Grey made a strangled noise in his throat, and Rachel hurried the man on with his story.
“What happened next?”
“I heard on the news that the nanny was killed, and I knew I had to get out. I’ve done some bad stuff in my time, but I draw the line at murder. And then I got the order to ‘dispose of the package.’ I knew what that meant.”
Rachel reached for Grey and held him back. “Listen to what he’s saying,” she told him. “Lily’s alive.” She turned back to the kidnapper. “Right?”
“Right. She’s fine. I wouldn’t hurt no little girl. No way, no how. I may not be much, but I got my standards and there are some lines I won’t cross. No matter what the payday is.”
“You’d just kidnap a little girl, is that it?” Grey ground out.
His gaze darting from Grey to Rachel and back again, the man took another step back. “Look, I’m doing my best to make up for what I done. I admit I done wrong, but I’m trying to make it right.” He turned pleading eyes to Rachel as if willing her to believe him.
“Finish your story,” Rachel said and motioned for Grey to be quiet.
“I took her to a place where I knowed she’d be safe. Now I’m thinking I have to get out of here. Even with his fancy clothes and words, the guy was a scary dude. I did my best to cover my tracks, but he’ll track me down and do away with me, just like he did the nanny. I can feel it. I don’t want the money. I don’t want nuthin’ to do with them that’s behind it. Right now all I want is to keep breathin’. And make it right with you,” he added in a hurry, cutting his eyes to Grey.
“This guy who hired me is bad news,” he emphasized again. “Even with the mask, I could see that he had cold eyes, coldest eyes I ever did see. Didn’t even blink when he told me to ‘dispose of the package,’ like killing a little bitty girl weren’t nuthin’ at all.”
“Please,” Rachel implored. “Tell us where she is.”
“I’m gettin’ to it. She’s—”
A harsh cracking sound put an end to whatever he’d been about to say. A surgically placed shot bored a hole in the center of his forehead and was followed so quickly by another that the man hadn’t even had time to fall.
Grey grabbed Rachel and yanked her to the floor along with him. “Stay down.”
* * *
More rounds split the air, raking over them with ear-deafening noise and ripping through anything in their path. Bullet holes drilled into furniture, walls, even in some places, the floor. She and Grey weren’t safe anywhere, but they couldn’t make a run for it.
She belly-crawled to where the man lay, eyes open, mouth slack. Though realizing the futility of it, she put two fingers to his neck. “He’s dead.” Two small entry wounds and two large exit wounds told her the weapon had probably been a .22 Hornet rifle, using soft-nose bullets. The same kind of rifle used on Grey.
Even though the man hadn’t been a particularly good person, she felt pity for the squandered life. He had been trying to do the right thing at the end.
“We will be, too, if we don’t get out of here.”
But the shack had only one door. They’d be easy pickings if they tried to get out that way, mowed down within seconds. Anyone who said they weren’t afraid when confronted with the real possibility of death was either stupid or a liar.
She wasn’t stupid, and she had no problem admitting that she was terrified.
The shots continued, peppering the walls of the shack with lethal soft-nose bullets.
Tension balled in her gut. Get it together, girl. You’re a trained operative. Fear was acceptable; inaction was not. She reached for her weapon, wanting to have it close if she ever got the opportunity to get a shot off. Clammy with sweat, her hands slipped momentarily on the barrel of the Glock.
With no warning, the gunfire stopped. The abrupt silence was nearly as deafening as the barrage of bullets.
Rachel didn’t move. Didn’t dare to. The unrelenting shots had formed a kind of rhythm, and a surreal quiet now filled the small space, the only sounds that of her and Grey’s labored breathing.
She was pressed close enough to Grey to feel the wild beat of his heart, warm against her. It echoed her own.
Her muscles tightened. When she tried to shift her position, Grey held her fast. “Not yet.”
More minutes passed.
“Do you think he’s gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
They waited for endless minutes and then cautiously crawled to the window and peered out. No movement in the marsh to hint that the shooter was still there. Unwilling to step outside yet, they checked out the shack, careful to remain low.
The interior of the cabin was as dilapidated as the exterior. Cobwebs stretched from rafter to rafter, dangling in lacy drapes. Dust coated every surface. A potbelly stove sat in the center of a kitchen of sorts. An ancient upholstered sofa showed evidence of being snacked on by rats or other small animals.
“Look.” She pointed to a rough table where an envelope lay with an address scrawled on the back. She didn’t move the envelope, knowing it was evidence, but instead took a picture of it with her phone.
Unfortunately, when she tried to call 911 to report the killing, the phone showed no bars.
Grey peered out the window. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe we can pick up his trail. If we catch him, we’ll shake the answers out of him.” His eyes grew hard, as hard as his words. “One way or another.”
The determination in his voice sent a chill crawling up her spine. Just how far was Grey willing to go to get the answers they needed? He was a father like any other, but he was also an apex predator who was at the top of the food chain when it came to taking out bad guys.
