AN: Gracias mi amor = Thanks my love

Psalms is a book in the Bible and Psalm 139:8 is a verse that Julio and his wife would be very familiar with.

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CHAPTER 13

Marching On

Parker snuck into the pub through the rooftop access. She'd spotted only two of Hawthorn's men on watch and both were very obviously watching ground level access points. It hadn't required a lot of skill just a little stealth to gain access to the rooftop garden and from there the rest was child's play. Once inside she stomped down to her room. She paused at the sound of her stomping and realized that she was in fact that angry. This was their home, her home, and Hawthorn's men were forcing her to sneak into it as if she didn't have the right to be there!

She hadn't checked in on the pack bonds since she'd decided to come back to Portland and now it occurred to her that the boys were probably feeling all the mixed-up things she'd been feeling tonight. She felt a flash of annoyance through the bonds that wasn't hers and knew it was probably Eliot. From Hardison she could feel concern most strongly but also excitement and the sense that he was coming to her.

As she closed her eyes and focused on the bonds. The fingers of her left hand fanned out as if to stroke through coarse dark fur. He felt so near it was a surprise when her fingers found nothing but air. The lack of physical contact brought her back to the reality of their dark rooms. Her new bond to Hardison was something much different than what she shared with Eliot, and it gave her the same thrill as cracking a stubborn safe and finding a cache of diamonds and non-sequential hundreds. With a steadying breath she went back to her task.

She packed a go bag with clothes for Hardison and Eliot, and one with food and more heating packs from the supply cupboard. She grabbed a bag that contained most of the surveillance tech and added a spare tablet to it. She changed into the black body suit and cap that she habitually wore for heists and pulled on the black winter coat from Eliot's closet.

She went to a window that would get her closer to the roof of the neighboring building and dropped the first two bags. After a few seconds when nothing seemed to happen, she pulled the strap of the bag that contained the surveillance equipment across her chest and shimmied backwards out the window herself. Hanging by her fingertips she took the time to pull the window closed behind her before she dropped to the rooftop below. When her feet hit the roof, she had to bite back a yelp as her feet shot out from under her. She grabbed the peak of the roof to stop her slide and was relieved to feel the rough bite of the shingles under her bare hand. She held as still as possible for several minutes and hoped that by the time she moved the watchmen would have lost interest in whatever sound she might have made. When the sting of the cold night was making her grip on the roof shingles nearly unbearable, she used the toe of her boot to hook the straps of the first two bags she'd dropped. She lifted the bags to her free hand and let the straps of the bags slide along her arm so that she could use both hands to grip the roof as she slid, and half crawled across the roof until she made it to a decorative cornice that was tall enough to hide her. She leaned into the cornice and blew across her hands while she rubbed warmth back into her fingers.

After another few moments of listening and a quick peek around the edge of the cornice she readjusted her bags and hunched low before she hurried from one roof to the next to the opposite side of the block from the pub. From there she climbed down a drainpipe to the sidewalk below. She kept an easy pace down the sidewalk and took an extra block so that she could circle around to Lucille from the opposite side of the parking lot.

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Julio gripped Chrissa's hand as much out of self-preservation as comfort given or received. She'd grabbed his hand when they'd been ushered into the vehicle, and he was a little concerned that if she clamped down any harder, she might actually break something.

"It'll be alright." He said it quietly but not so quiet that the guard behind them couldn't hear him. These men seemed like professionals, but he didn't want them to get jumpy thinking he was plotting something. Chrissa nodded and wiped under her eyes with her free hand.

"Where are you taking us?" Her question wasn't answered by anyone else in the vehicle and Julio put a hand on her cheek to focus her attention on him.

"It doesn't matter. If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there." He smiled. "God knows where we are and how this will all turn out."

Chrissa immediately recognized the verse from Psalm 139, and she let it bring her comfort. Her smile was watery, but she leaned against him with a sigh and her grip on his hand relaxed enough that he had hopes of blood returning to his fingers eventually. He recognized a few of the buildings they'd passed and was fairly certain they were on NW Front Ave. He'd worked a factory job out this direction a few years ago. If they were on Front Ave, it meant they were in a mostly industrial area near the river. Julio couldn't say he was surprised that these men would take them somewhere like this, but it certainly didn't add to his comfort levels. After several more minutes they turned off onto a narrow, paved road that brought them even closer to the river. Julio guessed it was one of the small marinas along this part of the river.

