Free Traveller's Refuge by Anny Cook Page B

pulled the woman’s gag down over her chin.
    Immediately, he decided that was a mistake. The litany of curses and threats that spewed from her mouth had him on Bishop’s side without any further explanations. He wrestled the gag back in place and prowled the darkened room in search of her purse. He might as well find out who she was. The flicker of his small flashlight caught a big red leather tote bag. Bingo.
    Like Bish before him, he simply dumped it out and pawed through the stuff until he found what he was looking for—a wallet with driver’s license that identified the woman as Tiffany DeMarko. Shit . He wondered if she was related to Carl. Probably. He flipped open the leather ID folder. More good news—she was FBI. Oh, joy! No wonder Bishop had her tied up. Traveller grinned. That had to be quite a rush to have a Fed tied to your bed.
    Well, now. This might work out even better. He flipped through her daybook, noting the lunch appointments with Free. Yeah, this was better than his plan to use Paullie. Tossing the book down in the tumbled pile on the floor, he went out and trotted down the stairs in search of a vehicle. He sure hoped Bishop still had that SUV stashed in the garage next door.
    Ten minutes later, he had the SUV loaded with his baggage and the things he considered necessities from Bish’s hidden basement. Little things like weapons, some camping gear and food were packed in the back of the squat black vehicle. He reclined the passenger seat and left the door open while he went back upstairs to retrieve Bish.
    Ignoring the angry noises Tiffany made through her gag, he grappled until he had Bish’s body in a secure fireman’s lift and carried him down to the truck. As a finishing touch, he turned off the alarms in Bish’s townhouse, unlocked both the front and back doors and went back into the neighboring building, locking everything in that building behind him when he returned to the garage. He tossed an afghan over Bishop’s body, tilted his head against the window as though he was sleeping and fastened the seat belt. When he was satisfied with his arrangements, Trav fastened his own seat belt, found the garage door opener, opened the door and cautiously backed out into the alley. The door rolled down and Trav drove away, heading for Bright Shadows Mountains.
    Hours later, near noon, Tiffany heard the heavy sound of men pounding up the stairs and squeezed her eyes shut in abject humiliation. When she next saw Bishop Llewellyn, she was going to kill him. Black-clad men, bristling with weapons piled into the bedroom jolting to a halt when they saw her. One by one, the men peeled back their masks and lowered their weapons. Then they did the unforgivable. They laughed.
    Tiffany mentally added them to her “kill” list.
    “Well, would you looky there,” one behemoth drawled. “A she-Fed all tied up and ripe for the plucking.”
    “Back off,” a gravelly growl behind them reproved but there wasn’t a noticeable change in the men’s attitudes as the owner of the voice moved closer to the bed and slowly surveyed Tiffany’s naked body with pursed lips. “I would guess, just off-hand, that Mr. Bishop Llewellyn knows who you are. Let us hope that his father does not.” His dark FBI windbreaker rippled as he planted his hands on his hips and stared at her.
    There was a heavy silence for a few moments before he sighed and moved to the bed to remove her gag. “Untie me!” she ordered sharply. When she was free, she rolled to her feet and groaned. “Get the fuck out of the way!” Shoving her colleague roughly to the side, she bolted past him into the bathroom and slammed the door. She heard the men’s rough laughter, even over the rush of her desperately emptying bladder. She was going to kill someone, she decided coldly and she might as well start with the jerks out in the bedroom.
    And Garrett Stone! Just wait until she slapped him with a sexual harassment suit. He wouldn’t find that so