Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1)

by Cynthia Justlin

  The hair on the back of Keith’s neck suddenly prickled. Something wasn’t...they had to get out of here...now. He gripped Grace’s shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

  Her hands slid off Mark’s face. “No, wait.”

  Outside, a speedboat revved its engine and sideswiped the Saving Grace as it came to a screeching halt. The houseboat rocked beneath his feet and pitched him forward. He stumbled, loosing his hold on Grace.

  His muscles strained taut, he planted his booted feet, shifted his stance and hauled Grace to his side. Four men burst through the galley and hemmed them in, two on each side. Grace’s clammy hand found his and clutched tightly. He sent her an answering squeeze.

  Keep quiet.

  Tough to do when forced to look down the barrels of four wicked submachine guns.

  Her tight, shallow breathing was her only answer. Thank God.

  One of the men wrestled his HK out of his hand. Outnumbered, outgunned, and shit out of luck unless he came up with a plan.

  “Where’s Ryker?” Grace’s reedy voice rippled across the thick tension.

  And, damn it all, that was certainly not it.

  Tension exploded across his brow. The man in front of him looked way too trigger-happy. Short, with a sneer curling underneath his mustache, the man had an edgy glint in his eyes Keith recognized as a thrill for inflicting pain. The man next to him just looked bored, which didn’t fool Keith in the least.

  These men wanted something. Otherwise all three of them would already be cold and dead. He needed to find out what and get Grace off the boat before this whole scenario turned deadly.

  “Where is my son,” Grace repeated.

  He squeezed Grace’s hand. Tighter.

  Be quiet!

  The taller one facing them swiveled his gun at Grace and inclined his head. “He’s safe. For now.”

  Keith glanced at Grace, trying to gauge her reaction to the gruff statement. Her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulders slumped in relief but a new, stronger tension seemed to stiffen her spine. A tension born of fury that glittered in her eyes when she opened them.

  “Grace.” He barked her name rougher than intended, but he knew anger made people do stupid things. Reckless, impulsive, foolish things.

  And Grace was on the verge.

  He fisted a hand in the back of her shirt and tried to tug her behind him, out of target range. She just glared, first at him, then at the men surrounding them.

  “I want my son.”

  “Grace.”

  Shorty smirked. “And you’ll get him. When you hand over the drive.”

  She frowned. “Drive? What drive?”

  “Grace,” he snapped. “Stop.”

  “The flash drive.” Shorty lifted his booted foot and kicked Mark in the side of the head. “Your ex here refuses to give it to us.”

  “No! Don’t!” Grace’s hand shot out.

  Grace started to sink to her knees to help Mark, but Keith lunged for her, dragging her upright. They had a much better chance if they stayed on their feet. “We don’t know anything about—”

  She batted his hands away and glared at the hired guns. “You’ll get the drive when I get my son.”

  “What?” His heart twisted in his chest and sank to the pit of his stomach. What the hell was she doing? Sweat sprouted on his brow and trickled into his eyes, stinging him and impairing his vision. “Grace, no.”

  She ignored him. “When my son is in my arms—safe and sound, without a scratch on him—and not a moment before.”

  “This is bullshit.” Shorty snaked his free arm out and captured Grace, shoving his gun against her temple. “You’re not in any position to bargain, lady.”

  Keith lunged for her. “Get your hands—hey—”

  One of the silent bastards from behind wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him back. His throat constricted and he gagged over the loss of air, flashes of light crowding his vision.

  Knife. In his boot.

  He clawed at the man’s arm and twisted, trying to bend his body enough to reach the knife with his free hand.

  Grace’s eyes went huge. Her mouth pulled tight into a horrified mask.

  He gasped for breath. His fingers brushed the top of his boot. A...few...more...inches. He stretched and the hold on his neck crushed in on his windpipe further.

  “You’re in no position to bargain either,” Grace said, stunning the hell out of him.

  Time to keep your pretty mouth shut.

  “You need the drive,” she continued, obviously missing his telepathic hint. “I have it. There’s only one way you’ll ever get it.”

