Free Brother by Ania Ahlborn

hands while Reb studied the green-shuttered house through his binoculars. Michael didn’t like this part of the job. Scoping out marks involved a lot of waiting, sometimes in the blazing heat of the car—but he did like it here. Maybe it was the songbirds. There were tons of them in West Virginia, but it seemed that there was a greater concentration in this particular corner of the mountains. He closed his eyes and considered the possibility. Maybe there was magic in this spot. The thing that drew the birds to this location was probably what made him feel so at ease as well.
    But just as he began to drift, Reb’s impatience jolted him awake.
    â€œLet’s go.” His words were gruff, testy.
    Michael blinked his eyes open. He shot his brother a questioning glance, then turned his attention back to the little house below them with a curious look. He expected to see the woman sliding out the front door with her romance novel and a cold can of soda, but the yard was empty. The house looked abandoned, and with the garage closed, there was no telling whether she was home or someplace else.
    â€œYou saw her?” Michael asked.
    That was the number one rule when hunting sedentary marks: Reb and Michael had to get a visual, establish the routine. It was their job to know when the mark came and went. How long they stayed out. How long they slept. Who they knew, and who would care if that person suddenly vanished off the face of the earth. Drifters were easier. That’s why their prime targets were wayward girls hitching rides along empty highways. They didn’t have to establish a damn thing when it came to transients. Even if those girls did have family, it didn’t matter. Hitchhiking came with risks, and someone shoving them into the trunk of a car was one of them.
    â€œI don’t see her,” Michael murmured, reaching for the binoculars. “Where is she?”
    â€œI don’t care,” Reb said. “I’m tired of waitin’. We’re leavin’.”
    â€œWe’re givin’ her up?” Michael’s fingers slid along the strap of the binoculars, tugging it lightly so that Rebel would let him see, but Reb wasn’t in the mood. He jerked the binoculars away from Michael’s hand and sat up in plain view, throwing caution to the wind.
    â€œDid I say we’re givin’ her up? No, I didn’t.”
    â€œBut we’re leavin’?”
    It didn’t make sense. Michael knew Reb was still sore about the whole thing with Momma from the night before. But abandoning their post would put them behind schedule, and being behind schedule put Misty Dawn at risk.
    Rebel stood, dusted off the seat of his jeans, and began to stalk down the hill toward the car. Michael stared at him from where he lay on his belly, somehow convinced that Reb wasn’t serious even though he was walking away. A mild form of panic set in when his brother put twenty paces between them. ­Michael skittered down the slope so he was out of view of the house, sat up, and stopped him with an almost pleading remark.
    â€œBut we can’t .”
    Reb twisted to look over his shoulder. “Stay out here, then,” he said. “I’ll come back for you in a couple of days.”
    The suggestion was enough to make Michael scramble to his feet, his pulse banging against the interior of his skull. “We’ve gotta clear this,” he said. “Either that or find someone else.”
    Rebel didn’t look back this time. He raised his voice while tromping away. “Don’t you worry. It’s clear.”
    Michael rushed after him, sure that Reb really would leave him out there if he didn’t follow. It scared him that what they were about to do would put them both in a bad situation.
    â€œHow can it be clear?” he asked, catching up. “We’ve only been out here one time before this, Reb. We don’t know nothin’ about