Nick UnCaged: Sanctuary, Book Four Read online

  “Speaking of snooping, any news on those new receivers?” asked Heff.

  “They’re in. Ian called earlier. I’m heading down to Pine Ridge to pick them up early tomorrow morning.” If the gadgets were half as good as Ian said they were—and Cage had no reason to doubt him—they’d have NASA-level surveillance equipment at their fingertips. Yet another reason why they didn’t need someone nosing around. “With luck, we should have everything up and running by tomorrow night.”

  “Great. I’ll make popcorn.”

  Chapter Three

  Bree

  Bree wasn’t particularly fond of flying on the best of days. When her flights involved storms, she didn’t care for it at all. Bad weather meant turbulence. Turbulence meant nausea. Nausea meant no food, exacerbating the headaches she usually got from altitude and pressure changes. Beyond that, storms also caused delays, which resulted in missed connecting flights, more in-airport time, and rescheduling on the fly.

  She popped a few acetaminophen tablets, grabbed some pretzels and ginger ale, and settled into a semi-quiet spot in the waiting lounge to let her stomach calm. Rain continued to pour on the tarmac beyond the floor-to-ceiling tinted windows, making the interior lights appear even harsher than usual.

  The first hour was spent people-watching—something Bree found fascinating. She looked at a person’s body language, facial expressions, and movements and drafted a mental bio that was accurate more often than not. It was an acquired skill, one honed from early on, and had come in handy more than once in predicting her father’s violent outbursts.

  Now, it had become second nature, and along with her natural empathetic tendencies, served her well in interviews. Different people required different approaches. Different words. Different tones. Being able to recognize and adapt made people feel at ease, and that meant getting better answers.

  After a while, her stomach settled, and she used the unexpected delay and free airport Wi-Fi to start researching her current assignment. Getting to know something about the players and their mission would help her form a game plan to maximize results and minimize her time in—she checked her notes again—Sumneyville.

  Unfortunately, her cursory search efforts didn’t result in adding much to the file Charlie had given her. Not a lot of information was readily available on the facility—aptly named Sanctuary—or the people behind it.

  The place had a website at least. The home page included a brief mission statement confirming its purpose: to provide assistance to veterans who needed help reacclimating into civilian society.

  Bree sighed. Even the description bored her. How could she hope to write a captivating, edgy piece when this was the kind of material she had to work with?

  The photos on the site were slightly more interesting. They depicted the place as a scenic mountain resort, a mix of rustic charm and Catskills-heyday posh. As pretty as it was to look at, there was nothing exciting about it. Nothing sensational. Nothing that warranted a trip across the country on the paper’s dime.

  So, why was the place even on Charlie’s radar? Was it purely a human-interest story, as Charlie had suggested? Or was there more to it than that?

  Maybe Charlie was testing her ability to ferret out information. To take a nonstory and turn it into something that would sell. Or ... he really did believe that these were the only kinds of assignments she could handle. The thought was as depressing as it was motivating.

  Did Sanctuary sound like a good cause? Sure. Who wouldn’t support a project to benefit the service men and women of the country? But it didn’t exactly make for riveting copy. How many people would actually want to read about it?

  Not many, most likely. People wanted drama; that was what sold articles and got subscriptions. Scandal. Corruption. Sex. Stories that involved a secret men’s club of wealthy playboys, high-ranking government officials, and industry leaders who liked whips and chains and had kinky fetishes.

  At first glance, Sanctuary had none of that. But maybe, if she were lucky, she’d find something interesting when she started digging.

  By the time her flight called for boarding, Bree was determined to prove once and for all that she was every bit the journalist she purported to be.

  Chapter Four

  Cage

  Ian Callaghan lived with his wife and kids just outside of Pine Ridge. The quaint stone cottage was nestled in the mountains on a large, private parcel, set far enough back that it wasn’t visible from the road.

  While it was a beautiful place, Cage had expected something bigger and more ostentatious, what with Ian’s wife Lexi being the co-owner and executive chef of the Celtic Goddess franchise. Then again, Cage knew the importance of not judging a book by its cover, especially when it came to the Callaghans. They were a hell of a lot more than they seemed at first glance.

  “Cage,” Ian greeted, opening the door with a friendly smile and a firm handshake. “Glad you could make it. Any problems finding the place?”

  “I might have driven past the entrance once or twice,” Cage admitted. “It’s not obvious.”

  Ian grinned. “That’s the idea. Come on in.”

  Ian led him through the house, which turned out to be a lot bigger than it appeared on the outside, prompting Cage to say as much.

  “The original structure belonged to Lexi’s grandmother and had only a few rooms. A cousin of ours in Birch Falls helped us expand. He added some bedrooms and bathrooms, plus a gourmet kitchen for Lex.”

  “He did a great job,” Cage commented, looking around the space. Lots of stone, lots of exposed beams, and open space.

  “Yeah, he’s damn good at what he does. You might want to give him a call. Johnny Connelly, Connelly Construction. Historical renovations are his passion. I’m sure he’d love to get a look at Sanctuary, especially some of those outbuildings.”

