Bedlam Read online

  “Kyle, there’s a case of Fitzwilliam’s food in the cabinet next to the kitchen sink, and the cat carrier is on the back porch.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  She hustled behind me into the kitchen and filled an old paper grocery bag with tins of tea and boxes of cookies. “Leave no Jaffa cake behind,” she said, smiling even as her chin trembled. It had to be hard to leave the home she’d shared with Jack.

  “It’ll all be okay,” I said. “We’re going to rescue Sunny, and then we’ll get to safety.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” She lifted her chin. “Let’s blow this joint, sonny boy.”

  Despite everything—despite my fears for Sunny—despite the danger hanging over our heads—I coughed out a laugh. “Mrs. B., where have you been all my life?”

  She winked, then without a backward glance, she marched to the front door. “Ever,” she called. “Come along, dear.”

  Ever emerged from the back hallway, struggling under the weight of a bed pillow and a pink rosebud quilt. “I want to be comfy in the truck,” she explained.

  “Good idea,” Finn said, taking the bedding from her arms. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. We’ll make you a cozy little nest in the back seat right next to Mrs. B. and the kitty.”

  Ever glanced around the front hall. “Where’s Sunny?”

  Finn and I exchanged a glance. “Don’t you worry,” Finn said. “We’re going to pick up Sunny on our way out of town.”

  “Okay,” Ever said agreeably. She yawned again, her eyes sleepy. Apparently the stress we all felt about Sunny’s absence had gone right over the little girl’s head. Good.

  While I hauled the cat food and carrier to the bed of the truck, Ever and Finn piled the bedding on the rear seat. He helped her fasten her seat belt while I walked back to the house.

  Mrs. B. stood inside the entry, Fitzwilliam in her arms, taking a last look at her home. “I’ve been happy in Cressida’s Cottage.” She sighed. “Now it’s time to be happy somewhere else.” She squared her shoulders and stood up straight. “Let’s go get our girl.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Sunny

  The porcelain tank cover slipped through my fingers and shattered into a million tiny pieces when it struck the cement floor. I blinked, unable to trust my eyes. Shock robbed me of my voice.

  Kyle. Kyle stood in the doorway to the Women’s Ward.

  He took the keys from Finn and rushed toward me. Cursing to himself, he fumbled with the padlock. A click. The cell door flew open, and Kyle dragged me into his arms.

  “What?” I gasped, unable to make heads or tails out of the sudden reversal in fortune. “How?”

  Finn snatched the keys from Kyle’s hand and ran to Sara’s cell.

  Kyle’s arms tightened around me and he grinned. “Finn’s a good guy. Ever and Mrs. B. are waiting in the truck. We’ll explain everything on our way out of town. For now, we have to haul ass.”

  Sara and Rocco stumbled from their cells.

  “We knocked out the entry guards, tied them up, and stashed ‘em behind a bush,” Finn said. “With any luck, it’ll be at least an hour before any of Allsop’s men figure out that something’s wrong.”

  We ran out of the building and toward the door in the fence. Kyle and Finn stepped through first. Once they’d confirmed that the coast was clear, they signaled for us to follow. We jogged through the darkness, past the Bishop’s House and defunct state offices, until we came to a residential street.

  Kyle’s black pickup was parked under the canopy of a tree. “Sorry, you’ll have to ride in the truck bed,” Kyle said to Sara and Rocco.

  “You kidding? No problem.” Rocco climbed into the back and offered a hand to Sara to help her in. Mrs. B. jumped out of the driver’s seat and patted Kyle’s shoulder before he took her place behind the wheel. She flashed me a smile and Ever waved excitedly at me through the window. Finn boosted Mrs. B. into the back seat, next to Ever, then he climbed in after her. I took the front passenger seat.

  “We did it. Woo-hoo!” Kyle cried, pounding on the steering wheel. He turned the key and drove the truck to the end of the quiet street.

  “Are we going to Valhalla?” I asked, craning my neck to look for any sign of pursuit.

  “Eventually,” Kyle said. “But for now we’re heading to Pendleton so Finn can report in to the major about what the Allsops are up to.”

