But what could he say? She was his boss. She’d saved his life and been what he’d needed, when he’d needed it. Chelsea and the others were…Damn it, he didn’t know what they were anymore.
Chelsea had gotten to him in a way no other woman had since Abby. Hell, his feelings for her made the feelings he’d had for Abby look like a cheap imitation of lust and caring and—no, he wouldn’t call it love, couldn’t use a word like that, when he knew damn well it’d be a lie.
“Your call, Jonah,” Jane said. But they both knew he’d made his choice long ago and had reaffirmed it just the night before. He was her man in all the ways that really counted.
He jerked his head toward her vehicle. “Let’s go. Two of us will be enough.”
It would have to be or Bear Claw was in serious trouble.
He’d deal with Chelsea’s defection later. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d just leave town. It might be easier for both of them that way.
Chapter Twelve
By 9:00 a.m. Sunday, Chelsea and the others were in place.
They split up: Sara went with Tucker and Alyssa, while Chelsea stayed with Cassie and Seth. They hid off to the side of the main fault line, one group for each of the two mine-top huts they believed would be al-Jihad’s target.
The huts were low steel structures built into the side of the mountain. More importantly, they flanked a hundred-foot-wide swath of unstable mountainside, which had been weakened by mining efforts and seriously destabilized by the recent rains.
Although the engineers swore it would stay put until they got their terracing and trenches in place, allowing them to trigger a so-called controllable avalanche, it looked precarious to Chelsea, and the cluster of buildings making up the ski lodge, which she could see at the base of the mountain, looked very small in comparison.
The idea of someone bringing the mountainside down on the stadium was enough to have her stomach in knots, but she breathed through it, knowing they were there to prevent exactly that.
Since cell transmissions could be detected, they’d agreed on a simple system of whistles and birdcalls to communicate.
The stealth proved unnecessary, though, as nine o’clock turned to ten, then eleven with no sign of company. The six friends were alone on the mountainside, and the parade had to be past the halfway point by now. There should be some activity if this was truly the terrorists’ target.
Either they’d guessed wrong or there’d been a change in plans.
As she waited, Chelsea tried to keep herself from imagining how Fax must’ve felt when he woke up and found her gone, found all of them gone. She told herself it served him right for chaining her to the bed—fair was fair. But no matter how hard she tried to be, she wasn’t the vindictive sort. If there’d been another way to do what she felt she needed to do, without going behind his back, she would’ve.
Unfortunately, he’d made his loyalties all too clear, and Jane had come out on top of that particular battle.
Sorrow and anger mixed inside her, reminding her of what she’d walked away from. Or rather, what he’d chased her away from. Because he’d made it crystal clear: he didn’t want her enough to change.
Well, guess what? She’d already changed and she didn’t intend to backpedal and return to the woman she’d been before. If he couldn’t handle the person she was becoming, he didn’t deserve her.
But even though he’d told her himself that he didn’t deserve someone like her, she couldn’t help thinking their main issue wasn’t what she did or didn’t deserve; it was whether he wanted what they’d had together enough to make the change…and the answer was a resounding “no.”
Damn him, she thought, checking the time and wincing when she saw it was quarter to twelve.
“This is no good,” Cassie said quietly. “Maybe we should consider heading down the mountain and hooking up with Fax and his—” She broke off with a glance at Chelsea and finished with, “boss.”
Which so wasn’t what she’d been thinking.
“They won’t have us at this point,” Chelsea said quietly. “She’s probably already leaked a hint that we might show up there. The second we make an appearance, we’ll be guests in our own jail.”
Or rather, what had been their jail before they’d gone renegade. Chelsea didn’t regret making the call for herself, but she was seriously wondering if she’d torpedoed her friends’ careers based on nothing but her own insistence that Fax wasn’t like the others.
Only he was, wasn’t he?
