Capture the Night

by Cheryl Pierson

  But he was missing a weapon. The gun from the man Frazier had shot. Turning slowly, he took note of where it had landed, and started toward it.

  No matter what, now, Johnny would have to kill O’Brian. Up close. A bloody mess for Alexa to remember forever—how he’d blown a man’s head off. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, pulling the gun from his waistband and forcing Alexa behind him. He could feel her acquiescence, her trust in him, and her love for him blocking out everything else. Even the fact that he was about to kill.

  O’Brian was no more than six feet from them; as he bent to retrieve the weapon, he was a scant four feet…

  Johnny waited. O’Brian stooped and snatched the gun from the floor. And then, he looked up. He wasn’t expecting it—his own death in a burst of lead and smoke, from a gun not nearly as modern as his own, but in its own way, just as effective. He registered Johnny’s presence for one split second before the .38 spoke, then went to his knees, swaying, before he sprawled on the floor.

  Johnny separated himself gently from Alexa and slowly moved to where O’Brian lay, blood spurting from his chest like a fountain. He had not been wearing his bulletproof gear. Miraculously, he was still breathing. He looked up at Johnny.

  “He—He said you were a regular Superman, boyo. I got it from the best, didn’t I?” A weak smile curved his lips, blood frothing there. His hand moved feebly to the radio, but couldn’t quite make it.

  “Who else, O’Brian? How many more—”

  “Don’t insult me, John T. Good soldiers don’t tell—” His eyes went blank, his head rolling to the side.

  The radio.

  Johnny bent and unclipped the radio at O’Brian’s waist. The switch was off. That was a start, Johnny thought. The first thing that had gone their way. He picked up O’Brian’s semiautomatic.

  Alexa touched his shoulder. “What now?”

  Johnny knew exactly “what now.” He just wasn’t sure if he had enough strength left to carry it off. But he turned and took her hand. Could she use a gun? He’d find out soon enough. Shoving the high-powered weapon into the side of his belt, he picked up the .38 once more and started for the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 30

  Kier would pull something like this. Eileen veiled the resentment in her expression. Moving the hostages upstairs so he could make a grand showing of them on the roof…worry the cops into thinking he was going to start pushing them off, one by one, unless his demands were met—then, maybe just do it anyway.

  Kier was like that. All about attention for himself. Eileen wasn’t keen on being up there on the roof…where the main bomb was planted. Anything could happen. Anything…like Kier just deciding to end it all with the touch of a button. And though they’d all be just as dead as through any other means, he would have robbed her of all she’d worked so hard to accomplish.

  Revenge was like a living being, and it had been with her so long she had learned its every nuance—just as she’d studied Kieran McShane and learned every blessed thing about him. Revenge had been with her since the day McShane murdered Robin. It had been her constant companion since that sudden, dark instant when the bastard came to her home and told of Robin’s death—and the light of her world had been snuffed out. The door had barely closed behind him before Eileen linked arms with Revenge and pushed Grief aside. Then, she and her new comrade had begun to devise a plan—a plan that was amazingly easy to put into action.

  For four years now, she’d worked on it and perfected it. And she’d be damned if she’d let McShane rip it away from her just because he wanted to make his own grand exit.

  She watched now as he rounded up Roberts’s men, herding them toward the elevator.

  “Bring along Mr. Logan and the lady, Eilly, dear,” he called back over his shoulder. “Let’s go up on the roof. Get a breath of fresh air.”

  Secretly, Eileen was concerned. She wouldn’t show it—not to the hostages. But Kier seemed—different, somehow. The more she observed, the surer she became of his hidden agenda. He was going to end it for all of them, up on the roof. Selfish, selfish bastard.

  Pete Logan sat up slowly, the girl hovering nearby. For some reason, that irritated Eileen. She supposed it was the fact that the woman was so obviously besotted with the handsome police officer, and she was going to end up getting him killed if she wasn’t careful.

