Five minutes.
It was done. There was no stopping it now.
Chapter 5
“H, G, two, two, two, zero, question mark,” Samantha Gamble read aloud to those who couldn’t see the H/G/2/2/2/0/? string on the computer screen, her voice tight.
Draven knew he didn’t have to explain to the five other people in the room. Not even recent addition to the Redstone Security team Logan Beck; Draven made it his business to personally instruct everyone he hired in this, what he considered their most important function. Not that his boss would agree; for Josh, his people took priority over everything else—property, assets…and himself.
“We’re sure this is from Josh’s plane?” Beck asked.
Draven explained the complex sig line that verified the transmission was indeed from the computer aboard Josh’s Hawk V. Then he held the ex-cop’s gaze and waited. Beck understood, and quickly translated, showing he’d forgotten nothing of this most emphasized lesson.
“H for hostage situation,” Beck said. “G means they’re still on the ground. The number-slash sequence means two hostages, two perps, two visible weapons and no injuries.”
Yet.
The unuttered word echoed in the Redstone Security squad room in the county airport hangar that had housed them for some time now. Draven read in all their faces that they’d heard that word as clearly as they were hearing the bustling sounds of the Redstone ground crew outside. The crew was readying the team’s Hawk III, unmarked except for the required tail number and sans the too-well-known Redstone paint job, for flight.
“Question mark,” Tony Alvera said, his face set in grim lines as he ran a finger over the distinctive patch of beard below his lower lip. A brightly new wedding band glinted on his ring finger, smooth and simple in contrast to his rather dangerous appearance.
“Motive unknown,” Beck said. He was sporting a textured wedding ring that was almost as new. Odd, Draven thought in a moment of digression he once wouldn’t have allowed himself, that he himself had been married longer than two of his own. He who had once figured he was destined for a solitary life. He who now had Grace, in all meanings of the name and the word.
And was happier than he’d ever thought possible.
Draven’s gaze flicked to the silent, dark man who stood off to one side. When he’d seen St. John’s Jessa with a uniquely carved engagement ring on her finger, he’d had to believe anything was possible.
“So they haven’t mentioned ransom,” Reeve Westin said, almost under her breath, defining aloud what they all knew the question mark in that position in the string meant.
“Only a fool would try that,” Sam said. “Josh has made it public knowledge for years that that is his strictest order. No ransom, under any circumstances.”
Reeve nodded. “I know. Sadly the world is full of fools, blindness and just plain evil.”
Draven knew that no one knew that better than Reeve. Her daily work was full of it. While on liaison to her husband’s Westin Foundation, funded in large part by Redstone and specializing in finding missing children, Reeve was still officially Redstone Security. When he and Sam, who were already here, had put the call out, she’d been the last one to arrive. Tony, at lunch with his wife at Redstone Headquarters, had been barely ahead of her.
And St. John had been first. He wasn’t Redstone Security, but no one was about to deny him access. Even if not for his intimidating demeanor, he was Josh’s right hand, and knew as much if not more of the inner, outer, and every other working of Redstone as Josh himself did. And formally trained or not, Draven would back St. John in just about any fight that came along; he’d grown up hard and tough and smart.
And Josh had always said that if anything happened to him, St. John was the one who could step in and Redstone would never miss a beat.
But nothing, Draven thought with near-violent determination, was going to happen to Josh. He would come through this without a scratch on him. He hadn’t built this incredible team to have it fail at the most important mission they’d ever faced. They would succeed, no matter what. And the time for musing about anything other than that goal was over.
“Tess,” St. John said.
“Yes,” Draven said, acknowledging the likely identity of the second hostage. The grim faces around him turned even grimmer. Draven understood. Tess was an institution at Redstone, a legend. And she’d helped every person in this room at one time or another. Including he himself. Tess was one of the few people outside his own security team who had his complete and total trust and respect. She was the best, coolest fixed wing pilot he’d ever seen, and as good or better in a helicopter. She’d been with Josh even longer than he had, had flown Redstone teams in and out of some of the most difficult spots on the planet, under sometimes even more difficult conditions. Like under fire.
Everybody in this room knew what she meant to Redstone. To each of them.
And to Josh.
“What’s the time element now?” Beck asked.
“Based on the computer’s mark, seven minutes, thirteen seconds,” Draven answered.
He knew he didn’t have to explain that, either. The five-minute deadline had passed, and nothing, no e-mail with a cancellation code, no text message or even phone call could stop the full mobilization of Redstone Security now.
“Synch now?” Samantha asked.
Draven nodded, and six wrists raised, including his own, as they set their ultra-accurate chronometers for the next full minute and listened to Sam count down. They were likely all on the same second anyway, the watches being a highly reliable Gamble design, but Redstone Security hadn’t become what they were by making assumptions. And what they were was the finest, most successful and respected—even in law enforcement and military circles—private security operation in the world, dedicated to one cause, keeping Redstone and its people safe.
On the minute Sam called the mark in a firm, steady voice, and the six of them started their mission clocks simultaneously.
