The girl nodded.
“Push it to the down position, then step back.”
Gemma’s jaw dropped and her eyes grew round when the three-foot wide section slid forward, smoothly. A kick plate along the bottom of the shelving unit stayed in place, prevented any drag or scuff marks from giving away their location.
“Now, open the section like you would a door.”
There was a small room behind the shelves, with no way to identify it from the outside.
“Feel along the wall, about shoulder height, and you’ll find a rocker switch for the light. Press it.”
Gemma did as instructed. A cot with a pillow and blanket took up most of the interior space, plus a five-gallon container of drinking water with a sleeve of disposable cups next to it, and a large plastic bin with a label marking the contents as freeze-dried food. An open grate near the ceiling in the back wall allowed air to circulate.
“C’mon, babycakes. Tuck in here with me.” Kacey pulled the door closed behind them by way of a simple kitchen cabinet handle. “Watch what I do, in case you need to do it.” She flipped another latch to secure their cubby. “Okay now, you can take off your hoodie and get settled, so I can shut the light. The door has weather stripping around it to prevent the light being seen from the other side, but I’d rather be cautious. Are you okay in the dark?”
Gemma nodded, then sat. Kacey killed the light.
“Now what do we do, Miss Kacey?” The whisper could just about be heard.
“Now we sit, sweetie-button, very quietly, and wait for our boys to come back.”
“Are you sure they’ll come for us?”
“Oh yeah, sweetheart, they’ll come for us.”
Nathan will come for us. If there’s breath left in his body, he’ll come for us.
…
Nate had spent an uncomfortable night in the pool house. The cushioned patio lounge hadn’t caused the problem—he could sleep anywhere—but his agitated state of mind had left him restless and unable to do much more than doze fitfully for a few minutes at a time. Billy Boy tagged him for his four-hour security tour of the property, then Nate crashed in the pool house again.
How the hell could he convince the obstinate woman in the chalet that he loved her, with every fiber of his being? She wasn’t buying it. He’d returned to Delaram from his last op and discovered she’d gone back to the States—life and hope had drained from his body. After he found out she’d crashed her bird, combined with Jonah’s message about her fragile state of mind when she’d arrived back home, he couldn’t leave behind the dust of the desert sand fast enough. He’d given up enough for his country. Didn’t he deserve a life with the woman he loved? If she’d have him?
Nathan had given his folks a head’s up before he arrived in upstate New York, alerted them that he’d only have time for a quick hello before he headed to New Hampshire on a mission—but this time, it would be a mission of his own choosing. A friend in need, he’d told them, and he had to go. His father had assumed a SEAL buddy, and made sure the car was tuned-up and ready to get on the road.
His mother waited until they could grab a moment alone, which meant trapping him in his old bedroom. “Nathan, who is she, this friend in need?”
Once again, he wondered how his mother did that, cut through all the bullshit without even blinking an eye? “A nice Irish girl.” He’d hoped the quip and a peck on the cheek would placate his nice Irish mom.
She’d laid a surprisingly strong hand on his arm. “And do you love this nice Irish girl?”
He hadn’t been ready to face his feelings so bluntly, so he backpedalled. “No. Of course not. We worked together. She’s just a friend.” He’d never lied to his parents, so truth forced him to meet his mother’s sharp blue eyes. “Maybe. Okay, yes. Mom, I love her so much it takes my breath away.”
“Does she love you?”
Yeah, well, that’s the question, isn’t it? “Honestly? I don’t know. I hope so. But yes or no, she needs my help.”
“And her family?”
“Mom, there’s no one left. She’s alone.”
“Then you must go, of course. We’ll be here when you return. Bring her home with you. We have enough family to share.”
What had he done to deserve such great folks?
…
In T-shirt, sweats, and moccasins, Nathan had just stepped out of the pool house on a quest for coffee before he tried to take on Kacey one more time. Jack Cannon, flak vest in place over a short-sleeved sweatshirt and jeans, met him about halfway to the chalet.
“Good, I don’t need to send out a search party.” Jack checked his weapon, holstered it again.
“What’s goin’ on, chief?”