  Damn it all. How in the hell had this spiraled out of control so fast? He felt a foreign spurt of panic. He grunted and threw his weight toward the floor. His fingers slid the remaining distance inside his boot and connected with the hilt of the knife. His hand closed around it.

  The two men exchanged a shrouded look and a nod that had Keith’s stomach clenching. Oh, damn. Not good.

  “You want to negotiate? Tomorrow. Five o’clock,” Shorty snarled. “Bring the drive to Powell Park. If you’re late...” He pressed his lips to Grace’s cheek. “Kiss your son goodbye.”

  Keith’s blood rushed white hot through his veins. He roared, and sprung upwards, knocking his assailant’s forearm aside with the tip of his knife. He lunged for Grace as Shorty pushed her to the floor and smashed her cheek into the carpet. Momentum threw Keith forward and he fell on top of Grace, hard. His knife slipped from his grasp and skittered uselessly under the couch.

  He scrambled to his feet; ready to do battle with nothing more than his bare hands. But the four men had already moved to the back of the boat where they clamored up the steps and out of view.

  Damn it!

  “You okay?” Keith swiped sweat off his brow with lethal force and spun back to Grace, his breath heaving painfully from his chest. “Mind telling me what the hell you were doing?”

  Her reply—if she’d even bothered to answer—was swallowed by the sudden rev of the speedboat as it raced away from the Saving Grace.

  “Grace?”

  He bent to catch her elbow, but she shrugged him off and crawled over to where Mark lay motionless on the carpet.

  “Come on, Mark.” She tugged at his shoulders and tried to turn him on his back. “We’re going to get you out of here. Stick with us. Come on. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

  Keith clenched his jaw and looked away unable to watch Grace plead with Mark. She’d suffered enough without adding Mark’s death on her already overburdened heart. But Mark would never make the trek to the hospital. His injuries were far too severe.

  “Grace?” Mark’s voice was thin and full of confusion. Not a good sign. He struggled to lift his head. “I’m s...sorry. I tried. I thought...I could keep Ryker safe. Never meant for him...in danger.”

  A blip of red on the couch caught Keith’s attention. He strode over to it and palmed the small black box. The LCD panel in the middle was blank, but the single red light blinked hot once more.

  “No, don’t talk...I know,” Grace said, still bent over Mark, her voice clogged with emotion. “I’ll get Ryker back. I swear it.”

  Keith’s blood turned to ice as he turned the box over in his hand. Holy shit, it was a detonator. He examined the trigger device and swore. No keypad, no switches. No shut-off whatsoever.

  Suddenly, numbers lit across the LCD.

  1:00

  0:59

  Aw, shit. “Mark. Is there a bomb onboard?”

  Grace’s head whipped in Keith’s direction. He forced himself to ignore the way her face froze into a mask of panic and focused solely on Mark.

  Mark’s pain glazed eyes locked on Keith as he fought to push himself off the floor. “Dis...arm?”

  Keith grunted. “If I had more time, possible. But—” He glanced at the readout. 0:49

  “Oh, God, Keith.” The news galvanized Grace into action. She grabbed Mark firmly about the waist, her hands digging
into his bloodied clothing. “We’ve got to—Come on, Mark let’s—Keith, help me get Mark off the boat.”

  “Keith.” Mark’s voice cut across the stifling interior like serrated rust. He coughed and spit more blood. “Get her out of here.”

  “No. Don’t you dare. That’s not an option. We’re not leaving without you.” Grace tugged at Mark. He used what little strength he possessed to stay put. She speared Keith with an imploring glance. “We’re not leaving without him.”

  Could he get all three of them off the boat? It was risky. His gut churned. Mark would not survive. He knew it. Endangering them all by trying to save Mark was irresponsible.

  He tossed the detonator on the couch and reached for Grace. “Come on, Grace. We have no choice.”

  She wrenched her elbow out of his grasp. “We can’t leave him!” Her hands fisted in Mark’s shirt. “We won’t leave you.”

  Mark sucked in a thick, wet, breath. He inclined his head and locked eyes with Keith. “Must...for Ry...”

