Fiery Surrender (Trinity Masters Book 11)

by Mari Carr

  Luca was turning it over in his hands. One corner of the case did look a little rough—they’d thought this through.

  “Please, Luca, it was just an accident, and I’m sure it still works…”

  He pressed a button, frowning. “You should not have dropped it.”

  “I didn’t, and it was an accident. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to be the reason all these people die. Please, I’m sure that your tablet is fine. Please.” Was she babbling? It felt like she was babbling.

  Luca was staring at his tablet, frowning from the shadows beneath the hood. “This may take some time. You stay calm.”

  She heard a voice in her ear and tried not to jump, surprised when she heard Langston talking to her.

  “We can hear you, Mina. Get him away from the crowds. Go to Central Wharf.”

  She studied Luca’s face, wondering if he heard the voice, relieved when he continued looking at his tablet, oblivious to the earpiece. “Can we…can we get away from all these people?”

  “No.”

  “Luca, you have what you want. Please, if you decide to kill me, at least make me the only victim. These people are innocent.”

  He glanced up, his expression almost heartbroken. “I do not want to kill you. I am not a…” He glanced away.

  “Please,” she said softly.

  “I was planning to let you go from here. But I need to…” Luca looked around, staring at a young family—a boy and girl, both about seven, walking with their parents.

  “Come,” he said, turning.

  He was going the wrong way. Mina didn’t follow him, stuck as she thought fast.

  Luca turned back. “Mina.”

  “To the water,” she said. “I want to go to the water, so if you decide to kill me, I can jump into the harbor and maybe save any bystanders.”

  She was betting her life on the guilt and regret she’d seen in his face.

  Her gamble paid off. His expression twisted, and he turned, heading the way she was pointing.

  “Good job, darlin’,” Rich said in her ear. “And no one is dying today.”

  Mina fell in step with Luca. They walked slowly, Luca pausing occasionally to mutter something in Italian at the tablet, which he was working on while they walked. She could see the screen, and most of the time it had that little spinning wheel that meant the computer was thinking or processing.

  In ten minutes they reached the wharf, the wide path paved with gray stones and lined with long wooden benches facing the harbor. There were still people here, but much fewer than there’d been at Faneuil Hall.

  Rich sounded upset when he said, “That’s not Central Wharf.”

  Fuck.

  There were two wharfs here. Luca had brought them to Long Wharf, not Central.

  Mina had been so panicked she’d forgotten there were two. And it was too late now. Luca sat on one of the benches, frowning at the tablet. She’d asked for water and he’d given it to her.

  Mina stood at the railing, looking out at the water. The harbor was pretty at night, with the city lights sparkling on it.

  A tourist wearing a garish white, gold, and black Boston Bruins hockey jersey and Boston Strong hat walked up to the rail a few feet from her. He held up his cell phone and started snapping pictures of the harbor.

  Luca glanced up briefly, staring at the man, then dismissing him as a potential threat. He looked back down at the tablet.

  “Mina, unzip your coat and turn so Tate can see the bomb.”

  Mina nearly jumped when Langston spoke.

  She glanced at the tourist. It was Tate, who had blended in far too well for someone both good-looking and tall.

  “He can’t take a shot at Luca until I see that bomb. He might have a dead man’s switch.”

  “He’s working on a tablet, not holding anything,” Rich argued.

  “He could have a touch sensor, one taped to a pulse point and the second his heart stops beating, it goes off.”

  “Jesus H.,” Rich muttered.

  The urge to snap at them was nearly overwhelming. Instead, she focused on doing what Langston had asked.

  Her fingers trembled as she lowered the zipper of the jacket, not all the way—what if Luca said something and she had to zip it back up again quickly—but enough that the bomb was exposed. Twisting from the hips, she turned. Tate angled his cell phone toward her.

  “Mina, is there any sort of chain or lock holding the vest closed?” Langston asked.

  “Wire,” she whispered. “Black tape.”

  Luca glanced up at her, and she closed her eyes, pretending she was praying. Once more, he returned his attention to the tablet.

  “Okay, I see that. Now I want you to follow that wire with your fingers and push the coat aside a bit.”

  Luca cursed in Italian and ran his fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated by the slow speed of the tablet.

  For three tense minutes, Langston talked her through examining the bomb. At one point, she nearly started to laugh—it would have been a hysterical laugh—when she realized she was like a voice-command bomb robot, helping Langston examine an explosive.

  “Please,” she breathed, scared to say more.

  “We have a plan, darlin’.” Rich assured her. “It’s going to take him a while to figure out the tablet was tampered with, and before then, Langston is going to help you defuse the bomb.”

  She was going to defuse it?

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” Langston said.

  “Think?” Rich demanded.

  Mina was glad he said what she was thinking.

  “Mina, reach into your pocket. There’s a nine-volt battery in there with a nail attached by wire. Take it out.”

  Mina stuck her hand in her pocket, nearly stabbing herself on the nail.

  “Did it get wet?”

  The sound of Luca’s voice nearly made her scream. Mina jerked the zipper of the jacket up with the hand not in her pocket.

  Luca stomped over to her. “Mina, did it get wet?”

