Callie hugged her back, blue eyes full of tears. “Thank you for coming. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Later,” Edge said flatly, motioning them toward the door at the rear of the barn.

They were outside and moving fast toward the hole in the fence, Callie stumbling, Skye holding onto her, keeping her upright, Edge behind, protecting against threats from the rear.

They’d almost made it to the fence when one of the guards stepped out of the shadows right in front of Callie, the barrel of his big semiauto just inches from Callie’s heart.

“You move and I shoot her.” He was dark-skinned and thick-chested, his face pockmarked and cruel.

Callie made a sound in her throat and started to tremble. Skye didn’t doubt the man would pull the trigger. The grim pleasure on his face said he was enjoying himself.

“Drop your weapon,” he demanded.

Skye’s heart pounded, and her fingers felt numb. She forced herself not to search for Edge or the second guard as she set her Glock on the ground in front of her. She caught the flash of Edge’s blade, though he had ducked out of sight into the shadows.

Before Skye could stop her, Callie exploded into action, shoving aside the barrel of the pistol, then hurling herself toward the grim-faced guard. Trusting Trace to have the man in his sites, Skye shoved Callie out of the way, and both of them hit the ground. Trace fired, and blood erupted on the front of the pockmarked man’s chest as he crumpled into the dirt.

Skye spotted the second guard just as Edge stepped out of the shadows. His knife flashed as he pressed it against the man’s throat. “Drop your weapon.”

The guard, tall and hard-muscled, with a scar bisecting one black eyebrow, made no move to comply.

Edge’s blade carved a thin line across the man’s throat. “I said, Drop your weapon.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE GUN FELL TO THE GROUND WITH A CLATTER. “HENSON WILL SEE you dead for this.”

With Skye back on her feet, her Glock zeroed in on the guard with the scarred eyebrow, Edge slid his knife back into the scabbard on his thigh. In seconds, they had the guy zip-tied, hand and foot, and solidly gagged. Edge dragged him behind the metal toolshed near the garden.

He glanced at Skye. “Go.”

Glock in hand, Skye urged Callie forward, and Edge fell in behind them. Someone must have heard something because an alarm roared to life, crackling through the air as if there were an escape from Folsom State Prison.

As Skye and Callie ducked through the hole in the fence, half-dressed men carrying pistols and AR-15s streamed out of their houses. With the guards down, the men had no idea which way to run and scattered like roaches around the compound.

The confusion gave them a few extra seconds, not much more.

Edge followed Skye through the fence, then took a position in the ravine to provide cover for her and Callie as they made their way back to the Yukon.