by Marton, Dana
“How is your shoulder?” he asked after a while.
All but forgotten. “Okay. How is your leg?”
“Ready for the Texas two-step, anytime you are.” His response was light, but she could see his limp in the moonlight.
Even if the bandage was tight enough to prevent serious blood loss, infection was a distinct possibility. For the both of them. They needed to grab Christopher then get out of here.
“Here we go,” he said as he stopped.
And she could see the open metal trapdoor and the top of a ladder careful not to make too much noise. The smell of gasoline was much stronger here. The space was pitch-dark below them, no telling what they were getting into.
“What if there’s oil or tar or something nasty down there?” Her idea of reaching the ground this way seemed risky and foolish all of a sudden.
“I doubt they’d leave anything valuable behind. But if we hit something sticky, we’ll climb back up. We won’t be any worse off than we are now.”
That made sense. She watched him reach down and shake the ladder. It held. “Might work.” He swung his good leg over first, wouldn’t let go of the opening until he tested that the ladder would hold his weight.
She moved closer.
“Wait until I give some kind of signal,” he said. “I’d rather we went one at a time.”
Which made sense, but she hated staying on the roof all alone. Still, they had no way of assessing how much the rusty ladder could handle. So she nodded and stayed where she was.
The next half hour was nerve-racking. She sat close to the trapdoor, peering into the darkness below without seeing anything, listening for the slightest noise from below.
She didn’t dare shout down to check on him for fear that she would give away what they were doing. And she didn’t dare go after him until he gave a signal, but no signal was coming.
Then, when she was squirming in desperation, and contemplating what she would have to do if he got hurt somehow and there would be no signal coming at all, a gentle tap reverberated up the metal ladder. She offered a quick prayer toward the starlit sky before she grabbed the top of the ladder and climbed after Akeem.
Going over the edge and putting her feet on the top rung was even scarier than she had expected, her step unsure all of a sudden. She could see nothing below. There could be anything down there. She could grab onto a poisonous spider on any of the rungs, or get knocked off by a swarm of bats.
She moved fast, eager to be done with this part and be closer to Akeem, ignoring the pain when the skin pulled around the bullet graze on her shoulder. She didn’t care much about her existing injuries at this point. She was focused on not acquiring any new ones. She was halfway down when something banged above her, and her only source of light was suddenly shut off.
Somebody had climbed up after them, figured out where they had gone, and had shut the trapdoor.
The enemy knew where they were, and they were trapped once again. And whether there were any combustible materials left over down below or not, she had a feeling that the fumes alone in this place were enough to send it exploding all over creation if someone tossed as much as a single match their way.
She was frozen to the spot where she’d stopped, her fingers fused to the ladder as she gasped for air in the dark. Tense moments passed as she hung on for dear life with white-knuckled hands.
A few seconds passed.
Then a soft whisper came from not too far below. “It’s okay, Taylor. I’m waiting for you down here.”
And she hung on to that voice, trusting it to lead her. She made her limbs obey her once again. An eternity seemed to pass before she made it down all the way and found herself in Akeem’s arms.
“This way.” He pulled her forward.
His night vision must have been much better than hers, as she could barely see his back, but he apparently could tell where they were going since he kept a good pace. She had no choice but to trust herself completely to him, believe his promises at last that he would help her get her son back.
“Do you think they’re waiting for us somewhere ahead?” she whispered.
“I’m sure there is more than one door on this tower.”
A small noise came from the far side of the structure. They stopped to listen, but couldn’t hear anything more.
“Could be just a possum or whatever other animal nests in here.” Akeem resumed walking, drawing her with him, not letting her hand go for a moment.
“Why aren’t they doing more to find us?” They’d taken their sweet time coming after them.
“They probably know who we are and what we want. They know we’ll be coming to them.”
“Then why come after us at all?”
“Could be one of them got antsy waiting. Wanted to play around a little.”
“So you definitely think they’re waiting for us now?”
“Yes.”
She drew a deep breath from the dank, fume-filled air. “Do you think there are only two of them? There were only two pickups at that loading dock. And when we last saw them, there was only one guy in each.”
“Doesn’t mean they didn’t have more here in reserve. It’s always best to be prepared for the worst.”
He sounded calm and collected, reasonable. A far cry from her own state of mind. “How bad do you think it’s going to get?”
Again, she felt a pang of regret that she had dragged him into this, and profound relief that he was here with her.
He stopped and she bumped against his wide back. “What is it?”
“The door.”
“They could be waiting behind it.”
“We’ll know in a minute.” He nudged her to the side. The knob scraped as he turned it.
Fresh air hit her in the face, a sliver of moonlight falling in. He moved forward. She held her breath.
“All clear,” he said.
They moved outside with caution, but it seemed that if the men were waiting for them, they waited at another exit. Akeem said nothing, but pulled a serious-looking handgun from the back of his waistband—the weapon they had found in the dead guy’s pickup—and handed it to her.
