by Donna Grant
“Do what?”
“Dance. Dad would put on some music and stop her from washing the dishes. In the middle of the kitchen, they would hold each other, swaying to the music.”
“And the world would fall away for them,” she finished.
He glanced at the house and swallowed. “Yes.”
“That’s a memory I hope you always remember.”
He nodded. “Me, too. How’s it coming in there?” he asked to change the subject.
She glanced inside the barn where the hatch was open to the base below. “Oh, good. Callie can multitask like no one’s business. And she gives orders like a general.”
They shared a laugh.
He swallowed when silence fell between them. “I won’t be long.”
“I know,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’ll be locked in the base waiting. Nothing is going to happen.”
“Don’t come out for anyone but me. If the Russians arrive—”
She interrupted him, saying, “They won’t. And if they do, they didn’t find the base the first time. Wyatt and Callie are waiting for you. Get moving.”
“Not until you’re inside.”
She smiled and turned on her heel. He waited until she was down the steps and the door closed, hiding the entrance, before he hurried to Orrin’s truck.
Within minutes, the three vehicles traveled down the driveway, heading in different directions once they reached the main road.
If the Russians were watching, they wouldn’t know which automobile held Ragnarok or Natalie.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sklad (Warehouse)
Orrin lay on his side, his cheek pressed against the cold, damp concrete floor. His arms were numb from being bound behind his back. He was certain at least three of his ribs were broken from the last beating. There was also a chance his left wrist was, as well.
There were two things the Russians did well—drink and fight.
The sound of voices reached him through the metal door. They were muffled, and the Russian words were spoken quickly, but he was able to get the gist of the conversation.
One of the guards wanted to kill him. Immediately.
Another of the guards was quite happy with spending the time using Orrin as a punching bag.
It was Yuri who, with one word, silenced them. Inwardly, Orrin grinned. He knew his old friend well enough to know that the beatings weren’t close to being done. He would suffer many, many more.
But Yuri was underestimating him. Yuri assumed he would give up the location of Ragnarok and the formula because of pain. Except none of them realized he’d been living the worst kind of pain for the last twenty-two years.
Nothing had erased Melanie’s murder, the heinous way her life was snuffed out. There wasn’t a second of any day that he didn’t feel the loss, the helplessness of not being there to stop her killer. Not even sleep was an escape.
In his dreams, Melanie was still alive, and they were happy. The boys were at the ranch, and the love that held the family together was stronger than ever before.
Then he would wake, and cold, hard reality would intrude. His heart shattering all over again. The fact that his sons hated him only made things worse. They blamed him for Melanie’s murder.
It was all right. He blamed himself.
“Are you ready to talk, stariy droog?”
Damn. Was he so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Yuri enter? He couldn’t afford something like that. He was alive because he kept his wits about him.
“No,” he bit out.
Blood still caked one eye shut, so he had to shift his head slightly in order to see Yuri. The general stared down at him with contempt in his blue eyes. Gone was the camo uniform. In its place was a sports coat and trousers.
He wondered where the uniform was. It made Orrin miss his own. He’d outranked Yuri before he retired. Since Yuri was as competitive as they came, they’d once had a friendly rivalry of who could get promoted faster.
At least, he always assumed it was friendly. Now he knew the truth. He hated being blindsided. It was the second time in his life, and it didn’t suck any less the second go round.
Yuri looked around the cell. “You look like hell, starik.”
“Old man? I’m not the one with gray hair,” he said. He wanted to sit up, but that would take too much energy to hide the pain of his broken bones.
“The formula you stole is not Ragnarok as you were led to believe. It is a new fertilizer.”
He barked a laugh, sending pain from his ribs that he ignored. “Nice try.”
“You did not test it, did you?” Yuri smiled as he bent down to see Orrin’s face. “You did not have time. A pity. Had you, you would have known you chose the wrong lab.”
“Then why kill my team and take me? Why keep asking for the vial? It’s because I got the bioweapon your country intended to use.”
Yuri tsked and went down on his haunches. “Orrin, your problem has always been your pride. You never liked to consider you were wrong. Your team was killed, and you were taken not because you stole Ragnarok, but because you broke into the Kremlin. And I took you at your word.”
“We’ve both lied to each other when it comes to our countries.”
Yuri shrugged. “That was before you put my job in jeopardy.”
He went along with the scenario because he knew he’d stolen Ragnarok. There was a ring of truth to Yuri’s story, however, which meant his job probably was on the line.
“If I didn’t steal the bioweapon, then why do you keep asking for it?”
Yuri gave him a flat look. “You know how much our countries spend on things like that. It is a breakthrough we need for our crops, stariy droog. You understand this, da?”
Oh, he understood. He understood just what a liar Yuri was. Bastard. When he got out, he was going to take pleasure in bringing Yuri down.
“What’s so important about Ragnarok? It’s just another bioweapon you can remake.”
Yuri’s lips compressed.
