by Mark Stone
My eyes scoured the floor, looking for the gun Nate had dropped. Unfortunately for me, both our gazes found it at the same time. Just as I saw the gun laying off to the left, I saw Nate jump for it. He was closer and still on the floor. So, it made sense that he would reach it first. Once again, I was going to have to try to go for the man and not the weapon.
Rushing Nate, I gave him a swift kick in the face. I felt a couple of his teeth give way against my boot, and stifled a satisfied smile. Then, leaping toward him, I grappled with the gun, already in his hand.
His face, still bleeding from the cut over his eye, now gushed blood thanks to the kick I just gave him. My hands were entwined with his, both of us struggling for the gun.
“You can’t win this, Storm! I’m stronger than you, and regardless of what you said up there, you’re the one who is surrounded,” he said, blinking through a near fountain of blood as he stared at me. With his face red and his stare intense, he looked like something out of a horror movie, like some demon pulled up from the bowels of the underworld to destroy me. I knew better than that, though. He was just a man. He might have been right about me being surrounded, but the people I was surrounded by were surrounded themselves. Everyone in this God forsaken party was fighting. They were all preoccupied, and judging from the sheer amount of gunshots and screams I heard coming from all around me, I couldn’t imagine anyone had time to deal with what was going on with me and Nate.
More than that, he was a damn fool if he thought he was stronger than me. I was a police officer, and a damn good one. More than that, I had lived through things that would send other people shaking. You don’t go through hurricane season on the coast every year without developing an iron will and and a heart to match. He might have been fierce, but I was Florida strong, and he couldn’t beat that.
Pulling at the gun in his hand hard, I threw my forehead into his face. The damn thing was so beaten and battered that I prayed he wouldn’t be able to hold on after that. Mercifully, it turned out I was right. Nate yelped and let go of his grip on the gun, I pulled it hard, but the man kneed me in a place God only ever intended to be treated kindly.
Retching, I let loose of the gun and turned around, watching as it slid across the floor. Giving Nate another elbow in the face, a blow hard enough to set him unconscious, I began to crawl toward the gun.
“Not so fast,” a voice said from above me. Looking up, I saw a man I had never seen before. His eyes were beady and his face was gaunt. “You don’t get to treat my boss like that. He’s about to be the new Archer. Don’t you know that?”
He pointed his gun at my face. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” he answered. “You won’t live to see it.”
I thrust myself forward, having enough of this garbage. Screaming, I clipped the man off at the knees, knocking him forward. THrowing him back up once he fell against my back, I spun quickly, ripping the gun from his hand and beating him across the face with it.
Grabbing the gun I was after when he stopped me, I grunted. “Good. Now I’ve got two.”
Pushing myself up, I watched the carnage unfold around me.
“You okay?” a voice asked from beside me. “All the blood.”
Looking over, I saw Natasha standing her, a gun in her hand as well. Following her gaze down to my shirt, I saw the damn thing was almost completely red now.
“It’s not mine,” I said in a tone that came out more as a croak than anything else. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not gonna happen,” Natasha said, motioning to the staircase, which was now littered with people fighting each other. As she spoke, a shot rang right past her head.
“Come on,” I said. “We need to move.” Stuffing one of the guns I’d just acquired into the waistband of my pants and grabbing her hand, I pulled the woman forward. Seeing a catering counter in the distance, I made a beeline for it. A burly idiot rushed me with a knife, screaming. Stopping short, I slapped him in the face with the butt of the other gun and kicked him so hard in the leg I heard it snap. Then, still not having let go of Natasha’s hand, I pulled her forward and we rounded the catering counter, ducking behind it as more shots rang out.
“Pretty hardcore, Stormy. I like it,” Natasha said breathlessly as we settled beside each other.
“Not hardcore enough,” I answered, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how we get out of here.”
“We wait,” Natasha answered. “We wait until they thin their own herds.”
“You want me to let people kill each other?” I asked, snapping my head toward her.
“I want you to do what you came as opposed to attempting to do what you can’t,” Natasha answered quickly. “There’s no honor in dying for thieves, and that’s exactly what you’d be doing if you went out there right now. Trust me. I know a thing or two about these kinds of events. The worst of the worst attend these. We’d only be doing the world a favor if we let them destroy themselves.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that would make us no better than the rest of them.”
“Maybe one of us isn’t, Stormy. You ever think of that?” Natasha asked. Shaking her head, she added, “I’ve done some pretty awful things.”
“Done some pretty good things too,” I answered as another shot rang out. “And those things are more current. If I was going to judge you, I’d do it on those.”
“That’s because you’re kind,” she said. “But we both know what I’m capable of, and we both know what that means.”
“I don’t,” I answered. “I honestly have no idea what that means.” I grabbed her arm. “Look. You’re a good person, Natasha. Sure, you had a rough start and you did some questionable things, but look at where you are now. Look at the woman you’ve become. You’re an FBI agent for God’s sake. You’re one of the good ones, sweetie.”
