Firewall

by DiAnn Mills

  “Let’s check out the kitchen. See what we can find.”

  “I’d be stealing, and I don’t think the church would have anything I’d eat. I’m vegan.”

  Grayson moaned. “We can look. Possibly some fruit if the church has a fridge. We can keep talking while you eat, unless vegans don’t talk with their mouths full.”

  The hint of wit pleased her. “I can multitask.”

  They walked back down the hall toward the children’s area and a small kitchen. “So you two dated and he proposed.”

  “Yes, at his condo. We’d had another catered meal.”

  “Do you remember the restaurant?”

  “Cheesecake Factory.”

  “We’ll see if the order can be traced and do the same for every restaurant.”

  “They were all on my phone’s calendar. A lot of good that does now.”

  “Do you use iCloud?” He shook his head. “I imagine you have all the latest and greatest.”

  “I do, and I could log into my iCloud account later. He has my iPad and probably my iPhone. I think. The hospital and you claim not to have them.” She told him how her iPad ended up in his possession.

  In the kitchen, he flipped on the light and opened the fridge. He tossed her an apple, then tore off a paper towel. “Take a seat and start on this. I’ll look for something more substantial.”

  She frowned but eased into a chair. After digging into her purse, she slapped a ten on the table. No reason to add thief to her list of new traits. “This should cover it.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “You are one unusual lady.”

  For the first time she noted his tan jacket over jeans and a navy shirt. When she’d seen him in the hospital, his ice-blue eyes seemed to cut through her. But now they were kind, as though he believed in her innocence. Dark-blond hair gave him an all-American look. Oddly, she liked him.

  “Eat it. You look horrible.” He turned to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of sunflower butter. “I suppose this is a substitute for peanut butter since so many kids are allergic to nuts.” Reaching into a drawer, he handed her a spoon. “Go for it.”

  She took a bite of the apple, hoping her stomach cooperated. Its juicy sweetness spread through her mouth.

  “How about some honey?”

  “No thanks. It comes from bees.”

  “The vegan thing?”

  She nodded.

  “My preference is a triple-decker cheeseburger with lots of onions and a chocolate shake.”

  She laughed. How could she find humor in the middle of such a mess? “I’d starve.” She also believed a vegan diet lowered her risk of cancer. But what did that matter when people were trying to kill you?

  “How did you get on the vegan kick?”

  She’d promised herself to hold nothing back, no matter how insignificant. “I had horrible acne as a teen. Tried everything until the change in diet cleared up my face. Even helped tame my hair.”

  Grayson sat across from her and pushed a button on his BlackBerry. He whipped out his notepad and pen. “What happened after the proposal?”

  “He arranged everything. All I did was pick out my dress.” She closed her eyes and told him what she’d learned this evening.

  “Phillip Murford—”

  A door slammed. Her gaze flew to Grayson.

  He slipped a Glock from his jacket. “We have company,” he whispered. “Did you order out for Chinese?”

  Cold dread stopped her from responding.

  CHAPTER 15

  NEW YORK

  12:55 A.M. EASTERN, TUESDAY

  My phone rings, and I check caller ID. It’s him. I’m aware of how he takes care of those who don’t perform. The same way I do, except worse. I destroy careers or bankrupt dreams and financial portfolios. Laugh at their pathetic wailings. If someone has to disappear, I know who can make it happen and how much it will cost. My hands don’t get dirty. But not the caller at the other end of the line. He kills because he’s addicted to the high. Because he likes to smear blood on his hands and take the credit.

  My phone rings until it rolls over to voice mail. Then it begins again. He won’t give up. I finish a Scotch and answer it.

  “When I call, you answer.”

  “Look at the time. I like to sleep.”

  “Where is the product?”

  “Murford is bringing it in the morning.”

  “You want to know why that won’t happen?” He curses. “Word is he’s selling it to the highest bidder.”