And Draven began to give his orders. “The crew’s got most of the routine gear loaded. Beck, you and Alvera load up the weapons and ammunition.” No one but Redstone Security handled their firepower.
“The black box?”
The question came from Reeve, who in fact was the first agent Draven had hired once Redstone had grown beyond even his immense abilities to cover.
“Yes,” Draven said, his tone betraying a tension he knew it was pointless to try to hide, because they would all be feeling it. This was the day they’d all feared, the day they’d all hoped would never come. “Everything goes. I don’t want any delays while we wait for gear. This is Josh.”
No one commented. They all knew that black box, actually a very large locker, held an assortment of what they jokingly—when nothing was at stake—called odds and ends. Some were simple, almost commonplace, hand grenades and other garden-variety explosives. Some were more exotic, RPG’s and a couple of other things that would have likely been frowned upon if owned by any private entity with a lesser reputation than Redstone.
And a couple of things in that box weren’t known about at all in the outside world. The genius of Ian Gamble, Redstone’s resident inventor and Sam’s husband, sometimes ran in some interesting channels.
“Rand is on his way from Seattle. He’ll meet us there. Hill is going to be our liaison from here to Redstone Headquarters,” Draven said, gesturing to Taylor Hill, the young woman who was the newest member of the vaunted Redstone Security team. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, she wouldn’t have made it on to the team if he hadn’t had complete faith in her abilities, it was simply that the rest of them had worked together long enough to have become a smooth, precision team.
“Lilith and Liana are setting up the communications center there,” Alvera said, referring to his and his sometimes partner Beck’s wives respectively. “That way we can all be in the field.”
Draven nodded. He’d already okayed giving the two women the codes to directly co
nnect to the security team’s computer system; this was war, and if he had to use all of Redstone to save Josh, he would.
“Ryan Barton is on his way,” Draven said, “in case we need tech help. We’ll lift off as soon as he gets here.”
The head of the Redstone ground crew, a young man in gray coveralls and the name “Tim” stitched over the pocket, stuck his head in the door. He looked a little startled, likely because when Draven had first ordered the team plane readied, he and Sam had been the only ones here.
“She’s ready, sir,” Tim said to Draven. “And you’ll have a five-minute takeoff window in ten minutes.”
Draven nodded. The county airport was fairly busy, but when Redstone called and said they needed a takeoff slot now, they got it. They were the highest-paying private tenant the airport had, because they paid for hangar space for a large part of the Redstone fleet, plus this semi-isolated building on the remotest part of the airfield. Not to mention that Redstone had helped fund the resurfacing of a second runway that had greatly raised the airport’s efficiency rating.
And it didn’t hurt that they’d only asked for the priority ranking three times in all these years; once when they’d been on their way to rescue one of their own, and twice for an emergency angel flight for a child awaiting a life-saving transplant.
A bright blue PT Cruiser careened around a corner and barked to a halt outside the door. Through the window they saw a young man with rather spiky, blond-tipped hair call out to Tim as he settled a large backpack on his shoulder. The brilliant, self-described tech-head had his own weapons, Draven thought. He watched as Barton headed for the plane rather than the hangar; the sense of urgency had clearly infused them all.
“Suit up,” Draven said shortly. “It’s time.”
There was a rush of movement as the people in the room picked up their gear bags. Sam got to her feet, turning the computer station over to Taylor. The young woman nodded; if she felt any trepidation at this trial by fire less than a year after getting the coveted spot on the team, it didn’t show.
“Sam,” Draven began, the faintest of frowns creasing his brow.
The tall, leggy blonde turned to him as if she’d been waiting for this.
“Don’t even think about it, John,” she said softly, her unusual use of his first name a warning as much as anything. “Ian understands what we both owe Josh, and that there is no way in absolute hell I’m staying behind.”
“The baby,” he said.
“Ian has him. And if we need Ian, he’ll take him to Ryan’s mom’s.”
Draven studied the woman who had become one of his best agents after Josh had plucked her out of the Redstone Security staff at the Sitka resort. Sam never wavered under that gaze he’d been told could bring enemies to their knees. Her voice was steady, cool and unruffled.
“You going to tell Reeve not to come, because she’s already taken a bullet for Josh? Or Beck, because he’s already nearly died once in a hostage situation? Don’t try to make me into someone I’m not. That’s not the example I want for my son.”
And that, Draven thought, was an argument he couldn’t counter. Time was wasting, that takeoff window was nearing, and when it came down to it, he wanted Sam there. Her skill with weapons, her ability to think on her feet and her gorgeous blond presence gave him a flexibility in planning he wanted. More than once it had tipped the scales. Just as, when circumstances were different and required a different sort of approach, Reeve’s delicate, fragile look was advantageous. And that look hid a steely strength honed in fire, a strength that had pulled her through when, on one of the few times when the circumstances had warranted even Josh admitting a bodyguard would be wise, she had indeed taken a bullet meant for him.