  Pendleton? The major? Questions jostled for priority in my mind, but one rose above all the others. Turning around in my seat, I fixed my eyes on Finn. “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “Finn Rasmussen. My family owns Valhalla Ranch. After the Wilcox Brigade killed my folks and ran me off, I met up with the major. He leads a group out of Pendleton. They’re working to make sure that any new government does right by people and follows the constitution.”

  “Why were you working for the Allsops?” I asked.

  Fitzwilliam jumped onto Finn’s lap and stretched out, belly up. “Hey there, buddy,” Finn said, scratching the cat under his chin. “Word got out that the Allsops were moving through Idaho, Montana, and eastern Washington, recruiting men for their private army and offering protection to everybody else. For a price.” Fitzwilliam began to purr loudly. “Got quite a motor on you, don’t you?” Finn chuckled.

  “Finn?” I persisted.

  He glanced from the cat back to me. “The major sent me to Walla Walla to wait for them to show up. When they did, I signed on and came to Boise with them to gather intel.”

  “You’re a spy? Like Agent Cody Banks?” Ever inquired, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t know no Agent Cody Banks, sweet pea, but yeah, my job was to spy on the Allsop organization and to report back to the major.” Sharp eyes—at odds with his lazy drawl—scanned the road behind the truck. Certainty struck me. His laid-back demeanor was an act, a ploy to keep Ever calm.

  “Cool.” Ever bounced in her seat.

  “And you abandoned your mission to help Kyle rescue me?” I asked.

  “We’re friends, remember?” he said. I winced, recalling how I’d thrown those words in his face.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” I said.

  He laughed. “Sunny, if you hadn’t doubted me, I wouldn’t be very good at my secret agent job, now would I?”

  “No, you wouldn’t. I guess not everybody who works with the Allsops is a creep.” I frowned, remembering my only other friend in the Allsop household. “Hildy is a good person, too.”

  “She seems like a nice lady,” he agreed. “She owned a popular restaurant in Walla Walla. When Allsop came through town and discovered that she was alive, he told her she’d be working as his private chef. Didn’t give her a choice about it, either.”

  “So she’s trapped?” I shook my head. “Forced to work for him? Poor Hildy.”

  “She tried to help us,” Kyle said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “When Allsop told me that you were dead, Hildy risked everything to give me a note saying you’re still alive. She said he’s a bad man and a liar, and if she found out where he was holding you, she’d let me know.”

  “Allsop’s not a forgiving man,” Finn said. “She took a big risk there.”

  “Oh, Kyle.” Guilt took my breath away. We were hightailing it out of town to safety, and Hildy was stuck slaving away for the Allsops. “We can’t leave her behind. Not after she put herself in harm’s way to help us.”

  Kyle pulled the truck over onto the side of the road. He peered ahead of us into the darkness, then turned and looked at the roadway behind the truck. “No sign of pursuit,” he said. “No sign of any commotion. Could be the Allsops haven’t found the guards and figured out that we’re gone.”

  “What are you thinking?” Finn asked. “We go back to the house and get Hildy?”

  “No,” Kyle said. “I go back to the house and get Hildy. I owe her. Drop me nearby then get away. Hildy and I will take Sunny’s van. We’ll all meet up later in Pendleton.”

  “No,” I interrupted, clutc
hing at his hand. “If you go back for Hildy, I’m going, too. I’ll hide by the street so nobody sees me, but I won’t be separated from you again.”

  “Listen up.” Finn raised both hands. “We’ve got a narrow window of opportunity here, and it’s getting smaller as we speak. Sunny, we can’t risk any of the Allsop security team laying eyes on you, not when you’re supposed to be in prison.”

  Kyle nodded his approval. “That’s right.”

  “Kyle, you’re supposed to be out of your mind with grief, drunk as a skunk in your room,” Finn continued. “You can’t just sashay up to the front door and walk in past the guards. Not without raising a lot of questions. You can’t, but I can.”

  “No—” Kyle protested.

  “Listen up.” Finn voice was hard, his tone unrelenting. “Far as anybody knows, I’m still a loyal Allsop man. I can march right up to the front door and nobody will say boo. Brody will be down in his man cave. Mr. Allsop spends his evenings in his library, usually drinking or with one of his lady friends. I can get Hildy, go out through the garage, and we’ll drive away. Nobody will challenge me.”

