Rules in Rescue

by Nichole Severn

  Alaskan temperatures battled with her natural heat. He memorized the feel of her pressed against him all over again. The rise and fall of her shoulders intensified the friction between them. He had to concentrate on the operation—on getting his son back—and not the fact she’d lied to him for close to five years. “Jamie Mascaro outmaneuvered us this time. It won’t happen again.”

  “Well, I wish that made me feel better.” Pulling back slightly, she wiped at her eyes. Strands of hair escaped from the tight braid at the back of her head, all evidence of the controlled, emotionally distant investigator a distant memory. Love did that sometimes, had a way of breaking even the strongest person in two, and he had no doubt in that moment: Glennon was breaking. “The meeting is in a couple hours, and I doubt Bennett will wait back at the cabin much longer. We need to get moving.”

  “We’re going to get our son back, Glennon, and, after we do, you and I are going to finish this conversation,” he said.

  She nodded. Twisting around, she headed toward the house. Then froze. She drew her service weapon at the sight of the busted front door, rushing forward. “Mom?”

  “No.” Anthony caught her by the arm and pulled her back, then unholstered his Beretta. He trusted his instincts. Jamie Mascaro already had what she wanted: leverage. The new head of her husband’s operation didn’t have any reason to leave operatives behind, but he wasn’t going to risk Glennon going inside without him surveying the property first. He nodded to the west side of the house. There’d always been a chance Helen Chase would become a target, but he honestly prayed for the operatives who tried to take her out. “Get behind me.”

  She maneuvered into position, gun in hand, close on his heels.

  He led them around the back of the house, senses on high alert. Snow crunched under his boots as he spotted a path of three distinct sets of footprints. Anthony raised his left hand, signaling for Glennon to stop. Three-man team. Their tracks headed toward the front of the house, originating from the tree line. The perfect approach, seeing as how there weren’t any windows on this side of the house. Helen never would’ve seen them coming. However, one set had deviated from formation, forging a path to the breaker box. He crouched near the box and picked up a severed padlock.

  “What is it?” Moonlight cast Glennon’s shadow over his shoulder.

  “They cut the power to the house.” He tossed the padlock back into the snow. “And to Helen’s alarm system.” He straightened. These bastards had taken his son. Orders be damned, he’d make them pay. But first, they had to get to Helen. She was the only one who might be able to give them a lead on where Mascaro had taken his son. “Let’s go.”

  They cleared the backyard. No movement. No sign of an impending ambush. Testing the back-door screen, Anthony reached for one of the blades tucked into his arsenal and cut through the aluminum mesh. The door was secure. If they played their cards right, there wouldn’t be reason for anyone still inside to think it wasn’t secure. They could surprise these bastards, finally gain the upper hand. And maybe secure some leverage of their own.

  “Wait.” Glennon reached over him and into the light fixture to his right. A moment later she handed him a key. He stared down at her but she only shrugged. “My mother hid a spare key out here in case one of my friends needed a place to stay. Guess she forgot about it.”

  Anthony inserted the key into the lock and twisted the doorknob. Letting his Beretta lead, he shouldered his way inside. He fought to adjust to the darkness. One. Two. Three seconds was all the time he needed before ice ran through his veins. The house had been destroyed, every inch littered with debris, bullet casings, glass. And blood.

  A sharp gasp reached his ears from behind. Glennon.

  His grip tightened on the gun. Damn it, he shouldn’t have brought her in here. She’d already lost her son. Who knew what else they were about to find. If Mascaro’s people had laid a hand on Helen, they’d wish they had killed him back in that parking garage. They had to find her. Fast. Anthony nodded toward the living room. The team had come through the front door, straight into the living room. If they were going to find anything—anyone—it’d be there.

  Following the trail of debris through the kitchen, he slowed his movements so as not to shift the evidence. The second they secured Helen, he’d call in Vincent Kalani. Blackhawk’s forensic expert would lead them to the men responsible for this mess, and Anthony would take it from there.

  Moonlight highlighted the origin of the battle. Bookcases overturned. Sofas losing their cushioning through bullet holes. The coffee table tipped on its side. The space had transformed into the complete opposite of his last memories in this room. Memories of Hunter.

