by Sara York
They set the sked down and Brody blew out a quick breath of air. "What the fuck is going on here? This isn't normal. I can't—"
"Zip it and I'll keep you alive," James barked.
"I—"
"Do you want to live?"
"Yeah."
"That's right, pretty boy, you can go back home to your wife and whatever else is waiting for you. Just stick with me and do exactly what I say." James made a tactical decision, opening the door to the control room. "Pick up your end and follow me in. We'll be safe in here."
"Okay."
The door shut behind them, blocking out the orders Grant was barking. James turned on the light and watched as Brody blinked against the brightness. James stepped over Marshal and backed Brody up against the door.
"Not one word, nothing, no thoughts either about this place. You weren't here."
Brody's gaze shifted and James placed his hand on the man's chest, pressing him against the door and getting his attention again.
"Your life is mine now. If we'd stayed out there, you'd be dead. So I get to say when you die. As long as you never say a single word about this place, I'll allow you to keep on breathing. And I'm fucking serious. Right now, we're going to play doctor and make Marshal better. I have everything to set up an IV."
"Are you a medic?"
"I've had medical training. I don't feel comfortable operating on his arm, but we can get him stable and take away some of the pain."
Brody nodded and narrowed his eyes. "You are joking about this place, right?"
James stiffened and snarled. "I'm fucking serious. Don't test me. You want to see the little wifey again?"
"I'm not married."
"Fine, you want to ever have sex again, don't talk about this room or this house. Ever."
James didn't know if he got the message across. It was stupid and he was breaking all kinds of rules by bringing Brody in here. One thing was certain, they'd be dead if they were still out in the open. This room was fire and bulletproof. Only a bomb aimed directly at this spot would get through.
*~*~*
Zander watched as James moved Marshal into the control room. He didn't like that a stranger was in their secret room, but Marshal needed to be protected. The house had the best in fire suppression equipment, so he wasn't worried about that, but James would have to answer to Duff about why a stranger was in the control room. He sure as hell didn't want to be around for that.
He crawled to the locked cabinet where they had a rifle stowed. He entered the code in on the keypad and the locked clicked. Craig would be smart, setting up where he couldn’t easily be hit. This wasn't a job for the semi-automatics. No, he needed to grab his L129A1 equipped with a kickass night vision scope. He took a box of ammunition for the rifle and closed the cabinet.
Tucker was somewhere, hopefully not dead. They should be able to pin Craig in with both of them sniping. There weren't too many options on where to set up. Craig had the upper hand, but maybe he could take that away. Zander thought about all of the rooms in the house and what advantage each would offer. He could set up down here, but he bet Craig had chosen a position that would give him the upper hand. Who knew how long Craig had contemplated waging a war with the ranch. Craig knew the landscape because he'd lived here for so long. He had every advantage on his side, but Zander had love and he sure as hell wasn't going to let the fucking bastard take away the love of his life.
Upstairs he'd be able to see the landscape, but not one of the rooms was set up right for sniping. He'd have to move furniture, making a platform where none existed. Careful to avoid the glass and debris littering the floor, Zander crawled to the stairs, climbing up them quickly. He moved to the side of the house above the kitchen, entering Mike's room. After moving his magazines off the dresser top, Zander pushed the heavy furniture over to the window, cursing the damned thing the whole time.
He parted the blinds just enough to look out. At first, he saw nothing, then the flash of Craig's gun alerted him of the guy's position. Moving slowly, Zander set up his gun stand, angling the weapon in Craig's general direction. The blinds would have to be open. If Mike had curtains, it might be easier, however any movement in the curtain would be detected by Craig and that might make it worse.
Slowly, Zander twisted the blind rod, opening the window fully. He ducked low and moved behind his gun. Craig could be watching him just as intently as he planned on watching Craig. The second he rose above the window ledge, he could be shot but it was a risk he would have to take.