Both women were highly trained, more than competent, and self-secure enough to use those looks when it helped get the job done, counting it their adversary’s problem if they couldn’t see past a pretty face.
“All right,” he said abruptly. “Let’s roll.”
Exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds later they were airborne, and headed for a small airport in the Sierra Nevada mountains.
And they wouldn’t leave until the two people they all respected, admired and loved were safe.
Chapter 6
Tess fussed in the galley as if nothing were more important than cleaning up after that impromptu meal. She could keep an eye on Josh from there, and she wanted him in her sights at all times.
He was kneeling beside the hole he’d made by removing a section of the cockpit floor. The mass of wiring was clearly visible, and more than a little daunting. What wasn’t visible was the small box fastened to the underside, with a fingerprint-scanning lock openable only by a select few.
Josh was studying the wiring, putting on a more-than-believable show of searching for the nonexistent problem. But Brown Shirt was hovering too close for Josh to go for the small, loaded pistol that was secreted in that box.
She knew quite well that Josh had been aware, ever since he was the most touted wunderkind on the block, that he was a target. His skyrocket success, the rapid ascent as he built the Redstone empire, as he gathered around him those of like mind and brilliance, had brought him to the attention of the country, then the world. And to the attention of those who sought an easy way, not willing to put in the kind of effort and work he did, who had more than once thought to use him as a shortcut to their own wealth.
She also knew that he knew—Draven harped on it enough—that his independent streak put him at greater risk. Only by pointing out that that streak was what got him and Redstone where they were in the first place, had he nudged his chief of security into grudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to live with a bodyguard in his pocket 24/7, as Draven would prefer.
Once he’d realized he had to accept that fact, the determined but adaptable Draven had taken another course; he’d made certain that everyone around Josh had some serious training.
Tess fussed with the debris of the hastily prepared sandwiches, purposefully dropping things or knocking things over, going as slowly as possible.
I’d never hire me as a flight attendant, she thought, but thankfully these two didn’t seem to notice her fumbling inefficiency that caused as much work as it accomplished.
But then, most men would never have hired me as a pilot, either, not as green as I was.
But Josh had. She’d been hardly more than a kid then, the ink barely dry on her pilot’s license, and too few hours in her log. But Josh happened to have been at the airport where she’d set down a small Cessna with a collapsed nose gear in a fierce crosswind that had made it beyond difficult. But she’d done it, and been met at the tie-down by an intense-eyed young man with long, dark hair, who offered her a job with little pay, long hours and all the flight time she wanted.
She’d been doubtful at first; he certainly didn’t look like much with those battered boots and worn jeans. Or sound like much, with that drawl that could be Texas, could be New Orleans, or any combination of other places. But the moment he’d shown her his first design, the drawings that had become the Hawk I, she’d jumped at the chance, sensing in some way she’d never quite understood that this man was going places.
And within a decade, Redstone was a name known across the country. Within a half decade more, it was known around the world.
When Josh had eventually accepted—grudgingly—the need for a pilot so he could work on business trips, she’d been pleased that of all the pilots he now had working for Redstone, it was her he came to.
And the day after she’d accepted, the legendary, intimidating—okay, terrifying—Draven came to her.
“You’re mine for the next month,” he’d said.
Startled, she had drawn back from this man who had been with Josh nearly as long as she had, and whose reputation preceded him everywhere in Redstone, and other places where it was useful, as well. Not because she was afraid, as so many were upon one look into those haunted and haunting eyes. She was Redstone,
and as such had nothing to fear from this fierce man, but she had no idea what he’d meant.
What he’d meant had been a month of intense, personal training as tough as any boot camp. Tougher, she’d thought when she would fall into bed at night after an exhausting day, suspecting she now understood why, as Eric had told her, they called the most infamous part of Navy SEAL training Hell Week. Because that’s what she felt she was getting ready for. Weapons, tactics, physical conditioning, things she’d never even thought about in her relatively sheltered life. She knew she would never have the knack that Draven did, or Sam or any of the others, but she understood; there would be times when she might be the only thing standing between Josh and serious danger. Danger that her skill at the flight controls couldn’t get him out of.
They ran countless scenarios in that month, kidnapping, assassination, snipers, with the entire Redstone Security team pitching in to give her what she needed.
What they gave her in that month, in addition to the tools necessary to protect Josh to some extent, was a much better understanding of the man her husband had been. And she had been unutterably sad that she hadn’t had that understanding when he’d been alive. She’d known when she’d fallen—hard—for her SEAL that she was marrying a warrior. She’d understood that he was different than other men, that he was a cut above in skill, dedication and courage. She just hadn’t realized quite what it had taken for him to become that man.
But Draven and his team gave her a taste of it in those weeks—driving her, pushing her until one day, too wire-strung to be cautious, she’d actually snuck up behind his observation post and said, “Bang. You’re dead.”
She’d thought he would be furious. Instead, he had smiled, in those pre-Grace days an occurrence as rare as a rainbow.
“You’ll do,” he’d said.
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