by Joyce Lamb
Alaina's frantic desperation shifted, and she went to her knees beside her sister. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's in the house...." Addison's lids drifted closed, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.
Alaina grasped her by the shoulders. "Where?"
Addison didn't respond, sinking so far under the control of the drugs that Alaina realized getting any information out of her would be impossible unless she did something. "How much did you take?" she demanded.
"It doesn't matter."
Alaina shook her, impatient and terrified. For Jonah. For herself. For the sister who'd never been there for her. "How much, dammit?"
Addison's fingers curled around Alaina's wrists, gripped. "Three at first ... because I was afraid. And then ... later ... I took the rest."
Oh Jesus. Oh God. No time. "How long ago?"
Addison's head lolled back. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry. I was an awful sister. An awful person."
She was still relatively coherent, so Alaina determined that she couldn't have swallowed the pills that long ago. Either way, they had to be expelled.
Tugging her into a sitting position, Alaina pushed Addison forward until she was bent at the waist. Leaning against Addison's spine to keep her from flopping back, Alaina reached around her and gripped her sister's jaw. "Open your mouth."
Addison resisted, shaking her head like a toddler rejecting a spoonful of strained peas.
"Damn you, don't fight me," Alaina snapped. Every second that ticked by eroded her chances of getting to Jonah before Layton did. With strength born of determination and desperation, she pried Addison's teeth apart and shoved her finger down her sister's throat.
While Addison vomited on the pristine white carpet, Alaina supported her trembling shoulders to keep her from slipping backward, where she might asphyxiate on her own vomit. "That's good," she said, rubbing Addison's back. "That's good."
Addison threw up a second time, then gulped in air as if she'd been held underwater for several minutes. Her head sagged on her shoulder, and Alaina could see that her eyes kept trying to roll back in her head.
Alaina jostled her, slapped her cheeks. "Come on, Addy, come on. Stay with me. Tell me where Jonah is."
"I don't know," Addison rasped, the words slurred.
"Yes, you do. You said he's in the house. I've checked this floor, and he's not here. Where could he be? What's on the lower level?"
Addison was fighting to stay conscious, her face deathly pale. "Why didn't you just let me die?"
Alaina seized her sister by the front of her dress. "Dammit, Addy, I need you to help me. Please. Layton might have put Jonah somewhere that he could lock from the outside."
Addison focused on her, or tried to, her eyes red and bleary. "The wine cellar. I thought he put the lock on the door to keep me out."
Hope expanded in Alaina's chest. "Where is it?"
"The basement."
"Yes, yes, but how do I get there from here?"
"Double doors into the kitchen. Door to the right of the back door --"
Alaina didn't wait for the rest as she tore for the stairs.
Chapter 38
Mitch, his head swimming, leaned against the side of his rental car. His coordination was off as he fumbled with the cellphone he'd managed to retrieve from the catch-all bin between the seats. Dammit. He didn't have time to be a klutz. Alaina didn't have time.
Chuck answered on the first ring.
"It's me," Mitch said. "He's got Alaina."
"Where are you?"
"I'm outside the gate at Keller's. Son of a bitch rookie shot me."
"What?"
"One of Potter's rookies. He's not on our side. I thought Potter's people were out."
"They were. Look, the agents I sent to intercept Alaina haven't checked in. I've been trying to get them on the phone for the past fifteen minutes. Hold on a minute."
Mitch dropped his head into his hand, willed it to stop spinning, forced back the nausea that swirled into his throat. It seemed an eternity before Chuck's voice returned. "I've got more backup coming, and I'm on my way. Mitch, how bad is it?"
"It's bad. He's going to kill her."
"No. You said you were shot. How bad is it?"
"Oh. Think I'm going to live. But the rookie needs an ambulance."
"Got it. We're on our way."
Mitch crawled back to the fallen rookie agent's side, staying conscious a constant battle. On his knees beside the wounded man, as sirens began to scream in the distance, Mitch cocked his gun and aimed it at the guy's head. "I need your security access."