He swallowed down his fear, replacing it with determination to keep Marshal safe. Rising slowly, Zander stood. The scope might have just enough flash on the lens to draw Craig's attention. He waited for something bad to happen as he adjusted the gun, searching for Craig.
The guy could have moved but Zander didn't think Craig would. When he finally looked through the scope, he couldn’t see Craig. His heart beat faster and he moved the scope, searching for Craig. It was dangerous to stay visible for so long without knowing where his enemy was.
Less than a second after Zander lowered below the table, the glass in front of him shattered. Craig knew where he was and he was screwed. He abandoned his rifle, heading downstairs as quickly as possible. After grabbing a Glock out of the gun cabinet, Zander made his way out the front door, moving slowly around the side of the house. As long as Craig hadn't moved again, he was safe. Zander used his night vision goggles, searching out Craig. He saw movement beside the barn and for a second he thought it was Craig, but he recognized Tucker.
This was getting crazy. They'd end up killing each other if they weren't careful. He slowly made his way back inside, trying to come up with a plan that would keep everyone safe.
A sound to his right, off the main entryway, drew his attention. Zander turned but something hit him on the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. He blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. Then he saw Craig standing above him, his mouth turned down in a frown. He was freaking screwed and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Chapter Eighteen
Grant saw the movement outside and followed, knowing the shadowy figure because he'd been in love with the guy for years. It was different now. He knew Craig hadn't ever loved him. Then there were the lies. Craig hadn't told the truth about anything, drawing Grant into a relationship based on lies. The bastard had played them all, but he'd really played Grant. His men needed to be protected and if Craig had to die, then so be it.
The side door to the house, the one no one ever used, was left open. He'd seen Craig move in this direction and assumed he'd gone inside. Grant closed the door behind him, stepping quietly into the hall that led to the laundry room. Being ambushed would suck, so Grant moved to the laundry door then pushed it open slowly. His night vision goggles were still on, allowing him to determine the room was empty.
Grant closed the door behind him and opened the linen closet door. The shelves would have prevented anyone other than a small child from hiding in the closet, but he had to check. Six feet down the hall, the door to a small bathroom was left open. He searched the bathroom, coming up empty.
He knew this house like the back of his hand and so did Craig. Being lazy, taking for granted any alcove or closet would get him killed. If it were him, he'd head to the control room, or maybe he'd position himself in the den. But there were too many issues with the den and kitchen. Both were open. What the fuck was Craig hoping to accomplish? The only thing Grant could guess was killing them all.
He never should have tracked Craig to England. It was shortsighted and immature. The man had pissed him off and at the time he'd been thinking with his heart and not his head. Now he new that Craig's heart had never been involved in the matter. Craig was a dangerous monster, not a friend like he'd assumed when he left for England. His worst fears about the man were real.
Grant heard the sharp squeak of a door down the hall and paused, plastering himself against the wall. It was Duff's room. He held still,
breathing as silently as possible. Craig stepped out of Duff's bedroom. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his muscles clenched. The distance between him and Craig was too great to effectively rush and attack. Holding off would allow Craig too much freedom.
In that second, Grant made a decision. He rushed forward and Craig flinched before turning. Grant was on him, his fist striking Craig in the side of the head before he chopped down hard, striking the side of Craig's neck. Any other man would have gone down, but not Craig.
They struggled, their fists flying as well as their feet. The hall didn't allow for an all out martial arts fight, but they were hurting each other. Grant got in a good foot strike before Craig spun around, knocking Grant's feet out from under him. They both went down, Craig on top at first. Then Grant kipped his hips and was able to knock Craig off. He scrambled on top of his ex, throwing a punch that snapped Craig's head back and made his eyes roll.
It was the break Grant needed. He pummeled Craig again, striking his face twice. The fight wasn't won, but Grant had the upper hand. He heard someone run into the hall but didn't stop his assault. After a few more punches, hands grabbed at Grant's shoulders and pulled him off Craig. The lights flashed on, blinding Grant for a moment. He yanked away his night vision goggles and shook his head. Mike was there, slapping cuffs on Craig. All was well, and he could breathe easy.
