by Jo Davis
“I’m sure he will, but first we have to find him. We’ve got backup coming, and in the meantime we’ll tell you what we can about who we are.”
Nicole frowned. “The FBI has jurisdiction in this case.”
“Um, not really. Our orders come from the president.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Black ops?”
“Something like that.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah. You with us?”
“Try to keep me out of it and see what happens.”
She wouldn’t dare. Shoving down her fear of what was happening to her lover, Emma accompanied her sad little band to the van.
And prayed Bastian would arrive soon.
* * *
Blaze came awake to a dank, musky odor. To the smell of death and decay. Lying on a hard surface, his shoulder and leg killing him. Unbearable.
He tried to move his arms and legs, to raise his head. The attempt promptly made him sick, and waves of misery lapped over him. Was there a bone they hadn’t broken? If so, he had no doubt they’d find it.
Heavy footsteps approached. This is how I measure the remaining hours of my life. By the staccato rhythm of boots on stone. One heartbeat at a time.
A jangle of keys turned in a lock, and then the metallic grate of a door slid open. A holding cell, he realized. Dietz must’ve found a new home for his legion of monsters to operate from. Where he was being kept was anyone’s guess.
He pried his eyes open, then wished he hadn’t. Robert Dietz strolled into the cell with three men on his heels. Those fucking Liberation bastards. In a far corner of the dim space, a fire had been built, adding to the torrid atmosphere in the room. Something had been placed in the flames. He didn’t want to know what.
“Strap him to the table,” Dietz ordered.
The three goons yanked him off the floor, lifted him, and dropped him onto a large wooden picnic table. He gritted his teeth against crying out. He was stripped to the waist, his socks and boots removed, arms and legs spread and tied down with rope. His shoulder and leg had been wrapped, he noted. Probably to keep him from bleeding to death while they had their fun.
Dietz walked to the fire while the others stepped away. This was the boss’s show, and they wanted as little part of it as possible, from their wary expressions. Blaze couldn’t see what he was doing, but the sonofabitch took his sweet time. Stoking his fear.
“Where’s Lan?” he croaked.
“Waiting his turn to experience what happens to those who cross me.” Dietz came to stand by his feet. In his hand was a metal rod, the tip bloodred. “The bottom of the foot is a particularly sensitive area, among many. Did you know that? Scream for me, Agent Kelly.”
Blaze glared straight into the traitor’s cold eyes, showing all of his hatred and defiance. He would not give him the satisfaction.
White-hot lightning seared his flesh, scorched every nerve ending. Clamping his lips together, he threw back his head and strained against the ropes. Breathing hard through his nose, he endured without a sound through the pain in one foot. By the second, he was making animal sounds of pain in his throat.
The hideous torture took on the quality of his nightmares, and as he drifted from himself he thought, this isn’t real.
He didn’t scream once.
But he dreamed of a blond angel holding him in his arms, kissing away the pain.
Emma couldn’t cry. Not yet.
Not when there was hope that Blaze could still be alive.
And if she lost it, Bastian would never allow her to fly out with the rest of his operatives. He was pacing now in the huge hangar where everyone had assembled, about to start the briefing. The tall blond was grim, not having much to smile about except that Michael would likely survive, and they had a bead on Blaze’s location.
With any luck, the location of the weapon as well.
Once the group was quiet, Bastian stood before them and ran through the particulars. “We’ve got a signal from Agent Kelly’s tracking chip, which hasn’t moved for the past several hours. The location is marked and locked down, and we fully believe this to be the site of the actual Liberation compound where the weapon is being kept.”
He paused and waited for the excited murmurs to fade.
“We’ve got twenty-four agents of our own, including me and one who’s FBI — Agent Ventura — who was undercover and will accompany us. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
“The FBI might, sir,” one young agent piped up.
“Do I look like I give a flying rat’s ass what the FBI does or does not like, especially since we don’t officially exist?”
The agent reddened. “No, sir.”
Dismissing him, Bastian went on. “We have six stealth helicopters outside, which we’ll bring in low and quiet. We’ll all be dropped in a landing zone at a safe distance from the Liberation compound and hike it. Once there, we’ll split off into the teams we’ve formed and take the compound by whatever force is necessary. Should you find the weapon, get on the radio for backup, secure the fucking thing, and defend it with your life. Is that clear?”
A chorus of shouts in the affirmative echoed in the vast hangar, and Bastian nodded. “One more thing — let’s come back safe.”
Head high, Emma walked out with Ozzie and Nicole, who were on her team.
Nobody was going to stop her from bringing home her man.
His body burned. From the inside out.
He stretched, groaning, and took stock. They’d beaten the living shit out of him and burned his feet. But outside of that and the bullet wounds, he thought maybe he had only a couple of cracked ribs, not multiple broken bones, as he’d initially believed. He could move, even if it hurt.
And if he could move, he could fight. Given the chance.
The cell door scraped open again, and Dietz strode inside with two of his men. Without a word, they hauled him upright and dragged him from the cell, forcing him to stumble along on blistered feet. He ignored the screaming pain and shut out everything except making note of where they were going.
