He’d made it clear that his behavior had been inexcusable and that he was sorry for what he had done to her. And when he had come to her last night and laid her across the bed, she took him with a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed.
Yet she’d been conflicted about having him in her life again. She was afraid to completely let herself go, to once again fall under that intoxicating spell of his, because she feared that once his work was done, he might not stick around.
She had carefully weighed whether to tell him about Adam and had been unable to do it. She hadn’t wanted to keep him in Cedarwood that way. Hadn’t wanted him to feel obligated to stick around.
Now, as she sat there watching the clock, counting off the seconds, she realized just how silly she’d been. If they all managed to get through this terrifying night in one piece, she would welcome Brody back into her life with open arms.
And she would forgive him. Just as her father would have. Just as her mother had.
Without forgiveness, there is no future.
And Anna knew, with great certainty, that was exactly what she wanted with Brody.
A future.
WHEN THE CLOCK ON THE dash ticked over to 12:43, Brody said, “Two minutes. We’d better get moving.”
He was crouched low on the seat next to Anna, looking out through the rain toward the packing plant, his jaw set, his gaze unwavering. He was in work mode, all business, and if Anna had to rely on someone to save Adam, she knew there was no one better or more determined than Brody.
Frank was in the backseat. “I’ll go in first,” he said. “I’ll take the left flank, you take the right. You ready, Anna?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
Bracing herself, Anna popped open her door. Using an umbrella for protection against the rain, she climbed out of the car and walked ten steps to the packing plant’s gate.
Her legs were trembling, her nerves doing somersaults in her stomach.
There was no lock on the gate. Just a wooden handle. She grasped it and rolled it aside, leaving enough room for her car to fit through, then walked back and climbed behind the wheel.
Putting the car in gear, she followed the plan Brody and Frank had laid out for them in her living room and slowly pulled through the gate.
The moment she was past it, Frank cracked his door open and rolled out, disappearing into the darkness.
A few seconds later, Brody leaned toward her, touching her forearm.
“Remember to play your part,” he said. “You’re alone, you’re scared and you just want to get this thing over with.”
“I won’t have to do much acting.”
He nodded then pulled a pistol from his waistband. “I took this from your closet. If I don’t come out of this thing alive, I—”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“We both know it’s a possibility. If anything happens to me in there, I want you to use this thing. Do whatever you have to do to get your mother and Adam out of that place.”
He handed her the gun. “Keep it in your waistband, at the small of your back.” He started to go, then hesitated. Turned to her. “I know I’ve said this before—but I love you, Anna. More than anyone should ever be allowed to love someone. And I’m sorry for all the pain I put you through.”
Then he squeezed her arm, cracked open his door and slipped away, disappearing into the rain.
Chapter Twenty-One
The rain didn’t let up, which was both a blessing and a curse.
Brody crouched under the water tower, his gaze on the packing plant, but getting there had taken some time and he was soaked through. Hair, shoes, pants, shirt—every part of him was dripping water, and the chill in the air wasn’t helping much.
Even the gun Frank loaned him was soaked. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t fire, but handling it wouldn’t be as easy with it wet.
The plan they’d formulated was a simple one.
Maybe too simple.
But with only satellite footage available, and no blueprints or floor plans to guide them, they’d known that their best option was a quick and dirty stealth assault:
—Make entry;
—Take out anyone who got in their way;
—Find Adam and Sylvia.
Despite their differences, Brody had always thought of Frank as a man who could handle himself, and he knew that the training offered by the Cedarwood Sheriff’s Department was some of the best in the country. Frank was no stranger to tactical maneuvers and was bound to be an asset here.
But if the men inside that plant were rogue deputies, as Frank suspected, then they would’ve gone through the very same training.
And that could be a problem.
This wasn’t the first time Brody had been in a situation like this. The geography had been different, and the target had been a Janjaweed compound in the middle of nowhere, but he and another man had managed to silently put down ten guards before freeing a cell full of African farm women—the compound’s personal sex slaves.
He had come very close to losing his life that night, and he knew that if he miscalculated this time, if there were more people involved in this thing than his instincts told him there were…he might not walk away.
But that didn’t matter as long as Adam and Sylvia were safe.
Nothing else mattered.
He kept his gaze on the building. There were no lights inside. No signs of life whatsoever. He was directly across from the loading dock, several big rigs and small refrigerator trucks sitting silently in the surrounding darkness. He knew they’d make good cover as he worked his way toward the building.
He had no idea what time it was, but he figured no more than two minutes had passed since he’d left Anna near the gate.
She would be driving forward now, rolling up close to the front doors and waiting for someone to make contact.
He knew she was afraid. He had seen the fear in her eyes as he told her he loved her. He didn’t like leaving her out there on her own, but what choice did he have? She was a strong woman, and if things went sour for him tonight, she’d do whatever it took to get their son back.
