Every Last Breath

by Juno Rushdan

  Interesting to know, but it wasn’t an answer.

  She must’ve seen the question lingering on his face, because she gave a soft smile and nodded. “I’m Amanda to Maddox. She recruited me from the DEA. I was an operative until I had Jax. Staying in black ops as a single mom wasn’t realistic, even with help from my parents.”

  Cole glanced over her shoulder at her desk and spotted a picture of a cute little boy with sandy curls, maybe four or five. No doubt the artist of the colorful illustrations pinned to the partition wall framing her monitor.

  Off to the side of the main aisle, Janet stopped to talk to a passing man Cole hadn’t seen before. Tall, slim, wore glasses. They were barely within sight at this angle and would’ve been concealed entirely from the rest of the analysis section by the partitions. She brushed something from the front of his shirt. A split-second gesture, so fast that if Cole had blinked, he would’ve missed it. Whether friendly, motherly, or something more, he couldn’t tell. The guy looked fifteen to twenty years her junior.

  “Incoming,” Amanda whispered.

  Cole pivoted, following her gaze to a svelte woman, polished from her platinum-blond haircut to her body-hugging dress and daring, sky-high heels. She sashayed by like she owned the place. The cougar eyed him, long and hard, as if he were a bowl of thick cream she wanted to lap up.

  He faced Amanda. “Who is that?”

  “Sybil Parker, insider threat monitor,” she said low. “She and her two underlings are the only ones here Sanborn didn’t hire and can’t fire. They keep an eye on personnel, communications, networks—make sure no one is looking at porn or sending out classified information on an unclassified open system.”

  “Who monitors her?”

  Amanda shrugged. “I guess no one.”

  The tall, slender man walked past in front of the wall of televisions, headed in the same direction as Sybil Parker.

  “He works for her?”

  “Yep. Minion numero uno Ricky Olsen.”

  “Are he and Janet good friends?”

  Amanda’s brow creased at the question. “Odd thing to ask. No. The Jedi and Sith can never be friends.”

  Perhaps it was nothing and he was reading too much into the small gesture between Janet and Olsen. He wouldn’t be able to think straight until they found Maddox.

  Something flashed in Amanda’s light-brown eyes. “You’re the guy from the picture in Maddox’s locker. The one she won’t talk about. I didn’t recognize you before.” She lowered her head. “I asked Maddox once if she ever wanted to get married and have children.”

  Cole leaned in, riveted, needing to know. “What did she say?”

  “With all her heart. She wanted nothing more every single day.”

  The answer filled him with gripping sorrow and unexpected hope. One day, he wanted to give her that. More than anything.

  Amanda sipped her coffee. “I asked why she wasn’t out there making it happen. Working isn’t living. You know?”

  Yeah, he knew all too well. He gave a nod.

  “She told me it wasn’t possible because the only man she had ever loved was dead. That it was her fault. And if he was no longer able to have those things, then neither could she.”

  It was a meat cleaver to his heart. He’d been such a damned fool.

  Amanda rested a light hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find Maddox. I know it.”

  His throat closed, chest tightening. He nodded, wanting to take her words and cradle them in his hands. Man, he needed to believe.

  “You should eat something,” Amanda said. “To keep up your energy.”

  Wasn’t possible. Not while that psychopath had Maddox locked up somewhere and Cole didn’t know if she was in pain, gagged, or even conscious. The visuals were killing him. His hand clenched with impotent anger, utterly powerless in this holding pattern. He thirsted to end Novak, but the only thing that mattered, really mattered, was getting her back safe in his arms. “I can’t eat. Not until I find her.”

  Harper spun in her chair, plucking out her earbuds. “Maddox didn’t use iOS. I’m close in terms of hours, not days. The personal data helped. I should be able to crack it.”

  The tension in his body eased a hair. Maybe the universe was on their side after all, but he had no idea what to do with himself for hours.