They stopped outside a big metal structure that looked like a barn, with double-wide doors fit for a semi to drive through. Dietz studied Blaze for a long moment, and just when it seemed he’d speak, two more men appeared, shoving Lan ahead of them.
Blaze’s knees went weak with relief, however temporary. His friend was alive, and for all his cuts and bruises, nothing else mattered right now. Their gazes held, and Lan tried to smile despite his swollen lip.
Dietz got to the point. “It occurred to me that no man should die for a cause without seeing what he’s fighting for. Especially this cause. Gentlemen.” He waved his men on, and they hustled their captives through the door and into the warehouse.
“Oh my God,” Lan breathed.
Blaze could only stare. There before them, on a platform mounted on a flatbed eighteen-wheeler, was the weapon — a bomb.
The thing was a metallic cylinder painted a plain gray and had the American flag proudly displayed on its side. The bomb was as big as a tank on a gasoline truck, and a billion times more deadly.
“You can’t know true power until you stand in its shadow,” Dietz said reverently. “You can’t understand why several nations would stand in line to possess it until you see. Do you get it? This isn’t just a bomb, isn’t just death. This is the annihilation of all living things, bound in a single innocuous container. Mankind, turned on itself like a cannibal. Our government created a monster, and now it must pay.”
Blaze stared at the cylinder, shaken in body and soul. In a twisted way, he did get what Dietz was saying — you reap what you sow. But innocent people didn’t deserve death and destruction.
“You’re bat-shit crazy, you know that?” He swayed on his aching feet, dizzy. He hurt and he’d lost a lot of blood. But if he held on a bit longer, Bastian would send in the troops and clean house. He had faith.
Dietz laughed. “Perhaps. But I’m the crazy bastard with the bomb an
d the money. Survival of the fittest since the dawn of time.” He flicked a hand at his men. “Tie them up and leave them in here to enjoy the view and think of the day when this baby will be dropped on the East Coast. Not that either of you will be alive to see it.”
The men dragged them over to the truck and tied them to the back, then left them to contemplate their fate.
“It’s weird being tied to this thing, and scary,” Lan said in a tired voice.
“That’s what he’s counting on. The beating and torture was something he tired of fast enough. Dietz prefers mind games, when he plays games at all.”
“Yeah, that’s coming through pretty clear.”
“My team is coming, my friend. Don’t worry.” Of this he was positive.
“Yes, but will they arrive in time?”
That he couldn’t answer. He could only hope he got to see Emma again this side of heaven.
Emma and her team spoke when necessary, voices quiet, pushing through the trees as fast as they dared. Wouldn’t do to stumble across a booby trap or a guard. They hunted a vile monster, deadlier than any poisonous snake to be found here, because their enemy violated the most basic law of nature.
Dietz was a discriminate killer, taking life because it suited his wants and desires. In his mind, this power made him more than other men. The lord of his own sick universe.
But not for much longer.
They reached the walls of the compound just as the fingers of sunset reached across the sky. Pulling her gun, Emma looked to Ozzie for direction. He halted them, and they listened. Watched.
The place was too quiet and still. Guards were posted near the buildings, but it was as if they were all waiting for something.
“What the hell’s going on?” Ozzie asked, more to himself. He waved to team three, gesturing for them to continue. They were getting into position, encircling the compound.
Just then, more men drifted from the building, talking and laughing. They walked over to a grassy area and milled around for — what? A meeting of some sort?
Then two men were dragged from a big warehouse-type building, and she gasped in recognition. Blaze and Lan. Her confusion morphed to understanding when they were brought into the grassy area and forced to their knees amid the jeers of the soldiers around them.
“Ozzie,” she choked.
“Shh. Be ready to move, and pick off the ones closest to Kelly and Hart,” he ordered them.
Her horrified gaze met Nicole’s in understanding. The men they loved were about to be executed.
Blaze hit his knees beside Lan, gut churning in helpless rage. So this is how it ended? Shot like a dog, as if his life meant nothing?
“I’m so sorry, Lan,” he whispered.
“Not your fault,” his new friend said bravely. “They were going to kill me, anyway. At least we’re not dying alone.”
“Yes, there is that.”
He’d always heard that a person’s life flashes before his eyes when he faces death, but he found it to be untrue. His mind was strangely blank of everything except Emma and losing her so soon. Or rather, her losing him. But she was a strong woman, and she’d go on. Perhaps J.C. would come running to soothe her battered heart? He didn’t wish to delve into that too much.
Dietz would pay for everything he’d done. He had to believe that, or he’d give in to despair.
His enemy came to stand beside him, toting an M16 and staring down at him, eyes so devoid of emotion his blood froze. “Have you anything to say?”
“Yeah. Fuck you.” He spat on the bastard’s shoes, and beside him, Lan snorted. Last acts of defiance and all that.
“Heartfelt, but not terribly original. Good-bye, agent.”
Cold steel kissed his temple.
Emma, I love you.
Terror seized Emma’s heart as Dietz strode to the two kneeling men carrying a big automatic weapon. He and Blaze exchanged few words. Blaze spat on Dietz’s boots.
“Get ready to move!” a voice barked into Ozzie’s radio.