  “I’ll mention it to Church.”

  Ian opened the door to a room that was a geek’s wet dream. Cage whistled softly as he took in the multitude of screens and components. One image in particular caught his attention.

  “Is that ...”

  Ian smirked. “A real-time feed of your local prepper group compound in HD? Why, yes, yes, it is. Thought you’d want a quick demo of what you’re getting. Try before you buy and all that.” He tapped a key and the image changed to several men unloading crates from an unmarked delivery truck.

  “Satellite?” Cage guessed.

  Ian nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. “Privately owned and operated. We’ll give you the codes, so you can access it from Sanctuary.”

  “Sweet.”

  Ian tapped another key and the picture zoomed in closer. Cage watched Daryl Freed, the chief of the Sumneyville Police Department, and his nephew, Lenny Petraski, talking with someone beside the truck. The picture was so clear that he could make out the fresh shaving cut beneath Lenny’s jaw.

  Ian handed Cage a controller, similar to one used for video games. In the center was a smaller screen streaming the same live feed as the bigger one. “Go on. Take it for a test drive.”

  Cage moved the tiny joystick with his thumb, and the scope changed. He focused on the crates and zeroed in on those. If they were anything like the ones they’d found in the abandoned mine shafts beneath the prepper compound, they contained arms and ammunition.

  “I did some quick searches. The company name stamped on those crates is legit, but we don’t think what’s inside the boxes actually comes from them,” Ian said, growing more serious. “Next time you guys are down in the mines, how about grabbing a couple samples, so we can take them apart and find out exactly where they’re coming from?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Cage assured him.

  “Excellent. While you’re at it, you might as well drop a few of these.” Ian handed Cage a box of small items about the size of thumbtacks.

  Cage took one out of the box and examined it. “Bugs?”

  Ian nodded. “Super sensitive, too. What’s a movie without quality audio?”
r />   Cage was impressed. “You have the coolest toys.”

  Ian laughed. “That I do.”

  “Where do you even get this stuff?”

  “That I can’t tell you. But I am willing to share with someone who can appreciate the beauty of microtech, especially when it’s for a good cause.”

  It was for a good cause. A Sumneyville survivalist group was amassing an alarming cache of weapons and ammunition along with other provisions like food, water, and fuel in the compound that just happened to border Sanctuary property. Through a series of seemingly random events, Cage and his partners had discovered that much of the arsenal was being kept in recently shored-up abandoned coal mine shafts underground.

  Since the majority of the members they’d been able to identify were regular folk, the excessive stockpiling of lethal firepower had raised red flags. Thankfully, the Callaghans thought so, too, and together, they were seeking answers.

  Cage stayed for longer than he’d intended. He enjoyed talking tech with Ian; the guy spoke his language and had similar interests. By the time Cage left, the back of the SUV was filled with cool new gadgets, and he was looking forward to getting them set up and operational.

  * * *

  A road closure forced Cage to return to Sanctuary a different route than he had come. It wasn’t a big deal; Cage was familiar with all of the back roads in and around the area, and it had been a while since he’d been on that particular stretch.

  He was over halfway to Sanctuary when he spotted the small sedan on the side of the road, listing heavily to the right. He slowed down as he neared, noting the rental company sticker on the back, and then eased the SUV onto the narrow shoulder in front of the vehicle.

  Exiting the SUV, he moved along the right side of the vehicle, whistling when he got a better look. Not just a blowout, but also a broken axle and significant frame damage to the right front end. Not surprising, if the tiny car had hit one of the monster-sized potholes on the remote mountain road—a natural and hazardous result of the region’s thaw-refreeze cycle. It took a while for road-patch crews to make it out as far as Sumneyville, and by the time they did—if they did—the cycle was already beginning again.

  Cage peered in through the passenger side, confirming there were no occupants. A purse sat in the passenger seat, however, and there were two pieces of luggage in the back.

  The rustle of brush behind him had him turning around to find a woman emerging from the tree line, muttering to herself as she climbed her way up the slope and back to the road. She didn’t seem to be injured, just put out.

  She stopped when she spotted him, keeping a healthy distance between them and warily eyeing him.

  The first thing he noticed was her hair—a riot of shiny black curls that she was trying to wrangle into some sort of band or clip at the back of her neck. His hands flexed with the sudden urge to touch to see if it was as silky and soft as it seemed.

  The next thing he noticed was her eyes. They appeared just as black as her hair, framed by thick, glossy lashes, and currently regarding him with laser-like intensity. The bright flash of a diamond stud piercing in the side of her nose intrigued him.

  If the rental-agency sticker on the back hadn’t suggested an out-of-towner, the woman herself would have. Even in jeans and a casual top, she looked too polished to be a local.

  “Is this your vehicle?” Cage asked, glad when his voice sounded relatively normal. For a moment, he’d felt as if he’d regressed back to the shy, awkward teen he’d left behind more than a decade earlier when he joined the Navy.

  “Unfortunately,” she confirmed with a frown.

  Now that her hair was tamed, her hands went to her hips. His eyes were drawn to the movement. She had nice hands. Delicate-looking fingers tipped with professionally manicured nails. Her hips were pretty nice, too. Slim but curvy.