  “I…don’t know. Maybe. It was in his backpack, and he had his backpack by the pool one time.” She was babbling again but couldn’t help it. She inched closer to the rail, ready to jump over if he was going to detonate the bomb. She wouldn’t be the reason anyone else lost their life today.

  There was a moment of tense silence as he stared at her—trying to decide if she was telling the truth?—then Luca retreated, going back to the bench.

  “Fast,” Langston said. “Unzip the jacket, take out the electromagnet.”

  Tate had inched closer, his gaze focused on her with an intensity that said he, too, was ready to act if and when the bomb was detonated.

  Mina shook her head slightly, trying to warn Tate to stay back. Luca was distracted for the moment, but she didn’t doubt he’d hesitate to act if he realized Tate wasn’t just a tourist.

  Tate took a few steps away from her, doing something with his phone. Zooming in?

  “Follow the tape with your fingers. Now go up two fingertips. Feel the pocket there? Open it.”

  Her hand was shaking so badly it took two tries to undo the snap. The click sounded painfully loud in her ear. Had Luca heard it?

  “It’s okay, darlin’, just do what he says,” Rich soothed.

  “Reach into the pocket. You should feel a bundle of wires and either a small box or casing of some kind.”

  Mina gingerly pulled the box out. She didn’t dare look down; that might tip off Luca. If he got up again, there was no way she’d be able to hide what she was doing.

  Mina stared at the water, so scared and anxious, she felt like there were bees in her brain.

  “With your right hand, I need you to hold the battery, and now take the loose wire and touch it against the other battery prong. The one that doesn’t already have a wire on it.”

  It felt like her fingers were moving in slow motion, slow twitches of her finger and thumb bringing the wire toward where she thought the top of the battery was.
>
  “That’s it—”

  Mina just barely stifled a yelp as a shock jolted her hands—both of them. Jesus. Langston should have warned her.

  “Don’t let go!” Langston shouted in her ear. “If you let go, it stops being an electromagnet.”

  Her hands clamped tight, her mind overriding the instinct to drop the thing that had shocked her.

  “Now, making sure you keep the wires on either end of the battery, put your hand into the pocket with the casing. Hold the magnet assembly against the box.”

  Mina clamped the battery, nail, and wire assembly tight in her hand, then shoved her fist into the pocket.

  There was a long moment of silence. “Okay.” Langston sounded exhausted. “You can let go.”

  “Did it work?” Rich asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘maybe’?”

  Again, Rich said what she was thinking.

  “Mina, lift up the tape and pull the wire going across the front free.”

  “Hold up, won’t that detonate the bomb?” Rich asked.

  “No…well, maybe. It might arm it, but the electromagnet should have fried the blasting cap assembly.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Then it will probably trigger an automatic countdown. That’s what I would have done. With a wearable bomb, there’s no way of knowing if the person who has it on will accidentally pull something, so I’d put in a fail-safe.”

  “Probably?” Tate murmured.

  “Shit,” Rich cursed.

  There was a pause, then Langston said, “Do you trust me, Mina?”

  Her fear melted away. “With my life.”

  Luca looked up as she spoke. “What are you doing?”

  Mina ripped up the tape and yanked the wire free.

  Nothing happened. It had worked, hadn’t it?

  She was safe. Mina nearly sobbed in relief.

  But she wasn’t safe. Her attacker was right there…and he’d seen her yank out that wire.

  Luca jumped to his feet, grabbing her by the shoulder. He jerked her around, staring wide-eyed at the wire in her hand.

  The vest started to beep.

  Mina’s blood turned to ice.

  Luca looked, for a moment, relieved. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box, and then he turned and started running down the wharf.

  The bomb. They hadn’t disarmed it. Or maybe they had and the thing Luca had just grabbed was a backup detonator.

  That was why Luca was running—she was about to blow up, and he was getting away from her.

  “Bomb!” Mina screamed. “Bomb!”

  Tate glanced at Luca, who passed within ten feet of him as he raced away, but he ignored the other man and ran for her.

  “He’s heading north! Grab him!” Tate yelled into the com.

  Mina backpedaled when she saw the determination on Tate’s face. He knew what she did. The bomb was going off and he was coming to save her. She didn’t want Tate to die too.

  The steady beeping mocked her.

  “No, Mina! You just drained the batt—” Langston yelled.

  She didn’t hear the rest of what Langston said, because the moment she’d screamed “bomb,” she planted her foot on the railing, hauling herself up.

  “I love you!” she said, hoping they would hear her.

  And as Mina threw herself into the dark, cold water of Boston Harbor, dozens of smoke bombs all over the city went off at the same time.

  Rich ran. He hadn’t been able to stay in the car with Langston, so when Tate’s team started moving, preparing to capture Luca once she was safe, he went with them. Through the earpiece, he’d heard it all—Mina saying she trusted Langston with her life, Luca’s voice when he realized what she’d done.

  And then Mina screaming “bomb.”

  A series of percussive booms rocked the night. Rich skidded to a stop, instinctively ducking. All around him people froze for a moment. Then people started screaming, others running, and a few more took out cell phones. Half a block from where he was, a trash can had twin plumes of yellow and black smoke pouring out of it, rising into the sky.