A few hours ago he had been overjoyed to hear the news about Adam. But now that joy was tempered by worry and fear, feelings he’d have to fight off if he was going to be effective here.
Just think of it as another mission, Brody. Visualize Darfur and do what you have to do.
Shoving aside all emotion, he got to his feet, checked the building one last time for any sign of movement then darted across the lot to the first truck parked near the loading dock.
Crouching low, he slipped under the container and waited near the left rear tire, all the while keeping his gaze on the building.
Still no movement.
Now that he was closer, however, he thought he saw light in one of the windows. A faint yellow glow that was barely visible through the falling rain.
He needed an even closer look.
Steeling himself, he got to his feet and made another quick dash, hiding behind one of the refrigerator trucks. Moving from truck to truck, he made his way to the loading-dock steps and waited there a moment, staying low behind the dock’s cement ledge.
There was definitely light in that window.
After a quick scan of the area, he moved up onto the dock and stood under the overhang, thankful to be out of the rain. Flattening against the rollaway door, he moved sideways to the window, stopping just short of it.
Crouching again, he got below the windowsill and carefully peeked in.
The room inside was dark, but beyond this, through an open doorway, was a narrow corridor that led to another doorway.
This was where the light was coming from.
It was hard to tell with the constant drumming of the rain, but he thought he heard voices coming from in there.
He glanced around, looking for a way inside. There was a door to his far right of the loading dock, protected by a dead bolt. He moved to check i
t and wasn’t surprised to find it locked.
Fortunately, he’d never had much problem with locks. Pulling out his wallet, he removed the paper clip he kept in one of its pockets then unfolded the clip and straightened one end.
Gripping the other end between his forefinger and thumb, he inserted the length of wire into the narrow part of the keyhole, carefully lined up the tumblers then pushed it deep and worked it around inside.
It took some effort, but the lock finally gave and the dead bolt turned.
A moment later he was inside the packing plant, dripping rainwater on the scarred linoleum floor. There was a corridor ahead of him, and now that the rain was muffled by the door, he could definitely hear voices. They were indistinct from this distance, but he knew what direction they were coming from.
Pulling the gun out from under his shirt, he headed toward them.
As he reached the end of the corridor, he waited, listening for footsteps. Heard none.
Shifting to his left, he raised the gun and ducked low as he pivoted into the adjoining corridor, ready to squeeze off a shot.
The corridor was empty. There were deep shadows at the far end but no movement there.
The doorway with the light was located on the right side. He rose to his full height and moved against the wall, keeping the gun ready, working his way toward that room.
He could hear the voices clearly now but realized that there was a tinny quality to them, as if they were coming from a speaker.
Reaching the doorway, he chanced a quick look inside and saw a break room with an old tube television set tucked into one corner, tuned to a classic movie channel.
In other words, a bust.
He was about to duck away when a whisper came out of the darkness behind him.
“Glad you could make it, scooter boy.”
Brody whirled.
A man wearing a ski mask emerged from the darkness at the far end of the hall, pointing a small assault rifle at Brody. The kind the local drug dealers used. He was one of the men Brody had confronted in Anna’s house—the guy he’d stopped on the stairs.
“Put the gun on the floor,” the man whispered.
Brody looked at the pistol in his hand then leaned down and placed it on the linoleum.
The man stepped toward him now and Brody didn’t hesitate. He plunged forward, tackling the guy, grabbing his gun arm. Wrapping both hands around the wrist, Brody squeezed hard as the man hammered at him with his free hand, trying to break him loose.
The fingers slackened and the gun clattered to the floor, and they went down hard, Brody struggling to gain control. He grabbed blindly at the man, getting hold of a handful of fleece, yanking the ski mask off his head. As they rolled into the light from the doorway, Brody got a look at the man’s face and was surprised by what he saw.
It was Joe Wilson.
Frank’s partner.
Wilson scowled at him and brought a knee up into Brody’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Brody clutched himself and rolled away, gasping for breath, Wilson got to his feet, frantically shuffled around then disappeared from view.
When he came back into the light, he was once again carrying his assault rifle, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
He pointed the muzzle at Brody. “I guess you aren’t such a hotshot after all, are you, Carpen—” A silencer plocked. Three holes opened up in Wilson’s chest, the impact knocking him back into the darkness, his rifle skidding across the floor.
Pulling himself upright, Brody staggered to his feet and turned to find Frank Matson, dripping wet, standing at the opposite end of the corridor.
“Just goes to show you can’t trust anyone these days,” Frank said.
Then he pointed his silencer at Brody.
“Including me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was 12:49.
Still no sign of life in the building.
Anna was parked in front of American Beef’s entrance, worried that something had gone wrong, wondering why her son’s kidnappers hadn’t yet come outside.
Were they waiting for her to make the first move?
Should she get out of the car and see if the front doors were locked?
Five more minutes, she thought. Five more minutes, then you go inside.
