“John is dead. And I’m sorry, but anyone that breaks into my house isn’t welcome here. If you truly are who you say you are then you’ll leave.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture, easing her way closer to the child.
He watched her carefully, noting how she just as often glanced toward the kitchen as she did to the child. King shifted his stance easing over carefully so that he could see farther into the room behind her. She was hiding something; even someone without training could see that. But he could also see exactly how fearful she was for her daughter, and that was not what he wanted. “Listen, I think that you and I both know that Dawson is alive.”
He paused, watching as her expression turned wary, not shocked. Affirmed, he continued, “And I know you must love your brother. I just want to talk to him.”
And lock him away in a cell so that he can never harm anyone again.
Laura took the two final shuffles over to the child and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. The girl silently looked up and followed Laura’s tense gaze to King. Unlike her mother, the child swept him with an open and curious gaze.
King smiled and attempted to put her at ease. “What’s her name?”
“Faith.” Her one-word, terse reply came as if on autopilot.
“Well Faith, I’m King. I’m a friend of your uncle’s.” Faith’s size put her around six or seven he guessed, her honey blonde hair a few shades lighter than Laura’s, deeper auburn-colored hair. She had clear, liquid blue eyes, piercing in their intensity. Faith got to her feet, a small tattered stuffed cat clutched under her left arm. “What’s your cat’s name?”
Laura scooted Faith behind her, squaring off with King. “Look, I can’t help you. I really want you to leave.”
King eased farther to the left, glancing beyond her shoulder. He could see the small island and white refrigerator tucked in the corner, but not the far wall where he knew the back door to the house would be. “I know he’s been here.” King took a shot in the dark, hoping against hope that John had indeed showed up to his only living relative. Where else would the man go?
Laura’s breath caught briefly. “He hasn’t; he’s dead, remember?”
Of course, she would be loyal to her brother, just as King had been loyal to his own family.
King tried another tactic. “I saw him.”
And Dawson had shot him nearly point blank, nearly taking his life, not just his eye. His fingers itched to touch the thick black patch. The image of Dawson popping up before him like a ghost, the bright orange explosion as he fired off a round just feet from his face, flashed in his mind. King forced himself to focus on the sister. “He’s changed, Laura,” King said quietly. “He’s not the same man he was before.”
Laura’s hand, delicate and soft looking, drifted up around her throat, but she didn’t say anything in response.
Sensing something, a weakness maybe, King pressed forward. “We all thought he was dead too, but something happened to him. Something bad.” Something King and his team had to find out before Dawson unleashed whatever insanity he’d developed onto an unsuspecting public.
Or an unsuspecting family ignorantly attempting to protect their kin.
King glanced at the young child behind her. “I know this is difficult, if there was any way for me to sugarcoat it I would, but your brother is not stable. He attacked my team and me. He hurt a couple of us.”
“No, John would never hurt his own team any more than he would hurt his family.” Laura’s husky voice grew more forceful as she spoke. “I’ve known my brother my whole life, and the only thing he ever wanted to do was serve his country. He’s an honorable and good man.”
That was exactly how King remembered him, before Project Mayhem. But that was the last thing he was going to talk to Laura about, the less she knew the better. “He was, but wherever and whoever he’s been with this time when we thought him dead has changed him. He’s dangerous. He’s already hurt his teammates; how long do you think it will be before he hurts you?” King paused to let that question sink in. “Or your daughter?”
Her hand around her throat tightened; she visibly flinched. She knew something, he could smell it. King took a step forward, Laura countered, wrapping her free arm more tightly around Faith and she backed another step away. “John would never hurt us.”
“You’re right, the man we both once knew as John wouldn’t, but that John is gone.” King said those words with all the certainty in the world. He’d looked into Dawson’s eyes and seen the animal, wild and feral, lurching in their depths.
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not. Believe me, I wish I was.”
