Silent Truth

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “He told me you’d die trying to save me,” she yelled in a stronger voice, determined to negotiate. “He said—”

  “Forget him. Do what I say.” Keeping her alive was not negotiable. He walked his feet against the wall, stopping next to the bomb, and tied off with what slack rope he could pull up. “Look straight ahead,” he ordered.

  Twelve… eleven seconds. Disarming the device would be easy. If he had tools.

  He reached for his knife. “Abbie, get ready.”

  “For what?”

  Ten… nine.

  “To fall.” He cut the rope sling holding her and grabbed the anchor attached to the bomb as her weight yanked him back.

  She screamed when she fell.

  His hand slipped off the anchor.

  Six seconds… five.

  Lunging up against the dead weight towing him down, his fingers hooked on metal. He released the tension clip and yanked the bomb and anchor free, flinging the deadly pair away. “Cover your ears!”

  The bomb detonated. Compression and heat boiled off the explosion, but far away from Abbie. “Baby, you okay?”

  He didn’t hear anything. “Abbie, goddammit, talk to me.”

  “I’m okay,” she yelled.

  He started breathing again and almost laughed at her angry tone until she got quiet again.

  “But… you can’t get back up with me,” she said in a small voice. Her terror traveled easily in the empty night air, but it didn’t stop her. “He told me… how your friend died. That I had to—”

  “Abbie, stop.”

  “—untie my rope…”

  “Don’t you fucking do that!” Hunter couldn’t live through this again. “Don’t… baby, please, oh, God, please trust me. I can get us both out of here.”

  She was wheezing, close to hyperventilating. “How?”

  “Just give me a minute. Don’t quit on me now.” His voice shook, the words coming out in a rough croak. Something sure and strong blazed in his mind. She needed to know why she could trust him. “I love you. I can’t lose you.”

  But had the bastard jury-rigged the rope sling so that the loops around her waist would come loose? Hunter couldn’t think that way.

  “Hunter—”

  “Please… don’t leave me.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either.”

  He dropped his head against the rope, getting his breath back. “Then hold on. My team will get us out of here.”

  Reaching around, he got his hands on the trailing rope and pulled with everything he had, lifting her slowly to him.

  When she got closer, he called out in a voice thick with worry, “Give me your hand.”

  He pulled up another foot of rope, and another.

  Her fingertips touched his arm. He grabbed her arm, hauling her up to him with a burst of adrenaline. She was sobbing and terrified and alive.

  He had her wrapped in his arms and wasn’t letting go.

  Mako and the other two agents weren’t really his team, but Joe and Tee expected—no, demanded—all their agents to work as a unit of one in any situation. Hunter could now see how much space Joe and Retter had allowed him to prove he could be a team player for the past four years.

  He’d failed miserably. And going rogue to find the killer had sealed his fate.

  Joe wouldn’t suffer that with any agent.

  Once Hunter got off this mountain, he’d find out the extent of his penalties and pay them without a word of complaint.

  “It’s okay, baby. They’re coming,” Hunter assured her, even though Mako’s first duty was to secure the prisoner. Might be another half hour, but he’d talk her through this.

  “Ready to come up, asshole?” someone shouted from the top. Lights appeared overhead and Mako peered down at him, his big grin in place. He had extra rope looped over his arm.

  Being called asshole had never sounded so good.

  But what about Todd and his family in Chicago?

  Chapter Forty-four

  Retter kept checking his watch, willing it to slow down and help Korbin, who had gained a slight edge from the learning curve after disarming the first bomb. He’d just called an all-clear on the third bomb in less than two minutes, but the first one had cost nine.

  People had scattered faster than ants from a disturbed anthill from the Clark Street Bridge, but thousands were clogging downtown Chicago in a mad dash to exit. The roar of voices competed with sirens coming from all directions.

  Korbin could do this. Had to come through.

  When Joe had brought the cocky demolitions expert into BAD two years back, Retter withheld his opinion of the former stunt professional until he’d had a chance to observe Korbin in action during a mission in Chechnya.