  I pour another Scotch. Murford has a greedy streak. I’d seen how he operated and hired him. Paid him well. “I have the situation under control.”

  “You’d better hope so.”

  I bristle. “You can’t pull this off without me, so calm down. I—”

  “You listen to me. Murford thought he had the new software, the one called Nehemiah. But Young disabled it and installed an older version. I want Nehemiah. Find your gopher. Get the job done. Understand? All I have to do is push Send, and the whole world will know you bombed IAH airport and why.”

  I know more than he thinks. He’s powerful, but I discovered his weaknesses. “If anything happens to me, my attorney pulls a trigger. Looks like we have a stalemate.”

  He laughs, a high-pitched sound that scrapes at my nerves. “Your attorney is on my payroll. The plan goes into action Friday morning. That means I want the software by Thursday.”

  The phone clicks in my ear. I down the drink. My role is to be the go-between with Murford and the others. I still have a few tricks of my own. What he doesn’t know is that I’ll gain access to the old version of the software, blow up the pipeline, and make a killing in the market.

  CHAPTER 16

  12:09 A.M. TUESDAY

  Grayson killed the kitchen light and motioned for Taryn to stay behind him. Weapon ready, he listened. Dead silence. No footsteps. In his quest to gain her confidence, he’d allowed too long of a window before backup arrived. This was why he should have stuck to protocol, been wired, and had a surveillance team outside.

  “Who’s there?” he said.

  “All I want is Taryn,” a man said.

  “Is that Murford?” Grayson whispered.

  “Yes.” Taryn stood so close, he could feel her breath against his neck.

  “Send her out, and you’ll live another day.”

  “Fat chance,” Taryn sneered. “How’s your nose? What a shame since you just had it fixed. Was it for me?”

  Taryn Young didn’t fit into any of the stereotypical computer geek molds. He admired her spunk . . . and he believed in her innocence.

  “I want access to the Nehemiah Project,” Murford said. “Give me that, and I’ll forget about my nose.”

  She laughed. “I disabled it.”

  A shot whizzed past their heads. Grayson shoved her to the floor with him. “The FBI is on their way.”

  “I know for a fact they’re twenty minutes out. And my men are inside.”

  How had he gotten FBI information? They were trapped in the small kitchen. No window. No ceiling vent. He texted the SSA, but backup couldn’t get there fast enough. He touched Taryn’s shoulder for her to stay on the floor. Creeping across the dark room, he flipped on all four burners to the electric stove.

  Grayson grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter, tore off several strips, and laid them on three burners. On the fourth he set the rest of the roll. Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a few cloth towels, and tossed them into the mix.

  Flames ignited.

  “Be ready to run,” he whispered. “Wait until I say you can go.”

  The fire alarm sounded, an ear-piercing siren guaranteed to bring the fire department.

  Grayson burst into the hallway, shooting in the direction of the back door while he urged Taryn in the opposite direction, toward the front of the church. Bullets flew past them. “Move fast. I’m right behind you.”

  He counted two shooters. How many more waited in the shadows? He and Taryn made it
into the next hallway without being shot. Faint lights from the main entrance shone both ways. He didn’t see anything but furniture, and alcoves hid the unknown.

  Grayson grasped Taryn’s hand and pushed her against a wall. A shot sailed by, confirming his suspicions while the fire alarm sounded in his ears. He pointed to the sanctuary. From the size of the church, they’d find at least four exits there. Adrenaline pumped into his system, and he hoped the same rushed through hers. He pushed open the door, and they slipped into the dark sanctuary. An exit sign at the far left corner caught his attention.

  With his hand firmly around hers, they raced to the exit. A light illuminated an exit door about forty feet away, one with a push release. A break, and they needed it as long as no surprises awaited them. Taryn slowed their pace, and he couldn’t blame her with what she’d been through.

  They rushed through the door. A blanket of humidity and eighty-plus temps greeted them.

