by Em Petrova
After he finished, he swung his head to his captain. “I need to make a call, Penn.”
He fixed his stare on him, face grim. “You think Christopher might have gone to Valentine, don’t you?”
He gave a single nod.
“Permission granted. Don’t tie up the line.”
He thumbed off Vivian’s number and brought the phone to his ear, his fingers clamped hard on the device and his breaths coming faster as the rings went unanswered.
“Fuck.” He ended the call and made another. “I need Cason’s number.”
Penn shot him another look but said nothing.
From the back seat, Lipton recited Cason’s number. As soon as he had the digits committed to memory, he dialed the man. He picked up after the first ring.
“Cason, it’s Broshears. Is Vivian with you on the search?”
“No.”
He bit off a growl of annoyance that he refused to expand on his response. “Well, where is she?”
“She’s not answering her phone?”
“Goddammit, if she was, why would I be calling you?”
“Damn.”
The hair on his nape stood on end. “What’s going on?” He disliked the sound of Cason’s voice.
“She went away for the weekend, on a short vacation.”
His chest burned. “Why would she do that?”
“You tell me, Broshears. I’m all set to bring my dog out to rip your balls off.”
“Look, I don’t care what beef you have with me. I need to find her. Now. Give me the address of this cabin.”
“I don’t know it. She didn’t share it with me. All I know is that her father owned it, and it passed into her hands after he—”
Cason never finished the sentence before Broshears hung up on him. He located Vivian’s file on Penn’s device, which included her address and contact information…and a property on a lake.
He spouted off the coordinates to Penn. “We have to get there. It’s only forty miles from the place Christopher escaped. On foot, it would take him hours, but he could have hitchhiked or stolen a car.”
“You’re right, but we need to split the team to make this a real effort, and we’re hours from that address. Get Cora here with the chopper. Broshears, Lip, Hep, you’re with Cora when she arrives.”
Broshears’ barely checked his fears as an internal battle rose up inside him. He had to get to Vivian—fast. He had a bad feeling about this. Was it coincidence that she’d gone to the cabin…or had Christopher made contact with her?
He knew without question that she’d never aid the man in his escape, but he could have threatened her to get her there. With all this running through his head, he called Cason again.
“What the hell do you want now, Broshears?”
“You spoke to Vivian about going away?”
“I’m looking after Zack, so yes.”
His chest constricted at the thought of any other man looking after her dog besides himself. “How did she seem when she discussed going away with you? Was she upset?”
“I’d say so, yeah, but holding it back in pure Vivian style. I won’t ask why you dumped her, Broshears.”
He reeled from the statement. “You think I dumped her?”
“Didn’t you?”
“She dumped me.”
A collective silence sucked the air from the vehicle as all his teammates also heard the news. His heart drummed loud in his ears.
That noise was buried beneath Cason’s laugh. “She’s a stubborn one. And before you ask, no, there’s nothing going on between Viv and me. Why did you ask if she sounded off when I spoke to her?”
He stared through the windshield but saw nothing but Vivian’s face and a blur of red fury at the thought of her being in harm’s way.
“Broshears?” Cason prompted him.
“Because…I think she might be in trouble. But don’t worry—I’ll get to her.”
Vivian covertly tugged at the bonds holding her to the wooden chair. Her wrists were raw from working the ropes when Billy wasn’t looking, and the sting of the hemp digging into her flesh sent a wave of dizziness through her.
I’m not weak. I can figure out a way to free myself. Then I’m going to bash Uncle Motherfucker over the head with that fire iron.
She shot a look at the stone fireplace. So many memories of toasting marshmallows or bread over the flames flooded in. Betrayal was a sick lump in her stomach she couldn’t dislodge. Had Billy gone off his rocker after losing his job with the pipeline or had he always been hiding this brand of crazy?
“If my father could only see us …” she taunted in a quiet voice.
His head snapped up from a mechanical device he was working on, the parts spread across the wooden table feet away from her. “You’ll shut your mouth if you know what’s good for ya.”
When had she ever known what was good for her? She was her father’s daughter, and she never did things halfway. She jumped in with both boots and took control even when there wasn’t a glimmer of control in sight.
“Remember that week we last fished here? All four of us came to the cabin.” She examined the special pieces added year by year—an old clock made out of a piece of driftwood purchased at a flea market and set on the mantel. A pair of cute birds Geri set on the windowsill over the sink, she said to lure the birds in to her feeders. She loved to watch the native birds peck away at the seed she set out. Now she stared at prison bars.