  Korbin ran so cool when he worked he could freeze lava.

  Gotthard had joked that Korbin lived on a diet of ice water and available women.

  One female might be too available. Retter hadn’t determined if Korbin and Rae had hooked up or not. Something he’d deal with later.

  The ping of a bullet striking metal sounded clearly at the same time as Korbin’s yell. “Incoming fire.”

  A second shot rang out.

  “Shooter low on the north side,” Rae called, already racing along the parking area below the south side of the bridge. She wheeled and shot out lights along the bridge to give Korbin the cover of darkness first, then she took out the lights above her.

  “Find him, Drake.” Retter issued the order, then ran down the drive from the bridge and joined Rae in the parking zone to better cover Korbin.

  With so many civilians around, no agent could return fire unless he or she had a clear shot.

  “I’m at number four,” Korbin said.

  Retter used his thermal imaging scope to sweep over the north bank, looking for a heat signature from the next flash. He told Rae, “You keep watch for the flash; I’m going to take a look at Korbin’s position.”

  “I’m on it.” She swept her rifle systematically across the opposite bank.

  “Number four disarmed,” Korbin said a minute later, calm and controlled.

  Retter watched Korbin’s heat signature swing toward the last bomb, his body fully exposed.

  A shot pierced the night.

  Rae called into the headset, “Second floor, two o’clock from the bridge.”

  Korbin’s body jerked. He cursed. The bullet had hit him.

  “How bad are you?” Retter called.

  “I’ll make it,” Korbin ground out.

  Rae held her weapon steady, watching.

  The next shot hit a steel beam on the bridge, then she fired and cursed. “He moved. Drake, you got him?”

  Shots echoed, striking metal… then no ping against metal.

  Korbin cursed, livid. He’d been hit again, but there was nothing any of them could do except find the shooter.

  A shot exploded from the other bank. “Got the fucker,” Drake called out. “Terminated.”

  Korbin stopped moving forward on the bridge. He was at the last bomb. Retter checked his watch. Seventy seconds until 10:00 PM. If the bullet wounds hadn’t incapacitated Korbin, Retter estimated he could disarm the last bomb in sixty seconds, maybe less—

  “Last one’s activating,” Korbin yelled. “Get away from the bridge.”

  Rae swung around and ran toward the damn bridge.

  Retter ran after her, yelling, “Rae!”

  She looked back at Retter. The explosion threw her off her feet sideways.

  Retter stumbled, watching in disbelief. The far end of the bridge shot up in the air, twisting, powerful steel sections wrenching and screeching. Windows of towering buildings on that side of the river blew into the offices. The smell of chemicals and sulfur stung the air. Concrete foundation buckled on the north side of the bridge.

  The mangled half of the bridge that had lifted up hung suspended for an eerie second, then crashed downward, slamming the Chicago River.

  Displaced water exploded upward, a violent
wave busting over the bank.

  Silence followed so suddenly it was jarring.

  Rae jumped up from where she’d fallen, screaming, “Korbin!” She started running for the bridge. “Korbin!”

  Retter dove and tackled her to the ground. “Stop, dammit.”

  “What happened to Korbin?” She rolled over, fought him, beating his arms away, but Retter wouldn’t let go.

  “We’ve got agents on the other side, Rae.”

  She finally stopped fighting him. Her breaths came out ragged in the grip of agony, but she nodded. “Right. Call ‘em.”

  Retter let her up and jumped to his feet. She’d lost her earpiece when she went down. He spoke into the mic and had to cup his ear to hear. “North bank report. Where are you?” He listened, then slowly turned to look across the river.

  Rae stepped forward, eyes tracking toward the same spot as if she could will the answer she wanted.

  Sunn flicked a light on and off to pinpoint his position on the north bank.

  She grabbed Retter’s arm. “What about—”

  “Where’s Korbin?” Retter listened. His mouth dried out. He pulled his hand down from his ear and looked at her. “Rae—”

  She swung a look at him that started out hopeful, then reflected the horror he felt.