The question gave birth to another. How far would she be willing to go if it were her child in jeopardy? The questions danced in her head, with answers she was loath to discover.
Grey pushed open the door, and they stepped into the mist.
They picked their way through the marsh grass, searching for casings but didn’t find any. The shooter must have policed his brass. Rachel didn’t expect anything different, but she’d hoped.
Moving slowly, they continued looking for signs of the shooter.
“Here,” Grey said and pointed to a patch of trampled plants and marsh grasses.
“He’s not doing a very good job of covering his trail,” she said.
Gnats and mosquitos feasted on exposed skin. Swamp gases gave off a distinct and unpleasant odor. But her mind wasn’t on the gnats and mosquitos or the smells as she constantly scanned the surroundings for where an enemy might be lurking, waiting to take out her or Grey.
Not if we get to him first. They had to take him alive and find out who was behind the abduction and the attempts on Grey’s life.
They continued on in the same direction, finding more crushed plants and grasses. It was as though the man wanted them to find him. An alarm bell went off in her head. Don’t take the first easy answer, an instructor had said. Nine times out of ten, it’s a trap.
Too late.
When she stepped on something, the click told her exactly what it was.
Grey knelt beside it. “An IED,” he confirmed. “The shooter knew we’d try to pick up his trail. It was stupid on my part not to realize that he’d leave some surprises for us.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I was just as intent on finding him. If anybody should have been paying attention for booby traps, it was me.”
Rachel kept her voice calm, though panic screamed through every fiber of her being. She wanted to run. And in so doing, she’d set off the device. She’d served a stint in the Bureau’s explosives division and knew what an IED could do to the human body. Severed limbs were only the beginning. Third-degree burns were also part of the party favors handed out by such devices.
She understood the f
ix she was in. Understood too well. She’d sometimes wondered if those who died were better off than those who lived with crippling injuries.
Coldness crept into her even as her mouth went dry and sweat pooled at the base of her throat and the small of her back.
“Don’t move.”
FOURTEEN
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. You’ve still got your sense of humor.”
“Yeah. That’s me. A laugh a minute.” Despite Grey’s words, her sense of humor was taking a swift nosedive. Standing on an IED tended to do that to her. “What’s your training in explosives telling you?”
“That we were set up. The shooter knew we’d come after him. That’s why he didn’t stick around to make sure we were dead. He had a backup plan.”
That wasn’t what she meant. And Grey knew it. That told her two things. He didn’t want to tell her how bad things looked. And that he had already figured out that her chances of survival were slim to none.
She processed both of those factors, added in the fact that Lily was still missing, and came up with the only possible answer. “You have to get out of here.” She wouldn’t allow him to die alongside her or to give up the hunt for his daughter.
The understanding in his gaze told her that he knew what she was doing and why. “Don’t tell me what I have to do. There’s a way around this. We just have to find it.”
She longed to believe him, but the facts said otherwise. “You know what you have to do.”
The doggedness in his gaze reminded her that he was a ranger and accustomed to calling the shots. Too bad. This was one time when he’d have to take orders, not give them.
“Listen to me,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You need to find Lily. That has to come first.”
“I won’t lose you.”
His words warmed her, but she shook her head. “I won’t be to blame for your death and possibly Lily’s.” She would not have another child’s death on her conscience. Not again.
“Who says we’re going to die? If only we had some duct tape.”
Despite the circumstances, she was able to smile at the reference to the old MacGyver television show. “You know as well as I do that I’m not getting out of this. There’s no sense in taking you down with me. Now, go before I start crying and begging you to stay.”
“Hey, I’m a ranger. We don’t give up, and we don’t give in. So enough talk about dying and let me think.” The words snapped with anger.
“You’re a stubborn man and brave as all get-out.” But what could he do, especially with one arm in a sling? Her own hands were near useless with their padding of gauze, even if she had been able to move without triggering the device.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Anger evaporated from his voice as it deepened to a laconic drawl. “Did I tell you about the time my buddies and I came across a boy and a mule, right in the middle of a combat zone? We picked up the boy and started to carry him out, but he wouldn’t leave without his mule. Made an awful fuss when we told him we’d have to leave the mule behind. So we picked up the mule and carried him out, as well.”
She knew he was trying to take her mind off their predicament and appreciated the effort. The least she could do was play along. “Tell me, how many rangers did it take to carry the mule?”
He looked genuinely surprised. “Just one. Me. Put him over my shoulder and carted him right out of the zone. The little boy was so glad to see his friend that he climbed on him and rode him off into the sunset.”
“You’re making that up.”
Grey winked. “Well, maybe the part about putting him over my shoulder.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m grateful. But stories about little boys and mules aren’t going to change anything. I don’t know how long I can hold this position. My leg is starting to cramp already.” Pent-up tension had moved to her right calf, sending out ripples of pain.