“Gear up, son. It appears we’ve been ratted out, one more time.”
“What the fuck? How…?”
“Don’t have a clue, and we don’t have time to worry about it. Garrett’s GMG crew picked up solid chatter, gave us the head’s up, then commenced to satellite tracking. The chalet is the only residence on this road, and a pair of suspect vehicles is under surveillance as we speak. If the SUVs pass on by, Jimmy Jay and Jeffrey will be back with breakfast. If it makes a right turn onto this trail, the intel was correct and uninvited company is approaching. However, once on this track, the tree canopy will give any bad boys too much cover. Billy Boy is arranging a little welcoming party—your attendance is requested.”
Nate moved into a jog toward the dwelling, his heart rate and adrenaline immediately kicked into overdrive. “Kacey!”
Jack knew better than to grab Nate. “Whoa, ease up. Kacey and Gemma have already hunkered down in the safe room, not to worry. Our job is to prevent the bad guys from reaching the chalet—her job is to take out whoever might break through. Since you’re late to the party, you’re my date. You have just enough time to pull on your dancing shoes. Sorry, no time for a corsage.”
Nate knew Jack read the look of indecision on his face. The man slapped his shoulder. “Nate, buddy, Kace is Marine trained, she’s armed, she and Gemma are both secured. Don’t waste time, and don’t blow their cover. We need to go. Now.”
Go they did. It took bare moments for Nate to properly gear up. Billy Boy, their logistics expert, directed them by radio to their placements.
The mercs, indeed, had been well informed regarding Gemma’s location—once again—and knew their business. Shortly after making the turn onto the dirt lane from the empty, ten-mile-stretch of paved road, they’d hidden their SUVs in the woods, which lost them to satellite surveillance until GMG switched to infra-red. About four klicks out, roughly two and a half miles, the six intruders, heavily armed, crept with practiced stealth around trees and through heavy brush toward the chalet with all good speed. Thanks to GMG’s advance warning and satellite imagery, the former SEALs were in place and set, their own heavy-duty weaponry in charging-rhino defense mode.
Thanks to the totally upscale satellite surveillance, the SEALs’ timing was once again impeccable. The operation went off without a hitch. The half-dozen potential kidnappers were dropped damned near simultaneously, without issue, dead before the echoes of the shots faded. No injuries to the retired SEALs, nor to the lone very Special FBI Agent whose professional career was already on the line.
“Nate, over here.” Cannon’s voice muttered in Nate’s earpiece. When he moved down line and stepped closer, he saw Jack standing over a body. Then the body coughed. Shit. Not dead.
“Nate, I thought I should have a witness. Meet Kadir Safar, aka the Kiddie Snatcher. One of the FBI’s—and Interpol’s—Most Wanted. Top of his class in human trafficking. All that Oxford education, his folks should be so proud. If you ever want to place an order for the sex trade, he’s your man. The wealthy pedophile’s best friend.”
The man coughed again; blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Blood also soaked his body above and below his flak jacket. His words came slowly, scratchy, barely audible. “Hey, Jackie boy, can’t say…good seeing you. Seriousl
y…fucked up…my day.”
Jack grunted, pressed the end of the rifle barrel against the trafficker’s forehead. “Yeah, well, I missed breakfast because of you. Kadir, you took out my team—escalated the stakes. Why change gigs? You had to know you’d go down for it. And you had the ten million.”
Safar’s once olive skin color had paled to gray, and Nate knew it wouldn’t be long before the creep threw off his mortal coil.
“Not us, not crazy. Ransom…gone. Top money…for target. Girl…paid for, need to deliver.”
“Liar.”
“Truth. Came for target. Money for target.”
Nate crouched, pushed Cannon’s rifle barrel away, grabbed the dying man by his bloody vest. “What target? What money?”
This time, the cough brought up frothy blood. “Girl. Have…buyer. Thank…the asswipe…didn’t see this coming, though.” A weak gurgle, followed by a low exhale, were the last sounds Safar would ever make.
Nate released his hold as all signs of life left Safar’s countenance. He kicked a chunk of rotten deadfall. “Fuck, we needed more.”