  “He didn’t make it off the bridge,” Retter said, repeating what he’d been told. “Jeremy saw Korbin swinging up to the last bomb, then the shooter… we’ll get divers—”

  “No! Get rescue. He. Is. Not. Dead!” she yelled.

  “It’s not possible that he could have survived—”

  She turned her weapon on him. “Get the goddamn helicopters and water rescue now!”

  He grabbed her, stripping her weapon away only because she was too wrapped up in shock over Korbin’s death to be a threat right then. She fought him, screaming to let her go find Korbin. She wanted blood.

  So did Retter. He understood the blinding pain of loss.

  He could knock her out, but he wouldn’t do that to Rae in front of agents she’d still have to work with. What he did next would cause her almost as much humiliation, but he had no choice.

  Folding her arms in front of her, he wrapped her up in his, holding her tight. He felt the minute she broke.

  Not big sobbing tears, just a hard shuddering.

  Korbin had saved thousands. But he couldn’t have survived.

  BAD would make someone pay for taking one of their own.

  Hunter accepted the hand Mako offered him and climbed up over the edge of the cliff, then took five steps. “Where is she?”

  Abbie shot out of the darkness. “Are you okay?” She launched into Hunter’s arms, trembling.

  “I’m fine.” He hugged her close, amazed at the feeling. He wanted this. Wanted her, but he’d screwed up so badly Joe and Tee might bury him.

  “She’s gotta go now, Hunter,” Mako said. “Got a helicopter landing to pick up her and Jackson. I slowed the blood flow, but he’s thready. Might not make it to the medical center.”

  “He talking at all?” Hunter asked, loath to release Abbie, though he knew he had to in order to have any hope of saving her and her mother.

  “Talking his head off in trade for pain medicine, especially after I cut the circulation off to his hand.” A sound came out of Mako’s throat that reverberated with disgust. “Not so dangerous when you take his rifle away.”

  Hunter wanted to know one thing. “He tell you what he gave Abbie and her mother?”

  “Not yet.”

  Abbie shook from shock and cold.

  Hunter hugged her, turning her toward the helicopter.

  “Sorry, Hunter. Joe said you had to stay with me.”

  Abbie looked up at Hunter. “Who are these people and why can’t you come with me?”

  He gripped her hand for an extra second, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. This might be his last chance. When he broke the kiss, he cupped her face. “I can’t tell you—”

  “Dammit,” she shouted, and backed out of his arms as though he had leprosy. “I trusted you! With my life. With my mother’s life. And you can’t trust me with anything?”

  “Abbie, you don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. You said you—” She shook her head, refusing to repeat his words.

  He’d told her he loved her. He did.

  She looked over at Stoner, one of the two extra agents Joe had sent. “Are you taking me back?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded and walked over to Stoner.

  Hunter cursed himself a thousand times over for letting things get so out of shape with Joe that he couldn’t leave with Abbie, because Mako would use his weapon if necessary. “Abbie, wait.”

  She swung around, eyes fiery with a level of disappointment he’d never expected. “I’m through waiting. I’ve waited and waited for you to give me an inch. Love is important, but it’s nothing without trust.” She glanced at Mako. “I appreciate every one of you helping to get that genetic mistake to the medical center for my mother, but I’m done with all this.”

  Looking back one last time at Hunter, she added, “Go back to your secret life. I can’t live that way.”

  His insides withered at the finality in her voice. She was done with him and he couldn’t blame her. His lack of trust had smacked her every time she’d offered her trust in return. If he hadn’t alienated his team she wouldn’t have walked into the lair of an assassin and ended up dangling off the side of a mountain.

  With a ticking bomb.

  Abbie disappeared into the darkness with Stoner.

  “How’d you find JC?” Mako asked Hunter once Abbie and Stoner were out of earshot.

