by L. T. Ryan
It hurt like a bastard, though.
She brought her hands together, pressed her right thumb into the bottom joint, and her right index finger across the left thumb pad. A quick counter movement was all it took. The thumb put up little resistance and slipped out of place with a faint pop. Reese bit down on her bottom lip to keep from calling out in pain.
The truck slowed to a stop. The engine rumbled. The headlights brightened as the driver flipped on the high beams. Darrow brought his arm up to shield his eyes against the barrage of light.
Jack.
"Where is he?" Darrow called out.
No one replied.
Reese slipped her left hand through the heavy zip-tie that bound her wrists together. With a quick tug, she popped her thumb back in place. It hung useless now, but that wouldn't last long. She glanced around the room for the hundredth time. No weapons had magically appeared. She didn't need them. She might be out of practice, but she could handle herself.
Chapter 62
Crystal River, Florida, 1988
The moon cast a halo of light in the clearing. Molly lay on the ground, motionless. Two men faced each other
"Dammit," the man with the deep southern voice called out. "What the hell just happened?"
"I got her," the guy said, walking toward the other man. He had a noticeable limp on his right side,
"Not here," the other man said. He passed within ten feet of Jack, but the boy was unable to muster the ability to do anything. Standing over Molly, the man continued, "This is bad. We gotta get out of here."
Jack started to come to. He felt along the ground for the handgun.
"You all hear that," the man shouted. "We're out of here. You know the drill."
The guy with the limp rushed past. The other man stopped in front of Jack. His teeth glinted in the moonlight as his mouth broadened into a smile.
"Two for one tonight, I suppose. That old bastard Colonel father of yours had this coming. Understand?"
Jack shook his head, trying to conceal his movements as he searched the grass for the pistol.
"Most men die at the age of twenty-five, even if they go on to live to a hundred." He leaned over, placed his pistol to Jack's forehead. "At least you won't have to suffer that fate, kid."
Chapter 63
I waited behind the wheel, high beams directed at the house. The surrounding area was lit up like daytime. Darrow stood alone on the porch, straining to see inside the truck. I scanned the area for any others. Through the door opening I spotted Reese secured to a chair. She stared at the truck. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was still alive.
Darrow raised his rifle and aimed it toward the truck. He wasn't going to fire. Not until he was sure who was inside. I had to attack first. The thought of killing the man before he could get a word out didn't bother me.
I opened the door and let it rest against the frame. I held a pistol in each hand, and secured the .22 in my pocket. I hadn't formed a plan beyond get out of the truck, take cover behind the door, and start shooting. But then it got murky. For one, I could miss, which would result in Darrow and his men firing on my position. I could hit Reese accidentally. Darrow could take cover in the room, holding Reese hostage. Then I'd have no choice but to enter on his terms. I'd be good as dead, then.
Of course, my aim could be true and I'd kill him with one shot. And then I'd face an unseen army.
"Come on," I muttered. "Show yourselves."
No one did. Not like I expected them to anyway.
I kicked the door open and slid out, placing one foot on the ground.
"We got him," I called out.
Darrow lifted the rifle like he was going to shoot. He was a military man. Maybe an agency man. He followed and created rules. Presumably they had a code word to use for this very moment. I had to act panicked, create a reason and belief as to why his man wouldn't follow protocol.
"He took two of our guys out," I said. "I had to subdue—"
"Shut up, Jack."
Vernon appeared in my peripheral.
"Drop those pistols, get outta the truck, and take three steps back."
I stood there for a moment, debating. I didn't doubt Vernon could shoot. It didn't matter how fast I attacked, he'd get me. And at a close distance, I wouldn't get back up.
"Come on, Jack. Don't do it like this. Drop the pistols and let's head up to the porch."
I remained still, said nothing.
"It doesn't have to end this way. Darrow's not the devil you think he is. He wants to work with you. Yeah, see, Jack? There's a way out of this that doesn't involve us burying you in that grave we had dug out about a hundred yards from where we stand."
