North of Nowhere: a Thriller, page 1
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For Kelley Ragland, because behind every good storyteller is a great editor
One
Tony Reed was alive today because he always listened to his gut. He’d barely graduated from high school, never went to college, but he’d survived when many others had not. Prison or death were the two most common outcomes for people in his line of work.
Every morning, well before dawn, Tony left the house and drove around town. There were many reasons for this habit—at first it was to learn the area, to understand the routines of people in his new community, to make sure nothing looked out of place. Then it was out of habit and basic security. He’d spent months laying false trails to ensure that the McIntyre family could not track him to Montana, but nothing was foolproof.
Now, five years later, he had the first sign that he was busted.
He’d found two strangers lurking on the road leading to the Triple Pine Ranch, where Tony had worked since settling in Big Sky. Not locals, not familiar to him. Tony recognized their behavior: the pacing, the watchful eyes, the concealed weapons.
He tracked the men for thirty minutes, on the off chance they were lost guests of the Triple Pine. But his instincts were right: the men couldn’t handle the cold and walked back to their semi-hidden vehicle—a truck with California plates. The license plate frame advertised a Burbank dealership.
Boyd McIntyre had sent them.
Tony didn’t need any more information. Once he got the kids to safety he would come back alone. There was a chance—a small chance—that he was wrong and these strangers hadn’t been sent by the McIntyres to kill him and take the kids home. But he wasn’t taking the risk.
Tony had felt a niggling suspicion yesterday and wished he’d acted on it then, but he couldn’t articulate why he felt the hair rising on the back of his neck. He’d become increasingly paranoid over the years, even as he and the kids had settled down. Maybe because they now had a routine, and routines were dangerous. Work, school, dinner, homework. Comfortable and peaceful, but potentially deadly.
So the doubt was one thing, but nothing that screamed trap like these two burly men. Chances were they were sentries; Boyd would never trust anyone except his inner circle with something as important as his children.
At any other time in his life, Tony would have fought back, here and now. But five years ago he had run to save Kristen and Ryan, and he would run today to save them again. Everything he’d done for the last five years was to protect the children, and he couldn’t change his mission now.
He woke Kristen at five-thirty, as soon as he returned from his morning recon. She sat bolt upright, her hand reaching for her nightstand, where he’d taught her to store her weapon. His chest tightened. He’d trained his sixteen-year-old daughter to be a fighter.
She’s not your daughter.
“Plan B, baby,” he said.
She stared at him, fully awake, fists clenched. What kid woke up alert and ready to fight?
She didn’t ask questions, she didn’t argue. Five years in hiding, and she still knew that hesitation could mean death. Or worse.
Silently, Kris swung her feet over the bed and slipped on her sturdiest boots. She slept in sweats and a tank top, even in the cold; she pulled on a thermal shirt, then a school sweatshirt. She played soccer for her high school, the Bobcats. Green and gold, like her eyes.
Just like her aunt Ruby.
Just like her murderous father.
It was cold; the air damp, the sky gray. Snow would be here tonight, if not sooner. But if Plan B worked, they’d be sequestered in a remote cabin no one knew about, more than three hundred miles from Big Sky, with enough food and wood to last them all winter if necessary, until they could disappear again.
Confident that Kris knew what to do, Tony went to saddle the horses. As soon as Tony didn’t show up for work this morning, the men would report to Boyd. Tony wondered why Boyd hadn’t shown up here already—certainly, if he had men in town, he knew where Tony lived.
Except, Boyd wouldn’t want the kids to see him kill Tony. If Boyd wanted the kids to go with him willingly, he would have to convince them that Tony was the bad guy, much harder to do if he was murdered in front of them. If Tony had been the one planning this snatch and grab, he would grab the kids on their way to school. Safer that way for all involved, and less likely that there would be witnesses.
That was probably Boyd’s plan. Grab the kids, then kill Tony quietly, out of their sight.
His fists clenched and Leader, his gelding, whinnied. Tony soothed him, tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked, the kids would sense it just as sure as the horse did.
Once Tony didn’t show up as expected at Triple Pine, Boyd would know Tony had spotted his people and he’d come here, to the house. The only way to access the property was from a narrow, half-mile-long gravel driveway off a remote two-lane road. In the five years Tony had lived in Big Sky, he’d learned every trail and path that cars could not travel, even more important when dealing with a city boy like Boyd and his crew. Now he had to use that advantage to maximum effect.
Stay and fight.
He wanted to. Damn, he wanted to make his stand here, where he knew the area. Where he could set a trap and draw Boyd away from his bodyguards. Where he could push a knife into his chest and watch him die, fully aware that Tony was the one to kill him.
And why.
He let out a long, deep breath. He hadn’t killed anyone in five years. He’d promised himself, for the sake of Maggie’s kids, that his killing days were over. But the idea of ending Boyd McIntyre gave him a rush, a warm feeling of satisfaction.
