With some considerable effort, they made their way through the newly fallen snow to the rocks and ducked down so that they wouldn't be seen, but through the cracks between the boulders they had a good view of the road and the cabin.
"Now, we wait," Ian said. He glanced down at his watch. "It's been about twenty-five minutes since I called Kate. Someone should be here soon."
"The right someone," she said, feeling incredibly nervous. They didn't speak for a couple of minutes, and the silence made her more tense. "I still can't believe the Fergusons are behind this. Harry is an old guy and Westley seems too clean-cut to be involved in this kind of thuggish behavior."
"But Westley would have no problem hiring someone to do his dirty work."
"I guess."
"If it makes you feel better, I'm not completely sold on the Fergusons."
"Why not?"
"Because it feels almost too easy."
"Easy?" she asked incredulously. "None of this has been easy."
"We're going to be okay, Grace."
"I really like it when you tell me that," she admitted. "Even though I'm not sure it's true."
"Hey, I never lie, remember?"
"I know you want it to be true." She let out a breath. "I'm keeping the faith." She'd no sooner finished speaking then she heard the sound of an engine. "Someone is coming." She held her breath, wondering if she'd see a police car…or the dark SUV…
Nineteen
It was the SUV. "It's them," she whispered, terror racing through her as she put her hand on Ian's arm.
He gave her a tense look. "We're out of sight. Just don't move."
She really hoped they were out of view. As the car stopped a few yards from the house, she could see doors open, and boots hit the ground, but she couldn't see exactly who got out. "How many?"
"Looks like three to me."
"Do you recognize anyone?" she whispered.
"Can't see their faces."
As they watched, one of the men came around the back of the house. He was dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, and she was quite sure it was the same man who had grabbed her. He had a black beanie on his head, and she couldn't really see his face, but she doubted he was anyone she'd met before.
The man peered through one of the windows that wasn't boarded up. He could probably see the candlelight inside.
Her grip tightened on Ian's arm.
The man stepped back then kicked at the door. She could see more movement at the front of the house. They were going inside.
When the door didn't immediately bust open, the man pulled out a gun and shot out the lock.
She jumped at the shocking sound, and Ian had to pull her back down.
The next kick sent the door flying open, and the man ran inside, his gun drawn.
For a second, she thought the trap wouldn't work, and then an explosion lit the air, followed immediately by another. Flames shot out of the doors and windows. The man came running back outside, caught up in flames. He was screaming, rolling around on the ground, trying to put out the fire.
The sound of distant sirens followed the intense crackling of the fire. Help was on its way.
"We're going to be okay," she said excitedly. "It worked." The traps Ian had made had set the house on fire and sparks were leaping into the nearby trees, turning the branches into flames. The police would know where they were now, and there was no way out for the guys in the van. The one who had been caught up in flames had stopped rolling around on the ground. The fire on his clothes was out, but he seemed to be barely conscious. "Do you think he's dead?"
"Don't know," Ian said tersely.
"Well, at least the others are trapped now. They can't get away."
She'd no sooner finished speaking when she saw a man running from the front of the house, into the woods and away from the property.
"No way," Ian said, anger in his voice. "Stay here."
"What?" she asked in shock as he jumped up. "Ian, no."
"Stay here until the police come. I'm not letting him get away."
As Ian ran after the man, she debated what to do. The sirens were coming closer, but no one had come down the road yet. What if the man Ian was chasing had a gun? What the hell was he going to do then? By the time help arrived, it might be too late.
She grabbed the shovel and ran after him.
* * *
Ian jumped over rocks and branches as he ran through the trees. He was not going to let this man escape. If he did, who knew if he would ever be found? He needed this to be over. He needed Grace to be safe. And he needed to find whoever had hurt Seamus. Even if it wasn't this guy, he knew something—maybe everything.
The man was fast, agile, moving too quickly for him to see who he was. He wore dark jeans and a black jacket, like the other man they'd seen. Those clothes might have been good at night, but in the daylight, against the snow, there was no place for him to hide.
As he got deeper into the woods, the sounds of the sirens weren't as loud.
For a split second, he hoped he'd made the right decision. What if the third man got to Grace before the police arrived? He had no idea whether he was alive or not.
It was too late to turn back. Grace was hidden away. She wouldn't show herself until the police were there. But he felt a renewed sense of urgency to be done with the danger. He pushed harder, running so fast he was almost flying. The guy in front of him was getting closer…and closer…
One last burst of adrenaline sent him airborne as he tackled the man to the ground.
He landed on top of him, but was immediately thrown off the guy's back, as the man lurched to his feet.
He jumped up, grabbing one of the man's arms as he tried to get away. The man yanked free and whirled around, his fist coming at Ian's face.
He ducked and hit back, striking the guy right in the middle of his nose.
The man stumbled backward with a yell, blood pouring from his nose.
Ian stared in shock as he finally saw exactly who he was fighting with. "You?" he asked in shock. "No. It can't be you."
