by DiAnn Mills
For once Mikaela felt sorry for the town’s chief mechanic. “The library shooting?”
“Oh yeah, had to keep my Harley in Pradmore, along with the Camry I used for the chase that day on the road. Thought you might scare down, but you surprised me.”
“And you planted the bomb in my car?”
She nodded. “I figured you’d find it, and Keary needed to throw a little more cash into my account to keep you alive awhile longer.”
Voleta wouldn’t live long enough to spend any of it. Keary would make sure she was dead as soon as she outlived her usefulness. “I heard Jason Stevens gave you orders.”
“Jason is none of your business.”
“A sore topic?”
“I’m getting bored with this. Sit down.” She motioned to the chair and Mikaela complied. Voleta opened the door and fired a shot into the left front tire of Mikaela’s car.
Mikaela needed to buy time. Let Voleta play all the games she wanted. “What’s the plan?”
“A megadose from the prescriptions you just had filled and a bullet to your head.” Intelligence sparked in Voleta’s eyes, but she was overly confident. Just like Keary. She reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of water. “Down them.”
“You don’t want to add murder to your list.”
“Nothing new.” She waved the gun toward the pharmacy bag. “Take them. You can’t hold a whole bottle of pills in your mouth. And if you refuse, I always have another plan.”
A little more time and help would arrive—complete with a recorded confession. An engine roared outside—a motorcycle. Voleta kept the Glock aimed at Mikaela and made her way to the window. She cursed. “It’s Miles.”
Mikaela listened to Miles climb the steps and knock on the door. Could she deter him? refuse to answer?
“Bring him in,” Voleta said, “or I’ll bloody your porch.”
Mikaela stood from the chair and slowly opened the door. Palmer’s men needed to get there fast before it was too late. The sight of Miles, his smile, and the warm glow of love in his eyes made her physically ill. This was going down badly.
“Hey, I was driving by and saw you were home.”
“This isn’t a good time.” She sent him a silent warning. “I’ll call you later.”
“Mikaela, I have your gun aimed at him.”
Mikaela met his eyes. Too late to save Miles from this. She widened the door, and he joined her and Voleta.
“How cozy,” Voleta said. “Both of you can have a seat on the sofa here.”
“What’s going on?” Miles asked.
“This is my welcoming committee,” Mikaela said. “Voleta seems to think I’m a threat.”
Voleta’s laugh scraped at Mikaela’s nerves. “Your sweet librarian is about to shoot you and blow a hole through her own head.”
“Is Keary paying you enough for murder?” Miles asked.
Voleta shook her head. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
A car door slammed. Then another.
“What the—?” Voleta swore.
Miles stood. “You’ve been caught.”
Mikaela took her place beside him. “Give it up. The CIA’s here, and your confession has been recorded.”
“Liar.” Voleta stole a look out the window. “I have no problem getting rid of you two.”
Mikaela took a quick step forward and swung her hand against the Glock. It fired once, twice, then went flying across the room. Miles went after the gun, but Voleta reached it first and fired. White-hot pain seared Mikaela’s shoulder just before she lunged at Voleta. The door opened and Miles shouted for the team’s assistance.
The first operative in the door was the fellow who had sat beside her at the football games, the same man who had struck up a conversation with her the day at the convenience store. A woman operative stood on Mikaela’s porch—the supposed wife who had supported her “husband’s” obnoxious comments about the football team. What a great support system. The pain persisted in her shoulder like she’d angered a whole hive of bees.
“She needs a doctor.” Miles bent to her side.
Mikaela grimaced and swiped at the blood dripping down her arm. The bullet had taken some flesh and exited without doing too much damage. She pointed to the bear. “The bug’s in there. You’ll need it.”
Mikaela reached for her cell phone despite Miles’s protests. She punched in Palmer’s number. “I think Keary may have Nathan or be heading for him. I’m going after my son.”
“You’re hurt,” Miles said. “Let these people do their job.”
“Listen to him,” Palmer agreed. “You’re in no shape to travel. I talked to Raif about thirty minutes ago, and everything is fine. But I can get backup on the road.”
Mikaela struggled to her feet—annoyed with Palmer and Miles and the pain in her arm. “I’m going after Nathan.” She closed her phone.
“You don’t have a car,” Miles said.
Mikaela moaned, not out of pain but in memory of the flat tire. “I’ll take yours.”
“I rode my bike.”
She took a deep breath. “Let’s go. Nathan is about an hour and a half from here.” She made her way into the kitchen and grabbed a towel. Miles snatched it from her and wrapped it around her arm. “You need a man to take care of you.” Granitelike lines deepened around his eyes. He reached into the upper cabinet and pulled out her Beretta. “This one’s for me.”
Despite the circumstances, she offered a quick smile before hurrying out the door with her cell phone in her pocket and her Smith in her left hand.
Chapter 57
Mikaela’s shoulder throbbed to the hum of the Harley flying down the highway. She concentrated on getting to Nathan before Keary and playing out all of the possibilities. Her phony pleas for him to bring Nathan’s inhaler probably didn’t hold solid ground, but it might give him something to think about.
Miles increased their speed. “You sure we’re heading in the right direction?”
