Worth the Wait

by Miley Maine

  “Revenge? Why? How does that work?”

  “My younger brother was killed three years ago by the United States government. They were in our town illegally.”

  “Wait, where are you from?”

  “Brazil,” he said.

  “So why go after power grids?”

  “Because it’s what the group knows. I’m their patron. I provide their funding.”

  “So why not then set them up in your house?”

  “To throw your boyfriend and his ilk off the trail,” he said. “And that’s enough out of you. You’re coming with me.”

  Oh, Hell no.

  I dropped the fire blanket and got both my hands on the handle of the axe. I wasn’t going to let this lame asshole take me down. I darted forward, tossing the axe at his legs. He was fast, though, and dodged my clumsy throw. I shoved myself forward, trying to get to the door. If I could get to my truck, I could get away.

  But he was big and fast. He grabbed my ponytail and yanked me backward. As I hit the floor, I saw the syringe. Then darkness descended as my entire body went limp.

  24

  James

  The next morning, I was in the middle of filling out paperwork for a court order on Dr. Smith’s phone records when my father called my cell. He hadn’t called once since I’d been here, so I answered immediately.

  He didn’t bother saying hello. “We can’t find Bree,” he said.

  My stomach churned. Bree might have lied to me about Ian, but she was always reliable about work and she was always where she said she’d be. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “This morning,” my father said, and he sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Same time you saw her. We know she’s been having a hard time, so we decided to take her lunch. We do that all the time. Ian loves the small fire truck they have. But she wasn’t there.”

  “She wasn’t at the fire station? How do you know she wasn’t out on a call?”

  “Because I went by the sheriff’s office and talked to that friend of hers, Lacy. The one that’s a sheriff’s deputy. She said there were no emergency calls for the fire department today.”

  My father had actually done all the things I’d do first. “Thank you, Dad. I’m going to look into this right now. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “I know you’re angry, son, and I get it. But don’t let that anger destroy you. Not like it did with me.”

  I’d have to deal with that later. Nothing mattered except finding Bree. “Okay, Dad. Thanks. Do you have Ian?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay at the house, all three of you. I’ll be in touch.” Thank God I’d placed those trackers. I pulled them up on my app and both the one from her truck and her purse showed her to be in the same location.

  I dialed her phone number. No answer.

  I pulled on my tactical outfit and added body armor. Once I was in my SUV and headed to the farm where the GPS said she was, I called my partner Jennifer.

  “I need backup,” I said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You know Bree’s a first responder? There haven’t been any emergency calls today, but she’s not at the station. I’m afraid someone’s faked a call to her. I have a GPS location for her truck.”

  Jennifer didn’t ask how or why. “Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

  If something happened to Bree, I’d never forgive myself. I wasn’t ready to put what she’d done behind us, but it had distracted me from my work, which directly impacted Bree, Ian, and everyone else in Laurel Bay.

  I gripped the steering wheel so hard my hands ached. By the time I got to the Johnson’s farm, it was dark outside and their farm was eerily quiet. No activity. No cars. No people. No noises.

  Fuck.

  There, on the other side of the barn, was Dr. Smith’s truck. That bastard.

  I had gear with me, similar to what the SWAT team carried, with night vision goggles. I took my weapon from the holster and got out of the SUV.

  I crept toward the house. On the porch sat her purse and her phone. I didn’t touch them. I searched the entire house, including the attic. It was empty.

  My heartbeat pounded against my chest. They’d taken her. They’d fucking called her out on a fake emergency call, and then they’d taken her. That SOB must have known I was tracking his car. My GPS wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good, except I’d added one to her truck, too.

  Smith must have thought I’d only be tracking her phone. Piece of shit.

  I texted Jennifer and let her know not to pull her SUV into the farm. I couldn’t risk another vehicle messing up any possible tire tracks or clues as to where they might have taken her in case the tracker didn’t work.

  I put my night vision goggles on and headed to the front porch, scanning the ground for footprints or tracks of any kind as I waited for the tracking app to load and show me Bree’s location. I told Jennifer to call the sheriff’s office and update them. We might need all the help we could get, and if things went sideways, we might need a SWAT team, too.

  Hold on, Bree. Please stay alive. I’ll do whatever it takes to find you.

  25

  Bree

  When I woke up, I was disoriented. I felt hungover, or maybe more like I’d spent five days with the flu. I opened my eyes, but my vision was blurry. I could hear voices in the distance and I could smell a horse barn around me. Hay, leather, and liniment were familiar scents.

  Oh, Hell. Dr. Smith. He’d had a syringe in his hand, so he must have knocked me out with something powerful. James had been right about him. Smith had been waiting on me at the Johnson’s farm. I’d had a bad feeling about going into their house, and I’d been right about that.

  He must have faked the call. I hoped the Johnsons were safe.

  Everything hurt, from my ankles to my eyelids. My head pounded, like I was being stabbed in the temple with a knife. I took a deep breath. No matter how miserable I was, I had to take stock of where I was and figure out if I could get away.

  I was upright, not lying down. I wiggled my body. I was sitting up, tied to a chair by my wrists, which were tied directly to the chair with what felt like rope.