  “Stop right there.” Phillip Murford aimed a gun at them. “You can’t get away from me.”

  12:17 A.M. TUESDAY

  Hatred seeped from Taryn’s pores. The blood staining his shirt had been her doing, and she wished she’d done more damage.

  “Drop your weapon,” Murford said.

  The man she’d thought was Francis Shepherd, the man she’d believed loved her, was a murderer. She despised him and herself for swallowing his lies. The golden arch to their future had been a pathway to hell. He had taken everything she was willing to give. But not her dignity.

  “Come to daddy, Taryn.” The same low tones she’d heard the night before. Then the words had filled her with desire. Now she wanted to spit on him.

  “I’m not the fool from yesterday.”

  “Do you want me to remind you what happened at the St. Regis?”

  “Not unless you want me to vomit.”

  He snorted. “It doesn’t change a thing.”

  “Did you kill Claire?”

  “Would I commit murder?”

  “You already have. Where’s Zoey?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Because she’s missing. And I know you have her.”

  “Aren’t you the feisty one.” He tilted his head. “You have something I need.”

  He’d made that statement on their wedding night. She felt dirty, in a way soap and water would never wash clean. “Don’t think so, Murford. Nothing I have belongs to you.”

  “Smart girl, you know my name. I bet you’ve learned I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done.” He waved the gun.

  “I want to talk about Zoey.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose we can work out a deal.”

  She pointed to Agent Hall. “What about him?”

  “The FBI agent? You’re in no position to bargain.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, moving closer.

  “Neither are you,” Hall said.

  “Taryn, I’ll blow a hole right through him if—”

  “Okay.” Enough people had died. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Hold on. One of those moves like I saw earlier and the agent’s dead.”

  He’d kill Hall no matter what she did, but she could buy time. “I understand.” She moved closer to him.

  Murford lifted his hand to his ear, obviously to communicate with those inside the church. Hall rushed him, swung fast, and knocked the gun from his hand. It fired into Hall’s left side just above his belt. Taryn dove for the weapon, its touch cold. Hall landed a punch into Murford’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. Murford kicked Hall’s wounded side, causing him to stagger. Taryn screamed and kept her fingers secured around the gun, too frightened to use self-defense tactics.

  Murford came after Hall, but the agent drove a hard right into his jaw, throwing him off-balance and giving Hall the advantage. He landed a punch to Murford’s ribs, sending him backward onto the concrete.

  While Hall’s side dripped blood, Taryn handed him Murford’s gun. Hall jerked out the man’s earbud. “Hurry, before the others find us.” He gestured to a car across the street.

  She was on the run again, but this time she wasn’t alone.

  CHAPTER 17

  12:34 A.M. TUESDAY

  Grayson sped his Mustang toward the I-610 loop, fighting the agony in his side. He’d get bandaged once Taryn was safe inside FBI headquarters. A light blinked red, and he raced through the stale green. No other vehicles were in the area. Good. Innocent people wouldn’t be hurt if the situation turned negative.

  He pressed the SSA’s number to report in, but the command post line rang busy. Was it blocked? He picked up his radio and reported to the duty agent, informing him of his wound and what had happened at the church. “On my way in,” he said.

  Turning his attention to Taryn, he recalled what she’d said about Murford being at the bus stop. “He’s trailing you. How are they doing it?”

  “I don’t know.” A moment later she yanked off her wedding ring, pushed the window button, and tossed it onto the street. “That’s the only way he could have tracked me. I’ve been coherent enough to know if he did anything else.” Her jaw clenched, and her fists balled. “I was too afraid to move back there. I’m sorry. When Murford shot you, I freaked. I despise that man.”

  “Anger can be a good thing, but don’t let it control you.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “You’re the one bleeding. I’m fine . . . a fighter.”

  “It shows. How is it a vegan won’t visit the zoo or rodeo, but you’ll level a man with martial arts?”

  “Nobody’s perfect.”