“Your government sends men to find me because of fertilizer? Not buying it.”
“Think whatever you like. I know the truth.”
He grinned at Yuri as reality sank in. There were too many years under his belt in the Navy, too many missions as a SEAL to disregard such a sorry excuse for an explanation.
Fertilizer his ass.
It was Ragnarok that he and his men stole, but more importantly, he had a suspicion that the bioweapon was one that would end them all.
Unless someone had the antidote.
Sending the vial to Callie might have been the single worst thing he could’ve done. Yuri and his group wouldn’t stop until they had it, which meant more deaths.
Then there was the fact that the vial could kill Callie and his sons because he hadn’t bothered to look for an antidote while in Russia.
He’d known not to take the mission. Everything had told him to let it pass, but the idea that he could save his sons from encountering such a weapon was what led him to accept the job.
How wrong he’d been. Now they would hate him more than ever.
“If you will not talk, you leave me no choice but to order another beating.” Yuri stood, sighing loudly. “This brings me no pleasure.”
“Get on with it,” Orrin stated.
“See you soon.”
“Yeah. See you soon.”
As soon as Yuri walked from the small room, two men strode in. They yanked Orrin to his feet and shoved him into a chair. He took a breath and held it, right before the first punch landed on his broken ribs.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“This should be fun,” Owen said to himself as a black Ford F-250 rolled to a stop in front of him deep in the woods on the backside of the Loughman Ranch.
The trees were thick enough to make finding him difficult unless someone knew the area. And there was no way anyone could come up on him without Owen knowing.
Which made it a perfect meeting spot.
O
wen wished Wyatt were there. He and Mark had never liked each other much, and Owen suspected Callie was the reason.
The sheriff got out of his truck. Mark Cooper stared at him for a moment before he closed the truck door and strode toward Owen.
Owen looked the tall man up and down. Everyone in town knew Mark. He’d been the quarterback, and in Texas, everyone knew football—especially high school football.
“Expecting problems?” Mark asked as he nodded to the pistol Owen had strapped to his leg and the rifle he carried.
In order to see how much Mark knew, he said, “Seems you’d know.”
“I actually know very little.” Mark removed his felt, buckskin-colored cowboy hat and scratched his head of blond hair before replacing it. “I expected to hear from one of y’all sooner.”
“We had some issues to take care of,” Owen said.
Mark looked at him with intelligent blue eyes. “I don’t suppose that involved my unconscious deputy and the blood at Diane Dixon’s place, would it?”
“It might’ve.” He wouldn’t admit to anything. “How’s your deputy?”
“Has a concussion, but fine other than that. The only reason we didn’t send out a missing person’s report for Natalie was because Gert saw her at your ranch. Was it the same sons of bitches who killed your aunt and uncle?”
“Possibly.”
Mark rested his hand on the butt of his gun at his hip. “We found no prints we could match, and the blood came up with no match either. With there being no bodies, it’s hard to have a crime.”
Since Owen had already been out to the house, he knew the dead men were gone. No group as well trained as those Russians would leave their men behind.
“You got a phone call from Washington,” he said. “What were you told?”
Mark looked away, gazing at the trees. He leaned his hip out and sighed. “The call was brief. I was told there was an incident at the ranch, and I was to bring five men and make a report.”
“Did you know the bodies were gone?”
Mark gave a curt nod and looked back at him. “The man I spoke with divulged that the government was sending for you and your brothers, but in the meantime, they would be collecting the bodies and evidence.”
“But why? The government could’ve kept this quiet without involving you.”
“They had no choice. Someone contacted a news station,” Mark admitted.
Owen didn’t have to wonder who was responsible. The Russians. They wanted to create disarray, to make the government aware, and to guarantee each of the Loughmans understood what was at stake.
As if they didn’t already.
“How’s Callie?” Mark asked.
“She’s fine.”
Mark blew out a breath, shifting uncomfortably. “None of y’all might know this since you chose not to return and visit, but Callie is everything to Orrin and he to her.”
“We know. We’re looking out for her.”
That seemed to pacify Mark. “There are many in Hillsboro who care about her.”
“Have you told me everything?”
As if remembering what had brought him out there, Mark blinked. “My report was bare. Callie wasn’t there to see anything. Since there were no witnesses, I had nothing to put down. Regardless, the next day, the file vanished from the office.”
It had to be the government again. It still didn’t make him feel any better about it, though. “Thanks, Mark. Appreciate you coming out here.”
“Your mother’s murder was never solved. I don’t want to add your aunt and uncle to that pile. Or Callie.”
“We take care of our own,” Owen stated.
Mark nodded and took a step back. “Y’all have done a bang-up job of that.” He turned and walked to his truck. As he opened the door, he hesitated. “By the way, where’s Orrin?”
“Away,” Owen replied.
Mark snorted. “Right.”
He waited until the sheriff drove off before he said, “Shit. Did you catch all of that?” he asked Wyatt and Callie, who were on the phone.