The back door clicked open and then shut, a man’s voice, gravelly yet familiar sounded from the kitchen. “I’m back. They ran out of chocolate doughnuts, so I had to wait—” Dawson’s words cut off the moment he rounded the corner. In a flash, he dropped the paper sack, slapped the keypad by the back door and grabbed a knife from the counter.
King shot forward, tearing his Glock from his waistband as he leapt between the girls and Dawson.
“Dawson,” he said carefully. King kept his back to the women, shoulders in contact with Laura. She pushed against him, seeking to sidestep his wide frame. King shifted, keeping her trapped and protected from the threat.
A faint, yet constant, beep sounded from the keypad behind Dawson. King risked a quick peek, his blood running cold when he saw the bright red numbers counting down on the small digital screen. He’d planted a fucking bomb.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dawson bit out, his knife raised and ready. They were less than ten feet apart.
King angled his body and moved backward, attempting to shuffle the women closer to the front door. “You know why I’m here. Put the knife down.”
Dawson kept his cold, deadly gaze locked on King. “You move faster than I thought you would.”
King’s eye twitched. The months of the long painful recovery, the migraines, and the ghost ached beneath the patch. “I had a reason to.”
Keeping his focus on King, John said, “Laura, are you and Faith okay?”
“Yes,” came her breathless reply.
“Come to me.” Dawson gestured for the girls to move to him.
King blocked them, clutching his pistol. “They’re not going anywhere but with me.”
Dawson inched closer. “You touch them and you die.”
“Put the knife down and turn off the bomb,” King said.
“Bomb?” Laura echoed.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with them. Let them go,” Dawson said.
“What bomb?” Laura screeched.
“The one your brother just activated.”
Dawson snarled. “Laura, take Faith and run. He doesn’t need you.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she cried.
“Your game is over, Dawson,” King said quietly.
Dawson sneered; his blue eyes bright as he advanced on King. “The only thing over here is you.”
Fury pounded through his veins. He wanted to squeeze the trigger so bad his hands shook, but he could not do it, not in front of the girls. He was forced to counter, shifting back closer and closer to the front door as he advanced.
Dawson continued, “Thought you were dead.”
Fucker.
“Not quite.” He was going to kill him. There was not a single ounce of remorse in Dawson’s face, just a maniacal, maddened gleam.
The countdown hit twenty seconds. “You’re running out of time.”
Dawson didn’t break away. “Laura, get out. Now.”
King kept his gun leveled, waiting on him to launch and strike. “Go.”
She drew in a breath, and King could sense her building a retort. He cut her short. “There is a bomb about to blow up this whole place. Take the kid and go. Now.”
Fifteen seconds.
King risked a glance back to see her edging finally to the door. Dawson moved closer. “Get out!”
As if his yell finally charged her into action, Laura snatched Faith and ran out the front door. The second they cleared the threshold, Dawson sprung.
King squeezed off a round, the bullet thudded into Dawson’s chest but the man kept coming at him like a machine. He did not have time to do anything but throw up a block as Dawson brought the knife down hard and fast. The gun flew from his grip. Before King could raise a counter, Dawson slashed right, then left, the blade snaking like fire across his chest, hot blood poured down his stomach.
King bent as if doubling over and launched an uppercut, glancing off Dawson’s jaw. The man flew backward, crashing through the dining room table. The clock continued to tick down. Five. Four. Three. Two.
Dawson got to his feet, threw a chair out of his way, and stepped toward King. He’d stay to fight until they were both dead.
King spun and launched himself to the front door, over the porch, and landed on the walkway. Diggs had Laura and Faith already across the street, moving them toward his truck.
With a roar, Dawson dove through the window, glass shattering. The townhouse exploded. The blast waves knocked King to the ground. His head roared in pain and blackness tugged at his consciousness.
He had to move. Forcing the fog off, he managed to climb to his feet, wobbling unsteadily as the world tilted around him.
