by LENA DIAZ,
She curled up in a fetal position. She wanted to give up. She wanted to lie there and cry and pound the floor until her anger and fear and pain were spent. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the luxury of being selfish, of giving up, when the man she now realized she was in love with was about to be ambushed. He had no idea there were six men locked inside Camelot with him, armed to the teeth, with body armor that would make it even harder to defend himself. Somehow she had to help him.
Which meant she had to get out of this room.
The computer screen beside the door was still on. The view showed the main room, from another angle. Dalton was pressing his hand against the pad that should have opened the panel to the hallway that led back here, where she was. But the wall didn’t open. He sprinted across the room to the other side, where they’d both come through on their way to the conference room days earlier. It wouldn’t open either. No matter what he tried, he was stuck. Leaving only one door to try. The conference room. Which would lead to the great hall, and all those mercenaries waiting to kill him.
A sob burst from her as she watched him go into the conference room.
She looked back at the video screen. Other camera angles popped up, as if someone was scrolling through each one, searching for threats. A view of the parking lot showed that help had arrived, not that it would do any good with the steel shutters sealing the place. The Seekers were on the porch, trying the door, using tire irons to pry on the steel shutters, desperately trying to find a way in. But nothing was working.
Unwelcome tears tracked down her face as she watched their futile efforts. She had to let them inside, somehow, to help Dalton. But how?
She slowly turned and looked at the windows. Maybe the stone wall beneath them wasn’t as sheer-faced as Bethany had said. Using the end of the bed to push herself to standing, she limped across the room and peered through the glass. Her pulse thudded in her ears. Nausea coiled in her stomach. She clutched the windowsill like a lifeline as she strained to see the rock wall supporting this side of the cabin. She couldn’t see it.
Drawing a shaky breath, she shoved the window up, then, before she could lose her nerve, she pushed out the screen. She didn’t hear it hit the ground. She swallowed, drew a few more deep breaths, then poked her head out the window. The building was on the edge of a jagged, rocky mountainside that seemed to drop almost straight down before reaching the pine tree filled valley far below.
She very carefully angled her hand out the side of the window and ran it across the stone. It was more like concrete block than real stone, probably painted a faux rock finish. But there were crevices between the blocks. Enough for a fingerhold? Or a foothold, if someone was truly desperate?
Spots swam in her vision at the thought of trying to somehow lower herself out the window to reach the one she’d seen directly below this one. Even if she could somehow do that, which didn’t seem possible, how could she open the other window? She’d have to kick it in. How could she cling to those tiny crevices while kicking in a window? She couldn’t. It was impossible. Then what could she do? There had to be another way to get help for Dalton.
She turned around. The screen showed more views, each one popping up for a few seconds, revealing different hallways, rooms, tunnels. Why? Was Bethany scrolling through the camera views trying to find Dalton? Did that mean he hadn’t fallen for her trap and had managed to go down some hidden passageway? Even if he had, it was only a matter of time before her hired killers found him. Six against one, five if one of them was busy trying to hack into the computers.
Hack into the computers.
She straightened and limped to the screen. Not just a screen, a connection, hardwired to Camelot’s security system. If she could activate the onscreen virtual keyboard function, since it was already logged into the security system, she might be able to access the controls for those metal shutters that were keeping the Seekers from helping Dalton.
She popped the screen off its base, revealing the tiny motherboard and wires that connected it to the main computer and got to work.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dalton dodged left, then right, carefully counting steps as he made his way through the pitch-black tunnel, following the map in his mind so he wouldn’t fall victim to any of Camelot’s defenses. One of the mercenaries that The Ghost had brought with her hadn’t known about the traps. As he’d followed Dalton into the tunnel, a quick jab to his throat and a violent twist of his arm had him slamming to the floor and hitting the right side of the wall. A trapdoor had popped open and the man’s screams of terror ended with a sickening thud two stories below on solid bedrock.
“One down. Hold on, Hayley. I’m coming. Just hold on.” He shoved his pistol into his holster and gingerly ran his hand along the wall to his left. There, two bumps. He pressed them. Then he slid his hand to the right two inches, found the next set of bumps, and pressed again, hard.
Lights popped on in the tunnel overhead.
“Finally.” He looked at the floor, then very carefully skirted around another trapdoor before pressing another spot on the wall. The wood paneling popped out, then flipped over to reveal a screen with a keyboard attached to the bottom. He blew dust off the glass, then typed a command. Nothing. He frowned and typed it again. Still nothing. Whoever was helping Bethany by triggering the steel shutters must be mucking with other controls. He’d hoped to activate communications with the rest of his team, and open the shutters. But that wasn’t happening.
Not from this tunnel anyway.
He needed to manually override the mechanical systems. And the only place he knew of where he could do that was on the opposite end of the castle. Past the great hall where he’d counted three people—including Bethany—sitting at the round table when he’d punched up a computer screen in the conference room. He’d debated taking them on, then a bullet had whizzed past his head, making the decision for him.
He typed a command on the screen, then breathed a sigh of relief when the wall slid back, revealing another tunnel to his right, with dim lights on overhead. He took off running, knowing this tunnel didn’t have any hidden traps. There were precious few of those, by design. But they gave him the opportunity to get somewhere fast, which was what he needed right now.
