by Robin Perini
“Follow me,” he said. “Keep your weapons ready. They shoot to kill here.”
The group hurried as fast as they dared. They turned right near the door where Deb and Gabe had entered and started down the stairs.
A flurry of shots echoed from several places inside the building and more shots answered.
“Move it,” Gabe urged.
“The basement is here,” Floyd whispered, finally slowing as they neared the bottom. “There’s a big room that I’ve never seen anyone go into before.”
“Any idea what it’s used for?”
“Yeah,” Floyd said softly. “Mass murder.”
Gabe raced down the stairs, followed by the teenagers. Deb brought up the rear. She must be champing to search this place for Ashley, but she’d put her faith in him and his brothers. He just prayed they didn’t let her down.
She could have his back anytime, and if they lived through this, he intended to tell her that. Among other things.
A series of rapid-fire gunshots sounded again in the distance. Gabe knew his brothers could take care of themselves. But still . . . Damn, he couldn’t help them now.
One last step and he entered the basement corridor. The others crowded around him.
Two compound guards lay dead on the floor.
A weak cry sounded from behind the door. Gabe grabbed one of Zach’s toys, jammed it against the panel, and turned it on. The machine whirred and lights flashed and a few moments later, the tumblers clicked. He wrenched open the door.
Acrid gas spewed from the room, its sour odor nauseating. More than twenty kids lay on the floor gasping, vomiting, and writhing in desperation.
One boy rolled over and looked at Gabe. “Get out. Heard talking. Bomb,” he said. “Today.”
Gabe took a second to tap his communication device. “Heads-up. Confirmation of explosive device to detonate today. Get everybody out.”
“Ashley! Are you in here?” Deb called out, even as she dragged the retching kids from the room.
Some could still walk a little and they helped others. Gabe, Deb, Mylo, and Floyd half dragged, half carried the weakest ones into the hallway.
One figure remained huddled in the corner.
Floyd hurried into the room to help. The man turned over, vomiting all over himself.
The boy stilled. “You killed my brother.”
Green with sickness, the Warden looked up at Floyd.
He raised the gun.
“Floyd—” Gabe rushed toward him.
“This is for Fletcher.”
Gabe was too late. Floyd peppered the Warden with bullets.
He emptied the magazine, then tossed the weapon next to the body.
Tears streaming down his face, Floyd doubled over. He threw up and stumbled out of the room. Gabe placed a hand on his shoulder and met Floyd’s tortured gaze.
The boy swiped at his wet cheeks. “Why don’t I feel better?” he asked in a small voice.
“Come on,” Gabe said, knowing nothing would help but time.
In the hallway, the gas had dissipated; the teenagers started to revive.
“Let’s clear this room fast and go after Ashley,” he said to Deb.
Seth’s voice interrupted on the comm line. “Just found the bomb. We have three minutes to get out.”
“We have twenty kids. We can’t make it,” Deb shouted.
Zach’s voice came through. “The tunnel is almost directly above you. One flight.”
Gabe grabbed Floyd. “An escape tunnel? You know it?”
“Niko told me.”
“Two minutes.”
Thirty seconds and they were up the stairs. Floyd entered a code and they scrambled into the tunnel. Lights lit automatically.
Deb half dragged a couple of kids with her. Gabe followed up at the rear.
Another thirty seconds and they neared the end of the tunnel. He raced to the ladder and scooted past the kids. He and Deb looked up. A lock.
“Damn it. How do we open it?” she asked.
The dial turned and the hatch slammed open. Jazz looked down at them from the surface. “Come on!” she yelled.
One by one, Gabe and Deb shoved the kids out of the tunnel. Finally Deb scampered up. He followed.
They stumbled only a dozen feet when an explosion rocked the earth. Gabe shoved Deb to the ground. The high-tech weapon didn’t work like any other. The explosion didn’t burst out, it imploded.
Black smoke poured around them, along with an intensive heat that rendered the building—and everything inside it—ash.
The comm device in his ear squealed nonstop and he tore the ruined earpiece out just as Deb did the same with hers.
Gabe blinked through the soot. There was nothing left unscathed in the building. No one within the blast zone could have survived.
His back burned and he staggered to his feet.
“Your jacket’s smoking,” Deb shouted.
He jerked it off, threw it to the ground, then stomped out the blaze. Panting, he looked down at her.
She met his gaze but then turned in the direction of the compound and let out a low cry. Black soot billowed from the shattered concrete slabs, half of which now filled the decimated basement. The smell of the gas still permeated the air.
Deb sank to the ground. “Oh, dear God. Ashley, I’m sorry.” Deb bent her head to her knees and rocked back and forth, back and forth. “I failed her.”
Gabe bit back a curse.
“No!” He knelt beside Deb and wrapped her in his arms.
Deep shudders of agony shook her body and she clung to him. “I didn’t save her. We were so close.”
Gabe rocked her in his arms and let her cry, uncertain what to do or say.
He squinted through the smoke. Where were his brothers? God, had he killed them, too?
Jazz rose slowly, tears in her own eyes. “I can’t see Luke,” she said.
