Not Her Hero, page 5
She couldn’t believe that. They didn’t look alike, they didn’t act alike. She wouldn’t have believed they were brothers if Ray hadn’t taken her to Marc’s house.
Although, now she could see it. Not the physical resemblance—it just wasn’t there—but in the way Marc treated Ray. In the way Ray was submissive to Marc. Watching the two of them together, she was beginning to see how Ray could get lured into an organization like the Anarchy Boys.
He needed a place to belong. He needed a leader to guide him. And if his older brother had joined…
“Were you once a member of the Anarchy Boys?”
“No,” he said without looking at her.
The way he attempted to end conversations with abrupt answers that didn’t really answer anything was really quite annoying.
“How do you know so much about them if you weren’t ever a member?”
He moved ahead of her to take the lead, still holding Ray’s arm. “Once you’re in, you’re never getting out again. Mostly because they aren’t going to let you in unless they are 100 percent convinced you are onboard with their ideology.”
He stopped talking again.
“It’s really quite frustrating trying to have a conversation with you—has anyone ever told you that?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide for a moment before his lips quirked again and he turned his head back around like he didn’t want her to see him smile. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I get that a lot. I’m not really a great communicator.”
That last sentence felt like it held a great deal of weight, although she couldn’t say why.
“They know who you are,” Ray said, finally joining the conversation. “A couple of them remember you from high school.”
Marc shook his head.
“They say you chickened out.”
Marc’s shoulders tensed, and he didn’t speak for a long time. Whitney began to suspect he wasn’t going to respond to Ray’s comment.
“I guess, in a way, you could say I did,” Marc finally said.
“No shit?” Ray sounded awed. Probably that his brother would admit such a thing.
“Twenty years ago, they weren’t nearly as big as some of these militia groups are today. They weren’t as empowered. They still operated in the shadows, and they didn’t use websites as marketing tools. The reason for their existence was the same, though. They believed their government had wronged them in some way, and in their extreme opinions, they were convinced they had a right to do something about it.”
“Voting comes to mind,” Whitney quipped.
“You’re being logical, Governor,” Marc said. “That’s not a word in their vocabulary.”
He paused and then nodded at Ray. “The day they’re talking about, the day they claim I chickened out, I was actually scared they were going to win.”
“Win?” Ray repeated.
“Yeah. Convince me to join their ranks.”
“No shit.” Ray looked positively stunned.
For that matter, so was Whitney.
“They’d been recruiting me all through high school. Four years of resisting, four years of them making promises that would sway most teenage boys, but especially someone who lived like you and I did. There were nights I’d lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and work up a pro and con list. The pro side always outweighed the cons.”
Whitney couldn’t believe that. How was it possible that joining up with a bunch of government-hating thugs could be that tempting? She wanted to voice her opinion, but this felt like a potential bonding moment between brothers, so she stayed silent.
“What happened?” Ray asked.
Marc sighed. Whitney imagined that in his head, he could see that day as clearly as if it had been yesterday. “A couple of their recruiters cornered me, pressured me to go to a meeting. Just one meeting. See what it was all about. I had just graduated from high school and had no fucking clue what I was going to do the next day, let alone with my life. All I knew was I wanted out of this shithole town.”
He paused, then said, “Breathe, Governor.”
She let out a whoosh of air. Marc shook his head slightly like he might have momentarily forgotten she was there and he thought he was opening up only to his brother.
“I told them I wanted to think about it, and they kept pushing, saying the meeting location was secret and they needed to take me there right then or I couldn’t go. I was honestly conflicted. They promised everything I didn’t have: a brotherhood, friends, meaning to my life. They even made it sound like I’d be making a difference in the world.”
Whitney snorted.
“I hear you,” Marc said in response. “But when you don’t have any of that and you haven’t for your entire life, it’s like telling that kid who’s been standing out on the sidewalk, staring longingly at the display of toys in the window, that he can come inside and have whatever he wants. What kid would say no?”
“But you did,” Whitney reminded him.
“Want to know why I said no?” He glanced over his shoulder, and Whitney nodded. “Because I had a crush on this girl, and just when I worked up the nerve to ask her out, one of those guys who was recruiting me swooped in and hit on her first. He probably had no idea I even liked the girl, but back then, I was convinced he did it on purpose. And I was pissed. I didn’t want to join a brotherhood with that guy. That was it. That was the one sticking point that kept me from going to that meeting that night. If they’d sent any other guy to convince me…”
“My God,” Whitney whispered.
Marc shrugged. “I finally got annoyed with the pressure, so I told them to fuck off, and I went for a walk, just wandering aimlessly. Ended up standing in front of the army recruitment center. After a bit, this lady in a uniform came out and asked me if I needed help. I laughed. Literally, just laughed. She offered me a bottle of water and said I could sit down inside if I wanted. No pressure. So I did.