  Movement claimed his attention on the left.

  A shotgun blast exploded from the darkness. Arcing wide, it barely missed his right arm.

  Anthony pulled Glennon to the floor with him, ready for another shot. Hiking his weapon up and over his head, he aimed for the shooter taking cover behind the last remaining bookcase. His ears rang. His heart beat hard at the back of his skull. Next chance he got, he’d take the shot.

  “No, don’t shoot!” Glennon climbed over his legs and wrapped one hand around his wrist. Her breath fanned across his neck, raising goose bumps along his overheated skin. “Mom, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Glennon.”

  Shadows shifted behind the bookcase. “They took him.” Flat, strained words. “I did everything I could. I shot one of them. But the other two...they...took him right out of my arms.”

  Relief flooded through him. Helen was alive. Shoving to his feet, Anthony lowered his weapon as Glennon rushed to her mother. He scanned the rest of the living room. Television destroyed. Area rug covered in glass and...a blue blanket decorated with monsters. Stained with blood.

  The sound of glass shifting across the hardwood floor broke through the silence from behind him. Every muscle in his body tensed. They weren’t alone. One of Mascaro’s operatives had stayed behind after all. His fingers tightened around the gun. He spun on his heel.

  “Anthony?” Glennon helped her mother into a nearby chair.

  Closing the distance, Anthony caught sight of one of the intruders fighting to crawl to the safety of the front door. Not a chance in hell. He lunged for the operative. Gripping the man’s Kevlar, Anthony forced the bastard to his feet and slammed him into the nearest wall. A groan escaped the guy’s throat. Rage boiled beneath Anthony’s skin. The edges of his vision darkened, focusing on his prey. “Where did they take him?”

  A white smile disrupted the smear of blood across the soldier’s face. No answer.

  Pulling the intruder toward him, he placed the barrel of his gun under the guy’s chin and clicked off the Beretta’s safety. “Where?”

  “Anthony.” Glennon rushed into his peripheral vision. But she wouldn’t be able to talk him down. Not this time.

  Blood dripped onto his boots. Helen had been right. She’d hit the bastard all right. And Anthony would let him bleed out in the middle of the entryway if the son of a bitch didn’t start talking soon.

  Glennon approached slowly, her service weapon aimed. “This one’s mine.”

  * * *

  ONE SHOT. That was all it had taken to get Hunter’s location out of the shooter. And with a single call to Bennett, they finally had the upper hand. They were going to end this nightmare once and for all.

  Anthony shoved the SUV into Park along the dirt road. “We’re here.”

  “Good.” This was it. Up ahead, a small wooden shed sat in the middle of dried weeds and tall dead trees off to the left. The sun had gone down, but clear tire tracks dug uneven paths along the road. For an abandoned water shed, the area had obviously been used recently. Anticipation surged through her. According to Mascaro’s man, her son was being held in that shed until further instruction. This could all be over in a few minutes.

  But...

 
She checked the burner phone Anthony had supplied, rolling her lips between her teeth.

  “No word from Bennett. He should’ve been here by now.” Had he changed his mind about turning himself over to Mascaro? Her rib cage tightened. Glennon leaned forward in her seat, fingernails digging into the soft leather. They’d parked a few hundred feet from the shed, but even from this distance there should’ve been some evidence Hunter was in that building. Lights. Guards. Cameras. Vehicles. And where the hell was Bennett? Dread pooled in her stomach. This was wrong. It was too quiet. “This doesn’t feel right. Bennett should be here by now.”

  “It’s a trap.” Anthony’s voice dipped an octave. Gaze cutting to the rearview mirror, he reached for his weapon. “Get down!”

  The back window shattered.

  Glennon launched forward. A flash grenade landed in the back seat and she rushed to cover her ears. In vain. Her vision brightened into nothing but white as an explosion robbed her of her hearing. Pings of sound registered through the ringing in her ears. Gunshots? She couldn’t be sure, feeling blindly for the weapon she’d dropped onto the floor.