  * * *

  Somewhere along the Potomac River

  11:05 a.m. EDT

  After Novak left, Maddox heard a door slam closed and a car drive away. Silence reigned in the dilapidated building for nearly an hour, she estimated. She was alone.

  The fuzziness from the drugs finally lifted. Maddox’s thoughts cleared, and her mind scrabbled for a way to escape. She swung her legs to the side, tipping herself onto her knees. The angle twisted her arms, pinching her rotator cuffs.

  The old metal bar ran about twenty feet in length, bolted to the wall at both ends. Brackets spaced every two feet reinforced the bar’s anchor to the wall. She tugged hard. The zip tie cut into her wrist. The bar didn’t move, but something clanged. She yanked again. The bracket three inches to her right jangled. She shimmied closer, knees grinding into fallen bits of plaster.

  Curved in shape, the four-inch-long rusted bracket wobbled on the pair of screws holding it in place.

  Gripping the side of the bracket between her wrists and the flex-cuffs, she shook it, loosening it from the wall. Over and over. The corroded edge of metal scratched the soft flesh on the inside of her wrist.

  The top rusty screw popped out enough for her to grasp with her thumb and index finger. She unscrewed it, bit by bit, until it slipped out. She set to work on the next one.

  Death had spared her for a reason. Maybe it wasn’t her time yet. Maybe she was meant to stop Aleksander Novak. The Ghost was scared. Kidnapping her was an act of desperation.

  The second screw popped out and the bracket fell into her hand. She scooted to the next metal bracket and tipped the flat edge of the loose one to it. She honed the dull edges of the metal in her hands, sharpening it.

  This job was one uphill battle after another, bringing her nose-to-nose with evil, reminding her life was fragile. At the end of the day, there had to be more for her than this cold, hard fight for the greater good. The work was honorable, but it was difficult, sometimes scary shit. She needed balance.

  The one person she’d been most intimate with, closer to in heart and soul than any other, had offered her comfort and warmth. He had risked his pride in admitting he loved her still and always would. In return, she’d said awful things and hurt him.

  If she got out of here—fuck that!—when she got out of here, she was going to stop being terrified. Of loving Cole, of losing him, of getting hurt again. Professionally, she faced every threat, endured the grind, worked her way through the fear to get the job done. She had to stop being a lowly coward with him, owed it to herself. He deserved better—along with an apology for how she’d pushed him away.

  She put the bracket between her teeth, pressed the edge to the zip tie, and, bobbing her head back and forth, sawed the bracket across the plastic restraint. Bitter flakes of rust hit her tongue. Getting out of there to stop Novak was her sole focus.

  No way in hell would she allow herself to be rescued.

  I won’t be the weak link in the chain. Not today. Not ever.

  Chapter 30

  Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

  11:15 a.m. EDT

  Cole paced in the break room, the one space in the facility he’d seen drenched in vibrant colors. Art deco paintings hung on the ferocious yellow walls, their mind-boggling waves and splotches of organized chaos in myriad saturated hues. An absolute riot of color.

  The rest of the facility with its laid-back tones and cushy vibe was nauseating. This was the one room he managed to tolerate.

  Castle strode into the room, wear
ing the same heavy expression that Cole carried. They eyed each other. Cole stilled, waiting for the answer to his unspoken question. Castle gave a quick, tight-lipped head shake.

  No news.

  Cole’s nerves frayed a little more. “Someone in this damn dungeon helped that psycho kidnap her. You understand that, right?”

  Castle narrowed his eyes and his jaw hardened. “Yeah.” His gaze darted to the hall, where one of Parker’s minions strolled past.

  The pixie-faced woman with short, spiky hair must’ve been Nicole Tully, based on what Cole had learned from Amanda. Nicole worked midday hours, afternoons through the evening, and picked up the swing shift when necessary.

  He glanced at the clock, noting it seemed a little early for her to be in.

  The ITM section was supposed to monitor the digital activity of Sanborn’s people, listen to phone calls, ensure the transmission of data was aboveboard. But did they have access to personnel records and personal information they didn’t need to do their job?