Before long they passed a small dock with a mooring and then a long row of houseboats. It was too dark outside to be sure but something about the change in light and the terrain gave Julio the impression they'd just passed under a bridge. They continued to drive sedately down the narrow road past another row of houseboats to a small parking lot. When they parked, the man in charge turned in his seat to look at them.

"We are going to walk down the dock together and I'm sure you'll be tempted to draw the attention of someone in one of these houseboats, but don't. If you draw any kind of attention my men will be obliged to shoot you." After a stern look at each of them, he got out of the vehicle.

"You heard him. Now out. Hurry up." The man behind them shoved at the back of the seat to urge them along.

The vehicle had been very warm and stepping out into the frigid wind blowing up off of the river was like a slap in the face. Julio wrapped his arm across Chrissa's shoulders, and she slipped an arm around his waist. With two people in front of them and two behind they walked in a tight group up the gangway and down a very long dock. Julio started counting the houseboats as they passed but somewhere around thirty-five, he lost count when the man behind him gave him a little shove. "Hurry up and stop looking at the houses."

He staggered and if it hadn't been for Chrissa he'd have fallen. "Gracias mi amor."

"Hey! None a that. English." The man behind Chrissa gave her a shove.

Julio spun around and shoved the man back. "Keep your hands off my wife!" He heard a small sound from Chrissa behind him and turned to see what was happening.

"It's not much further. Let's keep it together please."

It wasn't the polite words but the gun to Chrissa's head that got immediate compliance from Julio.

A couple more houses and they took another gangway back to the shore. Here they followed a narrow trail up the hill into the trees. As the trail turned, the men ahead of them and the men behind clicked on their flashlights. Personally, Julio thought it was sloppy for a group of men that were trying to avoid notice but he certainly wasn't going to give them pointers either. A few hundred yards and the trail let out into a more open area along the shore. A gangway ran from the rocky beach to a modest houseboat. Julio wasn't sure if surprise or relief was uppermost when he saw the houseboat. He was beginning to expect a place that would be convenient to dump a body, and on second thought this place might still serve that purpose.

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Parker checked the time on Lucille's dash. It was headed for one in the morning when she took the turn off for Miller Truck Salvage. The salvage yard was close to the road and the rusting hunks of old military trucks and semi cabs tended to scare away the tourists and therefore didn't have the kind of traffic the marina next door had. Parker knew that there was a tiny RV park and equally small parking lot just past the salvage yard and normally she would have parked there and taken the dock and then the trail that led to Eliot's houseboat but tonight she took an immediate left in the yard and followed the driveway toward Aubrey Miller's house. The business was owned by Aubrey's husband, but Parker never could remember his name. She thought it started with a T or maybe it was a B? Instead of parking at their house Parker continued on to a narrow two-track that led through the grove of trees and ended in a very small clearing just up the hill from Eliot's houseboat.

When Parker knew she was getting closer she slowed Lucille to a crawl and cut the lights. With the light of the full moon Parker was able to navigate her way to the clearing without running into anything or getting stuck. She took the time to turn Lucille around so that she could make a quick get-away if she needed to. Turning off the engine she slouched down into the seat while her mind worked on the puzzle of the current plan.

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They'd been traveling for miles when they came to the next river crossing. Eliot was pretty sure that this was the east fork of the Lewis River, if it was, it meant that they were about halfway to Parker. They stopped and drank from the river and Eliot assessed the banks for the best place to cross. There was a bend in the river on his right and it looked like the finger of a sand bar was on the opposite shore. He could feel Hardison's urge to continue and was glad that this first long run wasn't wearing him out yet, since they still had miles to go.

The sand bar on the other side of the river was fairly wide and without urging Hardison jumped with Eliot. They landed in the soft sand and hurried up the bank. There was some very thick brush at the top of the bank and Eliot shouldered his way through. He could hear Hardison grunting and growling behind him as he too forced his way through the heavy vegetation. Fortunately, the struggle didn't last long as the brush suddenly gave way to an open flat expanse. From the ring of trees and the very flat look of the ground ahead of him, Eliot supposed this was a fallow field. He didn't see a break in the trees ahead of him, but he supposed he'd find the road the farmer used to access this field when they got a little farther into it.