Jack prodded the body with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, well. At least we can strike another useless piece of shit off our list.”
“I’m happy for you. Do you believe him?”
“About what, exactly?”
“That he didn’t ambush your team, that he didn’t grab the ransom?”
“Maybe. Never heard of him working outside his specialty before—but he could have escalated. He had ten million good reasons to step outside the box.”
“He said it wasn’t him.”
Jack snorted. “Could have been fucking with us.”
“Could have been telling the truth.”
Cannon checked the rifle’s magazine, slapped the clip back in place. “I suppose.”
“But ask yourself this: how the hell did they track us here? We’re so off the grid there is no grid. A basically empty ten-mile stretch of road from town to reach the other end of our three-mile driveway, which looks like a firebreak or wide game trail. Nothing else around us for miles on either side. No transmission lines leading from the main road, not even a freakin’ mail box. These guys were serious pros. How did they find out about the safe house, no easy task in itself, but not know we were here? What the fuck is that all about?”
Nate dug through the dead man’s pockets. “I wonder who the asswipe is.”
“Huh?” Staring down at the body, Cannon seemed to have zoned out for a moment.
No clues on the corpse, not that Nate expected any from a professional. He rose, his pulse rate finally began to level off. “Your guy Safar mentioned another player, of whom he apparently didn’t think too highly. I wonder who he meant? Who was the visitor they were waiting for at the hotel? Why an upscale facility, not a no-tell motel? What did he mean about the target, the girl? Someone already has the ransom—why do they still need Gemma?”
Jack shrugged. His eyes were seriously bloodshot, his face unshaved. He really looked beat. “No idea. I need to call in a clean-up crew to bundle up the trash. Maybe candidates for the Body Farm, so at least they’ll be good for something constructive.” He tapped Nate on the shoulder. “Let’s go. Time to get Gemma back to her family.”
Yes. Then Nate would face the mama bear in her den.
…
Kacey placed her hand on Gemma’s shoulder and squeezed lightly but firmly when she heard the faint knock against the wooden outer frame of the bookcase. She brought the muzzle of the Sig to point chest high. The girl grabbed her hand in a tight grip, clutched once to show she understood.
“Kace? Kacey, baby, it’s me. It’s Nate. All clear, ladies. All clear.”
Kacey’s heart leaped the same instant Gemma called out, “He did come for us, he did come for us!”
“Of course he did. I told you he would.” But she hadn’t permitted herself to believe it. Just in case.
After Kacey released the locks and pushed the bookcase panel open, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust from complete dark to the ambient light of the second storey gallery. Then, Gemma launched herself into Nathan’s arms. He hadn’t even stopped long enough to divest himself of his gear.
“Captain Weatherly, are they gone this time, for real?”
He ruffled her hair. “Affirmative. All gone, kiddo. For real.”
Kacey knew better than to discuss the operation, but she wished she was the one in Nathan’s arms. She needed to apologize. There was so much to say, but the words wouldn’t come easily.
Nathan wrapped his arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “C’mon, munchkin, let’s go downstairs. Agent Cannon is already on the phone. I’m sure you can’t wait to get back home.”
Gemma tucked her head against Nathan’s chest, but was surprisingly quiet.
When they reached the great room, a pile of luggage and gear was building. The op successfully concluded, the SEALs, retired, would be driving back to their plush hotel in Woburn to finish their first real Stateside vacation—and to decide their future.
Sitting at the kitchen table with much-needed coffee, Kacey waylaid Barracuda. “So, what did you guys decide? Are you on board with TASG?”
The big man, too striking for his own good, shrugged. “Don’t know. Me an’ the boys didn’t get much chance for discussion before all hell broke loose. We’ll toss it around on the drive back, take a few days of real R and R, see what shakes down.”
“But what do you think?” Kacey pushed.
He gave her an odd look. “Why, are you thinking of climbing into bed with them?”
A shrug was all she’d give away. “The offer was enticing. Maybe. Maybe re-up before the Corps realizes I’m gone, get a new bird.”