  Once Nicole Tully had passed, Castle glared at Cole. “Lower your voice about that issue.”

  “Issue?” Cole said in a harsh whisper. “How about major fucking problem? Or deep shit?”

  Castle opened his mouth to say something, snapped it shut, and poured a cup of coffee. The son of a gun said something under his breath. It sounded like I won’t be baited.

  After a long draw from the mug, Castle said, “I’m not the enemy. Trust and believe I’m itching to take out my frustration on you just as much as you are on me. But the only person that’ll help is Novak. Not Maddox.”

  Cole went back to pacing, grinding his teeth over the fact that Castle, of all people, was the voice of reason.

  “Look, I don’t like you any more than you like me,” Castle said. “For now, let’s put our crap on the back burner. Why don’t we call a cease-fire, okay?”

  Sweet Jesus, more words of wisdom from the big lug. What was next? A bolt of lightning striking six stories below ground?

  “Yeah, okay. We both love her. She wouldn’t want us fighting.”

  Castle froze, his jaw twitching as if he wanted to say something ugly and sharp. But he only clucked his tongue.

  “I do love her.” For this truce to be real, there was a lot Cole needed to say. “I know you don’t believe me because I left and didn’t come back for her. You have every right to hate me for that. I hate myself for it. I know how you helped her when she lost the baby.” He swallowed his pride in an effort to be a better person. One worthy of Maddox. “Thank you for being there for her. She needed me the most then, and I failed her. I told her what happened to me. One day, I’ll tell you too. I think I owe it to you.”

  Castle’s eyes widened. He looked stunned. Confused. In a flash, it was gone, and Mr. Tough Guy nodded.

  Cole let his admission settle between them for a few seconds and dove right back in to the pressing matter at hand. “What are you doing about the issue?”

  “We’re not sitting around twiddling our thumbs. It has to wait. Our hands are a bit full—”

  “There you are.” Doc rushed inside the break room. “Castle, I was just in Sanborn’s office. He got a call from the director of national intelligence and wanted me to find you.”

  “Is it about Maddox?” Castle and Cole asked in unison.

  She shrugged. “He didn’t say. I’m sorry. Only that you needed to get in there.”

  Castle set his mug down and took off.

  A revving sensation ticked up in Cole’s chest, and he had to move. He ate up the room in one direction with long strides, turned, and went the other way.

  Doc watched him with a sad smile that he’d rather not see. “This waiting can’t be easy. How are you holding up?”

  He stopped, whipping his gaze to her, and folded his arms. Was she shitting him?

  Standing there with a poor-you expression, using a come-sit-on-my-sofa-and-chat tone, wearing another bohemian I-wanna-make-the-world-better blouse with stupid flowers, and oozing a not-so-in-the-closet hippie aura, she was dead serious.

  It was brutally obvious Doc was trying to be nice. The woman seemed sweet as pie, but he needed to be as far away as possible from nice and sweet. So he was stalking back and forth like a caged wild thing surrounded by this maelstrom of color.

  His throat grew dry as he fumbled hard for the right words, since he didn’t want to offend anyone else who was trying to help.

  Before he could say anything, Castle came back with urgency like he had news, but from the grim expression on his face, it wasn’t good.

  “Did something happen?” Cole asked. “Did someone find a lead?”

  Castle’s gaze dropped a moment, and when it bounced back, his face had hardened to ice. “That bastard called the DNI’s office. Novak boasted about having Maddox, said he buried her somewhere up to her neck on the bank of the Potomac.”

  Doc’s sharp gasp cut through the sudden roar thundering in Cole’s head.

  The words sank into his brain, connecting slowly. Once they added up, something inside him unraveled, and it took his last shred of control not to lose it completely.

  Scrubbing a hand over his bald head, Castle said, “We have until high tide to find her—9:00 or 10:00 p.m.—or she’ll drown.”

  “Oh no.” Doc pressed a hand to her throat.