I didn't buy that for a minute. I was a dead man. Only matter of who I took with me now. I relaxed my grip on the pistols and let them slide off my fingers with my hands held outside the vehicle. They hit the ground with a thud.
"All right," Vernon said, stepping back. His limp was more noticeable tonight. "Now slide out, hands up, and step back three paces."
I did as instructed, keeping my gaze fixed on Reese inside the cabin. She strained to see what was going on. Darrow had moved off the porch, toward the truck. He stepped through the high beams and into the darkness. He reached inside the truck, grabbed the keys and killed the lights.
Everything went dark while my eyes adjusted to the moonlight.
"He secure?" Darrow asked.
"Yeah," Vernon said.
"I can trust you on this?"
"I'm a cop, for Pete's sake. If I say he's secure, he's secure."
Darrow turned, crouched in front of me so we were eye to eye. "Maybe you've truly lived all of your years past twenty-five, but I'll be damned if you'll make it one day closer to a hundred."
Lightning shot through my nerves. Those words, at that moment, in the dark. A chord deep within me rang out like a madman smashing every key on a church organ. Pain knifed through my soul, rocking me to my core, radiating through my entire body. It debilitated me.
I'd heard that voice before. I'd heard those words spoken. It happened the night Molly was murdered.
Was it possible? Had some force carried me here to this town only to face down the man who haunted my dreams? I thought it had been Reese who drew me here. It was Darrow instead.
"Follow," Darrow said.
The man turned his back on me, but it didn't matter. Even if I could reach him, I wouldn't have time to snap his neck. Vernon would be on top of me after my first step. He wouldn't fire, though. The bullet could pass right through me and take down Darrow too.
Hell, that was a reason enough to make a move now.
I'd have a chance before this was over. I had to take it at the right time. If I died, so be it. But I had to take him down with me and ensure Reese made it out alive.
Darrow stopped on the porch, turned toward me. I searched through memories, trying to match his face with the memories from that night. The men who haunted my darkest dreams. And it had been twenty-eight years since Molly's murder. How was I to compare a man in his thirties to Darrow now?
"Did I ever tell you how much I hated your father, Noble?"
I said nothing. I wouldn't give it to him. I closed my eyes, listened to him talk.
"All I wanted was to kill him."
I still said nothing. The voice matched. It was him.
"You'll be a close second, I guess." He smiled as he pulled a hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. "Or should I say a close third?"
Chapter 64
I was face to face with the devil himself. His smirk told me he knew I had realized who he was. Every damn detail about the night of Molly's death flashed through my mind at rapid speed. I relived every pained moment from the knock on the door to holding my sister's lifeless body.
My hands steeled into fists. The smoldering embers of revenge burst into flames enveloping every nerve and muscle fiber in my body. "Every ounce of pain she felt, all the fear her soul absorbed that night, I'm gonna deliver a
hundred times over to you, you son of a bitch."
I dropped my right foot back, bent the other knee. A simple move, but one that would allow me to maximize the force I delivered as I plowed into him.
Pain flashed through my knee. I glanced down and saw the butt of Vernon's rifle inches from my leg. He drew it back to strike again. I lost my balance. His next swing drove the weapon into my side. I hit the ground. Scrambled to my knees, further aggravating the injury. Darrow rushed forward and delivered a kick that caught me on the side of the head. The rifle butt slammed down on my back. I writhed on the ground, out of breath, fighting the black swirl that threatened to take me into the land of the unconscious. Hell if the bottom of Darrow's boot was the last thing I wanted to see.
"This is going to be fun," Darrow said.
They each hooked a hand under my armpits and dragged me into the room. My shins banged against the stairs. I barely felt the impact.
"Jack," Reese said.
I glanced up, placed her in the center of my field of vision. Her face was twisted in a grimace.