  Her quirky sense of humor must keep her sane. “Remind me not to make you mad. I read you graduated from Caltech at age seventeen with a computer science degree. Received your doctorate by age twenty-one.”

  “But I don’t have street smarts. There’s a big difference.”

  “What made you choose to hide out in a church?”

  “God’s supposed to be there, and I needed all the help I could find. The rear door was unlocked.”

  “Good enough reasons for me. Thanks for calling.”

  “I prayed first—an odd thing for me. The only two people I could trust were Claire and Ethan. And they’re dead.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I’m sure their deaths make you feel secure.”

  “We got out of the mess back there.”

  “Maybe this is the end of the running. Maybe now the whole world will know I’m not a killer. Do you have any idea how it feels to see your face plastered on TV with terrorist and bomber attached to your name?”

  “We’ll make sure the media rectifies the matter.” But he knew her innocence would not hit the headlines like her alleged involvement had. “We’re headed to the FBI office now.” He needed to call the SSA again. A glance in the rearview mirror changed his mind. His senses sharpened. A black SUV raced toward them.

  “Do you recognize the vehicle behind us?”

  She whirled to take a look. “No, Agent Hall. And it’s not slowing down.”

  “The name’s Grayson. We’ve come too far to be formal.” The SUV rode the bumper. “We may have a problem.” Tossing his BlackBerry into the console, he stepped on the gas. The SUV stayed on him. A gun emerged from the vehicle’s passenger window. “Duck, Taryn. They mean business.” He raced ahead.

  Shots fired. The rear window shattered, and the bullet exited about a foot to his right. Too close for his liking. Up ahead a truck and another SUV pulled parallel into the middle of the street.

  “Sorry to ask this, but I need your eyes.”

  She inched up. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re about to make a few wild turns. Hold on. Watch for any surprises.” He stole a quick look at his GPS. The alley ahead to the left would take them to a one-way street—and he needed to turn the wrong way on it. The diversion might buy time.

  “If you had a truck, you could crash through,” she said. “Tear them apart.”

&n
bsp; Phillip Murford had met his match with this one. “I think you have a daredevil gene.”

  “More like a vengeful one. I want to throw a grenade.”

  “I have a Glock and Murford’s SIG when you’re ready.” Two armed men appeared from the vehicles in front of them. “Hold on.” He swung left and turned on two wheels. Hadn’t done that since training at Quantico. Made him feel like a kid again until a shot took off the outside right mirror. He couldn’t look at Taryn, or he’d risk losing control.

  “Are you okay?” He zipped down the alley.

  “I’m fine. Where are the police? The FBI?”

  “I’m all we have at the moment.” He hit a pothole, and his BlackBerry popped up and fell to the floorboard under the gas pedal. He tried to kick it with his left foot, but it wedged there. They needed speed. Now. With his toe, he maneuvered the phone until it broke free of the pedal. Grimacing at his wound, he grabbed the device and dropped it back into the console. The connection held his lifeline . . . prayer too. “Hold on to this for me.”

  She wrapped her fingers around it “I’ll keep it safe.”

  But who was going to keep them safe? God, I hope You’re watching all this because I’ve about run out of options.

  At the end of the alley, he turned the wrong way on a one-way street, the SUV hot after them.

  “Grayson!”

  A semitruck headed straight for them.

  CHAPTER 18

  12:57 A.M. TUESDAY

  Taryn held her breath, her hands trembling. The grille of the semitruck bared its silver teeth like a monster. Speeding closer. The horn blared. The SUV continued to ride their bumper. Computer games had never offered this kind of heart-pounding action. Neither had reality shows.

  “If we live through this, I owe you,” she said.

  “How about a steak dinner?”

  “Not Tony’s.”

  “What?”

  “Just get us away from these schizo people.” Death-defying moments like what had happened over the past twelve hours made her wonder if her heart would last until Murford was stopped.