“We’re ready!”
Dietz loomed over Blaze.
Lowered the barrel of the weapon to his head.
Oh, God!
“Move the helicopters in! Let’s go!”
Emma launched herself from her hiding place with the rest of her team, opening fire. Dietz jerked the rifle away from Blaze and returned a few short bursts of fire before disappearing into the confusion. At the moment, Emma didn’t care about anything except getting to her lover.
Blaze pushed unsteadily his feet, face twisted in anger or pain. He tackled a nearby soldier and snapped his neck, divesting the fallen enemy of his rifle.
Emma picked off a goon who was taking aim at Blaze, and then he saw her. His eyes widened, and he aimed to her right, taking out a soldier who’d drawn down on her. She felt a stinging in her arm but paid it no attention. Her objective was to get to Blaze, fight at his side.
Her team as well as the others were busy vanquishing the opposition in other areas, and even a man as skilled as hers could take on only so many alone.
Halfway to her destination, a man in fatigues raised his rifle. Took aim at Blaze’s heart.
Legs pumping, she charged, yelling. The man spun, but he was too late. She pumped his chest full of lead and kept coming, not stopping until she reached her lover’s side. They fought back to back until the last traitor fell and all that could be heard was a random burst of gunfire as their teams cleaned house.
“My God, baby,” he panted, spinning her to face him. Throwing down his rifle, he shook her hard. “You’ve been shot!”
Numbly, she studied her upper arm. “It’s a scratch.”
“A scratch! Dammit, what the hell are you doing here? Why would you put yourself in danger?”
“You know why,” she managed, tears threatening. She’d been holding them back for endless hours, and they spilled over. “I love you. You’d have done the same for me.”
His anger melted, and he crushed her to his chest, holding her tight. “Damned right. But don’t ever do it again.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“Stubborn woman. My sub is supposed to do as I say, you know.” His voice was fading, fast.
“Not when it comes to a situation like this. Forget it.”
“You will do as I…” He swayed and his knees buckled.
“Blaze!” She lowered him to the ground, laying him on his back. In the heat of battle, she hadn’t noticed that his shirt and pants were dark with blood. His face was pale and his breathing was harsh. As she moved around him to check his leg, she saw his blistered feet and stifled a cry. “What did they do to you, honey? Talk to me.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, eyes drifting shut. “Lan?”
She searched around to find Lan sitting on the ground not far away, wrapped in Nicole’s arms. Something told her that Lan would forgive his lady for holding out on being an FBI agent.
“He’s okay, I think. Nicole’s taking care of him.” No response. “Honey?”
Bastian squatted beside her, concern etched on his face. But his tone was reassuring. “He’ll be all right. I’ll make sure of it. You did good, Emma.”
“Thank you.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’s been through so much. I can’t lose him now.”
“You won’t. Nobody is losing anybody they love. Not today, or ever if I can help it,” he said firmly.
She nodded, and she had to wonder whether he was referring to Michael as well.
“Did we get Dietz?” she asked suddenly. His jaw clenched, and deadly anger lit his eyes.
“The teams are searching, but it looks like he got away. I swear if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put him in his grave,” he seethed. “I just got word, however, that Kosta, Meyer, and Major Fontaine have been apprehended by two of our teams. Kosta and Meyer were packing, presumably to leave the country, and Fontaine was in his office, oblivious.”
“Good, I hope they rot in prison. The weapon?”
“Secur
e, thank God. I’ve already contacted the president, and he’s dispatching a detail to retrieve it as we speak.”
That, at least, was one major victory. When Blaze was better, she knew they’d feel proud to have played a part in locating the bomb and saving so many lives.
But that was another day. For now she wanted nothing more than to see him open his eyes and smile, reassure her that he was fine.
The medical team rushed over and worked on him for a few minutes, attaching an IV and checking his vitals. Finally, they declared him stable and ready to transport. She was right behind them.
A stick of dynamite wasn’t going to blast her from his side.
Blaze emerged from his safe, warm cocoon even though he didn’t want to. It was fuzzy and nice here. Quiet and sleepy.
A voice kept droning around him, though. Wouldn’t let him remain in limbo. A woman’s voice, familiar. Suddenly he longed to investigate but couldn’t think why. He struggled to surface from underwater, and it was harder than he imagined.
Open his eyes. That’s what he had to do, but it seemed impossible.
“Come on, Blaze. Wakey-wakey.”
Huh?
“Nap time is over, big guy. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”
Okay. He really wasn’t one for naps anyhow, couldn’t fathom why he’d want one now that he’d heard such a pretty voice. Probably had a pretty face attached.
After significantly more effort, his lids eased open and he blinked to clear his vision. His eyeballs were gritty, but he made out a form hovering over him. A blond woman. With long hair where there should be short.
“Emma?”
“Welcome back, sweetie!” Her joy was apparent, and it made him smile.
Or he thought it did. His face seemed to be broken or something.
“I’m back? Where’d I go?”
She laughed and sniffled at the same time. Women were weird with the emotional stuff.
“You were in surgery to remove a bullet from your thigh. The one in your shoulder went clean through, so they closed you up. You’re going to be fine.”