A muffled cry filled the air to Zack’s right. Female. Frightened.
There was somebody trapped under those rocks and screaming for help. Seth’s neck turned toward the sound. Zack kicked Seth’s knees out and sent him sprawling. The Glock fired into the air. But Zack wrestled the weapon from Seth’s grasp before he could fire again and leveled a swift blow to his jaw. Seth hit the pavement. His head snapped back. There was a chain around Seth’s neck. A small blue computer memory stick hung from it. The stolen government computer files? Zack grabbed it and yanked it hard, breaking the chain from around Seth’s neck. Then Zack ran for the rock pile. The voice had gone silent.
“Hello!” Zack scanned the rock pile. “Hey! Is somebody there?”
He tried to shove his visor up. It wouldn’t budge. Then he heard it. A gasp. A cry. A voice, faint but strong, and coming from under the rocks. He saw fingers sliding out of a gap. A slender hand, clad in a climbing glove.
“I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He climbed across the rocks, crouched down and touched her hand lightly, just enough to reassure her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Seth scrambling to his feet.
Zack’s brain went into triage mode. He had to stop Seth. He had to save the woman beneath the rocks. He couldn’t let a traitor escape. He couldn’t let a civilian die.
“Please, Lord,” she gasped. “I don’t want to die down here.”
The woman’s prayer yanked Zack’s attention back to the rocks. Seth disappeared over the other side of the rubble. Zack grabbed a boulder, hoisted it up and threw it off the pile. Then he looked down. Dark, determined eyes looked up at him. Black hair lay dusty and wild around a sun-kissed face. Her delicate lips parted but no sound came out. Zack’s heart beat painfully in his chest, with the same unexpected sting he’d felt as a teenager, as he looked across the gym martial arts mats and suddenly laid eyes on the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
It was Rebecca.
TWO
Rebecca nearly cried out in frustration as a black shape suddenly blocked out the tiny patch of blue sky that had appeared over her head. It took her two deep breaths to realize she was staring straight into the helmet visor of the man from the motorcycle. He must’ve realized it, too, because he said, “Hey, sorry,” and reached to yank the helmet off.
Another gunshot split the air. He muttered something about a second gun and disappeared from view.
She closed her eyes and tried not to panic. Thank You, God, that I’m still alive and nothing seems to be broken. When she’d seen smoke from the explosion rushing up toward her, and felt the rock slide out from under her feet, she’d held tight with everything she had, until there was no ground left beneath her and nothing to do but fall. Then she’d protected her head with her arms and focused on controlling her slide the best she could as the world around her was swallowed up in smoke, heat and falling rock.
More shouting from above her now. A gun blast rattled the rocks. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing through her fear, even as she could feel it threatening to take over her mind. A vehicle engine rumbled in the distance. There was the sound of someone scrambling over the rocks above her again.
“Hey.” The voice was male, deep and with just a hint of grit. “I’m back. You okay?”
Rebecca opened her eyes.
Her heart stopped. His helmet was now off. And she found herself staring straight into the gray eyes of the only man who’d ever managed to make that heart flutter a beat.
Zack. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find her voice. Zack Biggs.
Is that really you?
“Hang on, I’m going to get you out of here.” He disappeared again and she heard rocks shift above her.
No, he couldn’t be Zack. She must’ve bumped her head so hard she was seeing things. Her mind filled with a mental image of what Zack had looked like the last time she’d seen him. She’d been seventeen years old and dressed in the only sparkling formal dress she’d ever owned. The sports banquet had been over. She’d still been clutching her martial arts trophy: Rebecca Miles, Technically Flawless. Zack had stood outside in the courtyard, pounding rain beating on his head and running down his face. Looking sad and angry and as though he’d just lost something.
The weight that was pressing against her limbs lightened. She wriggled her other arm out of the rock.
“All right, I’m going to reach in and lift you out of there.” He peeled off his leather jacket and leaned in toward her. “Just grab hold of my arms, and I’ll hoist you up.”
The arms she grabbed ahold of were solid muscle and as smooth as marble encased in silk. The T-shirt-clad chest that pulled her in was as perfectly sculpted as a statue. The face she looked into had cheekbones cut like an action hero’s, and his black hair was grizzled gray at the temples. Could this man really be Zack? If so, didn’t he recognize her? Her tongue felt tied. His strong arms were practically carrying her down to the road, and here her brain couldn’t even figure out how to make sense of what was happening. A good chunk of the cliff side now blocked the road leading to her campsite. The man who’d set the detonators was nowhere to be seen. The motorbike lay in a twisted wreck on the south side of the rocks. The Zack she’d known had had a passion for motorcycles and had admired the General’s vintage collection. But he also could never have maneuvered a bike like that. He set her down gently. One hand hovered over her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“Scratched and bruised, but okay,” she said. “But what about you? That looked like a pretty major crash.”
“I’m fine.” He stepped back. His shoulders straightened. His arms crossed. Everything about his stance screamed military.