“People were coming and going from a back office the whole time I sat there. I asked her what was going on. She said they were getting ready to head off to boot camp, and they were making preparations. I asked her what happens at boot camp. She told me. A watered down version, naturally. And I thought, if I’m at boot camp, those fuckers can’t keep pressuring me. So I joined and shipped out eighteen hours later.”
Whitney stared at the back of his head. Her own head felt like it was going to explode, trying to sort through all this information. This guy, who seemed reasonably intelligent and confident, had avoided getting sucked into an anti-government hate group by a stroke of purely dumb luck.
Although now she understood why it felt as though he had been prepared for this situation. Or, more likely, any situation that was out of the norm.
“How long were you in?” She’d guess he was at least thirty, but beyond that, no clue. The man was aging well.
“Seventeen years.” That meant he was thirty-five. Five years younger than her.
“And you’re out now?”
“Yes.”
No additional explanation.
He chuckled. “I can feel you glaring at me.”
She blinked rapidly. “Um…”
“I told you, I’m not the best communicator.”
Except he’d just told her about how he’d avoided getting sucked into joining a militia hate group, although who was she kidding? That had been entirely for his brother.
He’d come back to save his brother.
That was why he’d gotten out of the service and returned to a town he had no love for, had probably been relieved to leave in the first place.
And she’d gotten caught in the crosshairs.
6
Marc couldn’t tell if his true confessions had gotten through to Ray. They’d affected the governor, though. Then again, it was easy for people who hadn’t been beaten down for their entire life to sympathize from the outside.
He tried to recall any personal information the news or online articles had given about the woman who should be running the state but was currently running from a bunch of asshole thugs with a point to prove. So they believed.
She was single. He was far too aware of that one. Some magazine had interviewed her a year or so ago, listing her as one of the most influential women in the state, and they’d asked why she wasn’t married. She’d shrugged and said it wasn’t a priority. The interviewer had persisted, asked if she was dating anyone. Whitney responded by pointing out that this was an article about her status as an influential business leader, so maybe they should focus on that.
He had no business wondering what sort of men she might want to date if given the opportunity. Because it was not men like him. Some ex-army chump who couldn’t even find a job.
Yeah, he needed to shake those thoughts out of his head and focus on getting her to safety—and ultimately, out of his life.
And yet, recollections regarding the personal information he’d read about her somewhere along the line persisted.
She was an only child—he’d read that in some bio posted somewhere when she’d been running for governor. Moved to Michigan when she was a kid; her dad was military. Dual parent household. She’d had no hard knocks growing up, at least, none the media had ever exploited. Pretty much the polar opposite of Marc and Ray.
He released his hold on Ray’s arm. His brother shot him a questioning look but quickly shifted his gaze back to watching where he was going.
Even though Marc wasn’t convinced he’d gotten through to Ray yet, he was reasonably certain the kid wouldn’t bolt. Unlike Marc, he didn’t know these woods, likely had no clue where they were right now.
As a surly teenager, Marc had taken to escaping to the woods to get away from whatever volatile situation was brewing with his mom or her latest boyfriend or the asshole kids at school. Ray, based on his emails, sat in his tiny, dark bedroom in Mom’s tiny, dark trailer and played video games. He emerged long enough to scrounge for food and bathe once in a while before retreating to a make-believe world in which a small piece of electronics equipment that fit in his hand allowed him to blow up AI-generated characters running around on the screen in front of him.
The kid probably had zero survival skills, whereas Marc had been trained by the finest government killing machine.
Which meant it was no surprise he heard that twig snap that possibly saved their lives.
Marc made a fist and lifted his arm, and luckily, even without military training, both Whitney and Ray understood and froze in place.
There it was again. Faint, so they weren’t too close, but someone else was definitely out here with them. This would mark the first time since he’d moved back to town that he was sharing these woods with another person, Ray and Whitney notwithstanding.
He held no illusion that it might be one of his neighbors or the guy who owned the deer camp on the edge of that cornfield a few miles away. Every time he’d made this trek, it had felt like the cornfield was on the other side of the state. Not because he was out of shape but because these woods seemed to go on forever. Until they abruptly didn’t.
Hopefully, this would play in their favor. Hopefully, whoever was following them didn’t know that.
He continued to stand still, kept his senses open, listening, scanning the shadowy terrain—
There. A flash of light.
The sun hadn’t entirely set yet—it was June in Michigan, so it would be pushing ten o’clock before it truly fell dark—but under the canopy of thick leaves created by these trees, it was plenty dark enough for someone who didn’t know these woods to need a flashlight.
Which would also play in their favor.
“We’re going to walk that way,” he whispered, pointing. “Try to be as quiet as possible, although we still need to hurry. There aren’t any lights for miles, and once it’s dark, even I will have a hard time figuring out my bearings in these woods.”
That had happened to him, once, when he first started exploring the area. That was how he knew there was a deer camp a few miles to the northeast.
And he knew, at this time of year, it would be empty.
