This was his chance to redeem himself with Daedric. If he could secure this girl and hand her over to his boss, his life just might become worth living again.
He’d already mapped out the cameras and sensors that covered the backyard so he knew that the area she was pacing was well inside the scope of their security system. That could only mean one thing—she’d disarmed system so she could cool off outside without setting off any alarms. Grainger silently thanked God for a woman’s temper.
Quickly and quietly, he wound his way through the trees and bushes that decorated the yard of the neighboring house. Pausing for a moment at the property line between the two homes to ensure that the sensors were, in fact, dark, Grainger took his first step into enemy territory.
Still a little surprised by the lack of alarms blaring, it crossed his mind that this was maybe a little too easy. Although he wanted to live by the old adage “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” Grainger knew from experience that gift horses were usually of the Trojan variety.
Switching his binoculars to infrared, he scanned the yard in front of him. The girl became a tall, bright blob of red and orange. She appeared to be alone and Grainger almost felt stupid for his paranoia.
Almost.
Off to his right, moving slowly toward him from the beach, were two more red and orange blobs. A quick look over his shoulder showed a third and fourth blob coming at him from opposite sides of the neighboring yard.
How the hell had they gotten behind him? And how had they known exactly where he was? Grainger’s thoughts ran a mile a minute as he analyzed his situation. He had no backup to rely on and the element of surprise was obviously gone.
With no other options available to him, he decided on a hasty retreat. The only advantage he had was that his opponents still thought him unaware of their approach. It was a small advantage, but it was all Grainger had and he intended to use it.
Crouching low, he crept toward the pool area where their bait still paced back and forth, putting on quite a show of being angry. Forcing himself to move slowly, Grainger inched both forward and slightly to his left until the clearing between the two houses opened up beside him. With one more quick check through his infrared binoculars he confirmed the position of his stalkers. They’d kept their distance, presumably waiting for him to make his move.
Perfect, he thought. Now it was going to come down to pure speed, his versus theirs, and Grainger’s speed was legendary.
With no warning, he burst into a full sprint as though he’d heard a starter’s pistol go off in his head. He knew he would have no cover once he reached the road, so his only chance was to get to the side street where his jeep was parked before any of his pursuers had a chance to ready themselves for a shot. He had been a world-class sprinter throughout his high school and college career, but this would most definitely be the race of his life. As he neared the property line of the neighboring house, Grainger chanced a look behind him. There was no movement that he could see, but without the benefit of his infrared binoculars he couldn’t be sure. It was now or never, he thought.
Jumping the curb, he half expected to be gunned down, but with every stride he took unscathed his optimism grew. A loud howl pierced the night behind him and caused him to redouble his efforts. Although he’d never heard of wolf packs in Jacksonville Beach, it would be just the sort of luck he would have. Once again looking over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of a large wolf running right at him. His sprinting skills would be no match for that four-legged beast. On the bright side, maybe the animal had scared off his other stalkers.
He could see his jeep parked a hundred yards away but knew he’d never make it. Without missing a step, he withdrew his 9mm pistol. He knew the only way he could hit a target moving as fast and low as that wolf would be to come to a complete stop first. That meant he would only get one chance. If he missed, he would become a midnight snack.
With his next stride he planted his right foot as solidly as he could and raised his weapon as he spun around to face the oncoming wolf, all the while skidding down the road by his momentum. A second later he had dead aim on the animal. Squeezing the trigger three times, he heard the telltale yelp and saw the wolf splayed on the pavement.
Bull’s-eye!
With his gun still in his right hand, Grainger ran the rest of the distance to his jeep. Yanking open the door, he threw his weapon on the passenger seat and started the engine, squealing his tires as he drove off.
Still breathing heavily after the exertion of his escape, he made the first right that he could, hoping it would take him back to Butler Boulevard without having to drive past the safe house. In a neighborhood like this those gunshots would draw a quick response from law enforcement and a hasty exit was necessary. Kicking himself for not scouting the area before starting his surveillance, he did his best to stay headed in a northerly direction, hoping he was running parallel to Duval Drive.
