Facing Fire

by HelenKay Dimon

  “Hardly, but one shot was enough.” Benton walked over to Frederick and put his foot on the discarded gun before Frederick could touch it. Bending down with jerky movements, Benton picked up the weapon. Winced as he lifted with his injured hand.

  “You’re a crazy motherfucker.” Mike’s slight accent slipped out as his gaze moved over the room.

  And seriously hurt. Sutton had been right about Benton and her description of his wounds accurate. Josiah made a note for later.

  “I’m practical.” Benton checked his watch and then the auction clock.

  Ten minutes to go. Ninety-two million dollars on the table.

  “In fact there are two things you two should do for me,” Benton said.

  “No.”

  Benton talked right over Mike’s answer. “I assume Tasha is listening. She would be wise to leave that van and join us . . . unless she wants to die in a fireball.”

  No wonder he didn’t have shooters. He had bombs set everywhere. He could command them at will, though Josiah doubted the story about the one in the van was true. Hitting that trigger was much more accurate and assured than depending on some random commando to get the job done.

  Still, the airport sat in a huge metropolitan area that served as the gateway to the rest of Europe. Brining in explosives would not be easy. There were security measures in place. Locks and guards. Benton might know people and be able to pay money, but this qualified as a huge undertaking. “We’re supposed to believe you have all these bombs planted at a major airport.”

  “He does.” Harlan tried to nod, then closed his eyes as his face went pale. “He dragged me along and set up a video so I could watch the setup in the terminal. I don’t know about the rest, but he has people everywhere.”

  “See?” Benton sounded far too pleased with himself. “Now, I do have a one-time deal for you.” A smile stretched across his face as a noise echoed at the side of the room. “Well, there they are.”

  The women walked in. Josiah had to assume they’d tried every other door and couldn’t open them, which left this one right on top of the action. He didn’t want to take the chance they knew the tale Benton had been telling. “Don’t shoot.”

  “He’s lying.” Tasha made the comment as she moved farther into the room, with Ellery and Sutton armed and right behind her.

  “Test me and then you can explain to the relatives of fifty thousand people why you made that choice.” Benton put a hand on Harlan’s arm, making his eyes fall shut for a second.

  Causing pain would raise Harlan’s heart rate and end this before they could figure out a solution. Josiah couldn’t let that happen. “Guns down.”

  Mike shot him a stunned look. “What?”

  “We need everyone calm.” Josiah saw the minute the comment registered in Mike’s brain.

  “Now, as I was saying.” Benton moved his hand off Harlan’s shoulder. “There is a way out of this.”

  Josiah’s mind flipped through different scenarios to end this. “What?”

  “Easy. You shoot him.” Benton used the end of his gun to gesture toward Harlan.

  Tasha slowly lowered her weapon. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you shoot him, I won’t set off the other bombs. Well, so long as I leave this property unharmed.” Benton explained his compromise with all the emotion of reading a grocery list. “Harlan dies, but the rest of us live. And I leave, of course.”

  “Benton.” The small sound came from the floor. Frederick held a hand to his stomach as he tried to lever up with the other elbow.

  Benton didn’t even look at the man who supposedly had served him for years. “You deserve an honorable death, Frederick.”

  Before the guy talked, Josiah had forgotten he was even there. He had shot him to neutralize the situation and take out the extra weapons. “No deal.”

  “Fifty thousand people.” Benton looked at Tasha. “You couldn’t evacuate the place if you wanted to. And that call that you think went through to issue a warning actually came to my phone.” Benton slipped one out of his pocket and held it up. “But good try.”

  Josiah let the anxiety churn inside him. He needed the energy. Whatever it took to get his body primed for battle worked for him.

  Benton looked at his watch again. “You have ten seconds.”

  “No.” But Josiah checked the auction clock. They had more like three minutes than the ten seconds Benton called out.

  “He dies anyway, along with some of you in here and half of the airport.”

  Before Benton could finish his newest threat, Harlan opened his mouth. His head lolled to one side as he shifted his weight in his seat. “Do it.”

