“I can’t help feeling like I’m in a tomb,” she said.
“A colorless tomb. If I ever have the misfortune of being in Miriam Shepherd’s presence, I’m going to ask her what she has against color.” He pointed to the framed prints over the bed. “She even has black-and-white photos.”
With a shake of his head, he moved over to the desk. Keiko, in the meantime, opened the door in the far wall, and the most glorious sight on the planet greeted her—a bathroom. While Mace checked the screens for the position of Freedom’s team, she used the facilities to freshen up. She eyed the shower. What was the protocol for having a shower while you were running for your life? And technically, were they still running for their lives if they were locked in an impenetrable room?
She stuck her head out of the bathroom to ask Mace but got distracted when she saw that he’d turned on the screens covering the wall.
He glanced over at her with a frown. “I’m trying to get the building’s cameras, but all I’m getting is forty different versions of the same news.”
“Technology really isn’t your strong point, is it? How do you cope every day? Life must be a nightmare for you.” It wasn’t like they could avoid the latest tech—they were surrounded by it.
“Could you just get over here and do that thing with your nails to fix it?”
With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she crossed the room to stand beside him. “You don’t need my magic nails for this. You just need to bring up the command screen and choose the option you want.” She hesitated with her fingers over the screen as she realized what the wall was showing: almost every channel was rerunning the footage of her falling off the ledge. A cold chill went through her as she watched it. “I really didn’t fall that far at all, did I? It felt like it went on forever, but it was only for a few seconds.”
“You don’t need to watch this. Just show me how to change it, and I’ll do it myself.”
But her eyes were glued to the screen as she watched Mace’s instantaneous reaction to her fall. It was like she was watching it happen to someone else, and she honestly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You could have fallen off with me,” she said.
“Keiko, change the screens. You don’t need to watch this. You lived it.”
His words made her realize that he was worried about her reaction to the footage, not how it affected him. She was just about to bring up the control panel and change the screen to the building’s security feed when the images in front of them changed. Her breath caught in her throat as an image of the terrace appeared.
“There’s Abigail,” she said on a gasp.
Her friend was kneeling on the stage, her hands secured behind her back and a black band around her head. She’d been crying. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks, and it was clear she was shaking. Her lips moved, as though she was muttering something over and over. All the while, her eyes were scrunched tight against the carnage that surrounded her.
Keiko felt like a blade had twisted in her chest. “We need to get her out of there, Mace.” She looked up to find him standing, lips thin, glaring at the screens. “You rescued me. You know how to do stuff like this. We can’t just leave her there.”
“Fuck,” he cursed before shooting an anxious look her way. “Change the feed, Keiko. Do it now.”
Something in his tone made her realize she was missing something. And that’s when the scene around Abigail came into focus for her. Rueben Granger was on his knees beside her, his mouth open and his face scrunched tight. She didn’t need the sound to know he was wailing. On his other side, there were more scientists from his team, all kneeling, all bound with their hands behind them, all wearing bands around their heads.
A surge of realization hit her, and she knew what the bands were—EMP devices. Attached to their heads. Her eyes flew back to the left of the image, and that’s when she spotted something she hadn’t noticed before because her attention was on Abigail. But on the stage, beside her friend, just inside the camera’s frame, was someone’s outstretched hand. It lay there, limply, as though someone had been reaching for Abigail. Someone who wasn’t moving now.
“Mace?” Her hand curled into his arm.
“Turn it off,” he demanded.
But she barely heard him. Her eyes were glued to the screens as a face appeared in front of the camera. It was the Freedom leader who’d called after her when Mace had run with her under his arm. With a thought, she commanded the volume on the newsfeed to increase, forgetting that she couldn’t communicate with anything remotely while all signals were being blocked. With a shaky hand, she reached out and hit the panel, calling up the volume control.
“Damn it, Keiko, just turn the damn thing off.” He pulled her away from the control panel and started stabbing at it randomly, achieving nothing. “Make it stop,” he demanded.
She glanced at him, saw the agony in his eyes, and her breath hitched. He was trying to spare her, but she turned her attention back to the screens. Abigail was there. Alone. Frightened. And Keiko couldn’t look away.
“Mace,” she whispered, reaching for his hand.
With a growl, he took it and held it tight.
“Another hour has passed, and still CommTECH’s CEO has not responded to our demands,” the woman said into the camera.
The camera zoomed out, and Keiko gasped. “No, no, no…”
On the stage, in a row beside Abigail, were three dead scientists. There was blood on their faces, and their bodies lay in awkward heaps, as though they were nothing more than someone’s discarded garbage. But they weren’t garbage. They were people. Keiko had smiled at them. She’d said hello. She’d led them out onto the stage for a madwoman to murder them in front of the world.
“Keiko, baby, please help me turn it off,” Mace said as he reached out and brushed gentle fingers over her cheek. “Nothing good’s gonna happen here.”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at the horror in front of her.