* * *
At the top of the staircase, Alaina skidded to a halt.
Layton was gone. Only a thin smear of blood across the marble showed that he'd been there.
Dammit!
Praying he was looking for her and not Jonah, she raced down the steps. Her sneakers squeaked on the marble floor, and she paused for an instant to toe them off. In her stockinged feet, she ran silently to the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Pausing outside them, she listened for movement on the other side, heard only the sound of her own harsh breathing. Slowly, she eased one door inward and peered into a kitchen that had very shiny black floors, white countertops, stainless steel appliances and an island with pots and pans hanging above it. No people.
"Looking for me?"
She whirled, off guard, unable to deflect or duck the fist he aimed at her head.
The blow hurtled her back through the doors, and she landed flat on her back, lights bursting behind her eyes. She clung to the black threads of consciousness, her jaw in flames as the coppery taste of blood gushed into her mouth.
Layton loomed over her, his fake, amiable smile gone. He kicked her viciously in the ribs, and she cried out, curling blindly around the pain.
Sinking his fingers into the front of her shirt, he jerked her to her feet. "Actually, you're not looking for me, are you?"
Her senses whirled, and she grasped his wrists for support, unable to do much more than try to remain standing. Pain sawed through her chest, stole her breath.
"Let's see. Who could you be looking for?" he asked.
He shoved her toward the door near the back exit that Addison had told her about. She stumbled, caught herself against a kitchen stool with a gasp, fought to get strength into her legs even as the room tilted. She felt her eyes start to roll back.
Layton grasped her arm, kept her on her feet. "Don't do that." He pulled her over to the sink, where he flipped on the water and pushed her head under the cold spray.
Full consciousness returned with a vengeance.
She stomped his instep, and he let her go with a grunt.
Pivoting toward him, she landed a punch on his square jaw, ignoring the pain that sang up her arm and down into her injured ribs. When he staggered back, probably shocked more than hurt, she grabbed the first thing that was handy, a heavy pot hanging from the rack above the island, and slammed it up under his chin, the way she'd seen Mitch nail the hit man with the desk chair in the hotel room in Chicago.
Layton went down on his back with a thud, eyes closed.
Wheezing, a hand pressed to the searing pain in her side, Alaina limped to the door that Addison said led to the wine cellar. She opened it to darkness that was as black as night. Sliding her hand over the wall, she found a switch and flipped it. Light flooded the stairwell. At the bottom was a door.
She stumbled down the wooden steps, clinging to the railing as her legs threatened to buckle, gray closing in on the edges of her vision. Pure determination kept her from giving in to it. Not until she saw her son.
"Jonah?"
There was no strength in her voice, no volume.
A padlock hung from the door's latch. Defeat almost drove her to her knees, but she locked them and searched the area around the door for the key. Nothing.
Layton must have it.
Frantic, terrified, certain that Layton would regain consciousness at any second
, Alaina scrambled as best she could back up the steps and over to where he lay, unmoving. Shoving her fingers into his left front pocket, she felt the cold metal of a small key. Yes!
Again, she made her way down the steps, clutching the safety railing, the key clasped so hard in her hand it dug into her flesh. At the door, praying under her breath, crying, she slid the key into its hole, felt the lock give.
When the door swung open, she peered inside the dark room, blinking as she strained to see into the dark. "Jonah?"
"Mom?"
Her son emerged from the night, his face white, his eyes squinting against the light.
He was unhurt. And he was rushing toward her.
She opened her arms to him.
* * *
"You really should be on your way to the hospital."
Mitch ignored Chuck, leaning on him as they made their way through the house that seemed to be swarming with agents. "Where is she? Why haven't they found her?"
"We just got here," Chuck said, his voice tense. "The place isn't even secure yet, which is why I shouldn't be wasting my damn time hauling your ass around."
