“Allison will be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“She could be hurt today, you know. Protecting me.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Seriously?”
“Sorry.”
“No one’s getting hurt today. Not if I can help it.”
“That’s the thing, though. You can’t help it. None of you can do anything to stop something like that.”
She had a point, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. “You’re inventing things to worry about. It’s counterproductive.” If anyone knew about that, it was me.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? Knowing that someone might die because of you.”
I clenched my jaw against the agony building up inside me. I knew she didn’t mean anything by it, that she was thinking solely about her own concerns and had no idea what’d happened to me. To Lucia. So I pushed the pain down and continued my visual sweep of the area. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“I want to not be scared right now. I want to turn it off like you do. I was hoping you could teach me how.”
“That’s not something you can teach.” I thought back to the argument Allison and I had before we’d left, about me begging her to sit this one out. “And it isn’t exactly that I’m not scared for Allison. I’m just not thinking about anything happening to her. And on the rare occasions I do, I just assume she’ll come out on top.”
Hurricane snorted. “That’s it? That’s your big secret? You assume you guys will always win?”
“What can I say? We’re a cocky bunch.” I stopped talking to listen to the radio traffic the rest of the guys were putting out. When Hurricane started speaking again, I held up one finger, silently asking her to hold her thought.
“Flannigan, Flannigan from Valentine.”
“Go for Flannigan,” Dad said.
“Flannigan, we’ve had negative contact at the residence. I repeat, negative contact at the residence. We have phones but no bodies. Copy?”
“Flannigan copies. Do you have a rough distance from your location to us?”
“Less than ten mikes on foot,” Valentine replied. “Probably closer to seven. No way for us to know how long they’ve been gone, though.”
“Flannigan copies direct. Relocate your team to your secondary positions. Break. Flannigan to all units at the park, be advised that the cell-tracking team was unable to locate the targets. It’s likely they’re already on their way to us. Keep your eyes open, and don’t be afraid to speak up if you see anything.”
I heard a lot of double clicks of various microphones as people acknowledged the new information. My heart fluttered. I hadn’t realized just how solidly I’d pinned my hopes on the ESU team being able to extract Rory from Walker’s clutches before they ever left wherever he’d been holed up with her until I heard that they hadn’t. I swallowed hard.
“What’s going on?” Hurricane asked.
I frowned. My examination of everything and everyone around me had ratcheted up a notch. “Huh?”
“The guys were talking?”
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“I don’t have a radio, remember?”
“Oh. Right. Sorry. The team tracking the cell phones just reported that when they hit the residence, Rory and Walker weren’t there.”
“Is that bad?”
“It isn’t necessarily good or bad per se.”
“But?”
“But obviously it would’ve been better if they’d been able to get Rory away from Walker sooner rather than later.”
What I didn’t bother to say—couldn’t have made myself say—was that now that Walker had ditched the phones, we had no way to track them. He could be spiriting her away to Mexico right now. He probably wasn’t, but I hated the complete lack of assurances.
“They’re on their way here then?”
“That’s the assumption, yes. But we can’t be sure.” I tried not to think about that. “You okay?”
She looked like she might be sick. But she nodded and tried to put on a brave face. “Yeah.”
“You’ll be fine. Just remember what I told you. Keep several arm’s lengths between you at all times, all right?”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to stop and pretend to fix my shoes so you can get a little ahead of me, okay? They should be here any second, if they’re not already, and we need to look like we’re not together.”
“Flannigan, Flannigan from Reynolds.” Allison’s voice floated over the air. “Be advised that two individuals matching the subjects’ descriptions just left the roadway to cut through the trees due west of the zoo. They appear to be heading in the direction of the Picnic House. The male is dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a dark hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. The female is in jeans and a white button-down dress shirt. He’s keeping her pretty close. Copy direct?”
“Flannigan copies direct. Break. All units in the park, be advised the subjects are on set. Everybody hold your positions and stand by for further instructions.”
Shit. Hurricane and I were already circling down around the south side of the ball fields. Rory and Walker were well behind us. Considering that the house his cell phone had been traced to was on the west side of the park, it meant that he and Rory had to have been wandering around in here for a little while to have ended up all the way over by the zoo. My stomach turned as I considered the implications. He’d likely been conducting countersurveillance, trying to spot the agents. Fuck me.
Determined not to let that notion distract me, I grabbed the sleeve of Hurricane’s puffy coat to get her to stop and changed direction, pulling her back up the roadway we’d just run.
“They’re here. Keep following this path back past the softball fields toward where we came in, okay? He’s dressed in jeans and a dark hoodie. My sister’s in jeans and a white shirt. You should see them in the big field on your right. When you spot him, make sure he sees you and then stop. Make him come to you, okay? But not too close.”
Hurricane looked almost terrified now. That was not good. I needed her to keep it together for at least another few minutes.
“Zoey.” I deliberately used her first name to get her attention.
“Yeah?” She looked dazed.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” She nodded, and I clapped her on the shoulder. “Go on.”
