Alexa glanced up at him. “My father called it ‘sand’. Whatever it is, he’s got it.” She sighed. “Daniel, thank you for trying so hard to help us. It may not matter—” she faltered, then continued after a second. “It may not matter in the end, but whatever does happen, I want to tell you how much I—we—appreciate everything.”
Daniel nodded, looking down.
Alexa turned her attention back to Johnny, who had fallen into a restless sleep. She touched his forehead. Then, with the same tenderness her hand drifted upward, stopping to caress his dark hair for an instant.
Daniel turned away abruptly and started for the mouth of the tunnel. There was only one other place he could think of that might offer a bit of safety—a small space behind the wall of compressors. Barely enough room for two people. If the bomb exploded, it wouldn’t matter either way. But keeping out of sight was the main thing right now.
“Daniel?”
He stopped and looked back at her after a moment. “I need to go check somethin’ out,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be back.” He nodded at Johnny. “Keep him quiet.”
Daniel thought of apologizing as he turned away. He knew he had sounded short with her, by the way she had clamped her lips together and looked away from him. He shouldn’t be mad at her. She couldn’t help that he was being a fool. And, it seemed, he couldn’t, either. He was way too old for her. He was homeless. He was…crazy. At least, some people said that. He was a murderer. But he was also in love with Alexa Bailey—just like Johnny Logan was.
His lips quirked in silent rebuke at his own thoughts. There was no place for him in this world. There was no chance he’d ever get the girl, much less any girl. What use was he, anyhow? He took a second to peer from the mouth of the tubing before stepping out of its shelter. He was feeling shaky again. Sometimes, when he thought about too many things, his own thoughts scared him. He needed to talk to Ronnie again. Maybe he’d know of somethin’ to do.
Daniel fingered Johnny Logan’s cell phone, resting in his shirt pocket, and headed for the door. He needed fresh air. He’d call from outside. He really needed to talk to Ronnie. Ronnie always could sort things out just fine.
Chapter 21
Ronnie Williams jumped as “The Eyes of Texas” sounded, muffled from inside his shirt pocket. He drew the phone out in a hurry, but glanced to where Captain Ray Carter stood before he answered. Holcomb was at the monitoring controls, and the conversation would be public soon enough, but Ronnie couldn’t ignore his brother.
Ronnie held the phone to his ear. He’d seen Carter’s concern as he’d recognized the ringtone, but Ronnie had to answer. He’d make it short. With McShane’s equipment capabilities, any length of time he spent on the phone put Danny in danger of being discovered.
“Hello? Danny?”
“Hey, Ronnie.”
“Danny, listen to me,” Williams said quickly. “There’s a chance that those terrorists are listening in on us right now.”
There was silence a moment, then Daniel laughed. “You know they can’t do that. We’re talkin’ on cell phones. Ain’t no way—”
“Yes, there is.” Ronnie’s tone was firm.
“You…don’t wanna talk to me? Is that it?” The harshness in Daniel’s voice was hurt, but Ronnie could also hear the underlying anger pushing to the surface. Danny was anxious, he knew, and anger was how he handled it.
“Danny, no. That’s not it. You—you remember, I’m s’posed to look out for you.”
“Yeah, but I’m getting’ shaky again, Ronnie. An’ you said I could call—”
“I know. But it’s dangerous for you—calling me right now.” Ronnie pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to walk the line between making Danny angrier and protecting him the only way he could from McShane.
“Ronnie…I need to talk to you.”
He closed his eyes at the plaintive note in his brother’s voice. His lips trembled for an instant, and he felt Carter’s hand solid on his shoulder, pulling him back to the moment.
“There’s people here with me—I don’t know what to do—one of ’em’s hurt—”
Carter met Williams’ eyes, shocked. A pocket of survivors? Ronnie formed the question he should have known not to ask, but couldn’t help.
“Where?”
“No!” Carter hissed.
“Don’t say, don’t say!” he blurted into the receiver.