He was so focused on finding his way out he almost missed the movement just ahead on his right. A man ran out onto the street in front of him and, to his surprise, stopped directly in his path. Jamming his foot on the gas, Grainger kept his jeep aimed straight ahead in some twisted, one-sided game of chicken. With only a few feet to go, he considered hitting his brakes or swerving off the road, but the knowledge of how he would be punished by Daedric for doing so was enough to keep his foot firmly on the gas.
His knuckles glowed white on the steering wheel from the illumination of a street light and Grainger braced himself for impact as he looked directly into his victim’s eyes. Odd, he thought, how he didn’t see any fear in his expression.
A moment later the bumper and then the hood of his jeep crashed right through the man standing on the street, without so much as a shudder.
Instantly, Grainger felt the presence next to him. The man that was standing on the street in front of him—the one he’d just driven into—was sitting in his passenger seat, smiling and holding him at gunpoint.
“My name’s Han. What’s yours?”
Chapter 29
Mirissa watched as her father used zip ties to secure the unknown man to a heavy wood chair that was placed in the middle of the living room. Once Han had brought him back, Ken took control of the hostage and now held his weapon pointed directly at the man’s head.
So far, no one had asked him any questions and he hadn’t uttered a single word.
Beck and Jackie were in the kitchen tending to Carter’s wound. It was a simple through and through gunshot to the shoulder so they were more than capable of handling it.
Once Steve was confident their prisoner wasn’t going anywhere, he nodded to Myrine. Looking at Ken she said, “All right. It’s time for you to do what you do best.”
Mirissa gripped the cushions of the couch. Although she understood what was at stake, the thought of witnessing a man, even a bad one, being tortured was more than she could take. She watched as Ken grabbed a small black duffel bag from under the desk and brought it over to the chair. She found it odd that he looked so calm when her heart was about to slam out of her chest.
Kneeling at the man’s bound feet, Ken opened his bag and drew out a black box, about the size of a small paperback book. Reaching up he grabbed the man’s right hand and twisted it upwards until his palm was facing the ceiling. He then took the black box and slapped it on the prisoner’s upturned hand.
Her sharp intake of breath caused everyone in the room to turn toward Mirissa, including the man strapped to the chair. Still holding the couch cushion with a white knuckled grip, her eyes were wide with trepidation.
Myrick sat down beside her and placed one of his huge hands over hers. “He’s just getting the man’s palm and finger prints, lass. Nothing to fret about.”
As realization dawned on her, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment. Some badass I turned out to be, she thought. Giving Myrick a look that she hoped said both “thank you” and “please don’t ever bring this up again” she took a deep breath a
nd leaned back.
With an understanding smile, Myrine brought her attention back to their prisoner. “While we’re waiting on the machine to do its thing, why don’t you tell us why you were watching us tonight?”
The unknown man simply sat there, staring straight ahead.
“OK,” Myrine said. “Have it your way.”
A few seconds later Ken brought his laptop over to Myrine so she could see what the fingerprint search had turned up.
“Mr. Grainger, you had an exemplary career in the army. You retired with full honors and several commendations under your belt. What are you doing mixed up with the likes of Daedric?”
Still no reaction from the man in the chair.
“You don’t seem to understand the predicament you’re in here, Mr. Grainger. You do not have the right to remain silent. You do not have the right to an attorney. Everything you say will be used against you, but not in a court of law. And if you can’t afford an attorney, we don’t give a rat’s ass.”
The prisoner let a smile curl his lips and turned his gaze to Myrine’s. “So you know who I am. I also know who you are. I guess we’re even. Can I go now?”