His old friend David gazed back at him, a mix of anger, regret, and fear in his eyes. "I didn't have a choice, Ian."
"You broke into my room, into Grace's house? You tried to kidnap her?" he asked, his voice rising in stunned amazement.
"I had to."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did. You have no idea what this is about."
"It's about a bee-sized drone with a poisonous stinger."
David stared back at him, wiping more blood from his nose. "You found it."
"What the hell is going on? Is this about money?"
"No, it's about saving the world. You think you know what's right and what's wrong, but you don't. I went around the world. I met the people we're using our weapons against. They don't deserve the annihilation we want to rain down on them."
He couldn't believe the words that were spouting from David's bitter lips. "You're going to sell the drone to a terrorist group, aren't you?"
"They're not the terrorists—we are. I've seen what we do to poor people."
He shook his head. "You're wrong. You're messed up, David. Is that why you went to work for Ahmet, for Vipercom?"
"Yes. I thought he had what I needed. But then I heard about the bee-stinger and the prototype Donelan made years ago. There were samples at Vipercom but none with the cloak of invisibility that Donelan had created, none with the stinger set up exactly the right way. I went to Donelan and asked him if he knew where it was. He told me it was at Vipercom, but I knew he was lying."
"So you broke into his office and almost killed him?"
"That wasn't me."
"But you ordered it, didn't you? And what about the man who tried to kidnap Grace earlier?"
"We weren't going to hurt her."
He didn't believe David for a second.
"And this whole thing was Donelan's fault anyway," David rationalized. "He sent her the drone. I wasn't sure she
had it. But when we couldn't find it in Donelan's office or his home, we knew he'd sent it somewhere. Since I was coming to Tahoe, I figured I'd start with her. We did a quick search of her place first. I didn't think there was anything there until you told me about the package you delivered to her, I knew we had to go back."
"That package was a puzzle box. Seamus didn't send the drone to Grace; he sent it to me. I just didn't know I had it until yesterday. That's why you couldn't find it in her house or my hotel room. It was in my car."
"Where is it now?" David asked.
"Somewhere safe." He paused. "It's not too late to make this right, David."
"Yes it is. You always wanted to believe the best in me, Ian. But you were wrong about me before, and you're wrong about me now. You can't save me. And I'm afraid to say—you can't save yourself, either."
David pulled out a gun, aiming it straight at his chest.
Damn! He should have expected that. "You're not getting away; the police are here. There's nowhere to go."
"There are plenty of ways for me to disappear in these mountains. No one else knows it's me."
"What about the men you were with? One of them will talk."
"They're both probably dead by now after the explosions you set. I should have figured you'd outsmart me," he said. "You always had the bigger brain. I didn't intend for you to get hurt, but the stakes are too high to let you go. You'll tell everyone."
His old friend knew him too well. There was no point in pretending. "It doesn't have to end this way."
David lifted his gun. "I'm afraid it does. I really am sorry, but it's you or me, Ian, and you know I always pick myself."
Ian saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and knew he had to keep David focused on him. "What changed you, David?"
"You know what happened. My dad killed himself after he gave his life to this country of ours, a country that later turned its back on him."
"You want revenge?"
"I want everything. Give me the drone. There's no way you came out here without it."
"You don't know that."
"I know you. It would have been too dangerous to give it to Grace."
"I won't give it to you."
"Then I'll take it after you're dead."
"The gunshot will be heard. You'll be found."
David wavered slightly. "No, I'll get away." As he took aim, a figure rushed out from behind the trees and swung a shovel at David's head.
As David went down, he fired off a shot, but Ian jumped out of the way. He stared in amazement as Grace looked back at him, the unconscious David lying on the ground between them.
He walked forward and picked up David's gun. Then he looked back at Grace, whose face was as white as the snow, her green eyes huge but determined and now a little triumphant. "I told you to stay where you were, Grace."
"I thought you might need my help, and you did." She looked down at David, then back at him. "I can't believe it was David. God, Ian, your friend?" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I never suspected it was him."
"Me, either," he said grimly. "He said we were on the wrong side. His mind was twisted. I guess it started when his dad died. And then it got worse when he traveled around the world, when he met people who fed into his anger against our country. He took the job at Vipercom to get access to weaponry, to sell it to his new friends." He shook his head, still in disbelief at the realization that David had been behind everything.
"Are you all right?"
"I am now."
Grace dropped the shovel on the ground and ran over to him. They hugged out the fear for a good long minute.
"Thanks for saving my life, Grace."
"You're welcome." Her bottom lip trembled, but she drew in a deep breath and kept her chin up. "I'm not going to cry—not yet anyway."
He gave her a loving smile. "You are so amazing, Grace. I can't believe how strong you are."
"Well, you told me the shovel might come in handy. Turns out you were right—again."
They both jumped as they heard people in the woods. He put his arm around Grace and kept the gun handy just in case, but it was Detective Johnson and two FBI agents who came through the trees.
