Cam shook his hand, and with a promise to call him with any information, left the room.
Once again, the courtroom fell silent and the vacant chairs stared back at him. Only this time, victory filled the air.
He’d succeeded.
His career remained unblemished. His friends still believed in him
He walked down the aisle and shoved the heavy oak doors open. Outside the sun shone brightly, the sky a deep blue.
His life was perfect.
So why did a burst of empty discontent suddenly ripple through his heart?
Grace shifted the bag of groceries in her arms, unlocked the front door and stepped into Mark’s living room. Sun streamed through the windows and lit up the barren room. It saddened her to see Mark’s life reduced to the stacks of boxes that littered the floor. She’d kept a few precious mementos for Ryker, but for the most part, Mark’s belongings would go to charity.
When she’d learned that Mark had left her the house in his will, she’d been stunned. After mulling it over, she knew she could never make a home for her and Ryker here. She missed her house nestled in the pine trees, but even that place held a shadow of memories best left in the ashes. It was time for her and Ryker to start fresh.
He squeezed past her, ducking beneath her arm, on the way to the open kitchen that connected to the living room. “I’ll get the chocolate syrup!”
She grinned and held out the paper sack that contained a gallon of Ryker’s favorite Oreo cookie ice cream. “Whoa, buster. Don’t go empty handed.”
Ryker rolled his eyes and returned to snatch the bag from her grasp. “Do I get a double scoop for this?”
“Of course.” She set the bag that held the rest of her purchases on the counter. “With a double helping of chocolate syrup and whipped cream.”
“Don’t forget the bananas or the cherry on top!”
“They’re all right here.”
Her cell phone rang and she dumped it out of her purse.
Quinn’s number flashed on the display. “Hello, Quinn.”
“Hey, Grace, you left a message for me?”
“Yes, I’m expecting someone from the Disabled Veterans of America this afternoon. I’m donating some of Mark’s things.”
“Okay. Bob and I will keep on eye out for ‘em and stay back. We wouldn’t want to scare the bejeesus out of ‘em.”
Grace laughed. “I hope not.”
She said goodbye and disconnected the call. “All right, who’s ready for a banana split?”
“Me!” Ryker punched his fist into the air.
She dragged out the chocolate syrup and whipped cream from the refrigerator. Side by side, she and Ryker scooped ice cream, peeled bananas and assembled Ryker’s monster sized desert. She plucked two spoons from the drawer.
“Dig in.”
Ryker didn’t need to be told twice. She sunk her spoon into his chocolate ice cream and scooped out a bite.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Ryker grinned, a dollop of whipped cream stuck to his lip.
“You can share with your mom.”
“Oh, all right,” Ryker grumbled.
Grace propped her elbows on the counter and looked out to the living room. “Thanks for your help today.”
“You’re welcome.” Ryker sighed around a mouthful of ice cream. “Are we almost done?”
“Just about.”
She spotted the large gray van through the living room’s bay window as it pulled up in front of the house. “That must be the Disabled Veterans.” She ruffled Ryker’s hair. “I’ll be right back, honey. Finish your ice cream while I help them load some of your dad’s stuff, okay?”
By the time she made it outside, the man had the van’s cargo door open. He had his back to her as he slid boxes aside to make room for her donations. Metal braces wrapped around his legs and squeaked as he moved.
“Thank you so much for coming.” She wiped her hand along the crease of her pants and held it out in greeting.
“You’re welcome.” Familiar blue eyes locked on her, turning her blood to ice. One corner of his mouth twisted into a sickeningly feral smile.
She gasped and her heart raced erratically as she fell back a step. Quinn. Where was he? She shot a glance around the yard looking for him, but the large cargo van blocked her view of the park across the street where he usually set up surveillance.
“Wh—what are you doing here?”
If possible, his smile turned even creepier. “I’m here for you.”
Unease slithered through her belly. Scream, damn it!
She opened her mouth but his hand clamped tightly over it before she had a chance to yell for Quinn.
He yanked her close. “Get in the van.” His hot breath slithered across her ear. The hard point of a gun dug into her temple.
She sucked in several large gulps of air through her nose and shook her head.
Ryker. Oh, God, he was waiting for her. What if he came outside?
Frantic terror fluttered in her chest. She had to do something. She attempted to twist out of the man’s grasp but his large hands held her upper body immobile. Her legs, however, were free. She struck out with her foot--and connected with metal across his legs.
He let out a bark of laughter. “These damn braces come in handy after all.”
Frustration stung her eyes. Don’t come outside. She chanted the fervent prayer in her head, hoping Ryker would somehow hear her warning. The man’s sweaty palm slipped on her mouth. She opened her lips and bit down on his skin.
His fingers dug into her cheeks as he tightened his grip across her face and dragged her closer to the van. “In. Now. Or I’ll pull the trigger. I don’t care if your kid sees me do it.”
Her head snapped up and her heart stopped, crushing the air from her chest. Ryker. His small, pale face peeked between the curtains of the bay window.
She shook her head violently. “No.” The word was lost between her mouth and the man’s palm.