“Hey.” Cassie touched Chelsea’s arm, giving it a squeeze. That meant more than it might’ve otherwise, because Cassie wasn’t the touchy-feely type. “This isn’t your fault. If it were easy to anticipate what this bastard was going to do, he wouldn’t have gotten away with half the stuff he’s accused of, and he would’ve been in a cage long before this.”
“And he would’ve stayed there,” Seth agreed.
“We should’ve listened to Jane.” Chelsea’s shoulders slumped. “I was trying to prove a point and it backfired.” She’d wanted to make Fax take her side. Instead, she’d split their forces.
If she didn’t fix the mistake fast, there was a good chance that innocent people were going to die. And she did not believe in acceptable levels of collateral damage.
In her world, one unnatural death was one too many.
“I’m going to take a look around,” she announced, rising to a crouch that kept her below tree level in the undergrowth beside the low Quonset hut. “If the coast is clear, I think we should go down the mountain.”
“Keep your head low,” Seth said, but he didn’t tell her not to go, which she took as proof that he also thought they were in the wrong place.
“Count on it.” She worked her way out of the thicket, walking along the faint brush marks they’d left in obscuring their trail. They’d tested each step carefully to make sure they didn’t wander onto unsafe ground, so she knew if she followed the marks she ought to be okay.
She kept careful watch, but saw only mud, stones and uprooted trees thrown around by the last big slide. There was no sign of anybody else on the mountain, no sign that al-Jihad and his men had ever considered attacking the site.
“Damn,” she muttered, though she wasn’t sure why she’d thought there might be something, some indication that—
The blur came at her from the side, a whistle of motion and a thump of impact that spun her and drove her staggering back.
Panic came hard and hot, and she screamed at the sight of Muhammad’s face, the murderous satisfaction in his eyes.
Then there was another thump, and the world went dark.
FAX HAD A BAD FEELING about the setup at the stadium. It smelled wrong to him, felt wrong. If he’d been alone, he would’ve banged a U-turn halfway there and headed up into the mountains. Or maybe he would’ve kept going, figuring the others could handle whatever his gut told him was up there, while he needed to deal with the situation at the stadium.
The danger was up the mountain and in the stadium, and inside his own skull, buzzing and tugging at him, and making him crazy.
Or was that the woman making him nuts? Was it Chelsea and the way she’d seduced him, exhausted him to the point that he hadn’t noticed the six of them leave the motel?
Part of him was furious at her deception. Another part of him was a little impressed. Not that he’d ever tell her that. Not that he’d ever get the chance to tell her.
Jane drove fast, weaving in and amongst the traffic as the parade ended and the crowds geared up for the concert. Her jaw was set, her eyes locked on the road with the single-minded determination that’d made her the best of the best and that had drawn the two of them to one another.
They’d been good together because they’d been the same. Still were.
When that rang faintly false and bumped up against the churn in his stomach that said they were headed the wrong way, he tamped down both sensations and checked his weapon for the fifth time since he’d gotten into the car.
<
br /> “You’re fidgeting,” Jane said without looking at him.
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
They didn’t speak again until she’d pulled into a spot at the stadium. They each got out of the car, and Fax took a good, long look at the horseshoe-shaped rows of stadium benches, which rose high into the mountain air. He muttered a curse and then said, “What are we thinking? We couldn’t cover this place on our own if we had two dozen highly trained operatives. And where is the surveillance equipment?” He turned toward Jane, saying, “I thought—”
“Fax,” Jane interrupted, her voice tight.
He turned and froze in place at the sight of the man standing beside her, sharp-featured and weasely. Lee Mawadi.
Fax’s blood iced in his veins. The bastard had Jane by the arm, and was holding a gun to her side, its muzzle pressed into her waist. He had the stones to smirk. “Not as smart as you think you are, huh, Fairfax?” He dug the weapon in harder, wringing a cry from Jane as he grated, “Toss your weapons back in the car. And don’t try anything or the bitch here gets a few new holes.”