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to keep following the path the other way so I can come up on the opposite side of the ball fields to try to get in between him and you. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you in my field of vision for as long as I can. Hannah’s right behind us, and the rest of the guys will keep an eye on you even when I can’t. They’ll make sure I’m updated on where you are at all times, all right?”
Hurricane nodded, took a deep breath, and ran off. I watched her go for a moment before I slowly reversed direction again. Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I keyed the mike I had clipped to the strap of my sports bra under my T-shirt.
“Flannigan, Flannigan from O’Connor. Be advised Hurricane and I have just split up. She’s headed north on the inner roadway just to the west of the ball fields. I’m taking the roadway around to the east so I can try to cut them off and scuttle Rory out of there while he’s distracted talking to Hurricane. I’m going to need someone to call out Hurricane’s locations to me, copy?”
“Valenti copies. I’m about two dozen steps behind her. I’m going to need a little help since I’m so far away, though.”
Rico jumped in. “Corazon copies direct. I should be able to see her in a minute or so. I’m on a bench between the fields and the Tennis House. No sign of Walker yet, though.”
“Roger,” someone else interjected. “They’re still in the trees just north of the Ravine. I’ll call it out when they clear them.”
I increased my pace, determined to at least put eyes on them before Hurricane r
eached them. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, making the run slightly easier than it might otherwise have been, although I didn’t think the desire to verify my sister’s well-being hurt either.
I continued tooling along as fast as I could. The bellyband that held my weapon flush against my lower abdomen underneath my shirt was irritating me. It didn’t sit right with the vest I had on. It’d been a bad idea to wear it. I should’ve just gone with the fanny pack like I’d originally wanted. I rubbed at the band as I strode.
My breathing was beginning to become labored, and my legs burned. I yearned so badly for this to be over that I ached inside. Except for the occasional glances I spared for trying to see Hurricane across the fields, I kept my eyes on the path in front of me as I strained to see the open meadow up ahead. Letting out a frustrated huff, I struggled to increase my pace.
Time seemed to both speed up and slow in the same moment. I kept my ears tuned to the earpiece I was wearing, almost willing someone—anyone—to say something. But the silence stretched on, driving me insane.
The signs dotting the path told me I was nearing the first of two small lakes on my right, and I glanced again toward the west inner roadway while I was out of the trees for a moment. I’d hoped to glimpse Hurricane before I hit the next set of faux-forest, but the trees on her side of the park still concealed her.
My heart dropped. Maybe splitting up so I could intercept Walker had been a bad idea, too. The notion that my poor decision could lead to Hurricane getting hurt made my head swim, and I tried to banish the thought. Rico and Hannah had her now. They’d keep her safe.
“They just broke through the trees and turned north,” someone said. “They’re now headed straight up the field in the direction of Grand Army Plaza.”
I sighed in relief and pushed myself harder. Every time I swung my right arm, the area just below my elbow banged against the outline of my pistol and jammed it into my hip. I was likely to have bruises from the encounter, but it seemed like a small price to pay.
“That’s a good copy,” I heard someone else say. “They’re headed right to us, but the woman is still too close to him. It looks like he’s holding her arm. We need to get her farther away. When we do, I’ll have the officer with me release the dog.”
“Copy,” Dad said. “Stand by for that. Does anybody have a location on Hurricane?”
“That’s affirmative,” Rico said. “I’ve got the eyeball. She passed me on the roadway a minute or so ago. She’s walking now. I’m following behind at a safe distance.”
“What’s her ETA to the target?” Dad asked.
“Less than one mike,” Rico replied.
“Corazon from Valenti, you’ve got her now. I have to run past you guys, so I don’t look too suspicious. I’ll try to double back when I can.”
Someone—presumably Rico—clicked their microphone twice in acknowledgment, and the radio went silent once again. I scowled as I attempted to figure out how much farther I’d have to run in order to be able to see my sister.
I thought back to the NPC-50 the other day and how desperate I’d felt as I’d raced toward the finish line, how every cell in my body had been crying out for that goal. At the time, I’d thought I’d never again be crushed underneath the weight of the desire for something to be over. Not like that. Fuck if I didn’t just hate being wrong.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I burst through the trees and out into the meadow. There, in the distance, I could see Rory and Walker. With a strangled cry that was a cross between despair and elation, I locked myself into an all-out sprint.
In the far corner of my vision, I saw Hurricane step off the path and onto the grass of the field Walker and Rory were slowly making their way across. Walker had been looking around the entire time he’d been walking and spotted Hurricane almost immediately. He froze, pulling Rory to a halt with him. She stumbled at the abrupt motion, and Walker yanked her arm hard.
Before Walker had seen Hurricane, I’d been at his six o’clock, and therefore he couldn’t have seen me. Now, however, he’d turned so that he could face her, and I was at his eight. If he swiveled his head even a little bit to the left, he wouldn’t be able to help noticing me racing across the grass. My heart stuttered, and I prayed as desperately as I’d ever prayed for anything that he’d be too focused on Hurricane’s presence to bother looking at anyone but her.