Darrow and Vernon tossed me against the back wall. I managed to twist and hit it with my shoulder instead of my head. Fresh blood seeped from a flesh wound I'd sustained earlier. I slumped to the ground. Every inch of me ached. But I was far from done.
Vernon ran outside and returned a moment later carrying two rifles. He set one next to the doorway, turned the other toward me.
Darrow grabbed the back of Reese's chair and turned it so she faced me. Then he positioned himself behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. His fingertips turned white, he gripped her so hard. She stared at me through tear-filled eyes. They slipped past her lower eyelids and streamed down her cheeks. She feared what they'd do to me, and her.
"Do you know about Jack's past?" Darrow asked her.
Reese said nothing.
"You never told her?" he said to me.
I said nothing.
"Well let me tell you," he said. "You see, Jack's father and I went way back. I served under him. At one point, the old man said I was the greatest soldier he'd ever commanded. You can imagine how elated I was to hear that. I mean, Noble never complimented anyone. And, you see, some other son of a bitch received my medal. What I'd done, for Jack's dad nonetheless, no one, not even him, could ever report. Not even to the man at the top of the chain. That wasn't uncommon, actually. But I'd potentially saved our country." He paused, smiled. "I'm not that same man. I'd just as soon let it die if faced with the decision again."
I glanced past him, past Vernon, and let my gaze fall on the truck. Soon, I told myself. Soon I'd get my chance.
Darrow continued. "Anyway, that praise and honor quickly faded when I learned that the Army was screwing me over. All those black ops, and someone else reaped the rewards of my missions plundering governments and taking over money- and power-rich strongholds. I never saw an ounce of it. So I took it. Then your damn father had to turn on me and my men. I waited until the time was right. Until I had the necessary resources. Until that moment when I could strike and move on and no one would ever know. I had the power then. And I have more of it now."
"Why Molly?" I said. My throat burned at the words that would lead to an explanation I didn't want to hear. I had to buy more time, though. The moment wasn't right yet.
"We went there to kill your father. Plain and simple. When it became clear he wasn't there, I made the decision to take your sister and hold her until the good Colonel exchanged himself for her. In fact, I would have preferred that. Then I could have taken him out to the gulf and tortured the bastard."
I looked down at the floor between my legs.
"That make you uncomfortable, Noble?"
I shook my head. "There were times I wanted to do the same to him."
Darrow laughed. "Even at this point, you've got minutes left, and you're cracking jokes. So much like that asshole father of yours." He took a few steps to the side, turned back and pointed at Vernon. "And if it weren't for the good Sheriff here, Molly might still be alive."
I looked up at Vernon. His face went slack. His mouth dropped open as though he were going to say something. Instead, he turned away.
"You son of a bitch." I straightened up. "Both of you. I'm going to inflict all the pain I've felt for twenty-eight years on you. If you plan on killing me, do it now, otherwise you'll never get the chance."
Darrow nodded. "Oh, your time is coming. First we've got to take care of your girlfriend here. I want you to see this, Jack. I want to hear you beg for mercy for her. It's not going to happen yet. I'm gonna keep both of you around, just to give you a taste of what business is like for me. See, I have a big deal coming up. Gonna supply a group of people that aren't so friendly toward this great country. I bet you'd like to be a part of that, wouldn't you? I know Reese would. See, it turns out, these are the people she's been hiding from all this time."
Reese closed her eyes. Her face tightened. She was trying to keep from crying. I wouldn't have thought less of her if she had let it out. Most people would.
"I'll do that now," I said. "Let her go, and you can do whatever you want to me."
Darrow shuffled to the door, leaned in and said something to Vernon. The sheriff slipped out of sight. Patrol, I presumed. Had to make sure no one had followed me over. Dammit. I wanted both men in the room. The time was almost upon us.
And then, as Darrow shouldered a rifle and made his way back to the middle of the room, Reese attempted to screw everything up.