A few minutes later, he skidded to a halt, swearing as he dropped and rolled, firing his pistol at the towering shadow up ahead. Bullets whizzed past him, pinging off the rock walls. He fired two more times, then lunged for a door on his right. He slammed it closed, then sprinted across the long, narrow room.
Breathing heavily, he listened to the sound of footsteps running through the hall on the other side. He was just about to open the door when a shuffling sound had him whirling around, taking the difficult head shot because of the guy’s body armor. His aim was true. The mercenary dropped to the floor, dead.
“Like a pack of rats. How many more of you suckers are there?” He ran to the fallen man and took a pistol and three magazines from his pockets.
The sound of more footsteps running toward him had him jumping up and tearing down the hall in the opposite direction. Then he ducked into an alcove and waited. He regulated his breathing, listening carefully for the sounds of pursuit. But the footsteps had stopped. He waited patiently for his prey to pass him by.
A whoosh of air had him jerking around to see the panel behind him sliding into the wall. He dropped to his knees, firing into the dark void over and over. Finally, he stopped, and waited.
A groan sounded, followed by a dull thud.
Dalton felt along the wall to his left for one of the castle’s mechanical levers, then remembered they were always on the right in this section. He found the lever and pulled.
Lights flickered on, revealing another mercenary lying in a pool of blood in front of him. Good grief, that one had been close.
Another whisper of sound had him whirling around. A flash of metal, a knife dri
ving down toward him. He jerked to block it but the blade sank deep into his arm. He gritted his teeth at the sizzle of pain and jerked back, freeing himself from the blade. He brought his gun up to shoot, but the man who’d stabbed him ducked around the corner. Dalton slammed the lever down and the panel slid shut.
He sank to the floor, cursing himself for relaxing his guard even for a second. He couldn’t help Hayley if he bled to death. He scooted to the dead man and rummaged through his jacket pockets. As expected, a man in his line of business had a first-aid kit. Not a doctor-approved kind by any means. The kind to be used only as a last resort, to stay alive. The way blood was pouring from Dalton’s arm was the definition of last resort. He pulled out the staple gun, pressed it to his flesh and squeezed.
* * *
THIS WAS IT, the most important test she’d ever taken in her entire life. Hayley bit her bottom lip, then pressed Enter.
Electronic snow sizzled across the screen. Her heart rose in her throat. No, no, no. What had she done wrong? She slammed her palm against the wall and shouted her frustration. The screen blinked, then came back on. She drew in a sharp breath, then laughed. The camera view showed the main room in the front of the building, and sunlight was pouring through the windows once again. She’d done it. She’d raised the shutters.
The front door slammed open and Seekers ran inside, weapons drawn.
Hayley’s fingers practically flew across the virtual keyboard on the screen as she put phase two of her plan into motion. She pressed two function keys and then Enter. The monitors in the main room started flashing. One of the Seekers, Jaxon she believed, ran to one, then motioned toward the others. They read the screen, then as a whole looked up, and gave a thumbs-up to the camera.
She grinned so hard her face hurt. They’d gotten her message. They knew what they were up against and that Dalton needed help. They rushed into the conference room and disappeared.
She slumped to the floor, her pulse rushing in her ears. “Take that, Bethany Miller. Straight A’s trump criminals any day of the week.” She giggled like a child, wrapping her arms around her middle. She’d saved the day. Little Hayley Nash had triumphed over evil. It was only a matter of time before the Seekers routed all the bad guys and Bethany, and saved Dalton. Then her knight in shining armor would come get her. She’d listed her location in the message for the Seekers. They knew she was here. All she had to do was wait.
She closed her eyes and massaged her hurt knee. It was bruised and lumpy and had blood caked all over it. A cut tendon maybe? That gave her pause. Something that serious might require a trip to a hospital. She clenched her fists. Well, maybe if Dalton was with her, she could handle it. Yes, with Dalton, she could handle anything. She dragged in another deep breath, then started coughing. Her eyes flew open.
The room was filling with smoke.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dalton braced his good arm against the wall, relief settling through him as he watched his fellow Seekers on the computer screen, marching out the bad guys they’d vanquished from the great hall. They’d even caught the guy who’d knifed him when he’d come racing back through a tunnel to the front room. He’d been shocked to see the others and had immediately surrendered.
Dalton pressed a button, activating the transmitter to talk to Mason who was in the main room at the front of the building. “You said Hayley hacked in and raised the shutters?” Mason had already told him that Bryson was in the hospital and was going to make it. And that Hayley had helped them catch the bad guys.
Mason nodded to the camera. “She did. She made the monitors flash to alert us once we were inside. And she sent messages warning us, giving us the logistics of how many bad guys we had to worry about and telling us to hurry and help you.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl. Feisty as always. Where is she? Did you take her out already?”
“She said she was in one of the rooms off the back hallway, to the right of the gallery. Now that we’ve secured the place, I’m going to send Bishop and LeMarcus up there to get both of you. An ambulance is on the way for that arm of yours.”