“Palmer gave me the directions.”
“And your arm?”
Later she’d tell him how she’d nearly fallen off his he-man Harley. Dizzy with pain best described it. “I’m good.”
“And that’s why you’re holding on so tight. I’m thinking Palmer has men in Dallas who will get there before us.”
Mikaela hoped so, but she also knew rush-hour traffic. Miles drove against the flow, which evened the odds. She glanced at her watch: ETA for them was twenty-two minutes and counting down. Her mind flooded with unanswered questions. When had Keary left Oklahoma City? Was he driving? Who was with him? How would he explain snatching Nathan and the election tomorrow?
God, I don’t care what happens to me, but don’t let him take my son.
Ten minutes later, they drove into bone-chilling rain. Wet, slippery pavement set them up to lay the bike down, but Miles sped even faster. Mikaela squeezed his waist with a mixture of gratitude and an attempt to endure her wounded shoulder.
“Exit the feeder and take a right at the crossroad,” Mikaela said. “Two miles down the road, take a left for another three and a quarter miles. It’ll be a small bungalow-type house on the left.”
Miles didn’t question her. Perhaps he understood she needed to think through the urgency of getting Nathan safely away from Keary. When they swung into the quarter-mile-long driveway leading to the bungalow, no vehicles were in sight. She refused to subdue the flow of adrenaline.
Raif met her on the front porch as Miles pulled the motorcycle around to the back. “Backup got caught in traffic.”
“I’m taking Nathan,” Mikaela said. “Toss me your keys.”
“The last time I gave you my keys, you and Nathan were nearly killed.” He pointed to her shoulder. “The blood on your arm indicates another problem.”
She was in no mood to argue—only to get Nathan safely away from the house. “Then you get him out of here.”
A vehicle sped down the narrow driveway toward them. Mikaela held her
breath, hoping and praying it was filled with CIA and not Keary’s men. Miles appeared around the corner of the house, and the three of them hurried inside while two other operatives moved to the back of the house. A moment later, the whirling blades of a helicopter gathered their attention.
“Miss Paige!” Nathan sprung from the kitchen table covered in books, papers, and a checkerboard. Rosa and a young man who must be Gonsalvo sat with him. Anissa moved to the window to see what was happening outside. “You came to see me,” Nathan said.
She caught him, nearly toppling with the fire in her arm and her desire to hold her son. His face paled.
“What happened?” He took a step back.
“I’m all right, honey.”
“Maybe you need some Band-Aids.”
She wanted to kiss his precious face and keep him safe forever. “I—”
“Great.” Raif’s voice broke her thoughts. “Those aren’t ours.”
Mikaela shut down her emotions. Later I’ll be second mommy. “He won’t risk firing with Nathan in here.”
Miles studied the men outside. “Looks like they brought a small arsenal.”
Mikaela nodded to Rosa and silently apologized for endangering her life and Gonsalvo’s. “The three of you need to get on the floor in the middle of the house.” Rosa looked older, but she was still the same lady who had befriended Mikaela years before.
“Send out the boy,” Keary called. “And no one will get hurt. You have my word.”
“Your word? I’m not that big a fool,” Raif said. “And we’re about to have company.”
“And I’m not that big a fool,” Keary called back.
The other four men took cover. Stevens lifted an automatic. “I bet that boy is on the floor and away from any windows. And so are the Ngoimgos.”
Keary stopped Stevens. No doubt concerned for Nathan. Looked like a stalemate until help arrived. “It works both ways,” Keary said. “We start shooting, and you’ll release the boy so he won’t get hurt.”
Mikaela’s insides twisted. She tossed a look at Miles. He should be in the other room too.
Raif pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. He swore. “Backup’s still caught in traffic.” He snapped it shut. “You’re not getting the boy or the Ngoimgos,” he shouted. “You’re an idiot, Keary. Big risk on your end, considering Nathan . . .”
“Then you’ll all die for a cause that has nothing to do with any of you.”
Mikaela bit her tongue to keep from verbally tearing into Keary. It struck her that he would rather see Nathan dead than not with him. “We’ve got to get Nathan out of here.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Miles said. “I’m afraid Keary will get desperate and Nathan will get hurt.”
Two men guarded Raif’s SUV.
“Cover me, and I’ll use the bike,” Miles said.
She wanted to scream at the so-called coach. He could get himself killed, and she doubted he knew how to handle the gun in his hand. “I’m ready to give this all I have,” she said. “Are you?”
“Since the first time you hitched a ride.”
A bullet sailed through a window. Then several more. She made her way to the shattered glass and shot out two of the tires to their SUV. “Now we’re even,” she whispered. “They think I’m dead. Seems like I do my best work then.”
She made her way to Nathan. Everything within her cried no to Miles’s plan, but none of them had a choice. She held her son to her, desperately ignoring the fire in her arm and clinging to the fire in her heart. “I love you, Nathan.”
“I love you too.” His little body quivered. “Why are those men trying to hurt us?”
“They think we have something of theirs. But they’re wrong.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Lifting his chin, she peered into his blue eyes. “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You will now. A friend of mine is going to take you on a fast ride away from the men who are shooting at us. Do whatever he says.”