The white fabric that draped the window fluttered.
No, Ryker, stay there.
The curtains stilled. Ryker’s face disappeared.
Do not come outside!
The man shoved her into the van. Her knees struck the unforgiving metal, but she ignored the pain and spun.
“Help!”
The door slammed in her face and swallowed her cry. Darkness pressed in on her from the windowless space. She pounded her fists on the door. “Help me! Let me out of here!”
The engine snarled to life. Ryker’s high-pitch scream keened above the noise. “Mommy!”
“Ryker!” She felt for the door’s lock, searched for the latch, but the inside of the door was smooth.
The van jerked forward. Momentum threw her backward, her head struck the opposite side as the van sped down the street.
Ryker was alone. No, he had Quinn nearby. And Bob. They’d realize what happened and take care of Ryker. Quinn would call Keith.
And Keith would come in a heartbeat.
The C-17 dipped, and Keith’s stomach went with it. He gripped the rail overhead to steady himself, and turned to the eager trainees prepared to experience their first real HALO jump.
Did any of them feel as ill as he did?
He tightened his jaw as the large cargo hatch at the rear of the aircraft opened. Gray clouds stretched beneath the plane, masking the thirty thousand feet that stood between him and the ground.
As the recruits lined up, two-by-two, and the aircraft leveled out, he found himself thinking of Grace. How was she doing? Had Ryker perfected the card trick he’d taught him?
His throat constricted. Damn, I miss them. They were under his skin. Big time. He’d never before let anyone that close. How could his heart hurt with missing them?
In the last several days, he’d picked up the phone several times to check in. But he always returned it to the cradle before he dialed Grace’s number.
His life was here. Grace wouldn’t welcome his call. Not with the way they’d left t
hings between them.
Static crackled over the headset embedded in his helmet. “We’re good to go,” the pilot announced.
Keith’s head swam with the same dizzy feeling he’d experienced since that first HALO jump during his own freefall training days. Back then he hadn’t wanted to admit how close he’d come to being cut from the Special Forces. HALO jumping was a necessary skill; failure had not been an option.
His stomach rolled. “Ten-four.”
The first two recruits stepped up to the open cargo bay and stared into the vast cloudless blue sky.
Keith urged them on with a flick of his arm. “Let’s go, team.”
The men nodded and jumped, side-by-side. The deep blue surrounded the pair. They shrunk in size as they fell further away from the plane, until they disappeared completely from view.
Bile rose in Keith’s throat. He forced it down and gave the command for the rest of the recruits who jumped from the aircraft in rapid succession.
And then, Keith alone stood at the edge of the C-17.
He sucked in a breath and choked on his own spit. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Get a grip, fathead.
He rubbed a hand along his brow and straightened. He had a job to do, and he would damn well do it.
When he’d been in danger of scratching out of the Special Forces because he couldn’t make the jump did he chicken out and give up?
He’d stood at this very spot, looking down at the cloudless blue sky, his stomach a jumble of nerves, and realized that he wanted a spot on the team too badly to fail.
Stop trying to control the situation and take the risk, he’d told himself.
“Are you going or not?” The sudden shout through his earpiece came from the pilot.
“Yeah, I’m going.” He stepped to the edge, the tips of his boots meeting nothing but air. I love this job. The mantra chanted in his head as the wind whipped around him. I love this job. It defines me.
He sucked in a breath. Grace. She completed him too. The way she looked when they made love, her heart in her beautiful green eyes, gave him the same sense of rightness—of coming home—as he had when he’d joined the Army.
He’d put everything on the line to go after what mattered to him. Didn’t Grace deserve the same kind of devotion?
He stepped into the blue abyss, adrenaline rushing through him. A grin tipped his mouth. “Hoo Yah!”
He had to tell Grace he loved her—even if she threw the words back in his face.
Keith’s cell phone rang the moment he stepped onto the blacktop outside the hangar. He pulled it from his belt and flipped it open.
He didn’t recognize the number, but by the area code the call originated from Northern Arizona.
He pushed the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear. “King.”
“Keith?”
Ryker’s wavery voice stopped him cold.
“Hey, buddy. What is it?”
Ryker’s breath shuddered into the phone. “He took mom.”
“Whoa...hold on...who took your mom?”
“That man! That man with the metal legs! The one who gave me that piece of paper. He was supposed to be from the donation place, but he wasn’t and he had a gun and he pushed her in the van.”
Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest. He swiped his hand through his hair. “Slow down. What donation place? Are you hurt?”
“No. I was inside, and mom told me to wait and I did, but then I missed her and I looked out the window and—will you come?”
His throat tightened. “You bet.”
Ryker sniffed. “Soon? Can you come right now?”
“Are you alone?”
“I ran outside and Quinn saw and took off and now Bob’s staying with me. But what about mom? She’s all alone.”
“Stay in the house. Keep the doors locked and listen to Bob. Don’t open for anyone but Quinn, okay?” His phone beeped and he glanced at the display. “Cam’s calling me. I need to take it.”
“’Kay.”
“Hang tight, buddy.”