“Sounds good. I’ll head down the back hall. I’ll probably reach her before anyone else does. I’m just a few tunnels away. Hey, I didn’t see anyone march Bethany outside. I’m guessing she fought to the end and wouldn’t surrender?”
He frowned. “I got here after most of the fun since I was with Bryson. Hang on.” He turned away from the camera and spoke to someone offscreen. When he turned back, his frown had deepened. “We haven’t found her yet. Brielle and a few others chased her down some tunnels. A panel came up between them and jammed. They’re trying to get it open now. It won’t be long.”
Dalton swore. “Get the whole team back here. She may be going after Hayley.” He jerked open the nearest door and took off running. He zipped down a tunnel, then another, turning onto the back hallway. He coughed and dropped to the floor beneath a wall of black smoke. Orange flames flickered from the far end of the hall, slowing eating up the balcony and coming toward him. He scrambled forward, ignoring the jolts of pain every time he used his injured arm. He checked each door as he passed it, throwing it open. There was only one more door, ten more feet. The flames were getting close, too close.
“Hayley!” he called. “Hayley, it’s Dalton. Get out of there.”
“Dalton!” Her voice sounded muffled behind the door. “Help me!”
“The door’s locked, lover. She can’t open it.”
He jerked to the side and rolled. Bullets blasted at him from somewhere near the balcony, just missing him. He grabbed his pistol and brought it up. Bethany’s guttural yell had the hairs sticking up on the back of his neck as she charged toward him through the flames.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. Her hair was on fire, flickering around her head. Her clothes were charred. She must have gotten caught in the fire after starting it. “Drop and roll,” he yelled. “Drop and roll.”
She ran toward him, flames flickering, the acrid odor of charred flesh filling the hall. She raised her gun.
Dalton squeezed the trigger over and over until she finally dropped to the floor. He swore and yanked off his trench coat, using it to smother the flames. But when he pulled it back, he knew it no longer mattered. Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
“Dalton!” Hayley’s voice, screaming for help.
“I’m coming!” He scrambled toward her door.
The fire on the balcony hit an area rug and greedily raced across it to the door before he could reach it, engulfing it in a wall of flames. It became an inferno in a matter of seconds, driving him back.
“Hayley!”
He didn’t know if she heard him. The fire was too loud, too hot, driving him back even farther. He turned around. More flames were greedily licking the hardwood floor from the opposite end of the hall, leaving him stuck between two fires with nowhere to go. Bethany had laid her trap well. He couldn’t count on any help from his fellow Seekers. There was no way they could reach them. But how was he going to reach Hayley?
He pictured all the schematics that Mason had made him memorize when he’d first started working here, the layout of this section of the castle. He sorted through the various possibilities and arrived at only one chance. And he wasn’t even sure if it would work. But he had to try.
He jumped up and ran down the hall, toward the second wall of flames, away from Hayley’s door. Just before he reached the fire, he slammed his hand on the wall. A hidden escape hatch opened. He dove inside.
* * *
TEARS WERE STREAMING down Hayley’s face. She could barely hold her eyes open because of the smoke. But some of those tears were from grief, not smoke. Grief so bone deep that she could barely function. Dalton’s voice had called out to her from the hallway. But then the she-devil’s voice had answered, and a hail of gunshots later, all Hayley could hear was the roar of flames outsid
e her door.
Trapped. She was good and trapped. And she didn’t even know if Dalton had made it out. She was terrified that he hadn’t and that Bethany had finally gotten her ultimate revenge.
“Hayley! Hayley, open the window!”
Dalton? She crawled to the window, coughing black soot into her hands. She tried to peer out, but the smoke was too thick to see.
“Hayley, it’s Dalton. Please, open the window, love. Hurry!”
Her hands shook as she shoved the window up once again. A brittle cracking sounded behind her. She looked over her shoulder, squinting through the smoke. The door. It was bowing inward, as if the hungry flames were seeking out the fresh air. She jerked back toward the window and stuck her head outside, breathing in precious oxygen. She wiped her streaming eyes. “Dalton?”
He was leaning out the window directly below her, a sheet tied around his waist, anchoring him.
“The fire’s going to break through that door any second,” he yelled. “You have to jump, Hayley. Jump to me. I’ll catch you.”
The door cracked again behind her. There were shouts, in the distance, the other Seekers maybe? And sirens. But they were faint, far away. No one could reach the back of this castle. It was a cliff, with a sheer drop below. No trees close enough to break her fall. No way for anyone to save her this time.
She shook her head violently back and forth. “I can’t. I can’t, Dalton. Go on. Get out while you still can.”
“If you don’t jump, I’ll burn. I swear I will, Hayley. I’m not leaving the castle without my princess. Don’t stop to think. Turn around, climb out the window and flatten yourself against the wall. You can even close your eyes. All you have to do is let go.”
A sob burst from her lips. Images of laughing children surrounded her, running down a trail, horrible screams as it collapsed beneath them. Her screams, the crack of bone, tear of flesh as she slammed against tree branches on the way down. Then, hours of lying there, in unimaginable agony waiting to be rescued. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She laid her head on the windowsill and shut her eyes.