Though Plan B was workable, he’d much preferred Plan A—driving from Big Sky to Bozeman, trading vehicles, then heading the back way to Kalispell. It would be faster, safer, to hide until they could disappear again. He’d do anything to protect Kris and Ryan.
Anything.
Even kill again.
He had to assume Boyd had people on the roads; they would know his truck and any truck he had access to at the ranch. They could already be watching the house, but certainly the main road. Though the single access road was good for security, it was bad now that he needed to escape. So Plan B.
Once the kids were safe, he’d call their aunt Ruby. She had already sacrificed so much for the kids, he didn’t want to ask her for anything, but she would help. She would help because she understood the stakes and, like him, would do anything to protect Kris and Ryan.
Ruby had been so angry when he cut off ties. He had no other choice. It wasn’t about trust, it was about everyone’s safety. Ruby, Kris, Ryan. Even if Ruby never consciously told Boyd or Frankie where he’d taken the kids, she might slip up. They’d killed her fiancé, Trevor, who had attempted to help. His murder was a warning—to him, to Ruby, to anyone who tried to stop the McIntyre organization.
Tony shoved his emotions to the back of his mind. He couldn’t do his job if he thought about the past, his rage, his mistakes. Because he’d made a lot of mistakes.
Plan B: Steal his boss’s twin prop and fly to Ennis. As the crow flies, from takeoff to landing, would be fifteen, twenty minutes tops. Land in a field, steal a car, and head to the cabin outside Kalispell, near the Canadian border, swapping out cars along the way. Same endgame, different path. Time wasn’t on his side—he had to get out of here before Boyd arrived, but he couldn’t take off for an hour, at sunrise.
He soothed the horses again. They’d picked up on his primal need to fight.
“I know, boy. This is a bad situation.” He ran his fingers along Leader’s mane and whispered in his ear, calming himself as much as the horse. As soon as Leader was calm, the other two quickly fell into line. He brought the three horses out of the stable and loosely tied them to the rail, then went back inside the small cabin to get the kids. They didn’t have any more time. He wanted to be in the air before Boyd found out they’d run.
He grabbed his bag, double-checked his gun, then put it into his holster. He’d trained Kris how to shoot; this was Montana. No one batted an eye when they went target shooting or hunting in rural America.
It was a lot different shooting a person instead of a buck.
Tony knew it.
Kristen knew it.
He stepped into Ryan’s room. Kris had her bag over her shoulders and was helping her brother with his.
Tony squatted in front of Ryan. He signed, “Help your sister, okay? Do what she says and I’ll see you soon.”
Ryan was a month shy of eleven. He was a smart kid, but he was still a kid. Tony never thought of Ryan as being handicapped. He couldn’t hear, so what? His other senses were better than most hearing fo
He’s not your son.
Ryan hugged him. A simple gesture. Tony wasn’t an emotional man, but his eyes heated and he had to blink rapidly to stay in control.
Ryan signed, “I love you, Dad.”
I love you too, kid. More than you can know.
Tony turned to Kris and said, “You good?”
She nodded, checked her gun, and spoke behind Ryan’s back, where he couldn’t read her lips. “He comes near me or Ryan, I’ll kill him.”
“Don’t think that, Kris.”
He didn’t want her to have to kill another person. Not ever again, if he could help it.
Especially not her father. She thought she could handle it, but Tony knew different. Killing a man to save someone was a world apart from killing your father, the man you once believed could walk on water and fix any problem. It would tear her apart and she’d bury the pain so far down she wouldn’t survive. She’d already suffered so much in her short life.
She stared him in the eyes, didn’t blink. “I hate him.”
“Do what I told you, understand?” He didn’t want to get angry with her, but if she went off, blinded by revenge, it would ruin the plan. The plan was to get them safe. They couldn’t do anything with a target on their backs.
“Yes, sir,” she said, teeth clenched, and started to turn away.
He grabbed her arm, forced her to again look him in the eye. “I swear to God, Kristen, if you engage Boyd now, he will win. You and Ryan will be on the road back to Los Angeles so fast your head will spin. Get to the plane and wait, understood?”
She nodded, a hint of fear in her eyes. He had never hurt her on purpose. He’d trained her, and she had the bruises to prove it. But the training was to keep her safe, to prepare her to take care of her brother if he wasn’t here.
But Kristen McIntyre Reed knew exactly who Tony was, and she should fear him. That she didn’t bothered him … and made him proud.
“Go,” he ordered. “Now.”
Kristen gave him an odd look—almost a challenge, as if she wasn’t going to obey. Or that she knew something that he didn’t. Then it was gone. She grabbed Ryan’s hand and ran out of the house without looking back.
Two
Boyd McIntyre had taken his most trusted men to Montana, because he would never underestimate Tony again.
His best friend. His partner.
Fucking traitor.
Boyd stood back and let Theo and the others go into the cabin first, but he already knew that they had missed Tony. Something had spooked him. Boyd didn’t know if he had seen one of his men in town, or if his local spy had said or done something that had tipped Tony off.