Although he had revisited the site countless times since and knew the exact path to take, he zigzagged, took them west for a mile or so before adjusting and heading north, knowing they’d have to double back to get to their destination. But at least if anyone was following them, they’d have no clue where this group was going, and, even more important, would be unaware of the basic dwelling built on the edge of that cornfield, making it the perfect hunting camp.
He made his way through the wispy ferns that grew so prevalently here, the governor—no, she said to call her Whitney—following his lead without hesitation. He had to grab Ray’s arm again to pull him along. His brother definitely wasn’t swayed yet. This would be a hell of a lot easier if Ray were on his side.
They speed walked, trying, and failing, to make as little noise as possible. He kept glancing behind them, but he didn’t see another flash of light. After several long moments, he slowed his pace and focused on listening for any other sounds that might indicate where their pursuer was. If he didn’t hear or see anything this time, he’d make his way straight to the deer camp. They were fast running out of daylight now.
Whitney gasped and flung her arms in the air like she was being held at gunpoint. He whipped around, and sure enough, there was a guy with a gun, standing next to a massive oak tree. He wore camo from head to foot, including the neck gaiter that covered the bottom half of his face. He was probably sweating his balls off, but at least he could be assured his identity was safe, and come tomorrow, he could go back to his real life and no one would be the wiser that he’d been in the woods stalking the fucking governor of the state.
Marc shoved Ray at Whitney. “Don’t let him leave,” he commanded, watching the guy with the gun track Ray’s movements as he stumbled through the undergrowth.
Marc bum-rushed the guy, who landed on his ass in the brush, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He didn’t relinquish his hold on the gun like Marc had hoped. Instead, he used the butt to go on the attack. The thing caught Marc’s chin and slammed into his shoulder, which hurt like a motherfucker.
Pushing through the pain, Marc grabbed the gun and shoved it back at the guy, hitting his chest first and then his head twice, finally knocking him out.
His heart beating like mad courtesy of the surge of adrenaline, Marc wrapped the rifle sling around his shoulder and patted down the unconscious guy until he found a phone and the flashlight. Marc palmed the miniature computer and slammed it against the tree, letting the pieces fall to the dirt. Standing, he pocketed the flashlight and ground the heel of his boot into what was left of the phone to ensure any potential tracking device didn’t survive. Finally, he turned around.
To see Whitney and Ray struggling. One of them was trying to get away, although it was unclear from his perspective which one. Lunging forward, he grabbed them both and ripped them apart.
“What the fuck?” he snarled, shaking them both. “I’m over here getting headbutted by a rifle and you two are acting like children. Jesus, do you want to survive the night?”
Pushing them both forward, he added, “Let’s go. We need to get out of here in case that guy wasn’t working alone.”
Ray jerked his arm out of Marc’s hold, gave the governor a surly glare, and stomped away.
“This way,” Marc snapped, still too irritated to play nice.
Ray stopped, stood still for a long breath, and abruptly shifted course without sparing a glance for either him or the governor.
Whitney’s gaze dropped to Marc’s chin. He touched the pained spot, flexed his jaw.
“It’s fine,” he said, hoping to cut off any protest on her part.
“It’s not fine. It’s already bruising. It has to hurt like hell.”
“I’ve had worse. I’ll survive.”
“What about your shoulder?”
Damn, she was perceptive. He rotated his arm. “Like I said—”
“You’ll survive.”
He chuckled. “I really will. I promise.”
“I just don’t like the idea of you being in pain because of me.”
He didn’t like the way that statement warmed his insides. But that was a thought for another day. “I made this choice, remember? The easy route would have been to call the cops as soon as I realized who you were.”
He didn’t miss the sudden stiffness to Ray’s gait.
“They would have arrested you too,” she pointed out.
“I know.”
“I probably wouldn’t have helped your case.”
“I’m aware.”
“My opinion has changed, if that helps.”
He didn’t say anything.
“That aside, I know that isn’t why you didn’t call the cops.”
It was his turn to stiffen. Neither of them spoke again for several long moments.
Finally, Marc said, “Nope.”
7
“They aren’t following us anymore,” Marc said. They hadn’t heard another sound beyond those typical of a forest in the dark since he’d taken down Camo Guy.
Maybe Camo Guy had been working alone, although Marc doubted it. More likely, he charged into the woods without thinking when Marc and Ray and Whitney bolted, or he was sent after them, whoever making the call probably expecting him to easily catch them. Those guys didn’t know Marc or the governor at all, but they knew Ray, and no doubt were fully aware that he was not an outdoorsman.
No, wait. Ray said someone remembered Marc from high school. Which meant they probably realized he’d joined the army, so he had training for this kind of shit.
What did that make Camo Guy for heading into the woods alone? An idiot?
It was entirely dark now, but they were close enough to the edge of the forest that he could tell there was a full moon trying to light their way. There was a headlamp in that pack on the governor’s back, plus the flashlight he’d lifted from Camo Guy, but even though he was reasonably sure no one else was around, he wasn’t willing to use them. Just in case.