Keith switched over the call and strode back toward the hanger. “The son of a bitch took Grace.” He bit off the words without giving Cam a chance to speak.
Taut silence weighed down the other end of the line until Cam snapped it with a whispered, “Fuck.”
He clenched the phone to his ear. “Tell me you have something.”
“The bank accounts are fake, Keith. Every single one of them belongs to a retiree with medical problems. Vernon Alfonso, eighty-five and carries an oxygen tank around with him. Maria Rodriguez, sixty, just had a hip replacement. Juan Gortez, seventy, died of a coronary about three weeks back. And get this, they’d all been hospitalized in the last month. Guess where?”
“Nogales Medical center.”
“You got it. This entire thing reeks of a setup. Why give the kid numbers to a bunch of useless accounts? Unless this bastard wants to be found. Unless he wants you to find him.”
Keith’s phone beeped. Quinn. “I need to take this call. Contact Nogales Medical Center and see if you can get a name of the patient who went missing the day we were there. I need a name, Cam. I have a feeling he’s our guy.” He switched over to Quinn’s call. “Talk to me. What the hell is going on?”
“My partner is with Ryker. I’m following the van right now. Arizona plates. Zero, One, Five, Juliet, Alpha, Kilo,” Quinn said using the Army Alphabet to spell out the letters on the plate. “We’ll know exactly where he takes her.”
“How did someone get past you in the first place?” Fear and anger roiled through Keith. “Damn it, you were supposed to make sure she was safe!”
“I’m sorry, Keith. I was watching the house from across the street. Grace told me to expect someone from the Disabled Vets. She was donating some of her ex-husband’s stuff. When the handicapped van pulled up, blocking my view of the house, I assumed he was from the DV.”
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“Not for long. Five-Seven, shaggy brown hair in need of a cut, braces on his legs. He looked like a handicapped veteran, for God’s sake. Suddenly Ryker came running out of the house, screaming, and the next thing I know the van tore off.” Static crackled across the line. “I’m sorry, Keith. We’ll get the bastard.”
Keith ground his teeth together. “I’m on my way.”
He clicked off the phone and stepped into the hanger.
An OH-6 Cayuse helicopter sat on the concrete holding area. It could catch up with Quinn in roughly an hour and a half. Not as fast as he’d like, but much better than the five hour trip by motorcycle.
He stepped up into the chopper.
“King. Where do you think you’re going with that bird?”
Keith looked through the windshield of the chopper to find his superior, Captain Jonathan Perkins, staring him down.
“Sir. I’m taking an unauthorized absence.”
“Not with my helicopter.” Perkins narrowed his eyes. “Do you even know how to fly that thing?”
“I’ve had emergency flight simulation training.” Years ago, but he left that small detail out. He’d fly the damn chopper with one hand tied behind his back if necessary. He flipped on the instrument panel.
Perkins stepped to the opening of the chopper. “Step down, King. That is not a request.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t do that. Two people I love very much are in trouble.”
Perkins’ lips thinned. “Stealing a chopper to go AWOL a second time will wreck your career. You’re already on thin ice here.”
“With all due respect, I don’t give a rat’s ass about my career.” The pressure in his heart eased. Grace and Ryker needed him. His career, the one thing that’d always meant everything to him, suddenly paled in comparison. “If JAG wants to court martial me up, down and sideways, let them. If they want to discharge me, fine.” His hands shook as he gripped the controls. “I have to save her, Sir.”
Perkins tightened his jaw and met his Keith’s stare. He refuse
d to back down.
Perkins sighed. “King.”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s get you authorized.”
Keith struck the chopper with his hand. “I don’t have time to go through all the red-tape and paperwork bullshit. I have to go now. Before it’s too late.”
Perkins gave him a terse nod. “No paperwork. As of right now, you’re on authorized leave. For as long as it takes.” He pointed at Keith. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you take off with this bird. Let me call you a pilot.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Cobwebs grazed Grace’s face as she was shoved inside the dilapidated one room cabin. Weak sunlight filtered through the high skylights and reflected off the dust particles that sifted through the broken section of railing in the loft overhead. Windows framed the back door that broke up the small length of countertop that passed as a rough kitchen. Wood crunched under her feet, and the cabin’s grime clawed at her raw throat.
Ryker was safe. She knew Quinn and Keith would make sure of that. But who would find her here, out in the middle of nowhere?
“Why did you bring me to this place?” She spun to face her captor and met the barrel of his gun instead. Her breath hitched as she drew up short, her knees wobbling. “What do you want with me anyway?”
He arched a brow. “Absolutely nothing. It’s Keith I want. It’s time I had a long overdue chat with my best bud.”
Keith would come. But he had to find her first.
Grace laughed with feigned harshness. “You’re crazy if you think he’s coming to my rescue.”
“He’ll come,” he said, echoing her thoughts.
The passage of fourteen years had not treated him kindly yet even with the braces on his legs impeding his movements he still managed to walk with a cocky swagger that set Grace’s teeth on edge.
He gestured to the lone spindle-less wooden chair near the stone fireplace. “Sit.”
She stiffened her spine. “No.”
Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) Page 25