“I know,” she said. Looking down, a small smile crept across her face. “Sucks sometimes though now that I know what I have to do.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my eyes going wide and my hand tightening around her.
“My name was Becky Shaw before all this,” she said. “Rebecca, just like your wife. Isn’t that weird?”
“What?” I asked. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know,” she answered. “After all this, I think you deserve to know. I was born in a small town in Montana. My father was a preacher at a Baptist church. He still is.” She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “He really loved me. He tried. God knows he did, but I had this fire in me and no matter what I did, I couldn’t quiet it down. I couldn’t stop it. It kept pushing me toward all these horrible things. My dad never stopped trying though. He loved me so damn much. He still does. Or, at least, that’s what he told me when I called him. I hadn’t talked to him in years before today. He was so shocked when he heard my voice, but he recognized me instantly.” Tears streamed down her face. “Come home, Becky. That’s what he told me. I left when I was sixteen, Stormy. It’s been almost twenty years and he still wants me to come home.” She nodded firmly. “Will you make sure I do? Will you make sure that, when all of this is over, they send me back to my dad?”
My heart skipped a beat as I took in all Natasha was telling me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was she-was she say what I thought she was saying?
“Wait a second,” I said. “What are you talking about? Why are you acting like you’re not going to make it out of here?”
“Because I’m not, Stormy,” she said, reaching down and picking up the gun I had set down beside her. “Terry is going to go destroy that house, and if you’re right and Eve Jensen is in there-and we both know you are- then she’ll die when that happens.” She shook her head. “You won’t allow that to happen, will you?”
“Not if I can help it,” I said confused. “But I don’t-”
“You have to go,” she said flatly. “You have to go save her.” She looked out at the turmoil exploding all around us. “And you have to let me
help you do that, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Nat,” I said, tightening my grip as she tried to pull away. “Nat, I won’t let you.”
“Stop,” she said, touching my face with her free hand. “You always saw the good in me. Just this once, let me see it in myself, too. Okay?” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “You were the best of them, Stormy. You really were.”
Jerking her arm quickly, Natasha pulled away from me. Scooping one of my guns from the floor, she rushed out into the fray with a pistol in each hand. She screamed, firing toward the staircase and causing the people around it to scatter.
“Now!” she yelled to me, and then turned her attention to the people all around, shooting haphazardly and creating a cover.
More than anything, I wanted to save her. I wanted to scoop her up and take her with me. I couldn’t do that, though. She had made her decision, and with it, given me a few seconds where I could make it out. I wasn't going to waist them. I wasn’t going to make this sacrifice be for nothing.
Rushing out from behind the bar, I made a beeline for the staircase. My eyes caught Natasha’s for just a second as I passed her. In her gaze, I saw a million unsaid things, a million apologies, and a million thank yous. I hoped she could see all that in mine as well.
“Go!” she screamed, and so I did. I turned, pumping my legs harder and making it to the staircase. In a blink, I ran up it. I headed out onto the beach and toward Donald Rightman’s house. I was going to try to save Eve Jensen, and unfortunately, I had to leave Natasha to her fate in order to do it.
Chapter 30
Running to the limo I’d just left no more than a few minutes ago, I pulled the door open to find the woman I was supposed to shoot earlier. Nate promised to take care of her. He said no harm would come to her. I figured he would have had someone come to scoop her up and take her to safety. I suppose, since he was going to kill Natasha and I, I shouldn’t have been surprised that he might go back on his promise to help her too.
The poor woman jerked as she saw me, screaming into the cloth tied around her mouth. She probably thought I was coming back to finish the job I’d left earlier.
“Calm down,” I said, closing the door and pulling the cloth from her mouth. “I’m not here to-”
“Don’t kill me! I have a dog to take care of,” she screamed.
“I-I’m not going to kill you,” I said, honestly taken aback a little by her comment. “Your dog has nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll leave. If you let me go, I’ll just leave and I’ll never come back,” the woman said. “You don’t have to worry about me going to the police.”
“You’ve already gone to the police,” I said, searching for the keys and finding them on the far end of the dash. I grabbed them and stuck them into the ignition. Turning the key, I sighed a little sigh of relief as I heard the engine purr to life.
“I swear I haven’t!” the woman said. “I would never. If you just let me go-”
“Listen,” I said, turning to her with big eyes. “In just a couple of seconds, some people are going to come out here. They’re going to try to kill me, and I doubt very seriously that they’ll be careful enough to stop some of the bullets from hitting you. I don’t have time to explain everything right now, but I am the police, ma’am. I’m a detective and I’m here to help you.” I threw the limo into drive and sped off. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you go.”
“What?” the woman asked, shaking her head furiously. “I swear, I-”
“You were skimming money off the top for Donald Rightman, right?” I asked.
“Are you going to arrest me?” she asked, not nearly as afraid about that prospect as she was about me hurting her, which made a lot of sense.
“At the moment, I couldn't care less about who got what ill-gotten drug money,” I answered. “The only reason I care about who you worked for is because working for him means you can help me.”
“Help you how?” the woman asked, swallowing hard. “What do you need?”