  Mark knew this was the end of the road for him. Keith could see it in the set of his jaw, the determination in his sudden lucid gaze. Along with the silent command to take care of Grace and finish what they started.

  He nodded. But, damn, if he didn’t feel uneasy. Conflicted and wildly out of control. “Sir. The drive?”

  Grace gasped, her face turning pale. “No! Stop it. Help me!”

  “At my office. It’s...Washington—” Mark gagged as his lungs continued to fill with blood. “Mon...u...ment.” He fell back. “Go...” Tears leaked from his clouded eyes and he clenched his teeth as he tried, unsuccessfully, to push Grace away.

  The detonator beeped.

  0:30.

  Keith’s throat and eyes burned with the acid of regret. He was out of options.

  He hauled Grace away from Mark. Her fingers clung to Mark’s shirt and she cried out when her hands slipped free.

  “Keith.” Mark’s frenzied voice cut into Keith like the blade of his MK3. “Get. Her. Off. The fucking boat. Now.”

  Grace’s fist pummeled Keith’s arms as he lifted her by the waist and dragged her toward the galley.

  “No! Let go! Let me go!”

  He tightened his hold and ran for the stairs. Adrenaline kicked in making Grace feel weightless in his arms. He leapt up the steps and onto the deck.

  He dropped Grace into the Enigma then dove head first in after her. Her knees struck the ragged carpet beside him. His hand snagged on the ignition key and gave it a vicious twist.

  “What are you doing?” Grace’s raw voice screamed over the roar of the boat motor.

  He clenched his jaw, pulled the throttle and revved the engine, reversing the boat at top speed. Water sprayed his face and splashed over the side of the boat.

  Then the world exploded. A fireball engulfed the Saving Grace. Heat rushed his face, stealing his breath. Choppy waves tossed the worn out old boat making it dip and rock. He clutched the throttle and yanked the steering hard right. The boat spun a nice, tight 180, emitting an air-splitting shriek.

  Hell. That wasn’t the boat; that was Grace.

  The Enigma pitched to the side. He tasted blood in his mouth as he muscled the steering. Left. Right. Fight for it.

  Don’t you dare capsize, you piece of crap!

  He stole a glance at Grace. Smoke and intense orange flames reflected in her wide eyes. He jerked the steering wheel left once more and pressed the throttle to the max.

  The Saving Grace was gone. Mark was gone. He smashed his fist against the unforgiving metal wheel. The boat jumped forward and leveled out, skipping across the water

  They’d missed the bomb by seconds. His hands shook. He curled them tighter around the steering wheel. He’d had it under control. Until it went terribly wrong.

  No, you let it go sour.

  He’d let Grace sway him. All because...what? He wanted to show Grace he cared?

  He hated that she thought him a selfish bastard. This wasn’t just about his agenda anymore. Ryker mattered to him.

  She...

  He ran his hand over his face. Oh, damn.

  She mattered to him.

  Chapter Ten

  “How could we just leave him?”

  It took the entire journey from Lake Powell back to Mark’s office at SecureStor for Grace to find her voice, but once she did, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling into the silence.

  She trembled from head to toe as she stood in the middle of the room. Keith gripped the file cabinet against the wall. One muscle ticked in his tight jaw.

  “I asked for your help,” she said, needing answers, needing absolution even though she recognized that Mark’s injuries would have been fatal—on or off the boat.

  Grim determination creased Keith’s face. “I had to make a choice.”

  “I know,” she whispered, throat tight.

  She lifted her hands to wipe the wetness from her cheeks and froze at the blood that stained her palms.

  Mark’s blood.

  Mark was dead. Oh, God. And her baby was alone with mercenaries who were capable of torturing a grown man to death. What would they do to Ryker if she couldn’t find the drive in time? How did she even know he was safe as promised?

  Where had they taken him? Was he cold? In the dark? What if his asthma was bad?

  He had special anti-allergy sheets at home to keep away the dust. And how would he sleep without his stuffed dolphin?

