“I don’t know,” Cole called back, “but I’m guessing he’s got a night-vision kit. He’s too accurate.”
“You take Simon back to the house and call the Feds,” Jack said. “I’m gonna go find this guy before he can reach Rebecca.”
“No, Jack,” Cole said, gripping his forearm. “You’re already injured. I’ll go.”
“Absolutely not,” Jack said. “I have to do this one last thing for Rebecca. I need to.”
Cole didn’t try to argue any further. Simon was huddled beneath the tree, hands clamped firmly over his ears, clearly terrified.
“Let’s go,” Cole said, pulling Simon by the arm. “Take care, Jack.”
The shots intensified as the men left the dense cover of the tree. Jack knew that he and Cole would be fearless in the face of a gunfire attack, but Simon was not so experienced. As Jack provided cover fire for the two men, he glanced behind to see Simon trying to scramble back toward the tree they had just sheltered beneath. Cole was attempting to drag him away, yelling that the cover of the house was a better idea than returning to the apparent safety of the tree.
Jack could hear bullets streaking through the blackness, each one coming ever closer to their intended targets. He couldn’t determine the exact location of the shooter, but he knew the guy was somewhere in the scrubland beyond the fence. And he looked to be on the move.
Then Cole’s voice echoed through the yard: “Man down! Man down!” Jack’s memory was flooded with images from the past—a dark sky, a SEAL colleague wounded on the ground and a dangerous enemy to defeat. It was as though the Dark Skies mission was repeating itself all over again.
Even if he lost his life in the event, he would defeat the enemy again. Rebecca’s future depended on it.
SIXTEEN
Rebecca was woken with a firm shake by Dillon. She sat up, instantly panicked by the look on his face. His expression was grave in the low light of her bedside lamp. She had seen that look before. It was the same expression worn by the two military officers who visited her house that sunny August morning eighteen months ago.
“No,” she muttered. “Please, not again.”
“There’s a firefight outside,” Dillon said, handing her a sweater that she had slung over a chair the previous evening. “We need to get out of here.”
Rebecca pulled the sweater over her fleece pajamas, but she felt chilled to the bone. “Where’s Jack?”
“I’m not sure,” Dillon replied, parting the drapes slightly and peering outside. “He and Cole went out back to investigate a possible intruder, and that’s when the shooting started.” He switched off the lamp. “I called Agent Bateman at the FBI, and he’s sending a SWAT team over as soon as possible, but they need time to mobilize. Jack gave clear instructions to get you away from the house in the event of danger.”
Rebecca didn’t make a move to get out of bed. “Rebecca,” Dillon said with some urgency. “You need to listen to me. This is serious.”
“Is he dead?” she asked with a waver in her voice. She reached up and grabbed the edge of Dillon’s shirt. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
She realized that she had begun to hyperventilate and tried to stop herself from entering a full-blown anxiety attack. She could hear the sound of shots flying through the air outside and couldn’t prevent her mind from conjuring up images of Jack lying on the ground as life seeped away. If it could happen to Ian, it could happen to Jack.
Dillon sat on the edge of her bed. “Stay calm,” he urged her. “Slow your breathing down. Jack is a trained SEAL. I’m sure he’s doing fine.”
Rebecca swung her legs over the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress as she willed herself to see this through to the end. Jack was out there fighting for her, and she needed to be strong for him.
“You ready?” Dillon asked, standing up. “We can wait for Jack at the police station.” He put a hand on her shoulder, sensing her fear. “He’s tough. He’ll make it through.”
Rebecca gave a silent nod of the head and muttered a few words of prayer. Her faith couldn’t prevent bad things from happening, but if she placed her life in God’s hands, she could cope with whatever life had in store, whether good or bad.
“Let’s go,” Dillon said, leading her out into a pitch-black hallway, lighting the way with a flashlight held down low. “It’s better if we keep the house in darkness, so stay close until we get to the car.”