The radio clipped to Chuck's collar crackled. "Living room's clear."
Another voice said urgently, "We've got a woman on the second level. Looks like an overdose." A pause. "She's breathing."
Mitch tensed, his muscles itching to run up the stairs to see if the woman was Alaina.
Chuck, as if sensing his thoughts, said, "I'll check it out. You stay down here."
"No --"
"You're going to slow me down, Mitch. Stay here, in the living room. You're in no shape to be a hero. Hear me?"
Mitch nodded, frustrated at his impotence.
Leaning weakly against the wall, he stayed put for about half a minute. Until he heard what he thought were agents moving around beyond a pair of swinging double doors.
He pushed through them, found an empty kitchen.
A smear of red on a door that appeared to lead to the basement drew his gaze. Blood.
Drawing his gun from where it nestled against his lower back, he wobbled toward the open door.
* * *
Alaina clasped Jonah against her, any pain caused by the embrace numbed by the joy of feeling him hug her back as fiercely. "God, I've missed you," she said. "I've missed you so much."
"You're not going to cry all over me now, are you?" he asked, his words muffled against her shoulder.
She heard the break in his voice, knew if he wasn't crying, he was damn close. Laughing, she buried her face against his neck, inhaled his Jonah scent, reveled in feeling his hands against her back, patting as if to soothe her. "Yeah, I'm going to cry all over you now," she said. "Deal with it."
His answering laugh was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.
The cocking gun was the most frightening.
Thrusting Jonah behind her, she whirled to see Layton at the foot of the stairs, a pistol braced in both hands. Blood trickled down his temple and from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned like blue flames as he smiled crookedly, showing bloodied and broken teeth.
"Remember when I said I wasn't going to make you watch me kill the kid?" he asked. "I changed my mind."
Alaina lunged at him.
* * *
Mitch, at the top of the stairs where he could do nothing but watch in horror, saw Alaina's desperate move.
Saw Keller's finger squeeze the trigger.
Saw Alaina stagger back against Jonah.
Saw Jonah fall backward with her in his arms.
Saw blood blossom like a deadly flower on the front of her white T-shirt.
"No!"
Keller whirled at Mitch's hoarse roar and brought his gun up.
Mitch, his vision blurring, pulled his shot at the last instant, fearing that if the slug went through Keller, it might hit Jonah or Alaina directly behind him.
"Drop it," Mitch said. He forced himself to focus on Keller, forced his brain away from the image of Alaina, broken and bleeding on the floor, Jonah bent over her, frantically trying to revive her. If Keller would take only one step to the side, Mitch was certain he could drop the son of a bitch without the risk of the bullet hitting Alaina or Jonah.
Keller gave a nasty, snaggle-toothed grin. "Oh, good. I was hoping I'd get to --"
With a snarl, Jonah jumped Keller from behind, hooking his arm around his father's neck. Jonah's pure, adrenaline-fueled rage jerked the bigger man off his feet and landed him on his back.
As the teen pumped his fist into Keller's face, and more blood spurted, Mitch skidded down the stairs, first on his heels, then on his butt, his head spinning as the jarring impact of his tailbone on each step reverberated through his bruised brain.
Keller's gun. Where the hell did Keller's gun go?
Mitch heard shouts in the next room, knew federal agents would storm the kitchen, then the wine cellar, at any second. Ordinarily, he would have thrown himself into the melee, somehow gotten between Keller and the kid. But he knew he would have been worthless in a fight in the shape he was in.
So instead, he braced his weapon and aimed it at the tangle of limbs that was Jonah and his father as they rolled across the floor, grappling for the upper hand. Keller rammed an elbow up under the teen's chin, slamming his head back, but Jonah came right back at him, nailing him with a right hook.
Mitch narrowed his eyes, his focus deadly, waiting for the precise moment when Keller was in his sights and he could --
"Jonah, get down."