  Talking would be easier without a knot of disappointment in his throat. Hunter coughed to clear his voice. “The guy with the scar.” He stopped and wheeled on Mako. “Did you find him on your way up the path, about halfway?”

  “No. Show me.”

  Hunter guided Mako to the spot where he’d left the mystery guy. Two cut plastic handcuffs dangled from a limb.

  He shook his head. “How could he have gotten out of that?”

  Mako lifted both pieces with a pen and slipped them into a plastic bag he produced from a jacket pocket.

  “Bet the only prints are mine,” Hunter told him.

  “I wouldn’t take that bet.” Mako’s phone buzzed. He answered it, then listened a minute and hung up. “Jackson is stable. A Dr. Murphy from Johns Hopkins is reviewing the files on Abbie’s mother and waiting to see Abbie. Says he knows what’s wrong with her mother.”

  Hunter had lined up Murphy for her mother, but now he was doubly thankful since Abbie needed the doctor as well. “Can he cure them?”

  “Possibly. Murphy said Abbie’s mother was given a synthetic disease that attacks the spleen. He believes he can stop the disease and maybe reverse the damage with a treatment that includes a transfusion loaded with the same white cells as her natural blood. If Jackson makes it to the medical center alive, she may live.”

  “Jackson gave Abbie something, too,” Hunter said.

  “Murphy won’t know what Abbie’s diagnosis is until he runs tests on her.”

  Hunter considered overpowering Mako to get to Abbie, but Retter had made it clear what he’d do to Abbie and Borys if Hunter gave them any trouble. He had to tell himself that Abbie was safe for now and finish this op to have any chance of making peace with Joe and Tee. Hunter doubted that was possible, but he wouldn’t screw the only chance he had to show he could work with the team.

  But what about Todd and his family? “You get the bomb location to Joe?”

  Mako nodded. “Retter’s there already.”

  That didn’t meant they knew everything. “It’s a bridge—”

  “With five bombs.”

  “Have they disarmed them yet?”

  “Korbin got four before the last one detonated. Damage is minimal compared to what it could have been.”

  “No buildin
gs came down?” Hunter was trying to read Mako’s reaction.

  “So far, only one casualty. Korbin.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  It sounds as though the damage was not as extensive as anticipated,” Ostrovsky said, opening the conference-call meeting with five members of the council of Angeli. He’d placed the call the minute he’d received word of the bombings. Vestavia had called him immediately to share his good news about Bardaric’s failure. “The prime minister surviving is good, yes?”

  “What the hell happened?” Chike demanded.

  “Bardaric has been running his own operation for a while,” Vestavia answered. “He lied about delivering materials for three bombing. We’ve found his people who were involved with the Chicago bombing. They’re all squealing and said Bardaric only delivered enough for one bombing.”

  Renaldo interjected, “I, for one, think he got better than he deserved. MI6 was much nicer, with a bullet between his eyes, than I would have been, given the opportunity. We must replace him and take care we do not allow this to happen again.”

  “Anyone know where he was keeping this apparently bogus supply of UX, just in case it exists?” Vestavia asked.

  Ostrovsky addressed his question. “I did some checking and believe the ‘accidental’ bombing in a small Ukrainian town a month ago was the test for Bardaric’s bomb. I don’t know that the bomb material is going to be our issue. My sources tell me Bardaric’s sniper told the U.S. authorities where to find Bardaric and where he hid his research facilities. I would say if we wait a week or two, our contacts within the intelligence organizations will be able to confirm if Bardaric’s UX reserves were located.”

  Ostrovsky waited until everyone agreed, then added, “We’re fortunate the MI6-turned-assassin working for Bardaric was stopped. Our intention was never to start World War Three.”

  “Not at this time,” Vestavia joked, clearly happy now that his nemesis had been neutralized. “Let’s get back on track and continue dismantling each continent in an orderly way.”

  “Speaking of getting back on track, what has become of Peter Wentworth and his daughter?” Derain asked, his tone bulging with suspicion.