  A blast of Alaskan air rushed against her a split second before rough hands pulled her from the SUV. Snow and dead weeds crunched beneath her as she hit the ground. Muted voices echoed around her as she was wrenched to her feet and pushed forward. She tumbled into the side of the SUV, the grenade affecting her balance. She blinked to clear her vision. Two seconds. Three. Shadows shifted in front of her but she couldn’t make them out. “Where is my son?”

  Another push.

  She landed on all fours, rocks and ice cutting into her palms. Her vision cleared in small increments, revealing five armed operatives in front of her, but a flash of headlights kept their identities shadowed. The ringing in her ears lessened as another soldier zip-tied her wrists behind her back. Pain splintered across her wounded shoulder, eliciting a groan from her throat, and she clamped down hard on her back teeth.

  Anthony landed on his knees beside her, the stain of blood thick in his hairline.

  She fought against the zip ties. “Anthony—”

  “Grab Hunter as soon as you can and run. Don’t worry about me.” His voice leveled out. Deep. Dark. Dangerous. Where fire usually blazed in his blue eyes, coldness stared back at her and her breath caught.

  “Sergeant Chase, I thought I made myself perfectly clear.” A woman, presumably Jamie Mascaro, stepped around one of the vehicles and in front of the headlights. Her heeled boots wobbled on the uneven terrain, long hair shifting over her shoulder. “You were to bring me Sergeant Spencer at the designated meeting point alone.”

  “Where is he? Where is my son?” Plastic cut deep into her wrists the more she struggled, but she wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t give in.

  Jamie Mascaro stepped forward. “You broke our deal—”

  “Where is he!” Glennon lunged to her feet, but a hand on her injured shoulder shoved her back to her knees.

  A predatory growl reached her ears a split second before Anthony twisted around. A flash of metal caught her eye as the operative holding him collapsed. Unconscious or dead, she didn’t know. Did it matter? Headlights highlighted the thin layer of sweat on Anthony’s cheeks, his expression perfectly cold. Perfectly dangerous. A single step toward her raised goose bumps along her neck and arms. “Get your damn hands off her or wind up like your friend here.”

  The soldier backed off.

  Her throat dried on her next inhale. Wrenching away from the grip on her shoulder, she left the soldier at her back to fend for himself as Jamie Mascaro signaled for the other four armed men to stand down. The zip ties fell to the ground with a swipe of Anthony’s blade. Glennon fought the urge to rub at the raw skin, collected the assault rifle at her feet and aimed for Jamie Mascaro. “You have five seconds to bring me my son, or I give the signal for Sergeant Spencer to put a bullet in your head.”

  Such a lie. Bennett wasn’t a sniper and she still hadn’t heard from him, but she had to try something. She had no doubt Anthony could take down a couple of Jamie Mascaro’s operatives, but the two of them against five armed men with assault rifles? Not a chance. She needed to see Hunter. Make sure he was okay. She could figure out the rest later.

  “You think I didn’t know about your little reconnaissance mission?” A high-pitched laugh drifted across the dirt. Jamie Mascaro angled her head over her shoulder, nodding once. A soldier to her left circled around one of the vehicles and reached inside, extracting a zip-tied man from the back seat.

  Glennon narrowed her gaze, her fingers tightening around the gun’s stock. The man’s size, stature, even his walk, revealed his identity before the headlights did. Restrained, bruised and bloodied, he stared straight at her through swollen eyelids as her stomach flipped. “Bennett.”

  They’d captured him. The investigation against Mascaro’s operation, the evidence, all of it depended on him. Without Bennett, she couldn’t close this case. Without him...she had nothing. Jamie Mascaro was going to kill him, and the army would be forced to drop the investigation. She’d walk free. But then why was Jamie Mascaro still here? She had what she wanted.

  The gunman shoved Bennett down onto his knees.

  “Move.” Anthony pushed the operative behind her forward. Dust clouded the streak of headlights shining on them, but she caught sight of the blade at the soldier’s throat clearly. “You have three seconds to bring out the boy or I start gutting your men one by one.”