  At first Josiah thought he hadn’t heard him. Then he saw the determination on the older man’s face. He’d spent a lifetime saving others and now he stood in the middle of a disaster that promised death to at least some.

  Josiah couldn’t do it. “Harlan, stop.”

  Harlan started to shake his head and winced instead. “You don’t have a choice.”

  That couldn’t be true. Harlan’s career—the man—could not end this way. “You will not die today.”

  Josiah looked at Ellery and realized she held a gun not a laptop. She couldn’t run programs and look for loopholes in here. Getting her to watch the show had been one more brilliant move by Benton in a long line of them.

  “I’m going to die anyway. I knew that when they grabbed me.”

  Josiah remembered it differently. Harlan had stepped up and rescued them, then sacrificed his body. The bravery made Josiah more determined than ever to get Harlan out of that chair.

  “As I said, the man is practical.” Benton tapped his watch this time. “And you have seven seconds.”

  Killing Benton moved up the option list. Josiah turned slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice.

  But Mike knew. “Don’t take that shot, Josiah.”

  “Listen to the man. Killing me is definitely not the right answer unless you like the idea of this airport bursting into flames.” Benton tightened his hold on the trigger.

  “Josiah, you know I’m right.” Harlan was pleading now.

  The words slammed into Josiah. He fought off the pain rolling through him and the memories that threatened to drop him to his knees. There had to be something else. Anything else. “No fucking way.”

  Harlan shifted his attention. “Mike?”

  “Jesus,” he said under his breath.

  “Five seconds until Terminal 1 explodes.” Benton looked back and forth between Josiah and Mike. He didn’t appear concerned that the countdown put him within explosion range. “Someone step up.”

  Josiah had other ideas on how to end this. “Take me with you. You want revenge; you’ll get it with me. You know my family. It will cause a huge splash.”

  Benton just shook his head. “Three.”

  Harlan turned in his chair and the legs clanked against the floor. “Josiah, do it!”

  “There’s no way.” Josiah kept shaking his head.

  “Two.” That voice rang like a gong.

  Benton moved back, a slow step by step as he counted. Josiah hadn’t even noticed until he realized how far away Benton now stood from the destruction zone.

  He raised his gun again. “Do not move, Benton.”

  “Your time is up.” Benton smiled as he looked around the room. “Anyone?”

  Harlan thunked the chair against the floor again. “Shoot me now!”

  Josiah shook his head as he tightened his fingers on the gun. “Harlan.”

  “I am begging you. Do it!”

  The words still rang out as Josiah fired. One shot that vibrated through him. His muscles froze and he stood there. The blood drained from his body as Harlan’s head fell forward.

  As if in a slow-motion trance, Josiah fell to his knees. Hit the ground hard. The shot rattled in his bones.

  Everyone moved. He tried to get up and check Harlan but the sidewall opposite blew out and off. Josiah couldn’t mo
ve. Could only bend his head forward to evade the shock of air that punched through the room. His mind went to Sutton but he couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hear anything. The bang had blocked his ears.

  He didn’t see flames but smoke billowed. The shouting started right after. Looking down, Josiah saw the gun still in his hand and dropped it. Then he sat back on his heels. Activity buzzed around him and someone called his name. Not that he gave a shit.

  He’d killed Harlan.

  23

  SUTTON TRAPPED the scream inside her. She rotated between wanting to heave and wanting to fall on the ground. Harlan’s begging. Josiah’s pain. It all had been too much. She wanted to shut down. Crawl into a corner and not come out.

  Then she saw Josiah. Tasha rushed around giving orders. She had her phone and talked about the bomb. Ellery focused on the parts of the computer the targeted explosion hadn’t destroyed. Mike went to Harlan.

  Josiah hadn’t moved. He sat back on his heels staring into space. She followed his gaze. No, he stared at Harlan’s still form. Sutton joined him, concentrating and hoping that Harlan would open his eyes. That this had all been some elaborate plan and Benton didn’t win this round.