  “What the fuck just happened?” someone yelled into the com.

  “Trash can…smoke bombs?”

  “It had to be him. Diversion.”

  “Mina,” Rich barked, not caring about anything but his, their, wife.

  “She jumped into the harbor,” Tate’s voice was hard and tense through the com link. “I gotta get that vest off her.”

  “That noise was just the fail-safe for the blasting cap,” Langston shouted. “It means it didn’t have a charge. It’s like a low battery noise.”

  “Why didn’t you warn us that would happen?” Rich snarled as he raced along the wharf.

  “Does anyone have eyes on the target?” a deep voice asked. The man who’d been in the suite. “I lost him in the panic.”

  “It’s fucking chaos out here,” another voice said. “This is Boston, man. They don’t mess around when something explodes. Everyone’s running…in different directions.”

  “Goddamn it,” someone snarled. “Between the smoke and the people…”

  “Is it all yellow and black smoke?”

  “Yes. Fuck it. Some people in Bruins gear are posing in front of a trash can.”

  “Do we find the target or start crowd control?”

  “Crowd control,” the deep voice said. “Until the first responders get here, protect as many people as we can. There might be more to this than smoke bombs, so get people away from the incident sites and away from the wharf.”

  They were going to lose Luca.

  Rich didn’t care. All he cared about was Mina. He reached the wharf, saw the bulky jacket she’d been wearing on the planks. Tate and Mina were nowhere in sight.

  Rich slammed against the railing, staring down into the dark water. Where were they? Had the bomb gone off? They would have heard something, seen something if it had, wouldn’t they?

  There—two heads surfaced not far from the pier.

  “Mina!” Rich cried out. He ran for the access ladder at the edge of the pier, yanking at the saltwater-stiffened clasps, then dropping the ladder down into the harbor.

  A moment later, Mina grasped the bottom rung and started up. The instant she was within reach, Rich hauled her up into his arms. She was wet and freezing…and not wearing the vest.

  “It didn’t go off,” she stammered through clenched teeth. “I thought…”

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shivering frame. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  Tate hauled himself up, the wet hockey jersey sticking to him. “Luca,” he said. “Did they get him?”

  Rich shook his head, still holding Mina.

  “Damn it!” Tate ripped off the jersey, tossing it into the water. “We’ve got to move. We don’t want to be here when the authorities get here.”

  Rich placed an arm around Mina and hurried her away from the pier. Langston met them halfway and put his arm around her from the other side. They stayed like that, wrapped around one another, as the first responders ran past them.

  Chapter Thirty

  Mina was grateful when they made it back to the suite. She was still shivering, though she knew that reaction was only half based on being cold. Rich had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his large jacket draped over her, as he tried to share his own body heat with her.

  “Straight to the bedroom,” Langston said, locking the door to the suite behind them. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

  “I th-thought you’d never ask,” Mina said, a weak attempt at a joke. She wasn’t sure if she was in the middle of a complete mental breakdown or if she’d already had one, and this jumbled mess of emotions was the fallout.

  They walked to the bedroom together. Mina started to drop down on the bed, but Rich stopped her.

  “No, darlin’. Bathroom. We’re going to take
a shower, get you warmed up all the way to the bones.”

  She laughed, shocked when it ended on a sob. Tears she hadn’t expected flowed down her cheeks and she was helpless to stop them.

  Langston reached out, tugging her into his strong, warm embrace. “It’s okay, Mina. You’re safe now.”

  She knew that. Or at least, logically, she knew that.

  Unfortunately, she was operating solely on irrational fear at the moment, unable to believe she was truly here. And alive.

  People in life-or-death situations often spoke about their lives flashing before their eyes as they saw all that had happened in the past.

  That didn’t happen to her.

  She heard the vest begin to beep, and all she saw was the future she was about to lose.

  Langston and Rich.

  Her heart broke as she thought about the wedding they’d miss, the home they wouldn’t buy, the babies and grandbabies they’d never have, the wonderful, amazing, full-of-love lives they’d never share.

  Devastated wasn’t a strong enough word.

  Rich stepped behind her, engulfing her and Langston in his bear-like grasp, while he placed soft, constant kisses on the side of her head to soothe her.

  “Shhh. We’ve got you, darlin’. We’re never letting you go.”

  His words should have comforted her, but they only made her cry harder. “I thought…”

  “We know what you thought,” Rich whispered. “We thought it too. And it scared the hell out of us.”

  Langston moved apart just a bit so that he could cup her cheek in his large, calloused palm. “You need to get out of these wet clothes. Let me help you.”

  Mina nodded, closing her eyes to attempt to stem the flow of tears—she hated crying, she never cried—as Langston slowly undressed her. Rich turned on the shower, the bathroom soon clouding up, thanks to the steaming-hot water. Rich pressed on her back, guiding her into the tiled stall.

  Like everything in the suite, it was a large shower, with plenty of room for three. It had two corner benches and a half dozen showerheads, all pulsing with gloriously hot water.

  She sighed as it sluiced down her chilled body, but she still felt cold.