  I wasn’t sure if this was the Johnson’s barn or if Dr. Smith had moved me to another location. I knew from watching Dateline specials that being moved was not a good sign.

  Shit. They were probably going to use me to lure James out here. And it would work, too. Even if he hated me right now, he would do anything in his power to save me. My heart began to pound in time with my head.

  So he’d come rushing in, and then they’d ambush him. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

  Yes, James was a professional. He had training I’d never had. But his mind wasn’t on his work because of what happened with Ian, and I knew for a fact he’d lost a lot of sleep this week. He might hate me forever, but I wasn’t going to be the reason he got killed. He’d warned us all about fake 911 calls. He warned us, and I hadn’t taken the right precautions. I could have waited on backup; I could have called Lacy at the sheriff’s office.

  But I’d had my head up my ass, and James was not going to pay the price for that. I counted, trying to slow my breaths before I could hyperventilate. A panic attack wasn’t going to help either of us.

  Once my breathing was steady, the pounding in my head receded a little bit. I’d read plenty of spy novels. The spies could usually get themselves out of handcuffs. After I became a first responder, I’d even watched a television special on how to get out of zip ties using boot shoelaces. Surely zip ties were harder to get out of than old-fashioned ropes.

  I fought through my aching head to think. I turned my wrists, back and forth. My skin burned where the rope dug into my skin. But as I rotated them, the rope slipped a little and I worked to get the rope over to the thinnest part of my wrist, right where it met my hand.

  Had Dr. Smith tied me up? He must be a moron to only tie up my wrists. I was no Houdini, but already I felt my ha
nds slipping free. The rope burn was a small price to pay for getting free so I could warn James.

  I kept twisting until, finally, the rope around my left wrist loosened enough for me to pull my hand free. Blood dripped down my hand and my skin looked like someone had gone after it with a chainsaw, but I was one step closer to being free. I leaned over and used my left hand to try and untie the right one. Within just a few seconds, my right wrist was free, too.

  My arms were numb and so were my legs. I got to my feet, but stumbled forward. Shit. I dropped to my knees and crawled. I wasn’t going to let this shithead win because I was still punch drunk from his drug cocktail.

  I made it to the barn door, which was cracked.

  I peeked out. This was not the Johnson’s barn. This was an abandoned house on the edge of town about six miles from the Johnson’s house. The barn still smelled like horses, but no one had used it for at least a year. The people who lived here had bred quarter horses, and they’d left for a sweeter deal in Colorado.

  There was no power in the house, but lights shone inside and I could see people seated around what looked like a card table.

  They must be the group Dr. Smith had hooked up with.

  About half a mile away, in the direction of the freeway, I saw headlights flash. Maybe that was James. I had to get to him.

  I had no idea what kind of surveillance they had set up. If they’d just left me out here with no cameras and no guard, I had to wonder if they were smart enough to hack a power grid. Maybe they just didn’t have any common sense.

  Now I was sweating. I wiped my forehead, forgetting until it was too late that my hands were covered in blood. Oh, well. At least it was mostly dried now. I kept my back to the barn wall and inched toward the highway where I’d seen the headlights approaching. If the car I’d seen contained a terrorist or Dr. Smith back from a supply run, then I was toast.

  In the fresh air, my headache receded. Okay, I could do this. I took off at a run. My stomach lurched a few times, threatening to send its contents up, but I swallowed it down. I really didn’t want to fall. This gravel wouldn’t do me any favors if I hit the ground.

  I almost missed the figure creeping stealthily along the driveway. I crawled into the ditch in case it was a terrorist.

  It was a man, tall with broad shoulders, dressed completely in black.

  “James?”

  The figure froze. His gaze landed right on me. “Bree?”

  “Oh, my God!” I didn’t care if he loathed me right then, I jumped from the ditch and threw my entire body at his, narrowly avoiding the gun he held.

  He held on with one strong arm. “Bree. Thank God. Are you injured?”

  “No, I’m fine. I mean, he drugged me with something, but it seems to be wearing off.”

  “Is that blood on your face?” He pushed what must be night-vision goggles from his face up onto his forehead.

  “Yeah, but it’s from my wrists. They’ll be fine.” I squeezed him tighter. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I can’t leave, but I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “You can’t go in there alone,” I pleaded with him, digging my fingers into his biceps.

  “I won’t. Agent Ramirez is on her way, and so is the rest of the team.” He unlocked my hands from his arm. “I’m giving you my keys,” he said.

  He pulled them from his pants and pressed them into my hand. “I parked it on the side of the highway.” He squinted at me in the moonlight. “Wait. You shouldn't be driving. Lie down flat on the floorboards. Lock all the doors. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, go ahead and drive somewhere safe. Call the sheriff. Then get Ian and my parents and get out of town.”

  “We’re not leaving you here!”

  “You have to. This is part of my job. And if something happens to me, I added Ian as my beneficiary today. Don’t let them hassle you.”

  “Don’t say that!” I wasn’t ready for it to be over between us. I might have destroyed our romantic relationship, but we still had a chance to co-parent Ian. “Please be careful. Ian needs you. I was wrong to keep him from you.”