Rebecca was certain she could hear her heart hammering in her chest. The gunfire outside had become less intense, but exchanges could still clearly be heard, reassuring her that Jack was holding his ground. Dillon stopped at the front door and opened it a crack. He held his gun in his hand, switched off the flashlight and stepped out into the cold night air. Rebecca shivered against the wind.
“Stay close to the wall,” Dillon whispered to her. “We’ll skirt around to the carport and use Cole’s car to get you out of here. I have the keys.”
Rebecca nodded and tried hard to keep her mind on Dillon’s words. The shots in the yard had ceased, and she wondered what this meant. She was in the dark in more ways than one.
They reached the car in a matter of seconds, stepping quickly and quietly though Sarah’s flower beds. Dillon crouched down low at the back of the car, and she followed his lead, dropping to the concrete, still slightly warmed from the sun.
“Oh, no!” Dillon said, slapping a hand to his forehead. “The tires are slashed. Is there another vehicle here?”
Rebecca’s eyes shot to the back tires of the truck, both utterly deflated and flat, looking as though the rubber had melted around the metal. “No,” she said breathlessly. “Sarah has only one car, and she took it with her.”
Dillon thought for a moment. “Let’s get back inside the house. We’ll have to wait it out until the SWAT team arrives.” He glanced around. “Stay here while I check that our return path is clear.”
Rebecca knelt on the ground and pressed herself against the grille of the car, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Dillon disappeared from sight, and she strained her ears for an indication of how Jack was doing. Still no sound of gunfire could be heard.
“Dillon,” she called quietly into the darkness. He seemed to have been gone a long time. “Are you there?”
There was no reply.
“Dillon,” she called a little louder, suddenly feeling very alone and very exposed. “Where are you?”
After another few seconds of silence, she stood up and peered around the car. The path between the car port and the house was dark and empty. Dillon appeared to have vanished.
Then she heard his voice bellowing through the night.
“Rebecca,” he yelled. “Find Jack. Run!”
*
From his position holed up against the fence in the backyard, Jack had a good vantage point to see both sides of the house. It was from this position that he saw Rebecca come running from the carport with a look of sheer panic on her face. He had been engaged in a fierce gun battle with the suspect on the opposite side of the fence, working hard to protect the injured man on the ground. After returning to Cole, Jack had found that it was Simon lying wounded on the ground, his hip having taken the force of the impact. And now Simon was utterly reliant on the two SEALs for protection.
Upon seeing Rebecca’s familiar figure, dressed in pajamas and a sweater, directly enter the danger zone, Jack jumped up from his place of safety.
“Cover me,” he shouted to Cole. “I need to help Rebecca.”
He didn’t hear Cole’s reply as the gunfire started up again. They had already used up one box of ammo, so he didn’t have a lot of time to play with. He needed to reach Rebecca within seconds. He saw her drop to the ground, and a yelp of anguish left his mouth. He reached her side and sank down to the grass, put a strong arm around her waist and pulled her behind a wooden lawn table that he turned onto its side. He winced with pain as he was reminded of the injury to his left shoulder. Thankfully, as soon as they were out of si
ght of the shooter, the firing ceased.
“Rebecca,” he said desperately. “Talk to me.”
She lifted her head. Her hair was covering her face, but he saw her pale blue eyes shining through the dark strands. “They got Dillon,” she said with a sob.
He felt relief sweep over his skin at the confirmation that she was unhurt, but the feeling was immediately replaced by concern for his SEAL colleague. Yet he knew Dillon could look after himself. And with Cole protecting Simon, Jack’s main focus was now Rebecca.
“I think there are two shooters,” he said, assessing how far away they were from the door and whether they could make a run for it. “Simon’s wounded, and we can’t get him safely back to the house.”
“Simon?” she asked. “What’s Simon doing here?”
“Trust me,” he said, reloading his weapon with the last of his bullets. “Now is not the time for questions.”
“So what do we do now?” Rebecca asked, looking deep into his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Jack.”