Then, Gabe caught sight of Luke racing to Jazz through the black swirls.
Figures began to coalesce. Nick and Paretti showed next, coughing, stumbling through the chaos. Finally Zach held up his hand in tired acknowledgment.
Where was Seth? Whitney? Gabe’s heart thundered as long moments passed.
Deb lifted her lashes. “What have we done?”
Gabe couldn’t speak. He kissed her hair, his own grief splintering and shattering all the light and warmth inside him.
Then, through the smoke another figure stumbled toward them.
Seth? Whitney?
A familiar face took shape then coughed.
“Gasmerati!”
At Gabe’s shout Deb shot to her feet.
“Where is my sister, you son of a bitch?”
In slow motion, Jeff Gasmerati aimed his weapon.
Gabe raced forward. His leg gave out, costing him a half step. In that moment the gun fired.
Deb flew back into Gabe’s arms and a second shot rang out.
Gasmerati’s head exploded.
Gabe sank to the sand, Deb cradled in his arms. Blood pooled at her shoulder. She looked up at him.
“Ashley?” she whispered, blinking, as if trying to focus on him. “It was her?”
“No,” he said softly. “Don’t talk. I’ve got you.” God, how had this happened? He hadn’t protected her.
Not only her, but Ashley as well. He stripped off his shirt and pressed the material against her shoulder.
“Who’s that?” Luke shouted.
Someone was running toward the helipad, dragging a figure behind him. Gasmerati’s partner, Petrov.
“Petrov. Stop him!” Gabe shouted.
A helicopter zoomed in from the east, its sleek, black shape like something out of a sci-fi movie. Maybe someone Seth had called in?
Petrov fired. The chopper stopped
on a dime, then rotated in the air, following the Russian.
A barrage of bullets peppered him. He fell dead. The small figure at his side dropped to the ground. Gabe squinted. Could it be?
An RPG took out Gasmerati’s chopper, blowing it to bits, then the chopper disappeared into the sky.
Two people raced toward the fallen girl. Whitney and Seth.
Thank God.
Seth knelt down and lifted the small figure in his arms.
“Is it her?” Gabe shouted.
The swell of blackness parted, and through the smoke, Seth strode toward them, propping up Whitney on one side, balancing a blonde-haired girl close to his chest.
Holy crap.
“Deb . . .”
She tried to open her eyes. “I don’t care anymore, Gabe. Ashley’s gone.”
“Deb. Look.”
She heard a familiar shout.
“Admiral!”
“Ashley?” Deb struggled to sit up in Gabe’s hold, tears nearly blinding her. “Oh my God, Ashley! It’s really you.” A sob broke from her and she held out her arms. “Ashley!”
Ashley stumbled, then fell beside her sister, laughing and crying as Deb hugged her close. “Oh, Ashley.”
Tears streamed down Ashley’s battered, sooty face, but nothing could detract from the joy in her eyes. “I knew you’d come for me, Deb. I just knew it.”
“Always,” Deb whispered and held on tight.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
DEB COULDN’T BELIEVE she held Ashley in her arms. She winced, her shoulder throbbing, her head going woozy, but she didn’t care. She gently pushed the hair away from her sister’s bruised face. “Are you okay, pipsqueak?”
Ashley nodded. “I will be. For a while there, I didn’t know if I’d make it through.” She grinned. “I just kept running that stupid mantra through my head, ‘Never give up . . .’ ”
“ ‘Never surrender,’ ” Deb finished for her. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so much. Nothing matters now that you’re safe.” She looked over her sister’s shoulder at Gabe. He still held his shirt against her wound, an enigmatic look on his face. But he seemed quiet and serene amid all this chaos.
He’d been her rock through all this, and she didn’t know what she’d have done without him. She certainly wouldn’t have been holding her precious sister alive in her arms right now.
Zach stood by Gabe, using his voodoo magic gizmo phone to call the authorities to come in and help transport the kids and clean up. “Medevac units on the way. Ambulances will be here shortly thereafter.”
“Who were those guys in the chopper that came from out of nowhere?” Zach asked.
Seth’s face grew cold. “All I can tell you is they don’t get involved, in any op, without extremely high authority. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I swear, I’ll find out.”
“Gabe,” Deb whispered, blinking feverishly. “I think I need a doctor.”
Deb blinked against the bright light and stared around the room. “Ashley.”
“Ashley’s in surgery to remove a chip those bastards implanted inside of her. She’ll be out soon.”
Gabe stroked Deb’s forehead, and she relaxed.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
“More like a nightmare,” he said.
She looked up at him. “Everyone’s okay?”
“Nothing that’s not recoverable. Most of them went home after they knew you’d be okay. Mom’s planning a huge, celebratory Thanksgiving dinner.”
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“Forty-eight hours.” Gabe swallowed deeply, and for the first time Deb recognized the sallowness of his skin, the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
“You look terrible.”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah, well, interviews with the Feds can do that to you. Not to mention you dying on the operating table. Twice.”
He clutched her hand. “I’ve never been more scared.”
“What happened?”