“Where did that other man go?” she asked. “Do you know who he was, or where he went, or why he sabotaged the road like that?” She was talking too fast, which tended to happen when she was uncomfortable. And right now her nerves were in overdrive. “I don’t have a cell phone on me, but there’s one in my camper, which is a short walk from here. My truck’s there, too. We need to report this to police. This road’s a write-off, at least for going south. And your bike’s wrecked. But if we take my truck and drive north, there’s a back way we can take to Timmins. It’ll only take a couple hours.”
He just looked at her. Then he ran one hand slowly over his face and looked down the road.
See, this is why you can’t possibly be my Zack, no matter how much you remind me of him. Because my Zack would be hugging me right now and reassuring me, instead of just standing there.
“Sorry, we haven’t done introductions.” She stepped forward and stretched out her hand. “My name is Rebecca Miles.”
His eyes met her gaze. She knew those eyes. Dark gray. Like flint, the moment just before it sparked a fire. His mouth opened. A phone started ringing behind her, so loudly she almost jumped. He ran past her, back up the rock pile to his jacket, and grabbed a cell phone out of the pocket. “Keats here.”
Keats? His name was Keats? Even though she’d just told herself he couldn’t possibly be her high school crush, somehow hearing a different name come out of the man’s mouth landed heavy in her stomach.
She watched as he stood on the rock, his back to her and his phone to his ear. If he’d had a phone, why hadn’t he called the police already? The conversation was quick. He hung up, picked up his jacket and walked back down the rock slide toward her. Deep frown lines cut along his brow.
“Keats, is it?” she asked.
He paused, as though he’d just been asked a very difficult question.
“I’m sorry,” she added. “I couldn’t help but hear when you answered the phone. But that’s all I heard.”
“Yes.” He pulled off his right glove and reached for her hand. A strong, firm grasp enveloped hers. “Sergeant Keats. Reconnaissance specialist. That was my CO—my commanding officer—on
the phone. I apprised him of the situation. My phone battery is pretty much dead right now, and he’s going to call all this in to the police. And yes, I’d like to take you up on your offer of a ride to Timmins.” There was a searching look on his face, as if she was supposed to be reading something else between his words. “What were you doing up on that hill?”
“Searching for a falcon’s nest,” she said. “I’m a filmmaker and videographer. So, Sergeant Keats, is it safe to presume that the man who nearly blew us up is some target you’re up here chasing?”
“No.” His frown grew deeper. “I’m not on assignment. I’m on leave actually, until Thursday. I’m due back at base in two days. Just let me grab my bag off the bike and I’ll be good to go.”
“But what about the man who blew up the road? I heard arguing and gunshots—”
“He’s gone.”
Her hands slid onto her hips. “And?”
“And, he blew up the road.” Now his arms crossed over his chest. “We struggled. I disarmed him. He ran off to where he’d hidden his vehicle. I thought he’d gone. But then he returned with a new weapon. It discharged. I disarmed him again. He left. I now have two illegal Glocks in my possession, and I’d like to go put them in my bag, as I don’t much feel like leaving them here.”
It was all useful information, but hardly warm and reassuring. And didn’t tell her what she wanted to know.
“But who was he and why did he blow up the road?”
“I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than I have.” He turned around and climbed back over the rocks toward his motorcycle.
“But are we still in danger from him?”
He paused, his feet balancing on the crushing rocks that she’d feared just moments ago would bury her alive. His eyes glanced at the sky, his head shook and his lips moved as though he was praying. Then he looked at her head-on, with a look so raw and unflinching she blinked. “I don’t honestly know if we’re in danger or not. But trust me, Rebecca, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. And I wish I could tell you more about what’s going on. I really do.”
He grabbed a green shoulder bag and moved his bike off the road. They walked to her camper. Neither of them spoke. He’d already made it clear he wasn’t about to answer any of her questions, and random small talk had never been something she’d been good at. Eventually they reached the small break in the trees that was the unpaved, overgrown entrance to her property. It was a nice chunk of forest actually. But it was hard to reach and very overgrown. Terrible for building on. But not bad for a hideaway.
“Welcome to my home.” She waved a hand toward the vintage aluminum camper now hitched to the back of a large black pickup truck. It was the same camper she’d lived in before her mom married the General, one of the few things she’d inherited. “Not much to look at, but it has all my video equipment inside. I travel a lot, so all I really need is a place to park my life when I’m not on the road. Feel free to dump your stuff in the front seat.”
“Thank you. Can I charge my phone in your truck? My battery’s almost dead, and I promised my CO I’d call him back.”
“No problem.” She tossed him her keys. He caught them smoothly. “My minilaptop computer is plugged in there, but you can just stick it in the glove compartment. I’ve also got a portable generator running in the camper, if you’d rather.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll go with the truck. It’ll get us on the road faster.” He slid one hand into the front pocket of his jeans as if checking to make sure something was there. “Hey, this might sound like an odd request, but would it be okay if I checked something on your laptop?”
She shrugged. “Be my guest. But it’s really small and it won’t connect to the internet.”
Rebecca walked to her camper. For a moment she debated simply unhitching her truck and leaving the camper in the woods. But depending on how long things took at the police station, she might just as well spend the night at a campsite in Timmins. Small and portable, with four wheels, it might not be everyone’s idea of home. But for her, it was perfect. A narrow single bunk lay at the front end of the camper. A tiny kitchenette with a fold-down table filled the center of the space. At the back end, the second bunk had been converted into a long, makeshift desk and video-editing space.