“Aren’t you coming?” He blinked back the tears.
Tears nearly blinded her. “I’ll join up with you after the police get here.”
“Promise?”
Oh, how she wanted to keep this promise. “Yes. God willing. I pray this is the last time we will be separated.”
Miles appeared in the doorway. “Cover me while I go out the back.” He tousled Nathan’s hair. “Once I pick you up, we’re traveling fast.”
“Okay, but I’m a little scared.”
“Just pray, brave boy,” Miles said. “Just pray.”
Mikaela caught one last glimpse of her men and nodded. Miles scooped Nathan up into his arms and darted out the back door toward his bike. Raif, Anissa, Mikaela, and the other two operatives poured a wall of gunfire into Keary and his men. Two fell.
The motorcycle’s engine roared into action, but Keary broke from behind the SUV and raced toward Miles. Mikaela pulled open the door, firing as she stumbled toward Keary. He would not stop Miles and her son. He would not.
Keary turned, long enough to give Miles a few seconds to speed away. Rage filled Keary’s face as he unleashed his weapon’s fury on her. A sharp pain, then another, attacked her leg. Blackness threatened to overtake her. But it didn’t matter. Miles and Nathan had gotten away.
* * *
Hours later, Miles sat at Paige’s bedside, one hand in hers and the other wrapped around Nathan’s shoulders. She’d gone through surgery to remove three bullets, and now they were waiting for her to wake up.
He’d been afraid he’d lost her. When he’d ridden back to the operatives, all he could see was blood. Paige’s blood. He told Nathan to close his eyes, but he knew the boy had seen far too much.
That’s why he was keeping Nathan with him. For once, something had to go right in the little boy’s life. With Keary, Stevens, and Voleta in custody, Miles wanted to believe Nathan and Paige had a chance for life. Together. Safe.
Paige opened her eyes. She smiled—that county-fair smile that got him every time.
“Hey,” she whispered. “How are my guys?”
“We’re good,” Miles said. “Aren’t we, pal?”
Nathan nodded. “You have lots of Band-Aids now.”
“I do.” She seemed to fight for every word.
“Why don’t you rest, and we’ll be here when you wake up.”
“We promise,” Nathan said.
“No, I want to enjoy every minute with you. I’m okay . . . really.”
Miles had so much to say . . . so much was unknown about the future.
“You handled yourself like a pro,” she finally said.
“I had good reasons.”
“How good?”
He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “My motives are selfish. I love you, Paige, and this little man beside me. We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the past several hours.”
Moisture welled her eyes. “I’m so lucky. Hey, I have a request for you two guys.”
“What’s that?” Miles stroked her cheek.
“Call me by my real name—Mikaela.”
Miles wrapped his arm around the little boy’s shoulder. “We can do that, can’t we?”
Nathan peered up at Miles, then to Mikaela, and nodded. So trusting. Miles wanted to always be there for them. “Today I proved to myself that faith can see us through anything. Whether you want to work for the CIA or shelve books or stay home to rear our babies, we’ll do it together.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“You’re stuck with me.”
He kissed her again, a slow, lingering promise for the future. “A couple of people from Wisconsin are waiting to see you.”
“They’re here?”
“Yes, and half the town of Split Creek, waiting to see how Mikaela Olsson is doing.”
* * *
The next morning, Miles flipped on the Channel 6 news. “I want to hear good news for a change.”
>
Mikaela raised her bed. “You think? Keary has some powerful attorneys.” She glanced at Nathan curled up on the other bed. He’d fallen asleep shortly after two that morning.
Miles took her hand. “I believe the system is on the side of justice.”
“. . . CIA operative Mikaela Olsson has lived undercover in Split Creek, Oklahoma, for seven years gathering information to prove allegations that Daniel Keary betrayed his countrymen eight years ago in Angola and has been involved in illegal practices since then. Olsson faced persecution and threats to her family from Keary in an effort to keep her quiet. However, yesterday, through a well-organized sting operation, Olsson exposed Daniel Keary and others who attempted to kill her. . . .”
Miles clicked off the news. “What do you think?”
“It wasn’t completely accurate, but it sounded good.”
“I like the ending. The mission’s completed.”
Uneasiness swept through her. Tomorrow held so many uncertainties. “It may not be happily ever after.” She studied Nathan’s face, so peaceful despite the turmoil in his young life. What a perfect little boy. What a gift from God. “He’ll need years of counseling to work through all of this,” she whispered. “And someday I’ll have to tell him the truth. I have no idea how or where to begin.”
“Honey, God is bigger than all of our problems.”
“I know, but I don’t want Nathan to ever hurt again—or you.” She closed her eyes and bit back a surge of pain in her leg. She hated to use the morphine drip.
“We can’t prevent our loved ones from hurting any more than you can wish away the pain in your leg.” He kissed her cheek. “So use the drip and trust God to lead us where we need to go.”
Another tear trickled from her eye. “I love you, Miles Laird. I hope I can someday give back to you what you’ve done for me.”
“Oh, you have.” He squeezed her hand. “Now let’s talk about our next Harley road trip.”