Myrine walked behind Grainger and gently put her hands on his shoulder as she lowered her head to speak directly in his ear. “You will tell us everything we want to know about your boss and his plans. The alternative isn’t something you want to even think about.”
A short laugh escaped him. “Look. You can keep this little charade up as long as you want, but we both know that you aren’t going to hurt me. Your little girl pretty much gave that away. At worst, you’ll turn me over to your pals at the CIA, who will then turn me over to the FBI, who will put me in some federal country club where I’ll get a bed and three meals per day. Not quaking in my boots, your highness.”
Myrine straightened up and moved to stand in front of her prisoner. “Is that what you think? I thought you said you knew us. No, Mr. Grainger, we aren’t going to turn you over to the CIA or the FBI or any other agency for that matter. And, you’re right, we aren’t going to torture you either. That’s just not who we are. What we are going to do is let you go.”
Pausing to let that sink in, Myrine watched as confusion flittered through his eyes.
“In fact,” Myrine continued, “we’ll even be so kind as to give you a ride. I’m sure Daedric would be most grateful to have you delivered back to him by our agents without a scratch on you.”
Mirissa watched as an almost imperceptible change went through the prisoner as the reality of his situation dropped on him like a ton of bricks. His arrogance and surety was immediately replaced with fear, then resignation. Daedric would never believe that he hadn’t betrayed him. Even if by some miracle he did believe him, Grainger’s punishment for being captured would be just as deadly. Nice move, Mom.
Hanging his head in the posture of a defeated man, Grainger said, “I can’t tell you anything. He’ll kill her. My life is worth nothing, but hers…”
Understanding seemed to dawn on Myrine at the same time as everyone else in the room. “Who does he have, Bill?”
“Meghan. My wife.”
This time it was Steve that spoke. “I know what it’s like to have the woman you love ripped out of your life. To go to bed every night imagining all of the horrible things that could be happening to her, and to wake up every morning knowing you can’t do anything about it. Believe me when I tell you I understand. But what you need to understand is that we are your only chance right now—your wife’s only chance. If you really do know who Myrine is, then you know that she will do everything in her considerable power to get your wife back. I won’t lie to you, the odds are against us, but if you do nothing, you are guaranteed to lose her. Help us, and she has a chance.”
Grainger looked at Steve and then at everyone else in the room, one by one. “All right, but you need to promise me that no matter what happens to me, you will get my wife out.”
As each of her team nodded in agreement, Myrine made it official. “You have our word.”
“There is one major problem.” Grainger looked almost sheepish as he said it. “I already called in your location. Daedric’s team will be here any minute, if they aren’t already.”
Switching to military commander mode, Myrine pointed to Phoenix.
“Already on it, Myrine. Give me a second. OK, I’ve got a host. Checking the perimeter now.”
While they waited on Phoenix to report on their situation, Myrine told Steve to cut Grainger loose, and issued orders to the rest of her team.
Mirissa waited to get her orders, but they never came. “You are not hiding me away again, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore. Let me help.”
Before Myrine could answer, Phoenix interrupted. “We’ve got company. I see about a dozen or so men covering the front of the house. They’re heavily armed. There are four, no five, all-terrain vehicles closing in from the north and south on the beach. Three black SUVs holding about six more guys a piece are heading into the neighborhood now, too.”
Myrine looked at Grainger. “Do you know anything about that team that will help us?”
“No. Daedric only said that they would be more capable than me.”
Myrine continued her orders. “Myrick. You, Greco, and Steve go to the garage and bring the rest of our weapons in here. Ken, make sure all of our defenses are online and ready to go. Han, you and Asteria cover the back while Orano, Jackie, and I cover the front. Carter, what’s your status?”
“I can hold my own but it’ll be a couple of days before I can shift, thanks to dickweed over there.” Carter gave a droll stare to Grainger who gave him a somewhat apologetic look in return.
“OK,” Myrine said, “you help cover the back. Phoenix, I’m counting on you to keep us informed on their whereabouts. Beck, you stay with my daughter. No matter what happens, you have to keep her safe. Understood?”