  But Harlan didn’t move.

  Everything inside her crashed. She felt raw and ready to burst. She might have if Josiah didn’t just sit there. Forcing her legs to move, she went to him. He already had a concussion and bruises all over him. That didn’t even cover the emotional battering.

  She didn’t know how much he could take. Anyone else would have reached the breaking point long ago.

  She used the toe of her sneaker to move aside some of the debris. The rubber scratched against the floor, but still he didn’t move. Careful not to add any more cuts to her already substantial collection, she knelt beside him.

  “Josiah?”

  “He’s dead,” he said in a flat voice.

  The lack of emotion and the pale face scared the hell out of her. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Can you get up?”

  “Yes.” But he didn’t move.

  “We should get out of here. Get some fresh air.” The suggestions sounded ridiculous in her ears but she needed to try something.

  He closed his eyes. His body swayed a bit but then he regained his balance. Maybe he needed rest. His brain could use a break while his body took a few hours to heal.

  Then his eyes popped open and his attention shifted. He turned his head and stared at Frederick. Tasha hovered over him now. Patted him down as she checked his pulse.

  Sutton heard a rumbling sound. A deep winding groan, half roar, from inside Josiah. She looked around for a truck. Feared another explosion. The sirens moved closer but this was something else. She touched a hand to the back of his head. She wanted to check for injuries but tried to be satisfied with just touching him.

  Not that he saw her. She didn’t even think he noticed her there. He moved on some sort of autopilot. One second he sat there, unmoving and glaring. The next he jumped to his feet, leaving her sitting in stunned fascination.

  He scooped up his gun and stalked over to Frederick. Gone was the cloudy look of horror on his face. Rage moved through him. He practically vibrated with it. He stopped right over the body, right next to Tasha.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Sutton scrambled to her feet and ran over to him. She didn’t touch him. Anything could set him off. He seemed to walk right on the edge.

  Josiah aimed the gun at Frederick’s head. Somehow the guy stayed conscious. He lay in a curled ball on the floor until Josiah stepped near him, then Frederick tried to crawl. He dragged his body using one elbow. A streak of red followed him. Blood covered his hand and soaked his shirt. Still, Josiah loomed with his gun ready.

  He lifted his foot and jammed it into Frederick’s back. The man sprawled to the floor with a groan.

  “Stay down.” Josiah pressed harder.

  Tasha stood up and faced him. “Josiah, think this through. Why do this here?”

  “Tying up loose ends.”

  “Man, no. Not like this,” Mike said, the pain evident in his voice.

  Josiah didn’t appear to hear any of the protests. He stood with his foot on Frederick’s back. Listened to the guy’s heavy breathing and met him stare for stare. “You’re going to die.”

  “Do it.”

  Josiah’s gun started moving and so did Sutton. She reached his side and touched his arm. “Not in cold blood.”

  “Josiah, listen to Sutton.” Tasha’s voice bordered on pleading.

  He continued to stand there. The blood rushed out of Frederick and his eyes started to close. He needed medical attention. Even then Sutton wasn’t convinced he’d make it.

  All of a sudden Josiah turned his gun around and handed it handle first to Mike. Dropping down on his haunches, Josiah leaned in close to the man bleeding out on the floor. “You may not die yet, but I will make sure you don’t walk away from this.”

  Frederick’s eyelids flickered and he looked at Josiah. “I . . . won’t talk . . .”

  Josiah got down even closer. “Yes, you will.”

  Josiah’s blood was on fire.

  Tasha and whatever medical doctor she knew well enough to bring in had to save Frederick before Josiah could kill him. And that was going to happen. But not until the guy talked. He was the one person who knew something about Benton’s real operation, probably knew where the animal hid now, and he would talk.

  Sew him up, make him coherent, and get him ready. That was the deal he made with Tasha. The side deal with Mike was a bit more elaborate. Men like Frederick didn’t talk easily. He’d been trained to withstand torture and could tolerate a lot of pain. He didn’t have anyone close to him. All of that made the usual ways of gaining intel tough. But Josiah had an advantage. A threat that might shake Frederick enough to make him talk.