  That’s going to really piss me off, considering the effort I’ve taken to keep both of them alive this far. Some people don’t appreciate anything.

  Eileen met Pete’s unfocused gaze. “Let’s go, Officer.” She motioned toward the elevators with her gun. He stood, cautiously, as if he were afraid his legs wouldn’t support him.

  “Are you—can you make it?” Traci asked.

  Pete gave a short laugh. “Maybe…for a few minutes. Maybe long enough to get on the elevator.”

  “Take it on up, Kier,” Eileen called. “We’ll catch the next one.”

  McShane’s muffled agreement drifted back to her as he positioned himself in the back of the elevator, instructing his hostages to kneel on the floor in front of him.

  Just as he glanced across the tops of their heads and shot her the thumbs up, the elevator doors closed.

  Pete looked at her, silently questioning. Eileen moistened her lips. She wanted to explain things, she really did. But oddly, it was the presence of the other young woman that held her up. She’d seen Kier make the toughest of men spill his guts to avoid any further torture. If he thought Miss Sweetcakes knew something, or if she decided to try and further her position with him, she’d tell everything.

  “Bathroom break,” Eileen announced, motioning for Traci to head to the restroom just beside the elevators. Traci looked at Pete, and he nodded. Eileen poked her back with the barrel of the gun and Traci jumped, then hurried forward, throwing open the door. As she disappeared inside, Eileen called, “I’ll let you know when you’re done!”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Pete leaned against the nearby wall, trying to keep from sliding to the floor. “I sure as hell hope you’re a double agent, Ms. Bannion. Or something.”

  She gave him a caustic smile. “Next best thing, boyo. I’m true to one person only—myself. I’m nobody’s agent.”

  Pete let his head rest on the wall at his back, his right hand gripping the door facing, anchoring him. “What about McShane? You two go back a few years…”

  Eileen nodded and looked away. “We have a history. But not the way you might think.”

  “Tell me—” he broke off as she looked back at him, the pain so deep in her face that it instantly numbed his ability to speak.

  “I wish I’d known you in another place—another time, Officer Logan. You’re—very kind.” She stepped closer, her black eyes scrutinizing him. “It’s been a long time since…since anyone was kind to me.” After a moment, she smiled self-consciously, looking down. “I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but someone needs to know why I’m doing…what I’m doing.”

  “You’ve put yourself at risk for me—and for my brother. I appreciate all you’ve done, but I don’t understand.”

  “McShane killed my brother, Robin. He said Robin was a traitor. One month later, he came to our house and had the—the gall to stand there, in our living room, and tell my mother and me that he’d ‘made a mistake’—that Robin had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then he—” she brought her head up, looking into Pete’s eyes, “—he went out the door and down the street whistling. Whistling!” Sudden tears filled her eyes. “It killed our mother. Same as if Kier had put a bullet in her, too. But not me. I didn’t lie down. I just made my plan.”

  “Revenge…” Pete breathed.

  “Exactly.”

  “You infiltrated his cell and now—”

  She nodded. “Yes. Now, I’m going to destroy him. He’s evil, Peter. So evil.”

  Pete moistened his lips. “What about you?”

  Eileen laughed, mirthlessly. “What about m
e? I carry that devil’s spawn in my womb—”

  Pete grimaced. “Does he know that?”

  Her lips compressed. “Not yet. But he will. Just before he dies. He will. I’m going to wipe out every trace of him. It’s what I set out to do—the perfect vengeance for my brother. The man who wishes to be immortalized will be forgotten within months—maybe days…and nothing of him will remain in this world. Not even me—” She stopped abruptly.

  Pete remained silent.

  “You’ve been somehow important to me, Officer,” Eileen murmured. “I’ll do what I can to help you, short of not carrying through my own mission.”

  “Think of your…child.” It was a last ditch effort on Pete’s part.