“You know where,” Danny muttered after a moment. “Where I always am.”
Ronnie took a deep breath.
“Get off, Mr. Williams,” Carter warned. “Tell him not to call back.”
But he shook his head, his eyes hardening. He knew his brother. He’d never tell him that. It would send him into a panic. “Danny, you do the best you can. I have to go now.” He tried to make his tone reassuring.
“Ronnie—”
He ignored the pleading note in his younger brother’s voice. “We’ll talk later. It ain’t safe right now.”
“There’s two of ’em. A man and a woman.”
“Get off!” Carter ordered again, making a grab for the phone.
Ronnie sidestepped him. “Danny, we have to get off. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” came the grumbling response. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
He clicked the phone off and glared at Captain Carter. “I know how to handle my brother, Captain.”
“Every second you spend talking to him offers them a chance of finding him—and those other two people,” Carter responded evenly.
“You don’t understand about Danny. He has some—problems.”
“I can’t help that. I’ve got problems of my own right now, in case you haven’t noticed. I can’t let him jeopardize his position; especially if he’s with two other people that McShane doesn’t know about.”
“Captain?”
Carter’s reluctant gaze slid to Holcomb. “What is it?”
“He called from Johnny’s cell phone again.”
Evan Sanders sneered at the obvious excitement—and hope—in Holcomb’s pronouncement. “That could mean anything. Logan could be lying dead in there somewhere, and this fruitcake just happened to lift his phone.”
Ronnie started forward, but Carter inserted himself in front of him, separating him from Sanders as Ronnie shouted, “That ‘fruitcake’ happens to be my brother!”
Sanders gave a careless shrug. “No offense. You’re the one who said he wasn’t right in the head.” He walked away.
Ronnie sighed, frustrated. There was nothing he could do from here to help Danny.
Carter turned to face him again. “Any chance that brother of yours would help those two people he claims are there with him? I want an honest answer. You know him—and we have no idea what we’re dealing with. The fact is, one of them might be Johnny Logan.”
Ronnie shook his head, shoulders sagging as he wrenched his gaze away from Carter’s. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know what he’ll do. He was a medic—you know, in Nam. But then, he killed that guy over a box of donuts. I know he seems crazy to you, Captain, but he is my brother. I love him. I don’t want him hurt, either.”
Carter nodded, a sigh escaping him. “I understand Mr. Williams. Let’s just hope he stays off that phone.”
Ronnie gave a sad smile. “Ain’t likely, Captain. I’m all he’s got, too. He’ll be a damn sight worried right now.” He looked up at the roof, his brother’s sanctuary. “No. He’ll be calling again. No doubt of that.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Alexa watched as Daniel clicked the phone off, casting a glance at the morning sky before he turned to go inside. He stopped short at the sight of Alexa, standing just behind him, hands on her hips.
“You said you didn’t know where it was.”
Daniel continued to slip the phone into his shirt pocket, then shrugged.
“Daniel, why did you lie to Johnny?”
Daniel’s head came up fast, his eyes blazing. “Why ain’t you i
n there with him, Lex?” He started to push past her, but she put her hands out to stop him.
“He’s sleeping. Resting well, for a change.” She nodded toward his pocket. “What about it?”
Daniel drew himself up and stood his ground. “I needed it.”
“I’m sure Johnny wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it. But it isn’t yours to keep.”
“I lost mine. The one Ronnie give me.” He pushed past her and strode to the door, his hand resting on the knob. For a moment, he stood, head down. “No,” he muttered after a few seconds, “I didn’t lose it. That wasn’t really true. I give it away—traded it for somethin’.”
Alexa took two steps toward him. “Traded it for what?” Daniel was never supposed to leave the roof; he’d told them that much. He’d just never gotten around to telling them why he was up here, really, to begin with.