I was closing in fast, but I still didn’t feel like it was fast enough. And the fact that Walker still had yet to release Rory unsettled me. I didn’t like the tight hold he appeared to have on her arm. I didn’t like the way she seemed to be having trouble walking. I didn’t like the way he continued to advance upon Hurricane. I really didn’t like the way she was still creeping away from the relative safety that the distance between them afforded her and inching toward him. Actually, I didn’t like a single thing about this situation.
Walker had Rory pulled tight to his right side and looked to be keeping her there with an iron grip on her bicep with his right hand. For a long time, I couldn’t see his left since it was concealed from my view by his body, but when he finally brought his hand into my field of vision as he waved it to emphasize some point, I saw he was holding a knife. I felt an immediate pressure in my chest, and my body went cold.
Where the hell had the goddamn knife come from? And why the fuck hadn’t somebody called it out before now? Did anybody else even realize Walker was armed? Shit, I needed to call this out over the air. I lifted my hand toward my mike.
“Flannigan, Flannigan from Ng,” a voice broke in before I could pass along my own message. “Be advised, the K-9 handler reports that Rory’s still too close, and now so is Hurricane. He can’t release the dog until they’re both clear. Copy?”
“Flannigan copies. Corazon, Corazon from Flannigan. Do you still have the eyeball?”
“Copy. I’ve still got it. I’m working on getting closer without alerting him. Stand by.”
The chatter between the other agents on set continued, leaving me no opportunity to interject. I tuned them out. Sprinting the way I was, I’d have to engage the threat sooner rather than later. I had no time left to even make the notification. Not if I wanted to keep off Walker’s radar.
I was close enough now that I could almost hear what Walker and Hurricane were saying as they talked. Or I would’ve been able to if not for the roar of my own heart screaming in my ears. I was trying not to panic, not to let my emotions take over, not to do anything stupid. But my entire world view had narrowed and locked onto that weapon, and that wasn’t exactly aiding my thinking processes.
Secret Service policy dictates that when there is an assault on a protectee, we send the maximum number of agents to the protectee and the minimum number to the actual problem. That’s what we’d all been trained to do. It was a law-of-averages thing. In theory, with a bunch of us there, one of us would end up intercepting the threat—one of us would take that hit—so the rest of the agents could evacuate the protectee from the situation unharmed.
My training was kicking in pretty damn hard. Rory might not have been a protectee, but to my mind, it didn’t matter. She was in immediate danger, and the way I saw it, I could ensure her safety only one way.
I had to get between my sister and that knife.
Chapter Twenty
Spurred on by my resolve to finish this before it somehow got even more complicated and messy, I unzipped my sweatshirt and shucked it as I ran, desperate to get my hands on my weapon. There was no end to the litany of curses I uttered at myself for allowing the guys to talk me into wearing this stupid bellyband. I’d never used it before. I was completely unpracticed on how to draw quickly and safely from it. I’d known it was a horrible idea to stray from our oft-muttered adage of “play how you train” when I’d put it on, but I’d agreed to it out of a desire to be as inconspicuous as possible. Fanny packs screamed law enforcement, and I hadn’t wanted to call that kind of attention to myself. Now it looked like Rory and Hurricane mi
ght have to pay for my lack of common sense.
Frantic now, I clawed at the hem of my shirt, trying to lift it up out of the way so I could worm my hand between the butt of the gun and my vest. I needed to get a good grip. Now I was able to lament my other mistake: carrying a weapon I wasn’t used to. This thing was tiny compared to my issued duty weapon, and I was having a hard time getting a secure handle on it so I could draw. I didn’t think either the pressure of the situation or my attempt to do this without breaking stride were helping matters.
After several unsuccessful attempts, I gave up. Clearly the only way to draw that weapon would’ve been to stop running, and that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, what the hell would I do with the gun once I had it drawn? Training and protocol dictated that I should call out to Walker, to identify myself as law enforcement and give him a chance to drop the knife before I shot him. Not doing so would’ve been tantamount to execution as far as a defense attorney was concerned, and I didn’t have any desire to see him die or to be raked over the coals for killing him. But issuing the requisite verbal warning would also give him more than enough time to stab Rory, and that was out of the question.
Also out of the question was shooting anywhere other than center mass. I was too hopped up on adrenaline and nerves to trust my aim with anything smaller than his chest. A shot to the thigh or the arm would’ve made for great television, but I couldn’t take the chance that I’d miss and hit Rory or Hurricane or anyone else.
No, my gun was definitely out. That left me no choice. If I wanted that knife, I was going to have to wrest it from him, and in order to do that, I’d need to get close to him and then take him by surprise.
I was closing in fast. When I was maybe six steps away, I shouted to my sister to run. “Asha, rith!”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I launched myself at Walker. He’d let go of Rory and started to turn at the sound of my voice, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of his eyes widening before I slammed into his chest with my shoulder. The force of the impact was jarring, and I bit my tongue hard as we tumbled to the ground in a cacophony of grunts and a tangle of limbs.
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