Jack stopped loading his weapon instantly and gave her his full attention. Something about the way she said the words sounded different, like she really meant them. In the midst of the danger and drama, he felt goose bumps cover his skin, quite unlike any he had ever felt before.
“What exactly are you saying?” he asked.
“I love you.”
Jack sat on his behind on the dewy grass, feeling wetness seep through the seat of his pants. He shook his head and exhaled loudly. “You sure do pick your moments to spring something like that on me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I needed to say it in case…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Jack knew what she was referring to. It made him wonder if she was caught up in the emotion of the situation, professing feelings that she knew he wanted to hear just in case these were his final moments. He decided to be cautious.
“We’ll talk later,” he said, leaning around the upturned table to get a good visual on Cole and Simon at the fence. “Let’s find a safe way to get back into the house. We can use this table as a shield.”
“Conrad Jackson!” The menacing voice that sliced through the air was instantly recognizable—Darius Finch. Jack put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder to keep her pressed low to the ground.
“This is the end of the road, Darius,” Jack yelled back. “It’s over.”
“It’s over when I say it’s over.” Darius’s voice was loud and angry. “I want all of you out here in the open or Dillon dies right here, right now.”
Jack poked his head above the table. Dillon was standing under an oak tree, tied at the ankles and wrists, flanked by Darius and Robert Greaves. And Darius had a gun pointed directly at Dillon’s head.
“No,” Jack said, standing up to reveal himself. “Darius, don’t do this.” He darted his eyes to the side of the yard and saw Cole walking slowly across the grass, hands aloft. “Doesn’t the honor of the SEALs mean something to you? Didn’t Dark Skies mean something to you?”
Darius laughed. “Dark Skies won’t pay for a condo in the Caribbean, will it? It didn’t even buy me a new car.” He rested the gun on Dillon’s temple. “Dark Skies gave me nothing but a headache.”
Jack placed his gun on the grass beside Rebecca and stepped out from behind the table. “We were a team,” he called. “We were as close as brothers.” He and Cole met up in the center of the yard, about five feet from Darius.
“Stay where you are,” Darius demanded. “Where’s Rebecca?”
Jack’s throat tightened, and he tried to swallow away the lump. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Darius jerked his head toward the upturned table. “Unless I’m mistaken, she’s right behind that table. Go get her. And do it quickly.”
Jack took a deep breath and turned around, walking slowly back to the table, willing his mind to come up with a plan that kept her safe.
“Please, Lord,” he muttered, desperately hoping that his newfound faith wouldn’t desert him. “Don’t leave me now.”
A gunshot whizzed through the air, sending him diving to the ground, covering his head with his hands. He scrambled to his feet and turned around to see Robert Greaves lying on the grass as a dark pool of blood soaked into the earth.
“He was a liability,” Darius said, responding to Jack’s look of horror at the senseless violence. “He was supposed to kill Rebecca in the darkroom, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. I think he had a soft spot for her.” He laughed sardonically. “Never send a boy to do a man’s job, right?”
Jack watched Robert Greaves’s life ebb away as he lay on the ground, and he wondered where God was, or whether his prayer had even been heard. He couldn’t see a way out. He continued his path to the table, looked over the top and saw nothing but grass.
“She’s gone,” he called with relief. He darted his eyes all over the yard and caught sight of her, squeezed under a tiny gap beneath the children’s plastic slide. In the darkness, she could barely be seen. In her shaking hand, she held Jack’s gun, but he didn’t know if she had the confidence or ability to use it. He knew how she felt about guns, and she had never so much as held one, let alone pulled a trigger.
“Don’t mess around with me,” Darius demanded. “Pull up the table.”
Jack did as he was asked, revealing the empty space behind.
“She’s gone,” Jack reiterated. “She’ll be on her way to the police by now.” He raised his voice, loud enough for Rebecca to hear. “So take your best shot.” He silently willed her to have the courage to do as he was asking.
Darius tilted his head. “If you insist,” he said with an exaggerated bow. He then raised his weapon and took aim at Jack’s head.
Jack wondered if the last image he saw would be the barrel of a gun. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and heard a shot crack through the night.