  But Josiah couldn’t concentrate on any of that now. He’d walked into the bedroom in time to see Sutton walk out of the connected bathroom. She wore a bathrobe, and from the long line of her leg peeking out of the slit, nothing else.

  Seeing her set off something primal in him. He knew she wanted to talk it all out and comfort him. That’s not what he needed. He’d stayed away from her for the last hour because all he wanted to do was strip her bare and get inside her. Lose himself in the feel of her until he couldn’t think.

  He didn’t have a psychology degree but he was sure the driving attraction and unrelenting need for her right now had to do with his survival instinct. Something inside him reacted to her. He wanted to be with her, touch her, taste her. Not sweet. Not making love. Fucking.

  He had to get out of there before he scared her. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He’d almost made it back out when she stopped him. “Josiah.”

  The whisper of his name made him hard. That’s all it took. He slammed a palm against the door and exhaled. Counted down from ten.

  Then she was there. She didn’t stay across the room or hide in the bathroom. Either would have been smarter than standing so close that he could smell her.

  Her hand swept up his back and she leaned in. Her soft hair brushed against his cheek. The touch woke his nerve endings. Revved them up.

  “I should go.” Had he said that already? He couldn’t remember. It took all of his concentration to keep that hand on the door.

  Not to be ignored, she ducked under his arm and stood up, wedged between him and the only way out of there. He should back up. Maybe jump out a window. The cool night air might do him some good. He needed a jolt to get his mind back on track.

  She looked up at him. “Come here.”

  No, no, no. “Not a good idea.” She had to see it. Feel it. His attraction went wild. This need inside him pulsed and flexed and screamed to get out. “I’m not feeling . . .”

  God, he couldn’t even find the right words. How did he tell her his humanity had crumbled, leaving behind only an empty shell. A shell he needed her to fill. With her, the wor
ld shifted and things made sense.

  The nightmare of last night. Harlan ordering him. Josiah closed his eyes. Tried to block it all out. He drew in deep breaths.

  Her mouth touched his and his eyes flew open again. She slid her hands up and under his T-shirt. Kept going until she lifted it off his shoulders and threw it on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Probably the dumbest question a man ever asked, but it was out there now.

  “Helping.” Her mouth went to his neck. She trailed a line of hot kisses down his throat, then across his collarbone.

  “You do that by breathing.” But the kissing . . . holy fuck. She didn’t tease. She dove right in and wound him up.

  The vibration spun through every part of his body. His erection pressed against the fly of his jeans until he thought he’d tear the fabric.

  Still, he didn’t touch her. Didn’t dare. “I’m not good for you right now.”

  “We need to feel something.” Her hand snaked down to cup him. She treated him to a gentle massage that made his eyes cross.

  “I’m angry.” Though with every second it was getting harder to hold on to that emotion. Need swamped him. It took all his strength not to grab her and throw her on the bed.

  He tried to think of math problems and do simple addition in his head. Nothing worked. He had to have her. There, against the wall. On the bed. He didn’t fucking care. This craving came from deep inside him, on a primal level.

  She shoved the robe open. She didn’t move except to curl her bare toes under and into the hardwood. Unable to wait another second, he slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He’d hoped he still held on to some of his control but the fabric ripped under his hands.

  He was about to apologize until he spied the inches of smooth skin. Realized she wasn’t fighting him. Those breasts. High and full. The tiny bump of her stomach that he loved to kiss so much. The light hair and those long legs. Everywhere he looked he saw perfection.

  A fever overtook him. His chivalry shriveled. With his hands resting on her waist, he threw her back on the mattress. Not gentle. Not hard. But enough to send her sprawling.

  Without a word, she opened those long legs, silently inviting him in. Energy pounded through him. Need mixed with a desperation that scared him. He stretched her arms above her head. Her body reeled him in until he couldn’t think about anything else. Every awful thought and horrible memory faded.