  “I am, Peter,” she whispered. She reached to pat his shoulder in an almost sisterly gesture. “I am.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Daniel stood at the bottom of the tubing, looking straight up into the blackness, broken only by small swatches of light at each floor. The tubing stretched on for miles, seemed like. He put his hands on his hips, then looked back down at the floor. What was he supposed to do now? What?

  He’d worked his ass off getting down here to the ground level, and now McShane and his men had decided to go upstairs. But not just “upstairs”… Oh, no. They had decided to go up to the roof…where Alexa and Johnny would be trapped. And he wouldn’t be able to get up there in time to do anything to help.

  The shaky feeling was starting, like it always did, in the pit of his belly. It would not be pushed back. No matter how he tried to ignore it or tamp it down, it was coming. He needed Ronnie. Ronnie would know what to do.

  Sweat broke out across his high forehead and he moistened his lips, dry and rough as sandpaper. He was like an animal, unable to control these sensations rolling over him—just like Carla had said… He didn’t even have his cell phone. Couldn’t even call his brother and try to keep the shakes from taking over…

  He had to get out of this airshaft. Being here made him nervous. It was one thing to be starting down. He’d never been afraid of that. But he hated like hell to be standing here at the bottom like this. Somebody might drop somethin’ down on him…crush him.

  Hell, they’d just finish what Nam started. He’d been half-crushed ever since he’d come home from that fuckin’ place. Kinda like a crunched-up beer can. Good for nothing…except killin’. In boot camp, they talked about how they’d strip a man down to nothin’ and rebuild him—well, that’s where the crushin’ had started, he reckoned. That land mine had just finished the job—or almost.

  He slapped a hand against the concrete wall, the light of the ventwork above his head washing over him like a golden waterfall—almost like that day he’d been baptized at the river. There had been a waterfall there, and he pictured it like when Jesus had got baptized. Only when he come up from the water, God didn’t say the words he said about Jesus, and that had kinda disappointed him. But there was sun on the water, and that’s what this light reminded him of, somehow.

  He could crawl out of this hell. He could disappear forever…if he wasn’t already invisible to the world. Tears of frustration stung his eyes, the only thing that reminded him that, when it was all said and done, he was still human. And he was not strong—not anymore. He was shaky.

  He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, knowing that what he needed to do, in order to help, was to be up there. Where he’d just come from. He wasn’t ready to try to climb back up again—not yet. Didn’t know if he ever would be ready.

  “Why is it up to me? Why?” Daniel’s voice sounded loud in the emptiness. He shouldn’t have said anything. He already knew why. He was the only one that could save the others.

  Maybe, what he’d do was to climb back up into the vents and go all the way to the other side. There was a door over there. It was in the back, where maybe he could get out the far side of the hotel. There’d still be policemen out there, but maybe he could manage to slip away…just disappear. He could go back to living on the streets again. He wouldn’t mind. In fact, he missed being out there with other people…even if they were half crushed, invisible, like him. At least, he wouldn’t be alone.

  He swung himself up to the first floor vent housing and began to crawl. He was getting out of here. There was a door—

  But what about Johnny and Alexa? He shook his head. Hell, he couldn’t do nothin’ for them now. They were good as dead, with McShane headin’ up thataway. And he didn’t even have a cell phone to call ’em with.

  He stopped crawling as he reached the grate where he’d looked out earlier, watching Pete Logan and the girl. What about Pete—and his promise to Johnny to help him?

  Resolutely, he began to crawl again. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had his own brother to think of. He needed to get to Ronnie.

  Besides, what could one man do against all the others? And he was only one man. Not even a real man, anymore.

  He crawled on, trying to pretend the way the rough, uneven flooring of the vent work cut and gouged at his hands and knees didn’t hurt near as much as it really did. He pushed every thought out of his mind, intent only upon reaching the other side of the chasm; as if he was climbing from the Pit to his salvation.