“We’re going to the Fortress,” I said.
“To Donald Rightman’s house?” the woman balked. “But he’s dead. Why would we-”
“Because I think someone is alive in there, and I think they’re in trouble,” I said. “But I need to know everything I can about the place. Have you ever been inside?”
“More times than I can count,” she said. “It’s huge. It has more twists and turns in it than a hedge maze. I still don’t think I’ve seen all the rooms.”
“What about the security?” I asked.
“It’s a lot,” she said. “There are padlocks and security systems that require pin codes to get in.”
“Damn it,” I muttered, taking a left and swerving onto the road where the Fortress was supposed to be located. “It’ll take awhile to get through that. Though, I suppose that’s a good thing. If it takes me awhile, it’ll take Terry awhile too.”
“What if it didn’t take you awhile?” the woman asked sheepishly.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, glaring over at her with one eye.
“Look,” she said. “It’s not that I think you’re a liar. I’m sure you really don’t care who gets what money from where, but a lot of people do. Maybe you’ll come out on top of this thing, and I won’t have to worry about literally all the people who want to kill me. But, even if you do, I’d still go to jail.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“Let’s say I had a master key to padlocks,” she said. “Let’s say I also had the universal pin codes for the security. Would that be enough to get you to pull over, free me of these ropes, and let me walk away from this?”
I pulled into the driveway of the Fortress. A large gate blocked our entry. I thought about Eve Jensen, about a little girl who lost everything the last time she was here, and about a woman who very likely just died to ensure I saved that little girl.
“It would,” I said. “If you could prove to me that what you were giving me is what you say it is, it would be enough.”
“In my sock,” the woman said, lifting her right foot.
I dug in there and found a small silver key.
“Seven two four six,” she said. Motioning forward, she said, “It’ll open everything in the house, including this gate.”
Turning to the keypad by the gate, I pressed in the numbers she said, and the damn thing opened up just like magic.
“Okay,” the woman said. “I did my part.”
“You did,” I said, reaching past her and pushing her door open. Pulling the knots on the ropes still holding her apart, I gave her a warning. “This earns you one pass. Get your nose clean. Get your act together. If I ever see you again, if you’re ever doing the same thing, it won’t end like this.”
“Got it,” the woman said, pulling out of the limo. Just as she was about to walk away, moving down the street, she turned back to me. “I don’t know if it means anything, but recently he started spending a lot of time by himself on the South side of the second floor.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
Without even responding, the woman turned and walked away. If I’d have had more time, I might have wondered if I did the right thing by letting her go. There was no time, though. So I just drove.
As I moved up the driveway, I started to see the Fortress take shape through the trees. The woman was right. It was massive. The size of the thing wasn’t what took my breath away though. It was the raging orange glow I saw covering it through the trees.
I was too late. The damn place was on fire.
Chapter 31
With tires screeching, I sped up, pulling up to the house as quickly as the bulky limo would take . As I neared the giant place, I saw the fire more clearly. It hadn’t spread throughout the entire house yet, but it wasn’t far from it. The idea made sense to me. If Terry, the Archer, wanted to rid herself of any intel Donald Rightman had on her, then I couldn’t think of a more complete way of accomplishi
ng that task than with fire.
What was more, perhaps she thought Eve Jensen was in there as well. Maybe this fire would serve to rid her, not only of any evidence of the Archer’s underhanded doings, but of her own sins as a child. Jessica Ferns was never going to be found again, and if murdering her sister (as she did her father) got the job done, then she was going to do it.
Not on my watch.
Throwing the limo in park, I scanned the area for signs that Terry or her people were still here. I saw no car, though the grounds were dark and smoke billowed from the house, making it hard to see. No matter. I had to go no matter what. A woman’s life depended on it. Opening the door, I saw a glow from the top floor as well. Terry and her people had set fires in multiple parts of the house. They wanted to make sure this entire place went up in flames and Eve with it, regardless of where she was in the house.
Luckily for me, I had something to go on. Remembering what the woman in the limo told me about Donald Rightman’s actions as of late, I darted toward the south side of the house.
Heat poured from the building in sheets, causing me to sweat automatically. I trudged on. I was raised on the Gulf coast. I was used to the heat.
Glancing over, I saw bars on the windows and keypads on all the doors I ran by, I had known men like this in my life, rich people who cared so much for their items and the things they had acquired that they would protect them at all cost. I thought about that for a second and then I remembered the sight of Donald Rightman, laying on the concrete with a bullet in his head. I wondered if he’d give all that stuff away for just one more year, for just one more day.
Rounding the southernmost side of the building, I found myself panting. The smoke was thicker now, pouring at me from this end. I couldn’t be deterred, though. If I was going to find Eve Jensen before the fire took her, I was going to have to do it back here. I mean, Donald Rightman wasn’t disappearing into this section of the house for nothing. She had to be here.
Blinking through the smoke, I made my way to the back door, and more importantly, to the keypad on it. Remembering the code the woman in the limo told me, I punched it in, praying what she had given me wasn’t just the code to the front gate.