Mitch flinched at the sound of Alaina's voice, so calm, so steady.
Jonah dropped to his knees and covered his head.
Keller tottered, surprised at the swift move, then clamped his hands together and raised them, preparing to drive them down with deadly force on Jonah's bent head.
Mitch pulled the trigger.
Keller's body jerked. Shock froze his mouth in a bloody O before he crumpled to the floor and lay still.
In the silence that followed, Mitch stared down the length of his weapon at Alaina. She was holding Keller's gun firmly in both hands. A curlicue of smoke wafted from its barrel. They had fired at the same instant.
Her brow furrowed as her gaze roamed Mitch's face, alarm growing in her eyes. "What happened to you?" she asked faintly, just as federal agents appeared at the top of the stairs.
When her knees buckled, Mitch lurched up off the step to catch her.
Chapter 39
Alaina woke fast, instantly aware that she was in the hospital, instantly aware that she was alone. Fear for both Jonah and Mitch -- who'd been covered with blood when she'd seen him last -- had her pushing herself up, wincing at the dull throb of pain in her ribs and shoulder.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dizzy, working at the tape that secured the needle in the back of her hand, when the door opened. She glanced up as Jonah walked in.
When he saw her, he paused in mid-step, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Mom."
She fought the simultaneous urge to laugh and cry at the sight of him and instead held out her uninjured arm. As he hugged her, she saw over his shoulder that he hadn't been alone. Mitch stood just inside the door, his head bandaged, face colorless, dark circles rimming his eyes. The sick horror she'd felt when she'd seen him last, his head unbelievably bloody, rolled through her again.
But then he smiled, and his eyes shimmered. "Hi," he said.
She smiled back. "Hi."
Pulling back from her, Jonah asked, "Where were you going just now?"
She eased back against the pillows, exhausted but ecstatic that both her men were safe. "Nowhere."
"Don't let her fool you, kid," Mitch said. "She was coming after you."
Perching on the side of the bed, Jonah held up the nurse's call button. "Next time, use this. I'll even show you how it works." He made an exaggerated display of pushing the button.
Smiling at his antics, Alaina blinked wearily. "How long have I been here?"
"Couple hours," Jo
nah said with a shrug, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Mitch. "He's actually hurt worse than you, the doctor said. All you took was a hit in the shoulder, but he got it in the head. He wouldn't let them drug him up or anything. He's been acting like you did that time I fell out of the tree and broke my arm. All blustery and impatient."
He chattered when he was nervous, and she clasped his hand, feeling the tremor in his fingers before he fell silent and gripped back.
A nurse pushed through the door. "Ah, she's awake."
"We caught her trying to escape," Jonah said.
The nurse smiled at the teenager, charmed, then cast a critical glance at Mitch. "Perhaps it's time for you to sit down, Mr. Kane."
Mitch sank onto the chair in the corner of the room. "Yes, I think it is."
The nurse turned her attention to Alaina. "And you --"
"I'm not going anywhere," Alaina said. "I found what I was looking for."
Epilogue
"Hey, Al," Rachel said. "Where's your hunk? I was hoping to cop a feel when he hugs me hello."
Grinning at her best friend, Alaina set a stack of plates and napkins on the dining room table as Rachel plunked a pile of DVDs from the video store next to it.
"He and Jonah are picking up the food," Alaina said. "What movies did you get?"
"You asked for Arnold movies, and you got them. Kindergarten Cop, Terminator one and two, and my personal favorite, True Lies."
Alaina's grin broadened before she turned to go into the kitchen. "Interesting."
Rachel followed close behind. "What?"
"Mitch has a theory that you can tell a lot about a person based on their favorite Arnold movie," Alaina said as she lined up glasses on the counter and dropped ice cubes into them. "What do you want to drink?"
"Iced tea. I'll get it." When Rachel returned from the fridge with the tea pitcher, she gave her friend a dubious look. "What could True Lies possibly say about me?"