There was ice under a new layer of snow, and it creaked and cracked as they traveled over it. They hadn't worked their way back up to their normal traveling speed yet when they neared the center of the field. A crack like a rifle shot snapped through the air and Hardison yelped. Eliot spun himself low onto his belly as he tried to see what had happened to Hardison. At first, he was sure that Hardison had been shot but he realized the bonds were telegraphing panic but not pain. Just in case there was someone out there with a gun he kept low as he crawled closer to Hardison. He could see that Hardison was struggling to get up, but he couldn't tell where Hardison was injured. The sound of a second shot cracked through the air, but this time Eliot recognized what it was. It was the sound of the ice breaking and sending fishers farther out into the ice shelf. Now he had to fight back his own panic. If he'd led them out onto an iced over pond, Hardison could get trapped under the ice, or become too exhausted from fighting to get out, and drown. Hardison struggled but couldn't find purchase on the ice and slid into the hole he'd made when the ice broke.

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Julio followed the men in front of him into the houseboat. On their way in he could see that someone had kicked in the door. As they were led farther into the house it looked as though the place had been tossed.

From the collection of beer bottles and soda cans heaped on the coffee table he assumed that the TV still worked and that these guys had been here a while. He didn't see much else as they were hustled up the stairs and into a bedroom that looked like it served double duty as a home office and gym. He and Chrissa were motioned to a workout bench, and they sat. The man in charge pulled over the office chair and sat lazily in it.

"Alright let's talk."

Julio just stared at the man. He looked like he was sitting down to a casual meeting, maybe with friends, instead of the guy that had just kidnapped them and threatened to kill them. Julio felt no urge to talk to him.

"I just want to know what you know about Eliot Spencer." He waited a moment. "He's a hard man to reach. I've left him a couple of messages but so far, I haven't heard from him."

Chrissa gripped his hand a little tighter for just a second. He didn't know if it was to encourage him to talk or to stay quiet but so far, he didn't see any reason to volunteer information.

"Let me show you why I'm trying to get a hold of him." He snapped his fingers and motioned with his hand and one of the guards brought him a laptop. He spent a few moments navigating on it before he turned it around and tapped the screen to make a video play.

The video was a grainy, low res, night vision video. The images were mostly in greys with occasional green shadows, but they were clear enough to more or less make out the faces and a few of the details of the people in them. At first, all they could see was a mostly wooden wall made up of a patch work of scraps. A door in the middle was pulled open and a young man in ragged pants with no shirt was standing in the doorway. Next, he fell into the room, and it was hard to tell if he collapsed on his own or if he was pushed, but the man with a beard wearing a long tunic was easy to make out in the doorway. Next another young man crawled and lurched his way toward the door as it closed. It looked as though there was something wrong with his left arm. The second man dropped to his knees near the first one that was still lying face down on the floor. After a little maneuvering, the second man was leaning back against the patchwork wall with the first man cradled against his chest.

When the second man turned enough that Julio could see his face, he recognized the man as Eliot. It looked as though someone had beaten him, and done it often, but under the bruises and dried blood that appeared as dark smudges in the video, Julio was sure it was Eliot.

The two men leaned against the wall for a few moments and Julio could see Eliot saying something, but he couldn't make it out and there was no sound. After a moment Eliot brought the other man's face in front of him and slid his right hand across the other man's jaw getting a grip on his chin. In a second, with a violent jerk to the side, Eliot broke the man's neck.

Hawthorn stopped the video when the body slumped dead against Eliot's chest. Julio wasn't sure if it was accident or design that the video stopped when Eliot's face was clearly displayed. Blank, emotionless, cold.

Chrissa gasped and flinched when she saw Eliot break the man's neck and now it was Julio's turn to squeeze her hand in reassurance.

"The boy that Eliot Spencer killed was my brother." Hawthorn set the laptop to the side. "Now maybe you understand why I want to get a hold of him."