  Her stomach lurched and her vision swam. She hung her head and locked her shaky knees. Her gaze snagged on the crimson staining her clothing.

  A whimper sneaked past her lips. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She scrubbed at the smears of blood on her skin and inhaled deeply through her nose. She couldn’t fall apart. Ryker needed her now more than ever. She fixed her gaze on the concrete wall of the storage building.

  Keith chest suddenly filled her vision. He covered her hands, stopping her from rubbing them raw. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

  She met his eyes. “What have I done? Ryker’s not some bargaining chip. He’s my son.” Panic crept from the pit of her stomach and squeezed her throat. She clutched Keith’s shirt. “We’re running out of time.”

  Keith’s arms slid around her and pulled her close. His lips brushed her hair. “We’ll find the drive.”

  She clutched at Keith and buried her face in his shoulder, gaining strength from his solid presence. “What did Mark mean by in his office and Washington Monument? Did he have yet another office at the Capital? We’ll never make it to Washington D.C. and back in time by taking a commercial flight.”

  “It makes no sense for Mark to take the drive all the way to D.C. when he had a perfect hiding place here.”

  She pulled back. “But if we’re wrong—”

  Keith dropped his arms and stepped away. “I’m calling in reinforcements.”

  Hope fluttered in her chest. “Mark’s superiors at Defense Intelligence?”

  He sighed. “No. They’re out of it.”

  “Why?”

  “To go after Mark’s killers the DIA would have to admit the Gray Army exists. If they do that, they jeopardize everything the Gray Army stands for.”

  “So all Mark’s work, his death, means nothing? The government just ignores Ryker? They don’t care if my baby...dies?”

  “It’s not that simple, Grace.”

  “I don’t care how complex it is! This is my son we’re talking about. Ryker is everything to me.”

  “We’re on our own. Which is why I’m calling in someone I know I can trust.”

  “Who?”

  “Cameron Scott. He’s a former Special Forces officer, and a friend.”

  He rolled his shoulders, giving Grace the impression that he was somehow uncomfortable with the admission that Cameron Scott was more than an associate.

  “But, we need to try to find the drive as soon as possible. It’s bound to be encrypted. Cam will need time to sort out the garbage so we can find out
what’s on the damn thing before we willingly pass it off to some traitorous asshole.”

  “I don’t care what’s on it. They’re getting whatever they want.”

  Keith narrowed his eyes. “Grace, we’re talking about national security, here.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yeah, well the government’s gonna care.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “I need that drive. It’s the only evidence I have to save my reputation with my men and get the bastard responsible for their deaths.”

  Her heart plummeted to her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the sudden uneasy feeling at bay. She’d thought Keith was beginning to care about her and Ryker, but by the way he made it sound, his agenda was much more important. “How do I know you’re not planning on taking the drive and leaving me to face these assholes on my own?”

  After all, years ago he’d proven himself out for his own gain when he’d left her and her sister’s reputation in tatters. The rumors hadn’t been true—not any of them. And Becca was the one who suffered a far worse fate than the hundreds of lies slung their way.

  “Grace.”

  She blinked the memories aside. Keith crouched in front of her, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  “What?” she said, hating the waver in her voice.

  “Whatever it is you’re wrestling with, don’t.” He touched her cheek, his warm fingers causing an unwanted flutter in her chest. “I gave my word we’d get Ryker back. You knew Mark better than me. What would he mean by Washington Monument?”

  His word. A few days ago she wouldn’t have trusted Keith’s word. But, as he said, they were on their own. She had to believe he’d do the right thing.

  She drew in a breath. “Ryker did a project for his second grade history fair on the Washington Monument. We made a poster with pictures and stuff and then he and Mark made this mini monument. Ryker was so proud of it. He brought it home along with a blue ribbon and we tacked it to the bulletin board in his room. Could Mark have hidden the drive in Ryker’s model?”

  She frowned. “It’s gone now, though. The fire...,” A quick pang slicing through her, “But, we took...”

  Oh my God, that had to be it! Her heart kicked up a notch, pounding painfully in her chest. She raced to the nearest wall. “Pictures.”