Grant sat back against the wall and watched. This wasn't how he thought Craig would come back to them. All of the years loving Craig came at Grant, hitting him in the chest hard. He gasped for breath, wondering if he'd ever be able to take a full breath again. The love he'd felt for the man was gone, but hate hadn't replaced it. Instead, there was an empty feeling that sucked at his soul. He'd wasted years of his life with Craig.
Marshal was already taking a leave of absence, and some of the other guys were strung out and would need a break. He couldn’t keep going at this pace, but he couldn’t leave Duff in a lurch. He had nothing left to give.
"Grant, you okay?" Mike asked.
He shook his head to clear it, focusing on his injuries. Nothing he couldn’t recover from. "Yeah, just a bit beat up."
"Shit," Mike cursed. "I can't believe this fucker was in our house going through—"
"Hey," Grant interrupted him, "check Duff's room. He was in there."
"Fuck." Mike raced to Duff's room. Grant saw the lights flip on. "Goddammit," Mike screamed.
"What?" Grant crawled to his feet and ran to Duff's room, his heart racing.
"The fucking asshole planted a bomb." Mike's voice was even, but his eyes were wide, showing his true fear.
"I'll get Zander and James in here." Grant moved with purpose to the kitchen and found Zander on the floor. Grant dropped to his knees beside the man, to find that he was out cold. "Fuck."
He needed to find James. Too bad Roger wasn't here too because they needed another explosives expert on site. Shit, they were short staffed when things like this came up. But nothing like this had ever happened on the ranch. Usually they could pick and choose who went on a mission, making sure they had guys with the right training to fit what ever would come their way.
"James!" Grant yelled. He needed to find James and he wasn't sure he would have his phone.
Grant ran to the control room, punching in the code to unlock the door. Shock coursed through him when the door swung open, revealing James and a stranger leaning over Marshal.
"Who the fuck is he?" Grant asked.
"Brody. He's going to stay silent on anything he sees here." James' voice was forceful, carrying weight.
"Brody, grab the stretcher with me and get Marshal out of here. James, head to Duff's room. There's a special package there for you."
"Fuck." James jumped up then turned back to Brody. "Nothing about this place crosses your lips. You may think you can talk without us knowing, we will know. You think the NSA has resources, they've got nothing on us. Don't say a fucking thing. You got it?"
Grant moved Marshal, hating the way his friend looked. They moved the sked to the den. "We need to transport him."
Duff burst through the door. "I have Washington on the line. A helicopter is on the way. When the sun comes up they'll send in a team to fight the fire. We'll get a handle on this."
"Duff, Craig has been subdued but he left a special package in your room."
"Shit." Duff stared at Brody, his eyes narrowing. "Who the fuck are you?"
Brody shook his head. "No one, and as far as I know I've never been in this house. I know nothing."
"Son, this is life or death, you speak of this place, of any of us, you'll end up dead. That's not a threat, that's for your own safety. It won't be us who will kill you either. I'm dead serious. You don't want to know any of us."
"Yes, sir." Brody knelt beside Marshal, checking the IV line.
Grant stared at the man for a few seconds before turning to Duff. "When is the chopper due?"
"Any minute."
"Brody, let's take Marshal to the barn. It's too dangerous to be in this house right now."
Brody nodded and lifted his end of the stretcher. When they were almost at the barn, the sound of the chopper coming in heavy filled the night. The fire was raging on the mountain, changing the landscape as it destroyed everything in its path. They ducked into the barn, shielding Marshal from the wash of hot air. Brody turned to Grant, his face serious.
"What is this place?"
"Don't ask any questions. You don't want to know. Just stay low, keep quiet and forget you were ever here. We're the good guys you don't want to mess with. One call and we have a US Military helicopter on our property. If you look close, you'll see it's armed."