“How many more people have to die for our cause before Miriam Shepherd realizes her reign has come to an end?” The woman motioned behind her. “This is why Freedom fights. CommTECH—or any big business—does not care about the people they rule. Our lives mean nothing to them. The lives of our loved ones mean nothing to them. I should know. My brother was one of CommTECH’s valued scientists.” She scoffed. “He told them his research was dangerous and couldn’t be rushed or the consequences would be deadly for CommTECH’s customers. But they didn’t listen.”
She pointed at the camera. “You didn’t listen, Miriam. Instead, he was told to speed up. He was implanted with a monitoring chip, against his will, in order for his superiors to see what was slowing his work down. He was pushed and pushed and pushed—until he rushed the research just to get some peace. He wept when he told me that his research was compromised. He begged me to get the word out. To tell people that CommTECH was taking shortcuts with his work. Shortcuts that would endanger people. By the time I could get the word out, it was too late for my brother.”
The screen was suddenly filled with footage of CommTECH personnel running from a burning building.
“Portland,” Keiko whispered. “There was an accident, an explosion in the research facility. Three people died.”
The woman’s face filled the screen once again. “This accident could have been avoided. But CommTECH was more interested in profit than people. Because of CommTECH, my brother is dead, and there’s no justice for him. Who’s going to take Miriam to court? Who could find a court she doesn’t own?” She motioned to the bound scientists behind her. “This is what you’ve driven us to. This is our only recourse. CommTECH’s rule must end. And we will do what we must to ensure that it does.”
She turned to the scientists, a small black box in her hand. “You have one more hour, Miriam. How many people have to die before you act?” She held the box out so that the camera could see it and pressed her thumb down.
A flash of light made Keiko
’s eyes snap to the stage.
The light came from the band around Abigail’s head.
An ear-piercing scream rent the air.
It could have been from her or her friend. Maybe both. She threw herself at the screens, as though she could somehow get to Abigail and stop the horror unfolding in front of her. Stop the needless violence. Stop her friend from being sacrificed to a cause that meant nothing to her.
“No!” Keiko raged, clawed, fought. “No!”
The camera zoomed in, focusing on the blood running down Abigail’s face. From her eyes. Her ears. Her nose. Her mouth.
“No!” Keiko screamed. “No!”
Her friend’s body spasmed and then crumpled.
“Abigail!” Keiko roared, as though she could wake her with the noise.
Strong arms held her tight as she struggled to be free. To get to Abigail. Somehow.
“Baby, princess, please…” The words barely registered.
Because her friend lay in a bloody heap on the sixty-sixth-floor stage.
And it should have been Keiko.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Red Zone Warriors surveillance van
Four blocks from CommTECH Research Center
Houston, Northern Territory
Sandi closed her cell phone with a snap. “The Mercer brothers have arrived.”
Striker tore his eyes from Freedom’s latest broadcast. He hoped to hell that Keiko hadn’t seen her friend die live on TV. That kind of thing could destroy a person, and she needed all of her wits about her to get out of that building alive.
“Did you hear me?” Sandi asked, her eyes flicking to the screens. “CommTECH’s heads of security are here.”
“Jus’ what we need.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. They were working blind, with no idea if Mace was even still alive. He glanced at the screens showing the area around the building. “Enforcement is gathering an army.”
“They’re going to storm the building,” Sandi said.
Friday clutched at his arm. “We can’t let them do that.”
“I don’t think we can stop them.” Even now that more of his team had turned up, they were still desperately outnumbered. Eighteen Red Team Warriors against what looked like the whole of Northern Territory’s Enforcement personnel—those weren’t good odds.
“Stopping Enforcement from getting into the building is the least of our problems,” Hunter said. “They’ve got the place completely surrounded. There are no gaps that Mace could slip through. Whichever way he comes out, Enforcement will be waiting to pick him up.”
“Maybe we can’t stop them from going into the building,” Gray said, “but we could thin the crowd waiting outside some.”
Striker looked at his teammate. “What are you thinking?”
Gray looked disconnected—bored, even—but his answer was sharp. “Right now, the only focus Enforcement has is the research building. If another CommTECH building was attacked, we’d lose some of the force here to other sites. It would create gaps around the building and give Mace a better chance of getting out.”
“We can’t attack another CommTECH building.” Friday was outraged. “We can’t put people’s lives at risk just to get Mace out.”
“He wasn’t thinking about endangering any more civilians, bébé,” Striker said. “Were you, Gray?”
The man shrugged. “I was thinking more along the lines of some strategically placed charges. Big bangs that would attract a lot of attention but cause minimal damage.”
Striker nodded and covered the few short feet to Hunter’s desk. “How many more CommTECH buildings are there in Houston?”
Hunter already had the information onscreen. “Six major ones.”
Striker eyed his team. “Pair up. Make some noise. Gray, you coordinate. Keep Hunter in the loop.”
Gray nodded, and the team dispersed.
Striker watched them with longing as they ran out the door. “I should be out there with them.”
“You can’t.” Friday stroked his back. “You’d endanger them just by showing your face.”