  “You can’t risk it,” Kyle said. “You need to report back to the major.”

  “I’m the only one who can risk it,” Finn insisted. “But if we don’t get a move on, it will be too late.”

  “Shit.” Kyle pounded the dashboard, clearly torn.

  “There’s a church not half a mile from the house.” Finn pressed his advantage. “Park behind it, out of sight. Give me twenty minutes to rendezvous with you. I’m not back by then, you’ll know things have gone south. You take off and get to Pendleton. Don’t fret about me. I’ve gotten out of tougher scrapes.”

  “Finn’s right,” Mrs. B. said, laying a hand on the cowboy’s shoulder. “I don’t want to risk either of you, but under the circumstances, the plan stands a better chance of success if he goes.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Finn said solemnly.

  “Don’t you dare thank me for encouraging you to put yourself in danger,” she said, with more fire in her voice than I’d ever heard. “And Kyle, pull your head out of your ass and drive.”

  Kyle pulled a U-turn on East Warm Springs Avenue and raced back toward the Allsop estate.

  “If I run into trouble, tell the major that Allsop’s assembled close to four hundred men,” Finn said. “About half are with him in Boise, the rest are stationed in Coeur d’Alene, Spokane, and Bend.”

  “Bend,” Kyle exclaimed. “He has men in central Oregon?”

  “Yep. He plans to create a northwest nation state out of Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and the western parts of Wyoming and Montana. Boise will be the capitol.”

  Kyle pulled into the church’s parking lot and brought the truck to a stop behind a small building marked Offices.

  “Please be careful,” I said. “We don’t want to lose you.”

  Finn handed me the small spiral notebook where he’d recorded the names and addresses of all of the Haven’s scavengers. “Just in case,” he said.

  “You sure?” Kyle asked.

  “No worries. I got this.” Finn passed Fitzwilliam to Mrs. B.

  “Be careful.” She kissed Finn on the cheek, leaving behind a smear of pink lipstick.

  “You be good, sweet pea.” He winked at Ever, then opened the door. “Twenty minutes. No longer.” With a final nod, he hopped out of the truck and ran away into the darkness.

  “I’m scared for Finn,” Ever said in a small voice.

  “Finn’s a secret agent, remember?” I reminded her. “He’s good at this spy stuff.”

  “But what if the bad guys are good at bad guy stuff, too?” she asked.

  I had no answer for that question.

  Mrs. B. hugged Ever. “Worrying won’t do a lick of good, sweet girl. Our job is to hope for the best and to wait.” Her eyes met mine, and I saw fear in their hazy blue depths. She’d maintain the proverbial stiff upper lip for Ever’s sake, but the woman was clearly sick with concern for Finn.

  A sharp rap on the driver’s window nearly made me jump from my skin, until I turned and saw Sara and Rocco standing there. Of course they’d wonder what was going on. Kyle rolled down the window and filled them in.

  Seeing Sara reminded me of how we passed the time in our prison cells. “Hey Ever, how about we play twenty questions?” I suggested. “You can go first.”

  “Okay.”

  The minutes crawled by as we played round after round of the guessing game. Finally, Mrs. B. held up a slim wrist and tapped the face of her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. I looked at Kyle and raised my brows.

  What do we do?

  Conflicting impulses warred across Kyle’s expression. Reason demanded that we follow the plan and abandon Finn. Emotion required us to wait for our friend. Either option could spell disaster. If we split just seconds before he arrived… or if we stuck around too long… Kyle glanced into the back seat, his gaze lingering on Ever’s face.

  I saw the instant he decided. The child’s safety came first. He frowned, clearly unhappy, but resolute. Grinding his teeth together, he fired the truck’s engine and eased cautiously toward the road.

  I craned my neck and stared in the direction of the Allsop estate. No signs of unusual activity signaled trouble. No flashing lights. No voices. No squealing tires. Darkness—a quiet, heavy, imperturbable darkness—surrounded us. The absence of commotion made the decision to flee even more painful, bailing on our friend when there was no hint of peril.