*
Jack saw Rebecca holding the smoking gun in her hand, staring at it as if it had a life of its own. She looked as if she were in a dream. She crawled out of the small space beneath the plastic slide and knelt on the grass, clearly unable to find the strength to stand on her shaking legs.
“Jack!” she called. “Jack!”
“I’m here,” he said, lifting her up into his arms. “I’ve got you.” He took the gun from her hand and made it safe before laying it on the grass beside them.
“Did I hit him?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said gently. “Cole is stabilizing him until help arrives.” He looked over his shoulder to see Cole and Dillon working hard to stem the flow of blood from Darius, trying to save the life of a man who had wanted to destroy theirs. It was what separated their characters from Darius’s. Rebecca craned her neck to assess the scene also, but Jack gently cupped her cheek and steered her face away. “It’s best not to look. Dillon and Cole have it under control.
“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” he said.
She rested her forehead against his and smiled weakly. “I have no idea how I did it.”
“However you managed it, it’s finally over,” he said. “Little did I know that when Ian asked me to take care of you, it would turn out like this. You ended up taking care of me instead.”
“This is just the end of a very long road, Jack,” she whispered. “You drove the car for most of the journey. I only steered it over the finish line.”
He listened intently to her words. This was likely to be the end of their journey. Was this the point where he disappeared from her life?
“Listen,” he said, pulling away. “About what you said when we were hiding behind the table.”
“When I said I loved you.”
He rubbed his neck. “Yeah.” He swallowed away a lump. This was hard. “I know people can sometimes say things they don’t mean when facing danger. So if you want to forget you ever said it, that’s okay by me.”
He watched her face fall. No matter how much he wanted her words to be true, he ne
eded to be sure. He needed to know she truly meant them.
At that moment, Cole appeared at Jack’s side. “Darius is stable. He’ll live.” He turned to Rebecca. “For someone who’s not used to handling a gun, you did great.” He then slapped a hand onto Jack’s back. “There’s no better induction training for coming back to the SEALs than a firefight like that. If you’re determined to rejoin the ranks, I won’t stand in your way.”
Rebecca shrank back from Jack’s arms. “You’re rejoining the SEALs?”
He saw moisture quickly gather in her eyes. “I was considering it, yes.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Her voice contained a mix of hurt and anger.
“I was going to tell you,” he said, reaching out a hand that she avoided. “But I didn’t think it would matter to you anyway.” He sighed deeply. “You told me to move on with my life, so that’s exactly what I’d planned to do.”
“And is that what you still plan on doing?” she asked, clearly upset at this news.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“I see,” she said, backing off farther and crossing her arms. “I hear sirens out front. I’ll go explain what’s happened.”
She turned and walked quickly toward the driveway. “Rebecca,” he called after her. “It’s not what you think. I never wanted to leave.”
She broke into a run, disappearing around the house in a few seconds.
Cole looked sheepish. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jack. I thought Rebecca knew about your plans.”
“It’s okay,” Jack said with a wave of his hand. “It’s my bad. I thought she wouldn’t care.”
Cole whistled through his teeth. “But she clearly does care. She cares a lot.”
Jack ran his fingers down his face. “I’ll go after her,” he said, breaking into a jog across the lawn. “There are a lot of loose ends to tie up.”
*
Rebecca sat on the couch while Agent Bateman ran through their statements one last time. Dawn had broken an hour ago, and the sun streamed through the long windows in the living room, where Jack, Cole and Dillon stood with two remaining members of the FBI armed response unit. The SWAT team had worked quickly, scouring the vicinity for any further suspects, but none had been found, and they were satisfied that Darius Finch was now the only living member of the art theft gang. A team of six renegade soldiers had brought shame on the honor of the marines, and five had paid the ultimate price for their dishonest actions. But at least the process of returning the artworks to their rightful place could now begin, and Rebecca felt she was finally safe. Yet it brought her no comfort.
Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of EvidenceGone MissingLethal Exposure Page 57