“I’ve got her back, Myrine. You don’t have to worry.” Beck moved to Mirissa’s side like a bodyguard.
Before she could argue, Mirissa was rocked by a blast that obliterated the front door. Bent steel twisted in a macabre pattern and shards of glass and wood flew through the room toward her but were deflected by an invisible shield emanating from Beck’s hands. All right, she thought. You’ll get no further argument from me.
Orano ran to the edge of the hole where the door used to be. Swinging his body around to face whatever was on the other side, he flung his arms like a baseball pitcher, releasing energy balls at their attackers, covering Myrick, Greco, and Steve as they ran past the opening with their supply of weapons. Once everyone was armed with their weapon of choice, except for Orano who needed only his hands, they each took up their positions to defend the house.
The bulletproof windows were still intact but wouldn’t hold up under the assault for much longer. Pockmarked and cracking from the continuous barrage of bullets, the protection they offered would be lost within moments. The noise was deafening and Phoenix had to scream his updates on the enemy’s position just to be heard.
Mirissa watched, helpless, as the living room window beside Jackie was the first to go. It shattered under a hail of bullets as she crouched low, covering her head. Ken was furiously typing on his laptop keyboard and yelled, “D1 detonation in 3-2-1…”
A series of explosions in the front yard had the intruders screaming and scrambling away from the house. Black smoke billowed into the air and through the openings where the door and living room window used to be, lowering visibility in the room to almost zero.
Gunshots could be heard in a never-ending stream from the front yard, but they were no longer hitting the house. “They’re aiming at the ground!” Ken screamed. “They’re taking out our defenses. D2 is offline. D4 as well.”
Now it was Phoenix’s turn. “Watch the back! They’re coming in hard and fast.”
Ken slammed his keyboard. “D5 in 3-2-1…”
Another series of explosions rocked the back yard, but this time their enemy wa
s ready for it. Only a couple of their soldiers were caught in the blast and the rest continued their assault. Steve joined Asteria just as her window disintegrated. With a quick nod, they both leveled their rifles on the windowsill and returned fire.
Mirissa watched in horror as all hell broke loose in the house. The windows were all but gone now and bullets were ricocheting throughout the house. Ken had blood running down the right side of his face as he worked the defense system as best he could. Orano kept his energy blasts going even though he was covered in cuts and other injuries. Her dad, Asteria, Carter, Myrick, Han—everyone—was fighting and bleeding. Everyone, that is, except her. Beck’s shield was holding out every bullet and piece of shrapnel, but it was also stopping her from joining the fight. As she took in her surroundings she saw, too late, the red dot on her mother’s forehead, a targeting laser from some unknown enemy outside. She tried to scream a warning, but her words were lost in the maelstrom. Milliseconds before the floor lamp behind Myrine’s head was blown apart, Grainger plowed into her mother, driving her down to the ground.
Phoenix yelled, “They’re making a run for the house. We don’t have much time!”
Nodding her thanks to Grainger, Myrine responded, “Is the beach clear?”
“Yes. They’re all coming at us now.”
Myrine turned to Ken. “Blow everything we’ve got, Ken. We need to buy some time. Everyone! Get to the tunnel. Now!”
In a cacophony of explosions from the remaining defense systems outside, everyone ran to the kitchen. Yanking the pantry door open, Myrick lifted the hidden hatch in the floor and held it open as, one by one, the group dropped through. Letting her shield down so Mirissa could fit through the hatch, Beck followed closely behind. Once everyone was in the tunnel, Myrick jumped in and pulled the hatch closed behind him just as a group of men entered the kitchen. “Go!” he yelled. “I’ll hold them off.” Firing his weapon upward through the pantry floor, Myrick stayed behind as the others ran through the tunnel.
Crossfire (Book 1) (The Omega Group) Page 12