Fax did as he was told as killing rage speared through him. He two-fingered the gun, then tossed it in the passenger’s-side footwell.
“Now who’s the lemming?” Lee jeered.
Fax didn’t reply, didn’t get a chance to, because suddenly the bastard was letting go of Jane and turning the weapon on Fax, and Jane wasn’t doing a damned thing except standing there. Watching.
In a second of ice-cold reality, Fax understood what his gut had been trying to tell him since the night before, the instinct he’d ignored because he’d thought it was a mixture of lust and guilt.
Jane’s reappearance had seemed too convenient because it was too convenient. She’d been working for al-Jihad all along.
Which meant Fax had, too. Maybe not all along, but for a while, at least.
Hell, he’d probably gone to jail for the bastard.
How could you? he wanted to ask her, but he could tell from her stone-set expression that she wouldn’t answer, didn’t care what he thought of her, didn’t give a single damn about him.
She’d never claimed to care about anything but taking down al-Jihad and even that had been a lie.
“Steady, Jonah,” she said, waving for Lee to lower his weapon. “Think it through. Think of the advantages.”
“I’m way ahead of you.” He smiled mirthlessly, cooling his expression even though his blood was quickly heating once again with anger, with panic.
Jane had known the others were headed up into the mountain.
For all he knew, they were already dead.
Jane’s face softened with a hint of approval. “You already knew about my change in allegiance.”
“I guessed,” he said. “Good to know the time in prison hasn’t dulled my instincts too much.”
“He’s lying,” Lee hissed, bringing his weapon up once again. “He never would’ve sent the bitch to Muhammad. He’s too much of a goddamn prince for that.”
“And you’re too much of a rodent to understand the concept of developing an asset for future use, then disposing of it when it ceases to be useful.” Fax forced a smile, although his stomach roiled as he said, “Trust me, she came in very useful for a while.”
That startled a chuckle out of Lee, who let the gun drop a notch.
It was all the opportunity Fax needed.
Moving fast, he lunged for the weapon, grabbing Lee at the same time that he swung a kick in Jane’s direction, forcing her to stumble back, out of range. He fought with Lee, kicking and punching as the smaller man squirmed to get free and struggled to bring the gun to bear.
“You don’t want to do this, Jonah,” Jane said, her voice edged with irritation or maybe fear. “Don’t be stupid.”
“No.” Grunting with the effort, he yanked the gun away from Lee and subdued the bastard with a choke hold. When Jane came at him, he dodged and grabbed her, and whipped her arm up behind her back as well. “I’ve been stupid for way too long already.”
Using the gun to keep them pinned down, he yanked off Lee’s belt and used it to bind their hands together at the smalls of their backs.
Then he turned toward the stadium, pointed the nine-millimeter in the air, and fired off four rounds in quick succession.
Screams and shouts erupted, and the people who’d been streaming into the arena only seconds earlier started scrambling to get out. Already set on a hair trigger after the prison break, the citizens of Bear Claw didn’t wait to see where the shots were coming from or where they were aimed.
They bolted en masse, creating instant chaos.
Satisfied, Fax returned his attention to his two prisoners. He was just in time to duck the full-power kick Jane had aimed at his privates. Her foot struck him a glancing blow in the groin that sent a slash of pain through him and had him staggering.
They’d gotten free somehow, and Lee was already running. Jane paused and grabbed Fax’s gun from the passenger’s seat of her car.
She came up firing and she wasn’t aiming into the air.
Fax hit the deck and rolled partway under the car, then scrambled up again. There were more screams, more chaos, and cars started peeling out of the parking lot. By the time Fax was up and oriented, Jane and Lee were both gone. Not good.
On the upside, though, the stadium was more than half empty, and—
An explosion roared from the main entrance, slamming him to the ground.