Screams and sirens sounded up and down the street, the sounds coming at him as if through a dense fog.
Dawson. He had to get Dawson.
King stumbled in the direction of the front yard, waving his hand to clear the air so he could see. Dawson had been closer to the blast than him. He had to be unconscious, or dead. Each step clearing his mind, King padded across the debris-littered grass, smoke burning his eye. He coughed and kept moving, moving almost blind to the smoke.
“King! Brother, where are you?” Diggs sliced through the front yard.
“Do you see him?” King croaked out.
“He’s gone. We have got to go. Police are on their way.” Diggs grabbed King’s arm and attempted to yank him away from the house.
King snatched his arm free and continued looking, he moved boards and bricks, sifting through the rubble, but found no hint of Dawson. “He’s not here.”
“We’ve got to go! Now!” Diggs grabbed him again and this time King stumbled along behind him, half in shock, half in anger that he’d missed his chance.
Diggs opened the passenger door on his truck and tossed King inside. Laura and Faith huddled in the backseat, both of them pale and frightened.
The driver’s side door opened and Diggs jumped inside, cranking the truck before he slammed the door shut. “Dawson booked it out right after the explosion. He’s gone.”
Chapter 5
Laura huddled with her arm around Faith, trying to shield her as much as possible within the confines of the crew cab truck. Diggs had quickly introduced himself before tossing them into the back of the vehicle. They drove slowly out of town, as if the massive explosion of her house and everything inside of it was an everyday occurrence for them.
What the hell had John gotten into?
Faith was tapping on her knees and quickly signed, “Where’s Daddy?”
Laura quickly signed back, her hands in her lap, “He’s okay. He’ll come get us soon.”
Silently praying that was true, Laura took in a deep breath and tried to assess the situation as calmly as possible. If these men really were John’s old teammates, she didn’t think she had to worry for her and Faith’s safety. That was one large “if.”
The truck slowed to a stop at the four way. From the west side of town, two sheriffs, followed by a fire truck, sirens blasting, raced past. On some level she thought they’d magically know the girls needed saving. She could imagine them squealing to a stop, blocking the truck and forcing the men to give up their hostages.
The cars sped past, however, crushing her dream. Diggs put on his blinker, turned left and drove out of town no one giving them a second glance.
Faith tapped her leg again. “Who are they? Is Daddy leaving again?”
She signed so rapidly that Laura could barely keep up. The rapid-fire questions preyed on her already frazzled nerves and Laura covered both the girl’s hands with her own and gave her a firm but gentle squeeze, trying to all at once calm the child and herself. Then she signed back, “They used to work with your dad. Everything’s going to be okay.”
She prayed everything would be okay. But praying and getting her heart to slow its rapid pace were two different matters altogether. After nearly a full year of thinking her brother dead, he’d showed up on her doorstep. Laura had been ecstatic, overwhelmed with joy.
Faith had been hesitant, not really sure who the man was. He’d disappeared when she was four years old. John’s ex, who wanted nothing to do with Faith when she was a baby, ran off with the girl the minute John left for deployment.
She ran back to her parents, immersed herself into their community for the deaf and hard of hearing, and almost disappeared off the map with Faith. It had taken Laura nearly a year to find her niece.
Faith clutched a tattered, stuffed cat with loose button sewn-on eyes to her chest and squeezed it. Laura’s heart tugged and she slid her arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to her side. She dropped a kiss to Faith’s forehead and drew in a deep breath. It was time for her to stop panicking, start using her mind.
“Where are you taking us?”
The quiet conversation in the front seat went silent. Diggs glanced up at her in the rearview mirror, his expression tight with worry. But it was King who shifted in his seat to face her. His midnight eyes were drawn, and his face a little bit pale. “Somewhere safe.”
She tried to hold the stare, but her willpower demanded her and she dropped her gaze to his chest, gasping when she saw his blood-soaked shirt. “You’re hurt. You need to go to the hospital.”