She took it and checked it. She had half a magazine’s worth of bullets. She had no trouble with guns. When she rode out to the farthest corners of the ranch, she always carried one for protection from the wildlife.
She was painfully aware that when she fired this piece, she would be shooting at people, and that was a new, disturbing thought.
She turned the gun over in her hand, and thought of the guy Akeem had killed. For her. For Christopher. The full impact hadn’t hit her until now when she had a weapon in her own hands and was preparing to use it if necessary. Akeem had killed for her and was willing to die for her. To save her son. There was no way in the universe she would ever be able to come close to repaying him for all he was doing.
He wasn’t a callous man. What he had done would cost him. She had always thought of him as a gentleman, a consummate businessman, with a sharp mind and a lot of kindness behind those dark eyes. She’d caught glimpses of fire, too, now and then, fire that, for the most, he kept carefully hidden.
But he was a warrior, too.
A warrior on her side.
“I know I said you should go back—”
“Taylor. Not now. Let’s give that a rest.” The tone of his voice indicated that this particular topic was beginning to try his patience.
“I’m trying to say that I’m really, really happy that you’re here.”
He was silent for a moment. “As I said, I’m not going anywhere without you and Christopher,” he said, then stopped to stare at a stocky building with a tall, round brick chimney towering over it.
If chimney was the right word. The thing was more like a skinny tower, situated on the ground next to the building and reaching toward the sky, tapering toward the top.
They could hear voices coming from behind the storage tower they had just left. Two men at least, probably lo
oking for them.
“I think they’re going in the other direction. For now,” Akeem said.
Oh, no. She had a bad feeling about this. “We are climbing again, aren’t we?”
“From the ground, there is only one way into the building,” he said. “I really think he is here.”
And she had to agree. That was where the pickups were parked.
“So it’s a given that the entrance would be guarded. We can’t go in through there,” he went on.
She really hated what was coming.
“But the chimney runs all the way up the side of the building, and there’s a short connecting bridge up there.” He pointed up.
He did have super vision, she thought after a moment, when after considerable effort she finally made out the dim lines of something that might have been the bridge he was talking about.
“How is your arm?” he asked again.
“Fine.” As long as she didn’t think about it. Which wasn’t hard. Compared to the fact that they could be shot at any minute, compared to her worries about Christopher, the dull throb in her arm barely merited attention.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’re pretty tough, for a girl.”
He’d used to tell her that back in the day all the time. Of course, she’d had a tendency to show off for him back then.
“Did I have to grow up with Flint or what? Self-preservation was the name of the game.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I bet.”
They stood there for a long moment before she realized why they had stopped moving. To reach the chimney they were headed for, they would have to walk out into the open, no other way to get there. He was probably worried. About her. But she couldn’t let that stop him. They were here for Christopher. She was willing to risk any amount of bodily injury to get him back.
So she stepped out of the shadows first and kept low as she ran toward the side of the building opposite them, her gun ready. There were no windows on this side, but the walls were made of corrugated steel in places and had plenty of holes. If anyone was looking, they’d definitely be seen.
She held her breath until she reached the wall, flattened against it just as Akeem caught up with her a second later.
“Maybe they didn’t see us.” She caught her breath that was labored not from the effort, but from sheer nerves.
“Maybe they’re busy setting a trap.”
“You want to scare me?” They’d made it through the open; he could have been more positive just for a second.
“I want you to think before you act.” His voice had some bite to it. “Or, at least, give some warning before you leap.”
Okay. Fine. He was right. She was about to say so, but he was already heading toward the chimney that had a row of frighteningly rusty metal spikes going up the side.
No guardrail.
Clouds drifted across the moon, dimming visibility further yet, but as she stepped to the towering chimneystack, she could make out now that it was a lot bigger around than she’d judged from afar. Over twelve feet in diameter at the base, if not more. Not as flimsy as it had looked. Thank God for that.
He tested the first spike, stepped on it, reached as far as he could, tested that spike before putting his weight on it, then placed his foot on the next. “Try to put your feet where I do,” he said.
No problem there. She had plenty of motivation to pay attention.
“And stay a little back,” he warned.
He meant in case he slipped, she realized after a moment and was glad he thought of everything. She was too frazzled to think beyond the next step, her mind on Christopher.
She would not allow herself to think that her little boy might not be here.
The climb was nerve-racking, and she prayed all the way. They were nearly level with the roof when a shout sounded somewhere inside the building. The first bullet wasn’t far behind.
No time to finagle their way onto the narrow brick bridge that served not as a walkway but as a link to secure the chimney to the building and give it extra stability. Akeem lunged, caught the edge of the flat roof, swung his legs and pulled himself up, then reached for her. She had to let go and catapult herself over the five-foot gap that stood between the chimney and the building.