He hated that she was right. Ever since he’d escaped in Bolivia, leaving CommTECH’s head of security dead behind him, Miriam had been desperate to get hold of him. It hadn’t helped that his animal had been caught on security cameras, too, raising questions that the team didn’t want answered.
“It ain’t right,” he said. He was hiding, staying safe, while his team took risks. If ever there was a downside of being on Enforcement’s most-wanted list, it was that.
“I know.” She rested her forehead against his back. “I want to ask you if everything is going to be okay, and I want you to tell me it will. Stupid, isn’t it? You can’t give me that assurance. Nobody can.”
“I can tell you this, bébé. In all the time I’ve known him, there ain’t never been a hard spot Mace couldn’t get out of. This time won’t be no different.”
“I hope you’re right,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The hot water poured over Keiko, mingling with her tears and flowing down the drain beneath her. There was no stopping the tears this time. No pretending they were caused by fear. They were from grief. Soul-deep, agonizing grief.
A sob ripped from her mouth as she rolled her forehead on the cool glass of the shower. She should have been with Abigail. She should have been there standing beside her friend, trying to protect her. Maybe if Freedom had her, they wouldn’t have sacrificed the scientists. Maybe Abigail would still be alive. Was it her fault that her friend was dead? Should Keiko have turned herself in to Freedom? Would it have changed anything?
Without warning, the water cut out, and a warm, soft towel wrapped around her. Gentle hands pulled her from the shower.
“You okay, princess?”
She looked up into Mace’s clear blue eyes, taking in his stubble-covered jaw and the crooked nose that had obviously been hit once too often. Such strength in just one man. Reaching up, she gently stroked his cheek.
“No,” she answered honestly. She was tearing apart inside. Ripped to shreds by the loss of her friend and the horrific way it’d happened.
“If there was anything I could do…” He trailed off, no doubt feeling as helpless as she did.
“Just hold me.” Make me feel like I can get through this. Make me feel something, anything other than this agony.
“I can do that.” His big arms wrapped around her, engulfing her in his strength. “You know there was nothing you could have done, right?” His voice was gentle before he pressed a kiss to her hair.
“Maybe if I’d been there, if I’d stayed on the terrace…”
“No.” He squeezed her tight. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. Don’t tell yourself that, baby. It’s a lie. If you’d been on the terrace, all Freedom would have done would be to keep you up there in front of the cameras until they’d played all their other cards. You would have been their final play. Their big finale.” His hand stroked her hair. “They would have killed those people anyway. There’s nothing you could have done to save your friend.”
“You could have grabbed her, too, when we ran.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she hated herself for saying them. Leaning back, she looked up at him, seeing his own regrets painted so clearly on his face.
“I’m sorry, Mace. I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t your fault. Everything happened so fast, and I know you grabbed me because I was closest. I saw Abigail step back, farther away from the audience, once I’d finished speaking with her. Knowing her, she was probably inching toward the door, hoping to make an escape before anyone noticed. She was nowhere near you when the trouble started. I’m so sorry I laid that on you.”
He cupped her cheek and stared into her eyes. Her heart. Her soul. “If I could have saved her, I would have. I wish I could go back in time and change things for you. I wish I could save her for you.”
She hiccupped a sob and felt the tears roll down her chee
ks again. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she whispered.
“Fuck.” He grated the word. “You’re killing me here. You’ve got to stop crying. I can’t cope with it.”
She forced the slightest of smiles. “And it’s all about you.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. But even though the joke was a poor one, they both knew he didn’t think that way at all. “What can I do to help? I’ve got to do something.”
The words escaped before she could think about them. “You could kiss me.”
She felt the shock at her request ripple through his body. “Keiko, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, we’re…”
Whatever else he would have said was lost when she pressed her fingertips to his lips to stop him. “I don’t care about good ideas right now. I just want a few seconds’ reprieve from the pain. I’m falling apart, Mace. Please, this once, don’t think about whether it’s a good idea or not. Just help me to forget. For a minute. Before we have to start running and fighting again. Please.”
“Keiko.” He said her name with such feeling it seemed to wrap around her. “You humble me. Everything that’s happened, and you’re still going, still asking for what you need, still putting yourself out there. Never known anybody with the kind of courage you have. Blows my mind.”
Her breath hitched at his words. He meant them with an intensity she’d never before witnessed. His feelings were there on his face for anyone to see. And she saw all of them, clear as day, laid bare before her. Admiration. Protectiveness. Desire. And something more. Something she shouldn’t want with a man who lived so far outside the law. But then, did that really matter? Because everything she’d thought was true and right had turned out to be wrong. Maybe, just maybe, Mace was the only right thing in her world.
“Please,” she whispered and watched his resolve crumble.
His hand clasped her nape, and then he closed the distance between them, never taking his eyes from hers. The world faded to the man in front of her. Then narrowed further to his face. His eyes. His lips. And then, those lips were pressed against hers in a kiss that swept her away with its gentleness and understanding. Her eyes closed of their own volition as she lost herself in the soft, firm touch of his lips against hers.
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