  “Hey. I’m going to do my best.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Go, get in the SUV. Don’t get out and come back down here—for any reason.”

  I couldn’t let him go without saying it again. “James, I’m sorry. I love you.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I love you, too, Bree. I always will.” He gave me a gentle push. “Now go!”

  26

  James

  I told Bree that I loved her, and I meant it. Now I needed her to get far away from that abandoned house and the assholes inside of it, and let me focus on getting them into custody.

  She hugged me tightly one last time and left. Sending her off in the dark alone on a country road made me feel like shit, but it was better than taking her back to where she’d been held hostage.

  I wanted to kill that doctor for drugging her, and I wanted to spend a little time alone with whoever had tied her wrists up.

  I put my goggles back on, secured my body armor, and got my weapon ready. I snuck toward the barn first, wanting to make sure it was clear. I didn’t want any other hostages caught in the crossfire, if it came to that.

  The barn was lit up with a portable light and an extension cord ran from the house. I guess they’d brought a generator with them. I checked every square inch of it, but there was no one there.

  I was beyond relieved that no one had interrogated Bree; if anyone had laid a hand on her beyond what had already been done, I was pretty sure my reaction would have cost me my badge.

  But leaving her alone in a barn, drugged and tied up—completely helpless—was a braindead move. A doctor should have known better. Unless he didn’t plan for her to survive. He’d known her for years—he should have known how tough she was and that she’d keep trying to escape, no matter how much it hurt.

  Finished with the barn, I inched back toward the house. I made my way to the side window. There.

  Seated around a card table was the doctor and two other men.

  I texted the team.

  Suspects located. Dr. Brian Smith and two unknown male accomplices. Look to be in their late twenties. Alert Sheriff’s office.

  Within minutes, Jennifer joined me.

  Finally, Dr. Smith stretched and stood up from the table. “Going to check on our feisty crime fighter,” he said to the two men.

  I didn’t appreciate their crude laughter at Bree’s expense.

  I nodded to Jennifer as she readied her weapon.

  Dr. Smith wasn’t very aware of his surroundings. As soon as his boot hit the bottom step, I grabbed him, covering his mouth with my glove while Jennifer aimed her gun at his head.

  “Don’t speak,” I said. “The agent next to me has a gun aimed right at your head.” We wouldn’t shoot him for screaming, but he didn’t know that.

  I shoved him to the ground, got his hands behind his back, and handcuffed him. “Must be nice,” I said. “Having real handcuffs instead of rope that will cut up your skin.”

  He mumbled something. “Shut up,” I said. I hauled him to his feet and marched him all the way out to Jennifer’s SUV. “You’re going to wait here, nice and peacefully.” I secured his legs with ankle cuffs and locked the door to the SUV. No matter how much I didn’t personally care about his safety, we couldn’t endanger a suspect's life if we had any other options.

  Once we got back from dumping Smith in the SUV, Jennifer and I went straight back to the house. The plan was to wait on the rest of the team and we’d be sticking with that plan, unless one of these perps decided to get up and go check on the missing doctor or otherwise try to leave.

  There were so many ways to escape out here, and with only two of us, we didn’t have the perimeter secured.

  A message popped up on my watch. The rest of the team was close.

  But then one of the guys inside stood up. “I heard something,” he said.

  The other pulled an M-16 rifle from
under his chair. “Where?” he asked, shoving his folding chair back so hard it fell over.

  Waiting on the rest of the team or the sheriff’s office would have been nice, but that plan just flew out the window. “You ready?” Jennifer asked me.

  “Let’s go.” I said.

  Jennifer ran around to the back door of the house in case the other perp tried to exit that way, while I stayed in the front.

  The perp picked up a handgun from the kitchen countertop. He clattered out the front door, not trying to conceal himself in any way.

  “Freeze,” I shouted. “Bend down. Place the gun on the ground. Then lie on the ground, face down.”

  “Nah, man,” was all he said before he fired at me. Most of my body was behind the house, but one of his bullets hit the siding of the house. I dropped to a crouch and fired back.

  I hit him in the chest and he went down. I raced to him, kicking the gun away. Blood poured from his mouth. I put my hand to his neck—his pulse had already stopped. Such a fucking waste of a young life.

  I picked up his gun from the grass, popped the magazine out, and tucked it into my tac vest. I took the rifle with me as I went to find Agent Ramirez.

  On the other side of the house, I found her kneeling next to the other perp.

  “He’s dead,” she said. “He tried to run. When I told him to freeze, he whirled around and tried to shoot me.”

  I held my hand out and she took it. I pulled her to her feet. It was never easy to take a life, even if you had no choice. Tonight was the closest I’d ever come to wanting someone dead because Bree had been in danger, and because of that, I couldn’t regret shooting the perp.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Jennifer.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I want to know why their endgame was,” she said.

  “Smith’s still alive,” I said. “Which means we might actually find out what the Hell they were up to.”

  Just then, sirens roared to life as the rest of our team and the sheriff’s office came speeding down the driveway.