Or if Tony had a mole in Boyd’s organization. Boyd thought he’d taken care of everyone loyal to Tony, but he could have missed someone.
He would find out and make him an example. He would never tolerate betrayal. Not after what Tony had done to the family. What Tony had done to him.
Boyd should have let Theo grab the kids yesterday when they were leaving school, but they were strangers in a small town, and there were too many people around. It would bring too much potential negative attention on the McIntyre family at the worst time, so Boyd decided to try to handle this in private.
Boyd also wanted to punish Tony. He wanted to show the traitorous prick that not only had he won, but also that Kristen and Ryan would be raised as McIntyres, as they should be. And if Kristen attempted to rebel like Ruby, her grandmother would force her into compliance.
Frankie McIntyre knew how to keep the family in line. She’d learned a lot since Ruby abandoned them.
Five years ago, Tony had thought that he could convince Maggie to turn her back on her husband and her responsibility. He failed. Her blood was on Tony’s hands.
Theo came out to where Boyd waited by the car. Theo was his cousin, and the only person with him who was family. Family always came first, and thus Boyd trusted Theo the most. He’d replaced Tony, but he wasn’t Tony. Theo didn’t know how to have fun, to joke around, to talk about women, and drink cold beers. Theo was a machine. He did the job well but had no personality.
Maybe it was best this way. Boyd needed someone who would do anything to find his kids. Someone who understood family and loyalty.
Boyd shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets, but that didn’t do much to warm him. It was friggin’ cold, but Boyd wasn’t going to wimp out and sit in the car.
“They’re gone,” Theo said, seeming unfazed by the chill. “Beds unmade, looks like they left fast.”
“Where?”
“No maps, no computers. They smashed their cell phones, probably have burners.”
Tony would, of course, be prepared. It was why he had been the most valuable man in Boyd’s business. He was smart and ruthless.
You betrayed me. Fucking my wife wasn’t even the worst thing you did.
Boyd walked into the small cabin and wrinkled his nose. How could Tony live in these conditions? Practically primitive. Is this what Maggie wanted? For Tony to steal their children and bring them north of nowhere to live in squalor?
“Search the place. Find a clue as to where they went.”
When Boyd confirmed Tony’s location three days ago, his mother wanted to come up immediately. Fortunately, Boyd’s level head prevailed. They needed to get the lay of the land, make a plan to extract the children and kill Tony. Plus, Kristen would never go willingly with Frankie, not after what had happened when she was a child. Only Boyd had a chance to convince his daughter that she needed to cooperate. They had once been close. He would remind Kristen of the special bond they had, plant seeds of doubt that Tony wasn’t who she thought he was. Boyd could convince his daughter that she needed to be home with him, that it was best for her and for Ryan.
Boyd had considered calling the authorities to find Tony. After all, the man had kidnapped his children and was wanted for murder. But if the police found Tony first, Boyd would lose his assets inside the LAPD. Tony had dirt on dirty cops, and if that got out Boyd would lose a key part of his enterprise. A dirty cop would always turn on you to cut a deal. Boyd couldn’t risk it.
Dead men couldn’t talk.
Five years, two months, two days. That’s how much time Tony had stolen from him.
Boyd stood in the middle of the cabin, in what some might call a “great room.” He wouldn’t call it great, it was hardly bigger than a shoe box. A tiny kitchen that consisted of a two-burner stove and a counter the size of a cutting board. The refrigerator was old and shorter than he was. A couch, a table, and three chairs. No television. No computer. What did these kids do with their time?
No one can disappear forever.
He’d been so close! How many hours did Tony have on them?
Not long. Boyd knew Tony better than anyone. On a normal day, Tony would never allow the children to leave with unmade beds. He had never served in the military, but he acted as if he had. The cabin was immaculate, everything in its place. That told Boyd that Tony had left after dark, woke the kids from sleep. He looked at his watch. It was nearly six in the morning. Eight hours … or less.
Less. Your contact told you that every morning before sunrise Tony drove to town alone.
Tony had seen something this morning. The predawn trek was recon, Boyd now realized.
Smart.
Bastard.
Tony could have left the country and lived like a king; instead he lived in this hovel. Why? Why had he taken his kids here, to this tiny town in Montana?
His phone rang and he stepped out of the pathetic cabin to answer it. “McIntyre.”
“It’s Joe. Tony hasn’t come to the ranch.”
“And?”
“And I thought you should know.”
“You call me to tell me you know nothing?”
Boyd would kick the imbecile in the balls if he were standing in front of him.
“I—”
“Call me if you see him or my kids, not before.” He ended the call. Worthless sack. “Theo,” Boyd called out. Theo came from around the back of the cabin. “Tony’s truck is here, he’s not. Does he have a second vehicle? Something we didn’t know about?” Which would really anger him. “How did he slip away if you had people watching?”
