Page 108 of Steel Vengeance

By the time they arrived, it was dark. The driver from the Texas office killed the lights and parked behind a clump of trees, out of sight.

Stitch, Pat, and another agent approached the cabin, guns drawn.

Pat, who was leading, suddenly stopped and raised a hand. Stitch peered over his shoulder.

Lights.

There was someone inside.

Maybe Sullivan had decided to stay the night and make his run for the border tomorrow. It was dark, after all, and he probably thought he was safe.

The cabin was well hidden. Not even Sullivan’s ex-wife knew it existed.

A sharp CIA analyst had dug through a property purchase from thirty-two years ago. When the analyst contacted Sullivan’s ex-wife, she said the cabin had been sold after her mother passed away five years ago. That much was true, but the buyer was one of Sullivan’s dummy corporations.

A tangled web of deceit that led right back to Matthew Sullivan.

“Let’s check it out,” Stitch said.

They split up and circled the cabin. When they regrouped, the agent said, “I see two people inside. You?”

“Same,” confirmed Pat.

Stitch nodded.

Parked outside was a powerful, black SUV. Stitch felt the hood. It was cold. “They’ve been here a while,” he whispered.

“So, what now?” the CIA agent asked the two former SEALs.

“They’re probably armed,” Stitch said.

Pat nodded. “I’m not looking for another shoot-out.”

“We could wait until they come out, then arrest them as they get into the car,” the agent suggested.

It wasn’t a bad idea.

But Stitch had something different in mind. “How about we lure them out?”

Pat narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“A little diversion, maybe?” He nodded toward the getaway vehicle.

The agent pursed his lips. “I’ll see what we’ve got in the trunk.”

He returned with a can of fuel, some old newspapers, and a lighter. “Will this do?”

“Perfect,” Stitch said.

Once Sullivan was out in the open, he was bound to fight back. Stitch was counting on it. He needed a reason to take the bastard down.

Pat doused the SUV while Stitch stuffed paper up the exhaust and under the carriage. It wouldn’t do much damage, but it would burn harder.

The agent lit the fire, and they stepped back as the flames started to lick at the car.

Stitch kept his eyes on the cabin. He’d seen enough flames to last a lifetime.

He wondered how Sloane was doing. His chest warmed at the thought. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but he had to finish this, or she’d never be safe.