“Hold on just a little longer.”
“And get us both killed? I don’t think so. You still have to find Lily. That means you have to stay alive.” She leveled a steady look at him. “Did you hear me? You have to stay alive.”
“I won’t leave you.”
His words came as a gentle breath against her face, but she shook her head. “I’m the operative here, and I’m ordering you to do it.”
“There’s a way out of this. Now be quiet and let me do my job.” He’d stopped talking to her, bent over and, with his good hand, started removing the lace from his left boot.
“Your foot hurting?”
But he ignored her sarcasm and finished unlacing the boot.
A spasm had gripped her right calf in a steely clasp. She willed her leg not to shake. IEDs could be incredibly sensitive.
“Hold on.”
Memories slammed into her as she recalled saying those same words to him only a few days ago when he’d hung from the edge of a building. He’d trusted her then, and she had to trust him now.
As though reading her thoughts, he said, “Trust me.”
I do.
But the words never made it past her lips. Grey was once more bent over the device.
She knew he would give his life to save hers, but she didn’t want that. The price was too high. Much too high.
Grey looked up and gave her a confident smile. “We’ve got this. Two more seconds and we’re done.”
She lowered her gaze to watch as he stretched a shoelace between the two rocks set on opposite sides of the device and anchored it beneath them.
“This should keep the bomb in place when you step off,” he said.
“Should?”
“Should.” His gaze held hers. “If you remember any prayers, now would be the time to say them.”
* * *
Grey didn’t step back. He wanted Rachel to stay as calm as possible as she stepped off the IED. Any jerk, any sudden movement, could set it off. Moving out of the range of the blast was the prudent step, but he remained firmly planted where he was to help her relax and to boost her confidence.
She lifted her right foot from the device and stepped off. Then her left.
Mindful of her cramped leg, he lifted her with his one good arm, carried her out of the danger zone and then set her on her feet. With Rachel still clutched against him, he waited. Listened.
Nothing.
“We’ll send a bomb disposal unit back to deal with it more permanently,” he said. On the last word, an explosion rocked the ground.
Automatically, his arms tightened around her. “Guess we won’t need that unit after all.” Aware of just how closely he held her, he loosened his hold.
She took a step back. “Thank you.”
When her voice trembled, along with her shoulders, he drew her to him again and held her.
It was she who finally pulled away. “I’m all right.”
She was more than all right. Someone else—man or woman—might have gone into hysterics at having stepped on an IED, but Rachel had maintained her cool, even ordering him away to save his life. He would never forget the courage and generosity of that single act. His feelings for her burned within his heart.
“Do you know how truly extraordinary you are?” He didn’t bother to disguise the warmth in his gaze as it rested on her.
It was then that he noticed the tears that leaked from her eyes to her cheeks. He reached to wipe them away, but she stayed his hand, and he dropped it to his side.
“Hardly extraordinary,” she said, swiping at the tears with the back of her hand. “I’m falling apart, as you can very well see.” Embarrassment was thick in her voice, and he knew that she wasn’t accustomed to allowing others to witness any weakness.
“You held on until the danger was over. In my book, that makes you incredible.”
“You saved my
life. I won’t forget that.”
“Just like you saved my life yesterday and again a couple of days before that. To my way of thinking, that makes you ahead of me.”
“Call it even. And partners don’t keep score. We’ve got to get out of here and notify the police.” She grimaced. “Something tells me that they’re not going to be happy to hear from us...again.”
She pointed to his side where blood had seeped through his shirt. “You’re bleeding. You must have torn open the stitches.”
Grey chafed at every minute that kept him from finding Lily and longed to follow up on the address, but he knew they had to contact the police. He also knew Rachel would insist he go to the hospital. He didn’t know whom he dreaded facing the most: Detective Lannigan or the doctor who’d treated him. Either way, he was in for a dressing-down.
A dressing-down, he could live with. What he couldn’t live with was never seeing his daughter again.
FIFTEEN
Though Rachel knew Grey was anxious to pay a visit to the address scribbled on the envelope they’d found at the cabin, she had to get him to the hospital first. A visit to the ER took care of the torn stitches. After his wound was seen to, he received a stern lecture from the ER doctor about the dangers of putting strain on his injured side. Fortunately, they managed to avoid the other doctor who had treated Grey.
Judging it prudent to not say anything, Rachel remained discreetly quiet during the scolding. They then made a trip to the police station. An interview with the police about what had gone down at the cabin was unavoidable.
Detective Lannigan grilled them. “You know the drill,” he said with weary resignation. “I ask the questions. You answer them.”
No, they didn’t know the man’s name.
No, they didn’t know who had killed him.
No, they had never met him before.
No, they had no idea where he had stashed Lily.
Yes, they would stay available for future questions.
Once again Rachel had the nagging sense of chasing a memory. Why couldn’t she bring it up?
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