eyes wide at hearing his own words played back at him. He spun around to see JD enter the room from outside, a small recorder in his hand. "I'm afraid we do have something on you, Agent Thomas." JD said as he flipped the machine off.
Eddie slumped in resignation as the rest of Larabee's team entered the room. He looked up to see his friend standing in front of him, anger and bitterness roaring in his eyes. Johnson didn't say a word; instead, he simply reached into Eddie's pocket and withdrew the case. He handed it to Chris before turning to the man he once called friend. Their eyes locked and held for a moment before Johnson turned away in regret, motioning for the two FBI agents standing to the side. "Get him out of here," he commanded.
Eddie allowed them to lead him to the door, pausing only when he passed Alex. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before facing forward and bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Ally," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry too, Eddie," she whispered back sadly as she slid her hands into her jacket pockets.
Ezra came over and stood beside the girl as they watched the man being led from the room. He didn't touch her, but offered his comfort by his presence. "So what happens now?" Alex asked softly, finally tearing her gaze from the door where Eddie had disappeared.
Chris turned to her, his eyes full of promise and retribution. "Now we take Bartinol and Randolph down."
* * * * * * *
An incessant buzzing woke Chris from the depths of slumber, and he rolled over on the bed, fumbling for the lamp groggily, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on.
After Eddie's arrest, he and the others, along with the FBI agents, other ATF teams, and state police also involved in the case, had worked tirelessly, hammering out the final details of the bust, trying to predict anything that could possibly go wrong and head off anything that would lead to failure. Surveillance at the airport had called in around eight that evening to let them know that Bartinol had indeed arrived and had been escorted to the Randolph mansion. Finally, around 1 a.m. on Friday, Chris had declared it a night and sent all the others home to try and get some rest before six-thirty that morning, when they would reassemble to put their plans in motion for the show down planned for eight. The members of team seven had all opted to stay over at the ranch house that night and were even now scattered about throughout the house, trying to catch a few precious moments of sleep on any available surface they could find. Chris himself had collapsed fully-clothed into his own bed at two after Nathan had chased him from the living room and the warehouse drawings. Thankfully, he fell asleep not too long afterwards, despite the weight on his mind.
Chris finally got the lamp on and blinked his eyes as he grabbed his watch off of the nightstand—and blinked again when he realized that it was 5 am, and that the buzzing was his cell phone. "What the h**l?" he grumbled, reaching for the infuriating device. "Larabee," he growled into the receiver.
Ten seconds later, he was scrambling off the bed, reaching for his boots as he stormed down the hall, cell phone cradled to his head. He pounded on the doors of the two bedrooms further down as he passed them and nudged the sleeping bags in the living room floor none-too gently as he flipped the lights on. "When?" he barked into the phone. "How?"
Vin was instantly awake and out of his bag, watching as Chris paced in front of the fire place in agitation. He quickly pulled on his boots and nudged the covered lump that was JD beside him. "Come on kid," he whispered. "Something's up."
Buck sat up from his spot on the couch and rubbed his face, a huge yawn splitting his features. "What's going on?" he asked no one in particular.
The rest of the house's occupants stumbled out of the hall in rumpled clothing, blinking sleepily in the bright light. "Someone had better have a good reason for arousing me from my slumber a good," Ezra glanced at the clock on the wall, "hour before the appointed time," he growled, absently patting his hair into place.
"I believe Brother Chris is about to explain," Josiah motioned for the man's silence, nodding toward the team leader.
"D**n-it!" Chris cursed as he viciously slammed the tiny phone onto the stone hearth, shattering the small device into several pieces. He leaned against the mantle and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his forehead wearily.
"What happened?" Nathan asked, dreading the answer.
Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
Chris turned to face his men, anger radiating from his very pores. He kicked at the end table near his leg. "That was Johnson," he said in disgust. "Thomas has escaped."