  To bury Maddox, torture her—unable to move, trapped with the knowledge the water would rise, wash in with the tide, drawing up her neck, creeping past her mouth, covering her nose—was unconscionable.

  Drowning wasn’t a pleasant way to go. Right up there with being burned alive.

  Red-hot rage boiled over inside Cole. His body was desperate to expel the frustration building. He spun and kicked a chair, sending it flying across the room.

  Doc covered her mouth with a shaky hand.

  He shut his eyes and saw Maddox. Buried, alone, afraid. This wasn’t something he could fix, talk his way to a solution, fight with his fists. This was purgatory with a countdown to hell.

  His nerves quivered with fury and, beneath it, fear. The pressure welling in his chest deepened. For an instant, he thought his heart might burst. He doubled over, grasping his knees.

  Think. He was no good to her unless his brain functioned. “Any trace on the call?”

  “No. The Ghost was quick. Clean,” Castle said. “Reaper is firing up our helicopter.”

  The Goodwill van had been abandoned where Route 1 connected to I-495. At the eastern border of Virginia, along the Potomac, but Novak was too clever to bury her there. Without knowing if the Ghost had gone north or south after ditching the van, Maddox could be anywhere. The Potomac stretched for miles.

  Cole stood upright, regaining his composure. “I’m getting on that chopper.”

  “Of course.” Castle nodded.

  “Harper is close to hacking into the phone. Contact us in the helo when she does.” Everything was taking too much time. And Maddox was running out of it. She couldn’t die. If she did, the world wouldn’t be worth living in.

  “Yeah, we can patch in. No problem. We’re going to find Maddox.” Castle gave a sharp affirmative nod. “Then we’re going to kill Novak.”

  “The Ghost is mine. I get to kill him.” He wouldn’t do it quickly or painlessly with a bullet. He needed to take out that monster with his bare hands.

  “Roger that.”

  * * *

  Somewhere along the Potomac River

  11:37 a.m. EDT

  Maddox popped the hard plastic zip tie securing her wrists. The tightness in her chest eased. She spat the rust from her mouth and worked on the zip tie binding her ankles.

  She tugged at the strap of hard plastic as she sawed through it. “Come on. Damn you.”

  The zip tie popped, freeing her ankles. With only a pair of cotton socks on her feet, she treaded softly around n
ails, puddles of sludge, and rusted pieces of metal.

  When Novak had snuck up on her with the stun gun, she’d been in her underwear. He’d dressed her, shown a strange mercy. He was deadly, ruthless, but there was more to him.

  Sections with piles of rusted mechanical parts carved up the space between wide-open bays. Gaze glued to the ground, she slipped carefully around trash as she made her way to the window. The last thing she needed was something stuck in her foot.

  The view from the third floor was nothing but trees for 180 degrees. Where the hell was she?

  Most likely Virginia, possibly Maryland. Novak could’ve even driven to West Virginia.

  She checked her smartwatch. GPS was offline. Great. She wasn’t near civilization. She gazed out the window, determining which direction to head. About a mile out, beyond a loose cluster of trees and patch of grass, was a gray-blue slash of water. A river. The Potomac or the Shenandoah.

  If she followed it, eventually she’d run close to a town with connectivity. In sneakers, the trek wouldn’t be a problem, but in socks, no telling how many miles, the terrain would eat up her feet. Not that she had a choice.

  A small animal squeaked behind her, followed by a pitter-patter of critters, larger than rodents. She spun in the direction of the noise. Anything could be hiding in the rubble of this abandoned building.

  She tiptoed down the staircase. A splinter in her foot could do enough damage to slow her down, and a gash would put an end to the journey before it started. On the first floor, trash, shards of metal, and broken glass riddled the ground in a mosaic of landmines—degrees of pain—from the staircase to the busted entrance.

  To avoid frayed pieces of metal and shattered glass, she stepped into a cool, sticky puddle. The same black sludge she’d seen throughout the building. As she walked, the gummy substance left dark, tacky spots behind like little stamps of misery.