“You lost so much blood by the time the chopper got there, it was touch and go.” He looked at her. “I’m sorry, Deb. I told you I’d protect you.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Did they get everyone?”
He nodded. “It’ll be a while before they can piece together who died in that hellhole. Whitney will do it, though. She’s got some chutzpah. Called in I don’t know how many favors to make the legal problems disappear.”
He sat in his chair for a moment. She longed for him to hold her, but he stared at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s over,” he said quietly. “You have your family back.”
“Not everyone,” she said, her heart breaking.
“No. Not everyone. I’m sorry about your brother. What are you going to do now?”
Then she understood. No us. No we. Only her.
“I guess I’ll move down to Colorado Springs, take care of Ashley for a while. Not take so many risks. She needs me.” Deb bit her lip and waited. Surely this wasn’t it? After all they’d been through.
“I thought so.”
“What about you?” Deb asked, the words barely forming. Perhaps it had all been a lie. Maybe he’d realized she wasn’t good enough, that if she could let Ashley down like that, she’d eventually let him down, too.
He shrugged. “Rebuild the bar, see if I can buy it for real this time. I’m not sure I want to go back to being a cop.”
“Their loss.” She gave him a smile, all the while her heart breaking. “I guess this is it, then.”
“It’s for the best, Deb.”
“Yeah. For the best.”
He stood. “I’ll go tell the doctor you’re awake. I’m here until you’re released.”
She couldn’t bear to see him again. Not like this.
“Don’t worry about it. Ashley’s here. I have my family, Gabe. Just like you have yours. I’ll be okay.”
He turned to the door, his shoulders slumped. “You’re an amazing woman, Deb Lansing. It’s been an honor knowing you.”
“Ditto,” she said softly.
He quietly walked out the door.
She didn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry, but inside she balled up. Gabe Montgomery hadn’t stolen her heart, she’d given it away. She’d never get it back.
Gabe knelt in the middle of the scorched remains of Sammy’s Bar. It had been one week since Deb had come home. His pants hung on his hips. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. All because he’d been a fool and a coward.
But seeing her lying in that hospital bed . . . she’d nearly died. He’d failed her in every way a man could fail a woman. How could she love him after that? How could she ever put her faith in him again? In his fatigue-filled mind, he’d convinced himself she was better off without him.
Maybe he’d been right.
A knock sounded on the new frame going up near the front. “Anyone home?” Neil Wexler stuck his head between the two-by-fours where the wall would be. “Place looks good.”
“Better than it did,” Gabe said, standing. He shook Neil’s hand. “You look good. Happy even.”
“Yeah.” Neil grinned. “My wife’s pregnant. I’m going to be a daddy.”
“Congratulations.” A wave of remorse washed through Gabe. Right now he couldn’t imagine having a family of his own. Not without Deb.
“Yeah, we’re excited. I wanted to stop by to offer you a job. As a detective.”
Gabe stilled. “Why?”
“Because you’re damned good at it and we could use a couple of upstanding deputies in the sheriff’s office. I could tear up your resignation paper today.”
Gabe slowly shook his head. “No thanks, Neil. I’m moving.” He bent over to clear the remains of a chair.
“Sorry to hear that,
but it was worth a try. You’ll be missed.” Neil turned around to leave. “Deb.”
“Hi, Neil.”
Gabe’s head whipped up from his job. He straightened. The wood dropped from his fingertips as he drank in Deb’s presence.
The color was back in her cheeks, but tension pulled at her mouth and she looked liked she’d lost a few pounds.
Neil tipped his hat to her. “See you around. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He’d be a great detective.”
Deb didn’t answer, but stepped into the remains of the bar. “This is where we started, isn’t it?”
She was here. She’d come to him. Gabe couldn’t form a thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He hadn’t figured out how to apologize. “I guess so.”
Deb walked across the charred floor. “You’re moving?”
“I thought about it.
“I see.” Deb rubbed the nape of her neck. “I guess I was wrong.” She stepped back and then paused. “No, wait a minute.” She strode to him, toe to toe, and pulled his head down to hers.
The moment her mouth touched his, he groaned.
She shoved him away. “I thought so. You do want me.”
“Of course I want you,” Gabe growled. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“Running away?”
“Hell no.” Gabe shoved his hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her think the worst. Deb’s words were an attack, but the expression in her eyes—he’d hurt her. He’d known it at the hospital; he’d convinced himself he was doing the right thing. He should quit thinking. He blinked, hating the caution in her stance, in her gaze. She’d come here. It was so like her.
If he wanted to prove himself to her, he had to shove aside the doubts. He had to lay his heart on the line. She deserved no less. “I’m getting this place ready to rebuild, then moving to Colorado Springs. To be near you.”
She froze.
“I knew it the moment I got home. I almost lost you,” he said. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again, but it was my fault. How could I ask you to forgive me? How can I now?”
She clutched his jacket. “You’re an idiot, Gabe. There’s nothing to forgive. I’m the one who should thank you. You saved Ashley’s life. Without you and your family . . .” Deb shuddered. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened to her, to all those kids.”