"Everyone okay?" the detective asked, his gun drawn.
"We're fine. He's the one who set everything up." Ian tipped his head to his unconscious and former friend. "His name is David Pennington. He was after a weaponized drone that I didn't realize I had. It's quite small." He pulled the baggie from his pocket and showed it to the detective. "It was covered with an invisible paint, and it's set up so that the stinger will inject poison into the target."
"Just like a bee sting," the detective said in amazement. "It's so small. Does it actually work?"
"No idea. Apparently this is a prototype. I also have formulas that are part of how it works." He handed Detective Johnson the papers he'd ripped from the journal.
"We're going to need to take a look at all of that," the FBI agent told the detective.
"We'll get it worked out," the detective said.
"What happened to the guys who broke into the house?" Grace asked.
"One of them is dead from the fire. The other has suffered serious burns." The detective gave Ian a side look. "That your handiwork?"
"Wasn't sure you'd find us before they did," he replied. "So I set a trap."
"Genius idea. But you almost set the whole mountain on fire."
"Sorry about that," Ian muttered. "I'll pay for the damage to the cabin."
"We'll sort that out later," the detective said, as two medics came through the woods with a stretcher. "You think this is the head guy?"
"I do."
"We'll need you both to make a statement."
"Of course," Ian said, figuring they'd be making statements to both the local police and the FBI. "I'm also going to need a tow truck to get my car out of the ravine."
"There's one on the way. You two were lucky. What were you doing out here?"
"Trying to get out of danger," Grace put in. "We were headed to Sacramento, but they followed us. We had to make a quick turn to lose them."
"We tried to call you last night," Ian said, as they started walking back toward the cabin. "But we couldn't get a signal and we didn't want to get too close to the road to find one."
"I spoke to your sister on my way out here," the detective said. "She's hell on wheels. Within minutes, she had every FBI agent within twenty miles out looking for you."
"That's Kate," he said with a smile. "When she wants to get something done, she does it."
When they reached the row of cabins, he saw that not only the one they'd stayed in had been demolished but the one next to it had also been damaged and firefighters were still firing a spray of water at trees going up the mountain.
"Oh, no," Grace said suddenly. "I just realized we left your great-grandfather's journals in the house."
He felt a wave of loss for those old books, but maybe they'd already served their purpose. They'd saved his life and Grace's, too. "It's all right," he said. "I read through them. I got what I needed."
"I wish we'd taken them with us."
"Don't worry about it. Those journals gave your dad an opportunity to ask me for a favor, and that favor led me to you."
"And a whole hell of a lot of trouble."
"That's true. But it hasn't been all bad."
She smiled back at him, as she slid her hand into his. "No, it hasn't. So did David tell you how my father got the prototype?"
"He had it all along. He's the one who developed the invisible paint formula. He must have realized that what he'd invented could be used in the wrong way. So he took the main prototype from the company, leaving behind the ones that wouldn't work, buying time until someone else figured out how to make the shield."
Grace stared back at him with thoughtful eyes. "I guess when it comes to science, my dad has a heightened sense of right and wrong. Too bad it didn't work that way in the rest of his life. But," she added, a
s he started to interrupt. "I know I made him all bad in my head, and he's more complicated than that."
"He is, Grace."
"It's kind of weird that he came up with a paint that could make things invisible, because that's what I did to him. I made it like he never existed. I wouldn't even let myself see him in my dreams."
"You did that for your mother."
"And for myself, too. It would be wrong to blame her for everything."
"Do you still want to go to Ireland?"
She let out a breath. "Well, not today. But I'll think about it. Right now, I really just want to go home and do something normal."
"Like what?"
"I don't know…make some pancakes?"
He smiled. "I can do that for you."
"I was hoping you'd say that, because I'm really good at burning pancakes."
"You got it, Grace."
Unfortunately, his promise to make pancakes for her had to wait awhile.
They got a ride back to Tahoe with Detective Johnson but then spent the next three hours talking to him and the FBI agents before they were finally dropped off at Grace's house a little past noon.
As they walked into the house, Grace paused in the entry and said, "Well, it still looks the same. But now it just feels messy and not scary."
"We'll get it cleaned up—after we eat. I know it's more like lunchtime, but are we still on for pancakes?"
"We definitely are," she said, leading the way into the kitchen. She pulled a box of pancake mix from the cabinet. "I've got this. Will it work?"
"Well, it won't allow me to show off all my skills, but since we're both starving, it will do."
"Ian." She put her hand on his arm. "I just want to say again that I couldn't have gotten through this without you."
"Right back at you, Grace. Now, why don't you go take a shower, and I'll make us breakfast?"
"We could shower together."
"You know what? I like that idea better."
She laughed. "I had a feeling you would."
Before he could move, his phone rang, and Dylan's name flashed across the screen. He inwardly groaned. "This is my brother." He'd left Dylan a vague message earlier about a problem with his car.
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 24