Her eyes rose to the computer monitors at the end of the camper. She’d left them running on the generator. One was broadcasting a feed from the tiny camera mounted inside of her truck. Clipped just inside of the sun visor, she used the tiny, temperamental spy camera to film either herself or the road ahead when her project called for her to narrate something while driving. Right now, it showed the mysterious Sergeant Keats. He plugged a memory stick into her laptop computer. Then he opened his bag on the seat beside him. She crossed the camper to turn off the feed. His phone rang again. He answered.
“Hello?” he said. “Yeah. Sorry we got cut off. Yeah, I’m with her. No, I haven’t told her anything. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a clue.”
A shiver ran down her spine. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But he was talking about her and keeping something from her. Why should she trust him?
“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’m using her laptop to check the contents now. But it seems to be automatically downloading onto her machine.” He stuck the phone between his ear and his shoulder, picked up her laptop. “I don’t know. Something weird’s going on. I’ll call back when I’ve got something to report. But yeah, I’ve got Rebecca.” He set the laptop back down. “Don’t worry. I know what I need to do here! I’m not about to let anything get in the way of doing it. Fair enough? I’ll find out what she knows, if she knows anything, and I’ll bring her in.”
She froze.
He was talking like she was his target. No, it was worse than that. She was a Canadian citizen standing on home soil. He wasn’t the police. He didn’t have a warrant or any legal right to question her or take her anywhere. But he was talking as if she was his prisoner.
“No, Rebecca doesn’t know anything!” Zack seemed to be searching his bag for something. His voice sounded almost exasperated. “She’s completely clueless. She’s completely in the dark. She doesn’t even know who I am.”
He reached for the sun visor and tilted the rearview mirror to look behind him, bumping the tiny camera. The camera’s view shifted to the side of the passenger seat. The audio feed cut out entirely. She could barely see a thing inside the cab now and couldn’t hear another word he said.
He waved his hand through the camera’s gaze and suddenly she could see what he’d been searching for.
Her hand rose to her lips.
It was a pair of handcuffs.
* * *
Zack tucked the handcuffs into his belt and his SIG semiautomatic into his holster. Next time he ran into Seth, he’d be ready for him. The two Glocks he’d taken off Seth now lay disassembled in the bottom of his bag. He did not want to know what kind of friends Seth had been making that he managed to get ahold of not only two illegal handguns, but also an IED. Hopefully, he was just a really good thief.
Either way, frustration coursed through Zack’s shoulders. Stonewalling Rebecca like that had been almost physically painful. But she hadn’t seemed to recognize him. He’d been trying to figure out what to say when Seth had opened fire again. He’d sorted that, and then his phone had rung with a call from his own CO, Major Jeff Lyons, field commander of Zack’s special ops unit. And Jeff had opened with the line, Please tell me you’re nowhere near Rebecca Miles right now.
Zack blew out a hard breath. Yes, it was no secret that he had an old Remi base newspaper clipping inside his footlocker with a picture of Rebecca at seventeen and a story about how she’d won the martial arts trophy. Or that he sometimes got a bit of good-natured ribbing from the other guys about having a crush on General Arthur Miles’s stepdaughter whenever t
he General’s face was on TV. Even though he’d never personally met the man, even back when he and Rebecca were teenagers.
But he’d never imagined that as news of Seth Miles’s treason and crimes spread like wildfire through both official and unofficial channels, someone in his unit would suddenly hope that Zack hadn’t gone to try to talk to Seth’s sister. Or that his own CO would then give him a friendly call just to suggest that as Rebecca was now wanted for police questioning, it might be a good idea that Zack stay away from her.
Too late for that.
“Again, I can’t assess what was on the memory stick.” Zack looked at the laptop. “Whatever it was, it appears to have now leaped from the memory stick to the laptop, and scrubbed the memory stick clean of any trace on the way out. Now the laptop’s completely locked down and appears to be asking for a password in Cyrillic script. So one of the Slavic languages. Don’t think it’s Russian. Could be either another Eastern European or a North Asian language.”
He could think of at least four different organized crime groups his task force had tangled with in various parts of the world that used Cyrillic script in their communications. He’d personally gone into Eastern Europe a few months ago to safely extract a brilliant young woman from the clutches of one such group. And I really hope whatever this is, it’s not connected to that. Because the idea that Seth Miles could’ve just hacked around the government database, looking for something to steal, and found something significant to an active special forces operation was unthinkable.
“Bring it in. Bring Rebecca Miles in. Walk away,” Jeff said. “I’ll report up the chain of command how fortunate we are that one of our top recon guys just happened to stumble upon Seth Miles’s current location and might’ve retrieved what he stole. I’ll try to play it as such great news that hopefully it won’t come back and bite you.”
“I’m on leave,” Zack said. “It was a personal errand. I simply saw her face on the news, and decided to pop by and see how she was. I was hardly expecting to run into Seth.”
Tactical Rescue Page 2