She glanced at the pistol on the seat beside her. Scooping it up, she ejected the magazine, checked to make sure it was full of cartridges then snapped it back into place.
She didn’t really know what she was doing. She had no use for guns and still wasn’t quite sure she could actually pull the trigger. If it came down to the bad guys versus her family, she’d have to find a way to get past the uncertainty, point at the target and squeeze.
12:50.
The longest minute of her life, and still nothing.
Pulling the pistol into her lap now, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer.
Help me, Lord. Help me.
BRODY COULDN’T QUITE believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing, Frank?”
“Come on, Carpenter. You’re smarter than that. I’m surprised you didn’t already figure it out on your own.” He smiled. “I’m afraid I lied to you earlier. I am the guy who mowed you down on the road, and I gotta tell you, it felt pretty good.”
“You think you’re actually gonna get away with this?”
Matson laughed. “It took some improvising, but it looks like I already have.”
“What does that mean?”
“Turns out I was right about you all along. After I shoot you—in self-defense, of course—there’s gonna be an investigation. And guess what they’ll find when they open up Wilson’s private email?”
“No idea,” Brody said.
“Enough evidence to prove that you and he were in cahoots all along. That you colluded with Wilson’s confidential informants to try and get that button from Anna. But the button I give them will be a blank, so nobody’ll be quite sure what the fuss was all about.”
“You’re insane. What could Northboard have that’s worth all this killing?”
“My ex-brother-in-law told me there are a number of things in that building that could catch a pretty penny. But what I’m looking to grab are the plans for a brand-new weapon they’re developing. I’ve already got buyers starting to line up. And these people have deep, deep pockets.”
“Even with a key card,” Brody said, “you think you can just walk in there and take whatever you want?”
“That’s the beauty of having an inside man. Owen told me that every Christmas Eve, Northboard throws its office party—a big old shindig—and everyone in the building is invited. Including most of the security staff. I figure that’s the perfect time to slip inside and do what needs to be done.”
“You’re dreaming,” Brody told him.
“Maybe so,” Frank said, “but a man’s gotta dream. The way I see it, when this is over, I’m the hero and I get the girl. Just like last time.”
Brody frowned. “Last time?”
“Who do you think set you up for the fall four years ago? Made it look like you took that bribe?”
Brody felt his chest tighten. His eyes must have shown his anger.
“That’s right, Carpenter. I didn’t expect you to be acquitted, but it all worked out in the end. You left town and I got Anna.” He smiled. “But this time out, I won’t be making the same mistakes. And I don’t have to worry about you coming back.”
“What about Adam?” Brody asked. “Where is he?”
“He’s safe. Always has been. We never made much of a connection, but I wouldn’t dream of hurting that boy. He and Sylvia were just an excuse to get you out here.” He paused. “And when all is said and done, Anna’s gonna be telling that boy that his daddy was one of the cruelest human beings ever to walk this good green earth. Assuming she tells him you’re related at all.”
Brody clinched his teeth. “You really are insane.”
“What I am is in love,” Frank said. “But I guess that pretty much
amounts to the same thing.”
He smiled again and Brody sensed that this was his cue. His gaze zeroed in on Frank’s trigger finger and when he saw the flicker of movement there—
—he dove sideways.
The silencer coughed, two shots in rapid succession, both of them whizzing past Brody’s head as he rolled into the darkness and scrambled to his feet.
Then a third shot came, catching him in the shoulder, and he nearly went down again, intense heat ripping through him. Pushing past the pain, he ran toward the far end of the hallway, found another doorway there and slipped inside.
He heard Frank cursing behind him, his footsteps echoing against the corridor walls. Picking up speed, Brody crossed through what looked like a packaging room and raced past a wide conveyor belt, heading toward a lighted doorway at the far end.
When he went through that doorway, the temperature dropped about sixty degrees. He was inside a massive refrigerator, surrounded by hanging carcasses of beef.
ANNA LOOKED AT THE clock on the dash.
1:00 a.m.
She had waited a lot longer than she’d intended, nervous about making a move, but now she grabbed the pistol from her lap and shoved it into her waistband at the small of her back, just as Brody had instructed.
Snatching up her umbrella, she threw the car door open and climbed out, shielding herself from the rain.
She stared at the building’s entrance, hoping that her movements might have alerted someone inside. But she saw nothing but blackness beyond the glass doors, and no one came out to greet her.
She wondered about Brody and Frank.
Had they been successful?
Was that why no one was coming outside?
If so, then why hadn’t they told her? Why hadn’t one of them come to get her, to assure her that the bad guys had been caught and that Adam and Mom were safe?
Anna approached the entrance, moving onto a short covered walkway. Setting her umbrella on the asphalt, she moved up to the doors and put her face against the glass, peering into the room beyond.
All she saw was a rundown lobby area, bathed in shadow and moonlight. There was a reception desk and several framed posters of assorted meats hung on the wall behind it, surrounding the American Beef logo.
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