“Sure did,” Callie said.
“The Russians talked to the news station,” Wyatt said crossly. “But why?”
Callie snorted. “To tell the government they weren’t going to let Ragnarok go so easily.”
“We have more facts now. Not a lot, but more than we had,” Wyatt said.
Owen ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s keep to the plan. I’m on my way back to the ranch. The keys are in the back taillight if y’all happen to need the truck.”
“Be safe,” Callie said. “Don’t leave Natalie alone too long.”
“Check in soon,” Wyatt said.
Owen ended the call and tucked his phone into his pocket as he started walking toward home.
* * *
They seemed larger when the others were there, but then again, Natalie had visited each room several times to keep her anxiety at bay.
It felt weird to be there alone. And it was so quiet that she had to turn on some music when she found a radio. She kept the volume low, but the tunes helped to soothe her.
Several times, the cameras alerted her to something, but it ended up being a bird or livestock on the ranch. But each time made her heart pound and fear wrap her in its grip.
When she spotted Owen on one of the cameras, she let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t long before the door slid open and he walked down the stairs to the base.
She smiled at him, happy not to be alone anymore. And even happier to see he had her bag of clothes. She hadn’t known he was going by her mother’s. “Everything go as planned?”
“It did,” he answered. “You?”
“Just peachy.”
He set down the rifle and grinned. “It got to you, didn’t it?”
“Yes, dammit.” She blew out a breath and dropped the happy façade. “Crazy, huh?”
“Happens to everyone.”
“Even you?” she asked with a raised brow.
His grin widened. “Even me.”
When the conversation lagged, she grew uncomfortable. How was she going to survive time alone with Owen while trying so hard to ignore the attraction?
She had to say something because the silence was too disturbing. “I was searching through the base. I don’t think Callie throws anything away that she believes could be useful. I found this.” She held up the six-inch-long tube that was three inches in diameter. “The vial fit perfectly.”
“Good thinking.” He took the tube and examined it, tapping the glass. “I’ve seen something like this before. If its what I think it is, the glass is shatterproof. It’s a great place to hold the bioweapon.”
She couldn’t look away as he turned the tube over and over, the muscles in his arms rippling and moving. His expression turned contemplative, a slight furrowing of his brow conveyed that he was deep in thought. “What is it?” she asked.
“We have no idea what this is made of.”
“It’s a weapon. That’s enough for me.”
His dark gaze lifted to hers. “It’s not for me. Most countries have their own stocks of bioweapons, just as we have nuclear weapons. It’s to show our strength, and alert the other countries that we have such capabilities.”
“Okay. Your point?”
“What’s so important about this?” He lifted the tube. “Why would Russia chance a war by sending their military after this? Because, make no mistake, those men we fought the other night were military. I know that kind of training.”
She swallowed and suddenly wished Callie had taken the vial with her. “There must be something different about this bioweapon.”
“Every bioweapon is designed to kill.”
“Perhaps they did something different with this one.”
“Maybe. If there’s one vial, there could be more. Even if there’s not, what happens if someone gets this? There needs to be an antidote.”
“Good point.” She’d been so concerned about her own safety and Orrin that she hadn
’t thought that far ahead.
Owen drummed his fingers on the desk. “Callie said Dad stole Ragnarok and the formula. He didn’t send the formula to us, which means it could be anywhere.”
“Or with anyone.”
“No research I did on Ragnarok told me what it could be made of.” She crossed one leg over the other. Then she recalled her friend Emily. “I have a connection at Baylor who might help.”
“Baylor University?”
“She’s actually a biology professor, but she might be able to aid us in finding someone who can discover what’s in that vial.”
“Call her,” Owen said.
She hesitated. “My phone was left at the house.”
“It wasn’t there when I grabbed your clothes.”
She turned to Callie’s computer. “That makes things difficult, but not impossible.”
Natalie typed in Emily Ashcroft at Baylor University. In seconds, several links pulled up, including Emily’s number. It wasn’t her private line, but it didn’t matter as long as Natalie could get ahold of her.
She accepted Owen’s cell phone he held out and dialed the number. The call was on the fourth ring when it finally picked up.
“Hello?”
“Emily? Hey, this is Natalie Dixon.”
“Natalie,” Emily said, a smile in her voice. “It’s been ages. How are you?”
“Good. Listen, I’ve got a serious problem that I need your help with. I can’t tell you much, but it’s important.”
Emily paused. “It sounds like it by your voice. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“You need to learn to lie better. What do you need?”
She licked her lips and decided to put it all out there. “Access to the science lab and a chemistry professor.”
“When?”
She looked at Owen and mouthed “when.”
“Tomorrow,” he replied.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” Natalie asked.
Emily blew out a breath through the phone. “Let me do some checking. I should be able to pull it off. I’ll call you back with details.”
She sent up a silent prayer of thanks. “Use this number. Don’t call my old one.”
“Gotcha. But I’m worried about you, Natalie.”