“Something’s not right,” Edge said.

“No, it isn’t.” She turned to look at him. “We need to come back tonight.”

Edge nodded. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “My thought exactly.” He flicked her a glance. “It’s going to be interesting to see what Henson is hiding out there.”

“You think that’s it? He’s doing something illegal?”

“Maybe. Could be he’s just on a power trip—you know, like David Koresh or Jim Jones. Either way, it’s not good for your sister.”

“The real question is how do we get her out of there?”

“Yeah, and whether she’ll come willingly.” His electric blue eyes locked on her light green ones. “Doesn’t really matter. One way or another, your sister is going home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

BACK AT THE MOTEL, EDGE WORKED WITH SKYE ON HER LAPTOP FOR a while, pulling up a tax assessor’s map showing the size of the parcel of land, three hundred acres, where the church was located. She sent the map to the office printer for a copy, then pulled up ownership information, which turned out to be a corporation with a Denver address.

As afternoon became evening, Edge returned to his own room to change clothes. Dressing head to foot in black clothes from his go-bag, he grabbed a black bill cap and tugged it on, then headed out of the room. When Skye pulled open her door, he saw that she was dressed in a similar way: in black stretch jeans and a black pullover sweater.

They were both professionals. Neither of them needed to be told what to wear when you were going on a night mission. They would be trespassing on someone’s property. They had no idea what they would be facing when they got there. With luck, they could get in and out without being seen, but there were no guarantees.

“You ready?” Edge asked.

Skye nodded. She had pulled her dark hair into a high ponytail, then covered it with a black wool cap. Her Glock 19 rode in a holster clipped to her belt. Her tight-fitting clothes outlined her curves, and arousal slid through him.

Damn. He did not need this right now. Unfortunately, his body disagreed.

They headed out to the car. Edge carried some basic gear in a canvas bag in the small space that passed for a trunk in the Nissan: a backpack, black face paint, a pair of black leather gloves, a pair of Night Owl Nexgen night vision binoculars, bolt cutters, a set of lock picks, and miscellaneous other items.

He wished he’d tossed in body armor for the two of them. The gate guard was carrying a semiauto. Good chance other men were, too. A drone fitted with a night-vision camera would have been useful.

“Tonight we’ll just be collecting information,” Edge said. “If we have to go in and physically bring Callie out, we’ll need more equipment and a workable plan.”

“You think we’ll be able to talk to her tonight?”

“Depends on what we find when we get in there.”