  The clearing of her throat made him lift his eyes back to her face.

  “Do you need assistance?” His heart thumped against the inner walls of his chest while she considered him and his offer. One beat turned into two then three.

  “I’ve already called for a tow, but thanks.”

  He nodded. She remained at a distance, cautious while somehow managing to project an air of confidence. She seemed to have everything under control. So, why was he so hesitant to leave?

  “You’re not from around here.”

  Her lips quirked, as if she could sense his inner struggle and was amused by it. “No, I’m not.”

  Cage rubbed the back of his neck, vaguely registering the fact that it had been months since he’d last had a haircut while biting back the barrage of questions on the tip of his tongue. What’s your name? Why are you here? Can I buy you dinner?

  What actually came out was even worse. “Right. Well, is there anything I can do for you?” He winced, and the quirk became a grin.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Okay then.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and reluctantly forced his feet back toward the SUV. If she didn’t want or need his help, he had no reason to stay.

  “Hey.”

  Cage stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The woman had closed some of the distance between them. Not all, but some.

  “Thanks for stopping.”

  “You’re welcome. You have a nice day, ma’am.”

  “You too, sir,” she called after him.

  He chuckled but resisted the urge to turn around again. He didn’t need to look to know she was checking him out. He could practically feel her eyes on his back. Even more surprising, he didn’t mind.

  He checked the mirror one last time before pulling away on the off chance that she changed her mind. She leaned against the hobbled rental, eyes on his SUV, her head tilted slightly to the side, as if curious. When their eyes met in the side view, he offered what he hoped was a friendly smile and a wave, pleased when she returned it.

  He drove away, but his protective instincts wouldn’t allow him to abandon her entirely. Who knew how long it would take for a tow truck to arrive? Anything could happen. A bear could wander out of the woods, or a snake could happen by. Worse, someone less honorable than himself could spot her out there by herself and try to take advantage of the situation.

  At least, that was how he rationalized his decision to pull off near a natural spring about a half mile up the road, where he then climbed the slope on the side and doubled back on foot. From his higher position, he could watch over her until help arrived.

  Because that wasn’t creepy at all. He was just being a good citizen, looking out for someone in a vulnerable position. Once the tow arrived and he confirmed it was a legit service, he’d be on his way, his conscience satisfied.

  Yeah, that’s all it was. His good deed for the day.

  Chapter Five

  Bree

  Bree watched the SUV drive away, ignoring the vague sense of a missed opportunity as Toni’s parting words came back to haunt her.

  “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the man of your dreams.”

  The guy was hot in a wild, natural, mountain-man kind of way. Auburn hair, brilliant green eyes, broad shoulders, and a lean, muscled physique usually found on the covers of romance novels. Wrap that in well-worn jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and boots, and the result was pretty scenic.

  The chance encounter almost made the car trouble worth it. Almost.

  Bree sighed and gave herself a mental shake at the thought. Clearly, lack of sleep and mounting frustration over the less than smooth journey to a fluff assignment were taking their toll.

  She checked her phone again. The auto service said they’d be there within the hour, and that hour was just about up.

  Leaning back against the car, she took a deep, calming breath to clear her mind while she waited and tried to think positive thoughts. The sun was shining, and the clouds were minimal and feathery in a sky of brilliant blue. The air was clean and fresh, smelling of damp earth and pine. Woodland creatures chittered and squawked, providing a natura
l background soundtrack. It was peaceful. Serene. The kind of Zen that couldn’t be reproduced by lighting an earthy-scented candle and streaming a feed of babbling brooks and birdsong.

  Said tranquility was interrupted by the rumble of a big engine and the thump of hard-rock music, growing louder by the second. Before long, a white tow truck rounded the curve and came into view. As it neared, she saw Callaghan Auto painted on the side in dark green with some sort of Celtic symbol.

  The big truck parked in front of the rental. The man who got out of the driver’s side was muscular and moved with a powerful, masculine grace, not unlike the Good Samaritan who’d stopped earlier. Unlike that guy, however, this guy had a harder look about him. Closely cropped jet-black hair and vivid blue eyes only intensified the effect.

  Is it something in the local water? She’d heard about the health benefits of natural mountain springs, but if men like this were the result, the locals were missing a golden advertising opportunity for tourism.

  The large man stopped at a respectful distance and introduced himself. “Sean Callaghan. You called for a tow?” His voice fit the rest of him. Deep and slightly rough, like sandpaper but not unpleasant.

  “I did, yes.”

  He walked around the car, sizing up the damage. Though he said nothing, his eyebrows pinched and drew together, and his lips curled once or twice.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Tire’s blown, rim’s cracked, front end’s gonna need some body work. There’s a good chance that the strut’s snapped and the suspension is damaged. What happened?”

  “I hit a pothole, I think.”

  He snorted softly. “You think?”

  “It was dark and rainy,” she said defensively, straightening her shoulders. “I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

  He looked up at the sky, now clear, bright, and blue. “Just how long have you been out here?”