The helicopter landed and the blades spun down. Grant opened the barn door and saw Zander stumbling around. At least he was up, but he didn't look good. Two guys dressed in military camo exited the helicopter. They ran toward Zander first. Grant and Brody carried the sked holding Marshal toward the chopper. Two more guys in military garb jumped out and headed over, grabbing the sked from them.
Grant turned and saw Craig being half carried, half led to the helicopter. Duff had his hand gripped on Craig's arm and Mike supported his other side. Grant watched as Craig was loaded onto the chopper and secured in a seat.
The military guys moved Marshal from the sked to their stretcher, strapping him in. Zander and Billy were placed in seats opposite Craig. The snarl on Billy's lip was enough to convince Grant they could handle any shit Craig threw their way.
Duff climbed up in the back of the chopper and the pilot signaled with his hand before starting up the rotor. Grant grabbed hold of Brody and pulled him to safety. Mike raced away, heading to the house. The chopper took off fast, heading north. The fire still raged, lighting the area with its yellow-orange glow. Grant held on tight to Brody's arm and tried to get him into the house, but the guy wasn't budging.
"I have a fire to put out," Brody said.
"I can't let you go."
"Why, because I know too much? I'm not saying anything. Plus, what the hell could I say? It's not like I have any clue what the hell happened here."
"Listen, wonder boy, there's a bomb in this house. I need you here in case someone is injured or if something happens to James."
"James?" Brody's cheeks turned red.
"Yeah, this won't take long, but we're short on men right now and need your help."
Brody nodded and followed Grant inside. When they stepped into the kitchen he could see Tucker bouncing on the balls of his feet and Mike chewing on his fingernails. He guessed that James was still working on disarming the bomb.
"Any news?" Grant asked.
"He thinks he has it figured out," Tucker said.
"This really sucks." Mike shook his head and sighed. "Who's he?"
"I'm Brody." Brody stepped forward to shake Mike then Tucker's hand. The move was ballsy.
"Brody, what's your last name?" Tucker asked.
"Medders. I live north of town, almost to the intersta
te."
Grant moved down the hall and heard the shuffle of feet behind him. He glanced back, noticing that Brody had followed. Tucker and Mike weren't far behind.
"Just be quiet. James doesn't need the distraction." Grant moved to the doorway and looked in. James was bent over, staring at the device. A pair of wire snips were in his hand and sweat beaded on his brow. Grant wanted to tell James to leave, that he'd take the brunt of the impact. These guys on the ranch were too important to him. He couldn’t allow Mike or Tucker to be harmed by Craig's stupidity.
Grant was ready to tell the other guys to leave when James looked up. "Hey, don't go. I have it solved but I'm trying not to rush too much. You see, Craig didn't change his MO. He used the same type of explosive he would have made when he was working here."
"Really?" Grant asked.
"Yeah, it's like I don't trust that he actually did, but I'm looking and this is classic Craig."
"I guess the danger is less," Tucker said.
"Or am I being too simplistic and I'm going to regret it later? Well, I won't really regret it because I'll be dead." James lowered the wire snips and turned to look at the group.
"Can I look?" Grant asked.
"Yeah, but you aren't trained on explosives."
"No, but I know Craig. I know how he thinks and how he operates."
James nodded and Grant headed in, glancing down at the device. A few years ago they'd all learned how bombs were assembled, focusing on the methods commonly used. James and Zander were the experts, but all of them knew how to defuse a simple bomb, and this one looked simple.
Chapter Nineteen
Brody didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Who the fuck lived in a house where bombs were a common occurrence? Every cell in his body screamed for him to flee. The other guys seemed to almost be comfortable as they stared down at the bomb. Had that been the only thing that had happened tonight, he'd be worried, but the Army helicopter landing, the gunfire, and that secret room had him freaked out.