  Another laugh reached her ears. Jamie Mascaro hiked a hand to her waist. “Oh, I like you. Need a job, Ranger? The pay is phenomenal.”

  Glennon shifted her weight between her feet. Coldness worked down into her bones. The snake already had what she wanted. What more could she—

  The realization hit hard, the air rushing from her lungs as though she’d taken a punch to the stomach. Ice worked through her. Jamie Mascaro wasn’t just after Bennett Spencer. The new head of the operation wanted more. “We had a deal.”

  “One,” Anthony said.

  “A deal that you broke, Sergeant Chase. Granted, I planned on breaking it to begin with, but you beat me to the punch. Now we’re going to strike a new deal. One you won’t be able to back out of.” The woman came closer, balancing on those impractical heeled boots. High-arched eyebrows, thin lips and piercing eyes came into focus. “Bring out the boy.”

  Every muscle along Glennon’s spine tensed. She swallowed back the tightness in her throat. Seconds passed. A full minute. She scanned the ring of vehicles, covering the glare of headlights with one hand as she squinted past the brightness. Where was he?

  Anthony stilled, waiting, with the soldier still struggling in his grip. But the bastard was no match for her Ranger. No one was.

  A small outline rushed from between the vehicles but was held back by one of Jamie Mascaro’s men. “Mommy!”

  “Hunter.” Glennon took a step forward, ready to risk going up against assault rifles and the men carrying them to get to him. She dropped the gun to her side. He didn’t need to see her holding a weapon. He was scared enough. “I’m here, baby. This will all be over soon.”

  “Let go!” The four-year-old swiped at the soldier holding on to him, but the hits didn’t faze Mascaro’s man.

  Hers would. And the second she had the chance, she’d take every single one of them out.

  “You’re right. This will all be over soon.” Jamie Mascaro raised a gun of her own, a small Ruger she’d hidden in her coat pocket, and aimed. At Anthony. “But not for you, Sergeant Chase. I want to get to know you better.”

  With a direct hit to the soldier in his hold, Anthony knocked the operative unconscious.

  Glennon’s heart worked to explode out of her chest.

  Anthony discarded his hostage into the snow, and stepped between her and Jamie Mascaro. Always the protector. Always putting her first. “You’re out of your damn mind if you th
ink a bullet from you will stop me from getting to that boy.”

  Nausea rolled through her. Then rage. Hell no, it wouldn’t. Anthony would fight until the job was finished, bullet wounds be damned. But... She couldn’t lose him. Not again. “You want Sergeant Spencer in exchange for my son—” she took a deep, cleansing breath, Mascaro’s intentions crystal-clear now “—and you want me in exchange for Sergeant Major Harris.”

  The weight of Anthony’s wide gaze compressed the air in her lungs. “Not happening.”

  “You’re one of the few people who know who I am.” Jamie Mascaro held the Ruger steady. “And I can’t have you running around revealing my identity. If word got out who was running my husband’s operation...” She cocked her head to one side. “Let’s just say I worked too long and too hard to overthrow Nicholas to lose allies because I’m a woman.”

  Sweat dripped down Glennon’s spine. Her mouth dried. “The deal you made. It was a setup from the beginning. You weren’t ever planning on letting me go home with my son.”

  “Well, I am a criminal, Sergeant Chase. You had to see it coming,” Mascaro said.

  Hunter for Bennett. Anthony for her. Glennon straightened a bit more. Judging by the way the woman’s hand shook holding the gun up for this long, she could take out Jamie Mascaro, no problem. The woman wasn’t a soldier. She’d just taken control of her husband’s criminal organization. Glennon would be cutting off the head of the snake. But... Her shoulders sank. There was no guarantee Mascaro’s men wouldn’t follow through with their orders. That left Anthony, Bennett and Hunter all at risk. A risk she couldn’t afford.

  “Glennon,” Anthony said, “don’t even think about it. We’ll find another way.”

  He could always read her. That was what made him so damn good at his job. She focused on Hunter struggling to get free of the armed soldier behind him, then memorized everything she could about the operative. When she had the chance, she’d make him pay for putting his hands on her son.