“I’ll contact Raeburn and let him know. You drive faster. We need to get there before they kill each other.”

“And Liza.” Tom floored the gas.

TWAIN, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY, MAY 30, 3:45 P.M.

This is far enough, DJ thought once they were roughly an hour past the last big town on the way to Eden. This route was very remote and he hadn’t seen another vehicle in at least a half an hour. There was a steep rock face to his left and a deep ravine to his right. There was also a pull-off with enough foliage to camouflage the SUV.

He rolled to a stop as close to the edge of the ravine as he dared. Edges sometimes crumbled, and he had no desire to go plummeting a hundred feet to his death.

Liza Barkley looked around, too alert for his liking. She’d served in the military, which meant she had fighting skills. She’d been silent ever since Pastor had informed her that she’d be their healer, seeming to accept that she wasn’t going to be able to turn them against each other, but he wasn’t going to take his eyes off her. She was trouble.

Of course, the damage was already done. Pastor had believed her about Mercy and the old man was unhappy.

Which doesn’t matter. Because neither Pastor nor Liza would live to see Eden. When he was done with Pastor, the old man would be dead and DJ would be fifty million richer. And he wouldn’t have to share it with the community or Coleen or Pastor’s damn banker.

“Why are we stopping?” Pastor asked sleepily, having just woken.

So I can kill you. “So I can pee.” He needed to get the lay of the land before he shot them. Dragging that drunk to the creek the night before had reinjured his shoulder. He needed to find a place to shoot them where he could just push them into the ravine.

And he really did need to pee, so there was that.

He was zipping up his jeans when he heard an approaching engine. “Shit,” he muttered. He hunkered down, waiting for the vehicle to pass by.

But it didn’t. It slowed down. And then it stopped.

Fuck, fuck. It was Kowalski’s Jeep.

Motherfucking Kowalski. He followed me. How?

Both front doors opened and DJ recognized the passenger as another of Kowalski’s minions. He and Kowalski strolled up to the Explorer like they owned it. The minion yanked Barkley from the front seat and Kowalski pulled Pastor from the back, holding the old man against his chest, a forearm pressed to Pastor’s throat.

What the fucking hell?

“Where is DJ?” Kowalski demanded.

“He went up the rock face to get a cell signal,” Pastor said weakly, and DJ was reluctantly impressed. Pastor didn’t bat an eye as he lied. His face was sheet-white and he was putting his weight on his unbroken leg.

“Fine,” Kowalski said. “I’ll deal with him later, wherever he is. Who’s the girl?”