  “Shit,” Kyle whispered, clearly as conflicted as I was.

  “We’re doing the right thing,” Mrs. B. said in a low voice. “Drive, Kyle.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed and turned east onto the road, heading toward the freeway. The pickup glided along quiet streets, its headlights punching holes in the darkness. We’d traveled no more than a couple of miles when a distant whirring sound broke the night’s silence. I scanned the roadway behind us, but saw no signs of pursuit.

  “Pull over. Cut the engine and turn off the headlights,” I said on a hunch, dread creeping up my spine. The truck coasted to a stop, and Kyle turned off the engine. The whirring sound grew louder. We pressed our faces against the windows, staring into the blackness. Overhead, a beam of light sliced through the night sky. The chuff-chuff-chuff of rotors raised goose bumps across my shoulders.

  Holy shitballs. Who knew that Elliot Allsop had a freaking helicopter?

  TWENTY-TWO

  Kyle

  “Is that helicopter chasing us?” Ever piped, pressing her nose and hands flat against the window.

  The chopper whooshed by overhead, its sharklike silhouette giving it the appearance of a deadly predator on the prowl. Man, that fit. I definitely felt like prey. It kept right on going, its circular searchlight beam dancing back and forth over streets and buildings. If it spotted us, wouldn’t it hover above the truck, keeping eyes on our vehicle while the Allsop men on the ground tracked their target? At least, that’s what would’ve happened on TV, which I admit is a piss-poor way to predict how a helicopter chase would go down in real life. I was so far out of my element here.

  What would Ripper do?

  Ripper would probably bring down the whirlybird with one well-placed shot from his trusty Colt. Me? Not a chance. I’d gotten waaay better at hitting a moving target, but I wouldn’t have a clue where to place a kill shot on a helicopter.

  “They might be chasing us, but they haven’t found us yet,” I answered Ever, keeping my eyes on the sleek machine.

  Think.

  My goal was simple. Get on I-84 west toward Pendleton. The Allsops had no inkling about our destination. As far as they knew, we could literally be heading for the hills, escaping into the rocky terrain north of Boise. Or maybe we were taking off for Salt Lake City to the southeast. We could be driving west into the Malheur National Forest and central Oregon. Or maybe we’d set our sights on Nevada.

  There lay our best bet for evading capture. They had no idea where we were going, so t
hey had to cover every route out of town. The odds were still stacked against us. Finn said Allsop had a couple hundred men in town, two-way radios, and a fleet of SUVs. I had a sturdy ranch truck, some extra gas, and a powerful motivation. To keep my people safe. To deliver Finn’s message to the major. To organize a rescue, because there was no way in hell I’d go back to Valhalla and tell Bear that he’d lost his brother twice.

  I ignored the small voice in my head that said Finn might already be dead. Nope. Wouldn’t go there. Allsop would keep him alive. For information. As a bargaining chip. No way would I write Bear’s brother off as a casualty of this war.

  We had to cover as much ground as possible before the Allsop SUVs spread out over town. What first? I opened the driver’s door. “Sara, Rocco, you need to get in the back seat.” While they clambered out of the truck bed, I slammed my door and turned to Mrs. B. “Can you and Ever share a seat belt? It’s not ideal, but Sara is at least five feet nine, and Rocco is bigger than both of you combined.”

  “We can snuggle up, can’t we dearest?” Mrs. B. smiled at Ever, unfastening and then looping her seat belt around both of them. She placed Ever’s rosebud quilt and bed pillow across their laps and shifted Fitzwilliam to the soft surface. By a stroke of pure luck, the cat sprawled contentedly on the pillow. Thank God. I’d rather not have a disgruntled Fitzwilliam howling and writhing in protest or launching himself at the back of my head while I navigated the city. Sara and Rocco climbed onto the back seat.

  I switched off the truck’s automatic headlight function, allowing me to control the headlights manually. We’d have to drive dark in order to evade the chopper and the SUVs.

  Here goes nothing. I confirmed that the headlight control was in the off position.

  “Everybody buckled in?” I asked.

  A chorus of yeses greeted my question.