For a moment, she had nothing beneath her but air and a hundred-foot drop to a cement slab below. The she felt Akeem’s hand close around hers.
She had just enough time to catch her breath before she realized that she was slipping.
She grabbed with her other hand and caught his sleeve, heard and felt the fabric rip. Another bullet slammed into the old bricks close enough to send dust into her eyes.
She blinked, trying to clear the tears that gathered to wash out the dust particles, as she dangled over the abyss, held by nothing but a torn sleeve and her fingertips.
Boots pounded on metal stairs somewhere below them, inside the building.
“Try to swing back to the chimney.” Akeem helped by giving her a boost.
She let go of his half-torn sleeve that wouldn’t have supported her anyway, shoved her feet against the side of the building. Her other hand did slip out of Akeem’s then, and she did fall.
But she fell in the right direction, and she could lurch her weight toward the spikes. She grabbed on to one, and just barely avoided another one skewering her side.
“Go around.” Akeem jumped to a spike above her with his usual graceful agility.
“Around where?” She looked around, bewildered.
There was shouting on the roof now. Those men would reach the edge in seconds and pick her and Akeem off with two easy shots.
But Akeem was already moving, and she could see now that a lot of the bricks had been damaged over the years, chunks missing here and there. He was moving foothold by foothold, handhold by handhold to put the chimneystack between him and the approaching men.
She didn’t hesitate, but did the same.
The chimney was wide enough even up here, so that if they made it to the other side, they would be completely invisible from the roof.
She barely slipped out of view when she heard, “Where the hell are they?” bellowed with full force.
Some shuffling sounded next.
“Could be they climbed down and got in on the floor below us,” another voice responded.
There was a moment of silence, then, “Jimmy stays here.”
The sound of boots on the roof came next, running in the opposite direction.
She looked at Akeem.
He mouthed a single word, “Stay.”
She didn’t have a problem with that. She watched with her heart in her throat as he inched to the side. Peeked around. Pulled back.
Then he let go with his right hand. And she was shaking with nerves just watching him. Their situation was precarious enough. All her strength was barely enough to keep her where she was. If one foot or hand slipped, she would fall to her death. And here he was, willfully dangling.
She held her breath as he pulled a knife, leaned to the side again, then aimed. The weapon sailed through the air with a hiss, closely followed by a thud.
Then Akeem was moving forward. “I got him. Come on.”
She didn’t hesitate. The iron spikes that had seemed way too flimsy before now felt like the height of security. Akeem pulled himself up to the bridge and reached back for her. This time, they made it to the roof without trouble.
Akeem took the guy’s gun and stuck it into his waistband next to his other weapon. He didn’t bother with the knife.
She hesitated for a second, bent over, pulled it from the man’s chest then wiped the blade and put it away. She only shrugged at Akeem’s questioning look. It wasn’t just the tough-for-a-girl thing anymore. She was being tough for her son.
They stole across the roof, down the stairs and found themselves on a gangplank inside that overlooked some odd machinery. Nobody down there that she could see. Maybe the men had already moved on with their search. Everything s
melled oily, even in here.
Akeem crept across the gangplank, then down to the floor below. She followed just as carefully. A long wall divided the space, closing off the area to their left. They moved along the wall, in the cover of some pipes.
When they came across a window opening to another space, they dipped low and walked in a crouch, and since she was shorter than Akeem, she caught a gap in the wall that Akeem hadn’t. Something moved on the other side.
Akeem wasn’t looking at her, and she couldn’t say anything. Anyone on the other side could hear.
The board next to the gap was loose. She moved it a fraction at a time, stopped as soon as she had an inch or so to look through, although she could have moved it farther.
Christopher was sleeping in a corner not ten feet from her. Tears gathered in her eyes at the sight of his sweet, smudged little face. She blinked them away to clear her vision. She’d cry later, tears of joy, when her son was back in her arms again.
Her heart lurched into a mad race. He was here. God, they were so close. She pulled back to survey the board. Akeem was way ahead of her now. Something was drawing his attention there, and he hadn’t noticed that she had stayed behind.
And she still didn’t dare make a sound. So she turned her attention to something she could do—the board.
The gap was too small for her to get in. But if she could somehow get her son’s attention, he could come to her. She could possibly move that board enough for him to squeeze through.
Maybe whoever was guarding him was sleeping, too, or had left the room to search the building with the others for her and Akeem. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the whole room from her vantage point.
Wake up, honey. Wake up and come to Mommy. She sent her thoughts across the space between them. Christopher did stir, but didn’t open his eyes.
Probably wouldn’t have made a difference if she said the words aloud. He always could sleep through anything from summer storms to tractor motors. He was just like her brother, Flint.
She had slid the board back as far as she could. She hadn’t made a noise so far. The hole was big enough. He would fit, she knew he would. Please, God, let him be alone in there.