King glanced down as if they didn’t even know he was injured, brushing off the blood as if it were a coffee stain. “I’m fine. Are you okay? Is your daughter?”
“Physically, we are uninjured. But are we okay? Do you mean with being kidnapped or with my house being destroyed?” She decided to keep the fact that Faith wasn’t her daughter but her niece to herself. Although she wasn’t truly terrified for their lives with these men, as she should be, she sure as hell didn’t trust them one little bit. The less information they knew about them the better.
“I never intended for that to happen, and I am very sorry about your house.” King’s quiet voice was laced with an honesty that she couldn’t deny. She took a second glance at his face absorbing every hard line, the small white scar that marred his thick dark beard, and his strong straight nose. If they traveled back in time a few hundred years, she would swear he came from royalty.
Besides, she’d been a social worker long enough to discern when people were lying to her. Right now, King was not lying. But he’d still turned her life upside down and she wasn’t going to give him an ounce of pity for that. “Then take us back. I’ll pretend like I never saw you.”
And then she could go on the hunt for her brother and demand he explain just exactly what was going on.
King let out a long deep sigh and she knew he’d deny her request before he spoke. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Not yet anyway.”
“So exactly how long do you plan to keep us prisoner? A week? A month? I need to call in sick to work or at least let them know why I won’t be showing up so I’m not fired. I’ve already lost my house; it would really suck to lose my job too.” Oh dear Lord, she could kick herself for her smart aleck comment. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?
Diggs burst out laughing and she would’ve sworn King’s lips twitched, although he didn’t smile. “We’ll take care of the job. Consider yourself on extended paid vacation.”
“You could help us, tell us where your brother’s been staying.” King lowered the visor, watching her in the mirror.
Laura glanced out
the window, watching the familiar scenery fade behind her as they drove out of town. “You were just there.”
King said something under his breath and although she couldn’t make out the words, she had a feeling it wasn’t positive.
“He’s been with you this whole time?” he said out loud.
“Off and on,” she answered.
He’d drifted in and out, staying as long as he could to spend time and reconnect with Faith, with his daughter. She’d watch their bond grow stronger each time, although Faith still tended to shy away from him to Laura. When Laura told him about his ex taking her away, he’d been furious. She’d intended to tell him also about the bruises that had been on Faith’s body when she’d taken her back, but held her tongue. Her brother had enough guilt over his daughter; she hadn’t wanted to add to it.
He let out a long sigh, shifting in his seat. She could only imagine what that explosion had done to him, and if she hadn’t seen her brother run off down the street with her own eyes, she would have been frightened with worry over his condition.
Diggs turned off the main highway, cutting down a gravel one lane road. They rode in silence, only the sound of rocks pinging on the undercarriage of the truck sounding through the cab. Faith, bless her heart, fell asleep, propped up against Laura’s side. Laura was so keyed up she couldn’t imagine taking a nap. After a while he turned on the pavement, the only visible markers alongside the road were thick hardwoods and pines interspersed with the occasional blooming dogwood. She gave up trying to figure out what direction they were going or even where they were.
Diggs drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, and then blew out a long breath. “How old is your daughter?”
King had laid back in the front seat and closed his eyes, his body held so still she could’ve sworn he was asleep.
“Faith is seven and a half.” Laura slid her fingers underneath the long stray strands of her blonde hair and pushed it off her face. She just clutched the cat to her chest even in her sleep. Laura had attempted to buy her a new one, but she refused. Princess Kitty, as fate had named the stuffed animal, was her best friend in the whole world and even though she looked like she’d been run over more than once, Faith loved her. So, when Princess Kitty’s eyes had popped off, Laura had found buttons to replace them. And when Faith had been asleep at night, she’d got the animal out quick for a wash and dry and had her back in the girl’s arms before she ever woke up in the morning.
Mayhem’s King: Operation Mayhem Page 4