He slowly turned to face her, anguished. “I—I went down. Onto the street. I wasn’t s’posed to…promised Ronnie I wouldn’t. But I—I got lonesome and really hungry. Ronnie, he forgot to bring me some Bobby’s Burgers that night, so I ate a sandwich. But I kept wanting a hamburger and French fries.”
He looked at Alexa, his expression beseeching her to understand. She nodded, trying to give him some type of reassurance, wondering where his ramblings were leading.
Daniel nodded toward the door. “Best go on inside now. Don’t want to get caught out here on the roof, just in case they decide to come up here. I got a new place to move y’all to.”
Alexa walked through the door as he held it open for her. He followed her inside, and they began making their way back to Johnny. Daniel remained silent as they walked. “So, you went to Bobby’s Burgers yourself?” Alexa prodded.
He didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said, at last. “I tried to trade the cell phone for dinner, but they wouldn’t take it. Acted like I was—” he looked over his shoulder at her, then began to pick his way across the tubing of various sizes in the floor once more, “—like I was crazy or somethin’. Or like they thought maybe I stole that phone in the first place. But I didn’t. No sir, I sure didn’t.”
“You must have been very hungry to try to make a trade like that.” Or very desperate for human companionship.
“Well, I was…” His voice trailed away, and then he said, “I like the way that Bobby’s Burgers looks inside—all those bright colors and families in there—little kids playin’ and throwin’ them balls in the ball pit, and ever’body happy and full of French fries—” He stopped and shook his head, smiling at her. “Ain’t nothin’ like it, Lex. I just missed it, ’cause I hadn’t been in there for so long. But Ronnie, he’d kill me if he knew I went down there.”
They had reached the bottom of the staircase leading to the elephant tubing where they’d been hiding. Daniel turned to her and took her hands in his. “I gotta hang on to this phone for now, ’cause I gotta have a way of callin’ my brother. Otherwise, I get the shakes and then—I just get…” he broke off.
“Nervous?” Alexa offered.
He bobbed his head, pleased at her comprehension. “Yeah, that’s it. Nervous.”
“So what happened? To your phone?” She began to climb the stairs behind him.
“I sold it. I sold it to two punks.” His voice hardened. “They wasn’t gonna give me but five dollars for it. I told ’em, no way, ’cause I had to have me enough for a Number One Super Price Meal. And I wanted to supersize it and add on another Big Bobby. Well, you know, that takes right at seven dollars. They ended up givin’ me seven, then one of ’em yanked back on two of the bills right as I give him the phone. Thought it was real funny.”
They had reached the top of the stairs. Alexa was breathing hard, but Daniel seemed to take it in stride, though his shoulders were tense, the muscles powerfully bunched as he faced her.
“What did you do?”
Daniel’s lips quirked. “Ain’t nobody does me that way, Lex. Not no more.”
A chill raced up her spine, coming to rest at the base of her neck. Should she push it? She had to know what it was she—they—were dealing with.
“What did you do?” she asked again.
“I kilt ’em, of course.”
Her undisguised look of shock brought a frown to Daniel’s face before he continued. “Now, I ain’t gonna tell you how or nothin’ ’bout what they said before they died, but they sure was sorry they jacked with me.” He nodded, self-satisfied. “I tried to get my phone back, but the bastard dropped it into a street grate.” He shook his head. “I know it’s long gone. But by God, so is he. So is he. And, I got me about forty dollars left to spend.” He patted his back pocket. “Took it off of ’em. That’ll buy a lot of French fries.”
Alexa remained quiet, following him woodenly into the tubing. She was in the company of a madman.
“We gotta get y’all moved,” he told her in a tone that let her know the previous subject was closed, as if it had never been discussed. “It ain’t safe up here no more.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Eileen had barely been able to avert the disaster that seemed to court Pete Logan. Why Kier had become so engrossed with him, she didn’t understand. But it was like Kier to fixate on one person, one subject, one plan—and not give it up. Not until there was no other choice. Unfortunately, that particular moment in time had not yet happened, as far as Officer Logan was concerned.