Chapter 65
Darrow jumped back, startled at first. The old soldier's instincts took over and he readied himself to defend. Reese screamed as she whipped both arms to the front. An empty zip tie loop dangling from her right wrist. She leapt forward. An awkward move with the chair attached to her legs. It held her back, threw her off balance. Perhaps she thought it would break under the sudden movement. The chair looked as though it had been in the cabin for the past hundred years.
In the moment it took for Darrow to react, Reese had regained her balance and spun toward him. He swung the rifle in front of him, catching Reese in the chin. Fortunately, he hadn't had a chance to draw the weapon back. The strike was more like a half-bunt, half-swing. Reese raked her nails across his face from his forehead to his lips, leaving behind red marks that filled in with blood. The man pawed at his eyes, grunting in pain.
Reese's attack left her unbalanced, and she hit the ground hard, twisted at the waist. She rolled right and went for Darrow's legs. Her outstretched arms wrapped around each, and she attempted to crocodile roll the guy.
He attempted to draw aim on her, but could barely manage to open his eyes. So he flipped the rifle and drove the butt stock down.
I scrambled to my feet after accelerating the timer in my head to zero. There was no more waiting. I lunged toward Darrow. Vernon ran up the stairs with his weapon aimed forward.
Thunder rang out. I gritted my teeth against phantom pain. Splintered wood rained down throughout the room. Vernon stopped to reload, buying me a few precious seconds.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the sap. The dumb sons of bitches hadn't bothered to search me. They saw I had two pistols and must've figured that was it. Big mistake.
I whipped the sap around, aiming for Darrow's head. He ducked and somehow managed to position his body so I ran into him. My legs were already weakened. I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. When I stopped sliding, I glanced up, greeted by the barrel of Vernon's rifle.
"Everyone chill the hell out," Vernon said, positioning himself so he was out of reach. He aimed the rifle at me. "So help me, Reese, I'll blow his goddamn brains out right here."
She stopped thrashing, but refused to relinquish her grip on Darrow's legs. Our gazes met, perhaps for the last time. She pursed her lips tight, shook her head. I nodded, closed my eyes, dropped my forehead to the wooden plank. She'd blown our chance.
Hell, I'd blown it.
The timer in my head reset back to it
s original countdown. Time was almost up.
Three.
Two.
One.
Nothing.
I'd stopped the truck just outside range of being spotted by anyone at the house. There, I took the shirt off the man in the passenger seat, wiped some oil on it, then stuffed it in the gas tank deep enough to hit fuel, and lit it. It should have exploded by now.
"I'm just going to put an end to this now, Noble," Darrow said. "Consider yourself lucky that you're not going to face the torture I had planned for your—"
BOOM.
Chapter 66
Crystal River, Florida, 1988
The man with the limp who'd shot Molly appeared. He pushed the gun away from Jack, and dragged the other guy toward the woods. "We gotta get outta here, man. The cops are close. The other guys are cleaning up."
"Guess your fate's changed," the guy said before slipping into the cover of darkness.
By the time Jack found the pistol, the men were gone. He crawled through the high, damp grass toward his sister's body. "Molly," he said. "Please say something."
Her dark eyes stared up at him, the moon glinting off them. She said nothing. There was no way she could.
He cradled her head in his lap, feeling the warm flow from the hole in her head trickle over his fingers and onto his legs. Tears streamed down his face. He could have saved her. The man was in his sights. All he had to do was pull the trigger.
Sean appeared a few moments later, followed by the sound of sirens. His frame blocked out the faded moonlight.
"Christ, what happened, Jack?" he dropped to his knees and grabbed Molly, pulling her toward him, shaking her. "Molly, come on, sweetie. Say something. Tell me I'm a crappy brother. Anything."
"She's gone," Jack said.
"Shut up." Sean drew one arm back like he was going to punch his brother. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Jack readied himself to be struck, but his brother backed down. He eased Molly to the ground. "No, no you can't be dead. Molly, come on, wake up."