He heard more screams, dulled now by the ringing in his ears, then the thump of more explosions, the squeal of tires and the crashing impacts as cars collided, starting a chain reaction of accidents, with cars accordioning into each other in the drivers’ mad rush to get the hell away from the bombs.
Which meant nobody was going anywhere, Fax realized as he levered himself up and took in the scene.
The stadium was wreathed in ugly gouts of black smoke that rose from each of the collapsed entrances. There were thousands of people still trapped inside and probably the same number stranded outside in the parking lot and road beyond, which had become impassable due to wrecked vehicles.
In the distance, he could hear sirens and emergency vehicles approaching, but it’d take too long for them to fight through the jammed roads. In the meantime, thousands of people would remain trapped in the bowl-shaped depression where the stadium had been built at the base of the mountain…right below the threatening shelf of a potential landslide.
Chelsea and the others were up there, Fax thought, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. For all he knew, they were already dead, killed by al-Jihad and his ruthless terrorists as they cleared the way for the next stage of the plan.
It wasn’t a case of the landslide or the stadium: the bastard had targeted both.
“I should’ve seen it,” Fax said, cursing himself as he fought through the mob, headed for the road below, which was rapidly jamming with cars. “I should’ve known.”
But he didn’t, he hadn’t. And because he hadn’t been thinking clearly, innocent people that he cared about—yes, cared, damn it—might already be dead.
He hurled himself down the steep incline to the road, his feet barely moving fast enough to keep up with his momentum. He staggered when he reached the level strip of grass beside the road, but righted himself and kept running until he found what he was looking for.
The red SUV was empty, parked in the farthest lane with the driver’s-side door open and the motor running. No doubt the driver was one of the many people who’d gathered at the edge of the road, shading their eyes and staring up toward the smoking stadium, talking in high, excited voices.
Fax climbed in the driver’s seat and slammed the door, then hit the button to lock the vehicle tight. He was most of the way out of the nose-to-tail line of cars when a man ran at him, waving his hands and shouting.
Fax cracked the window and shouted, “Police business. You’ll get it back.”
Then he hit the
gas and sent the SUV hurtling across a strip of grass and into the wide ditch separating the eastbound and westbound lanes of traffic. The SUV dug in and bounced hard and its tires spun. For a second, Fax was afraid the thing was going to dig itself into place and he’d be stuck. Then it tore free with a roar and a lurch, and started climbing up the other side.
He didn’t wait for a break in the rubbernecking traffic in the other lane. He just hit the gas and aimed for a gap that wasn’t quite big enough for the SUV. Paint scraped and the vehicle shuddered and bounced as he fought it into a straight line following the road.
Nearby drivers swerved, honked and swore at him, but he didn’t care. He leaned on the horn and flashed the high beams like a crazy man, and weaved in and out of the near-gridlocked traffic.
The other drivers must’ve thought he was with the emergency rescue personnel or something, because they started getting out of his way, just a few at first but then more and more of them, opening up a pathway until he was free, on the open road headed for the turnoff that would lead him up the mountain.
Once he was speeding along and not focused solely on the driving anymore, his brain kicked back online, and all he could picture was Chelsea’s face as she’d slept, all he could imagine was that same face, still and gray, with her stretched out on a table in her own morgue, dead because he hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t trusted her, or his own instincts.
“No,” he said aloud, denying the image, denying all of it. He would be in time to get to her, would be in time to save her.
Failure was not an option.
Chapter Thirteen
When Chelsea regained consciousness, it took a few moments for her eyes to clear and her brain to process what she was seeing. Memory returned with a brutal slap when she saw dirt, ledge stone and uprooted trees all piled in a disarray, tilted at a seemingly impossible angle.
She was still up on the mountain. But where was her attacker? Where were Seth, Cassie and the others? Moving her eyes first, then her head, she craned to see. When her neck twinged, suggesting that she’d pulled muscles in the struggle, she winced and moved her body instead.
Manhunt in the Wild West Page 16