McShane had been divvying up the hostages five in each group, giving Farley and Latham their orders. The two of them had departed with ten unhappy “regulars” in tow, headed for the elevators.
Eileen sat at the comm monitor, wearing a look of boredom, trying to keep her eyes from straying too often to the screen. It had pleased Kier greatly to show off his “toy” to the Americans outside. She didn’t want him to become so fascinated by it that he would want to take it over from her.
She crossed her legs, the black, skin-tight jeans gloving her thighs as she shifted in the barstool, her glance fanning over Kier from time to time. She always kept watch. She knew exactly where her enemy stood, where he sat, what he ate—and drank, and who else he was sleeping with. She knew him better than a lover, and that painstaking knowledge was the measure of her hatred.
Satisfied that he was occupied with the others, she let her gaze drift to the screen. As if it had been awaiting her returned attention, the familiar number appeared, along with “Logan, John T.” beside it. She pressed the mute button with quick reaction, hoping she’d managed not to betray her deceit by the startled look she knew had passed across her face.
“Hello, Danny?”
“Hey, Ronnie.”
“Danny, listen to me.” Such urgency. “There’s a chance those terrorists are listening in on us right now.” Eileen kept the smile from her lips as well as her eyes, letting her gaze wander idly about the room as she alone listened to the conversation.
“You remember, I’m s’posed to look out for you,” the deeper voice intoned. Ronnie. Were they related? Brothers? They sounded alike, but this one was calmer, steadier when he spoke.
“—I’m gettin’ shaky again, Ronnie,” the other one said. Danny. It felt odd, putting names with the disembodied voices. Remembering what it felt like to have someone—Robin—watch out for her.
“Ronnie. I need to talk to you. There’s people here with me—I don’t know what to do—one of ’em’s hurt—”
Eileen pushed all thoughts of her own brother to the back of her consciousness. Survivors? Besides Danny? A cell of survivors inside the hotel might cause the downfall of this operation. And this had to be seen through. She couldn’t afford any type of surprise this time if she was going to accomplish her own mission. And she was going to kill Kieran McShane, no matter how many others ended up dying.
How many survivors? She balled her fist…then, she slowly released the pressure—not too fast. Someone might notice.
“Where?” Ronnie asked.
A harsh “No!” in the background, then Ronnie’s voice, urge
nt and sharp with self-condemnation as he ordered, “Don’t say, don’t say!”
“You know where,” came the sullen response. “Where I always am.”
Where I always am. For some reason, those words haunted Eileen momentarily. She pulled herself back to the conversation as she heard Danny say, “There’s two of ’em. A man and a woman.”
At that revelation, Eileen wanted to laugh in relief. She’d been worried for a time, thinking of a “cell” of survivors. Two people. Not much cause for concern. A man and a woman, and one of them wounded severely enough to cause poor Danny such consternation. The two men said their goodbyes, and the line clicked dead. Eileen gave a guilty flinch as McShane started toward where she sat.
Could she have been so careless as to allow him to notice something amiss in her expression? Her eyes? She let her finger drift to the ‘clear’ button, lowering it with as little movement as possible.
The screen went blank and by Kier’s smile, she knew that he had been preoccupied, unaware of her treachery. He glanced at Sorley, motioning after the departing hostages and their captors as he threw out a rapid order in Gaelic. It took Eileen a moment to understand. In her growing up years, they’d spoken mainly English in their home. Still, she knew enough of the language to understand the command, “Kill them. Kill them all.”
Eileen watched Sorley set his cup down slowly. His eyes held McShane’s in a moment of complete understanding. The questioning expression drained away, replaced by resolve. Eileen knew he waited, because that’s what Kier would want; wait until they reached their destinations on floors eight and ten. Then, Sorley would follow them up and carry out his orders to the last man—including the two of their own.
Eileen imagined the order was given in much the same spirit as Kier had felt when he’d murdered her brother; offhand—as if any other life was beyond Kieran McShane’s consideration.
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