That earned her a flash of his silver-gray eyes. “Wow, didn’t expect that one. Really?”
“Thinking about it.”
“About TASG, can’t say. Don’t know what else I might be good at, but I’m also thinking a break from the craziness might be in order. Might be nice not to get shot at for a change. Haven’t decided.”
“Well, make sure you let me know when you do. If I’m still here, come for a visit or come to stay for as long as you like. I have plenty of spare beds. Jonah already lives in town—and Nathan may still have a job.”
That brought a deep, ringing laugh. “Oh yeah, and wouldn’t ol’ Nate just love me to hang around his backyard. On second thought, that might be kinda fun.”
She smirked. “Instigator.”
Barracuda stretched out his long, muscular legs. “Kace, I gotta ask. Word is that this place belongs to your family. So, why the safe room?”
The grin couldn’t be hidden. “Ah, yes, the safe room. Story is that back in the day, we had bootleggers in the family. They needed a bolt hole. When the old cabin was rebuilt and renovated, my da thought it would be a hoot to restore the safe room. The O’Donnell men used this as a hunting lodge, so I played here as a kid. I investigated every nook and cranny, made my mum and aunts have palpitations. Propane provides heat and electric, no power lines to the place.”
“Damn, girl, you’re just chock full of surprises.”
“Marcus, my dear, you have no idea.”
Chapter Twelve
“Kace. Kacey. Wake up.” Barracuda shook her.
“What the fuck. Can’t a person take a nap in peace?”
“Kilo Delta, front and center.”
Oh Christ on a half-shell. Something’s gotta be very wrong. She roused herself. “Marcus, what’s going on?”
“Kace, it’s Jeffrey.” He gently tugged at her arm. “Ya gotta come.”
Kacey was still dressed, but Barracuda helped her on with her shoes. She followed him out to the front of the chalet, but balked when he opened the front passenger door of the Suburban. “I repeat—what the fuck?”
“Kacey, please. Can’t explain it, need to show you.”
She fastened her seatbelt so the alarm wouldn’t sound. “Was he wounded and no one told me?”
�
��Not really. You’ll see.”
He drove about a mile and a half down the access road, turned left up to the tree line, parked the SUV. “Come with me.”
Kacey followed Barracuda’s broad back through the brush and saplings, until she saw Nathan standing next to a tree, arms folded across his broad chest.
“What—?”
“GMG located him by infra-red, thought we missed a bad guy.”
Nathan took a step back. Jeffrey, beautiful Jeffrey of the milk-chocolate hair and matching eyes, sat on the ground, his back against a big maple, his legs straight out in front of him. It took Kacey a moment to notice the M4A1 assault rifle lying across his lap, his left hand covering the trigger mechanism—she was too busy not breathing at the sight of Jeffrey’s Sig Sauer .357 in his right hand, the tip of the barrel pressed against his skull, just over his ear. From her angle, she couldn’t see if his finger was on the trigger, but confidence was high.
With her wounds, she couldn’t squat, couldn’t sit on the ground. “You guys, help me kneel.”
Nathan supported her by one arm, Barracuda the other, as she lowered herself to the ground, about a body length from Jeffrey. His gorgeous eyes were glazed, stared straight ahead. He didn’t acknowledge her or his teammates.
“What happened?”
Barracuda’s deep voice stayed low. “Don’t know. Thought he was still with us, until we counted heads at the chalet. He came up missing. Garrett from GMG chimed in, so we retraced our steps from this morning. Nate found him sitting like this.”
She checked out the location. “Is this where you guys hunkered down this morning?”
Barracuda looked around. “Yeah, I would say so, looks about right. We left after we confirmed the kills, went back to the house. Policed the weapons, didn’t otherwise mess with the bodies. Left the clean-up to Cannon’s crew, as instructed. We dropped ’em, anything else is the FBI’s problem.”
Jeffrey’s posture was awkward, like he’d collapsed backward against the tree trunk, then slid down.
“Could he have gotten shot, and no one noticed?”
Both men shook their heads. Barracuda added, “The only shots fired were ours. Those bad boys never had a chance to bring their weapons to bear.”
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