  The tubing began to narrow. He was getting closer. He’d almost gotten stuck the first time he’d tried to crawl though it. He’d gotten out, but it had sure ’nough scared him, thinking he might die half in and half out of that end of the vent. He’d cursed himself and his fool idea, cursed God, but mainly cursed the dumbass building contractor.

  He had reached the end. Cold sweat broke out across his face and neck as he remembered that time before—the feeling of struggling to get free, and thinking he wasn’t going to.

  He turned his head to the side and began to slip through the end of the vent, pulling and pushing, until he worked his way through completely. He dropped the last two feet, catching himself with his outspread hands to keep from landing on his head.

  He stood up, panting from the exertion, and reached for the doorknob. He inched it open, darting a glance outside into the deepening afternoon shadows.

  Police cars were parked back behind the hotel, pulled up even onto the well-manicured lushness of the lawns. Damned cops didn’t even care that they were running over the flowerbeds and whatnot, cutting tire tracks in the carpet of green. Daniel gave a caustic snort. Johnny wouldn’t’ve done that.

  He let himself through the door, carefully, and climbed the two small steps up onto the lawn.

  A flurry of activity stirred across the expanse of green, brilliant in the afternoon sun. They didn’t know him. They were thinking he could be a terrorist. Daniel grinned, lopsided, at that thought. He shoved his hands in the air. He wasn’t a terrorist. He was barely human anymore.

  But at least now, for this one moment, he knew he was not invisible.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  They were not going to make it. Johnny sagged against Alexa more heavily than ever as they made their way across the roof, over to the doorway that led back down into the hellishness below.

  She was surprised Johnny had been able to come this far, after standing so long inside the equipment housing where they’d watched from the shadows. Watched as Don Richter had meant to betray them, then been betrayed himself. Watched as the treachery had continued with young Officer Frazier. And then, that final, terrible moment when O’Brian had met his end as Johnny had looked him in the eyes and pulled the trigger.

  It had taken a while for it to all play out. Longer than Johnny should have been on his feet. Yet, he’d managed to pull the trigger, sure and steady…to wait for the right moment…and to get them out of a jam. They made it to the door and let themselves out onto the roof, into the late afternoon sunlight. The fresh air was like a welcoming rush of hope.

  Johnny stopped, then leaned against the side of the composite awning that covered the door to the inner staircase—the staircase that led downward, back to the kitchen.

  Alexa shuddered at the t
hought of going back through the kitchen. Still, it was the only way to get back into the building from up here. Johnny gave his full weight to the composite wall, relieving her completely of any burden.

  He took a long, slow breath, and then another. Sweat beaded his forehead and neck, and he wiped his sleeve across his face.

  “Just let me…rest a minute.”

  Alexa nodded.

  “We’ll make it,” he told her, and she tried to banish the doubt from her expression. If he believed it, it would happen. They just had to hope they didn’t run into McShane in the stairwell.

  Was she crazy to believe in this man so completely? A stranger to her a scant twenty-four hours earlier, he had now become the rock she was leaning on. And how much of this closeness was wishful thinking on both of their parts?

  “You’re scared, Lex, I know.” He sagged against the wall for a minute, allowing his eyes to close briefly. When he opened them again, the look he gave her told her he understood—everything. Her fear—for him, as well as their situation—the doubt she would never voice, and the love that had somehow arisen between them, like the Phoenix from the ashes of this whole horrendous experience.

  “No matter what happens from here on out, I want you to know—” Johnny began, but Alexa cut him off.

  “No! Please, don’t.” She couldn’t bear to hear the words he intended to say…just in case he got killed. She stepped close to him, touching his lips with her fingers. She shook her head, looking down.

  “I love you, Alexa.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Thanks for just—being there—”

  Numbly, she shook her head once more, then looked up into his cerulean eyes that showed nothing but naked honesty.

  Johnny sighed, and finally looked away. “This may be it for us.” There was a space of heartbeats, a current between them. “I—just wanted you to know.”

  She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I feel the same, Johnny.” She put her hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat. “I love you, too.”