Billy’s mouth tightened, but he remained unresponsive.
“We fished until our arms hurt from casting that year. We pulled how many fish out of the lake? Thirty? Forty?”
“Thirty-eight in a day,” he bit off.
“That’s right. God, Geri could fry a fish like no other.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up in his throat and stuck there.
“I bet you miss her fresh fish dinners. We also smoked some that year, remember? God, the flavors…I still dream about that smoked fish sometimes.”
He remained silent, placing together parts she had no idea what he planned to do with. An old fishing boat battery from the shed and a few odds and ends. She wracked her brain to figure out what could be created from such things. Another bomb? And why didn’t he just steal her truck and leave? If anybody could escape into the wilds of Alaska, it was Billy.
“Just tell me, Billy. Did you ask Geri to mail those package bombs to your enemies from the pipeline?”
His expression stayed the same, but his jaw shifted. He was listening.
“I understood your reason for being so angry after they laid you off—you needed that money for Geri’s treatments. Because you love her. But I just can’t piece together why you’d put her in jeopardy by asking her to create explosives and mail them out.”
“Shut your damn mouth, girl.”
Hate rose inside her in a bright flash, and she glared at him through a red haze.
“You know how she got caught, right? The explosives blew up in her house. Took out my dog and almost my—” She stopped short of saying boyfriend and instead went with, “friend. It could have killed her easy. You knew that, though, right?”
He twisted toward her, screwdriver clutched in his fist like a threat. “Shut. Up.”
She opened her mouth to continue. What did she have to lose?
Maybe she did have something to lose, after all.
Alix had lectured her before for being careless with her actions. Right this minute, she knew dozens of units would be on a manhunt for prison escapee William Christopher, and that most likely included people she cared about. Hunt and her other friends from the K-9 unit.
And Alix. His teammates.
Hunt knew where she was, and eventually, someone would check on her. Vivian could taunt Billy until he was absolutely crazed with the need to kill, maim, devastate…or she could hold tight and pray she was rescued and Billy captured.
Her insides tremored. How long before Alix put two and two together? She knew his sharp mind. Surely
he’d find her soon.
If he was even thinking of her anymore.
She’d pushed him away, even though she was in love with him. What kind of stubborn idiot did that to a good man? She’d been hurtful, and the devastated look he wore would forever haunt her…unless she could make it up to him.
Come for me, Alix. If we have any bond at all, please feel the energy I’m putting out to the universe.
Billy turned to his work, brows lowered, and she strained at her bonds again in an attempt to stretch the rope enough to wiggle free. In the event she could escape the ropes, she’d have that heavy metal iron in her hand so fast and to hell with Billy. He didn’t give a damn about her when he took her hostage and tied her to a chair. He didn’t care what his friend would think if he were living, or even about the welfare of a woman he claimed to love and threw it all away for.
The strain of trying to stretch the rope tore up her arms and knotted her shoulders. Her hair hung into her face, and the notion invaded her mind that if Alix were here, he’d gently brush it away before leaning in to kiss her.
How had she missed all those tender moments that indicated how he truly felt for her? He’d declared his love and she tossed it back in his face. No way would he be concerned for her welfare after that, and Alix and the Xtreme Ops team were her only hope right now.
Hunt was a great friend and fantastic handler, but she needed some big-time backup in this situation.
Think, Vivian. Use your brain.
She almost heard her father’s voice resounding in her mind. If she’d only brought Zack, she could order the dog to take down Billy. Of course, that would still leave her tied to a chair. Besides, this was all hypothetical—she hadn’t brought Zack, and she had only her wits and skills to get herself out of this.
As the light in the cabin began to fade and she realized how much time had passed since she’d been bound to this chair, panic filtered in. What if Billy left her here alone, unable to get free?
Impossible. Hunt would eventually come looking for her.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced.
He threw her a look.
She did need to go, but not urgently—yet. She squeezed her thighs together to show him it was an emergency.
He glanced down at her knees and then to her face. Those cold eyes weren’t those of the man she knew. “Piss your pants, then. I’m not untying you.”
The iciness in his tone rocked her. A cry rushed up her throat, and she bit it off with as much will as she could muster when her morale was flagging. How many hours had passed now? At least two, judging by the light. Her hands had gone from pins and needles to sporadic feelings of numbness, which terrified her. She couldn’t lose her hands. He’d also bound her ankles to the chair legs, and her spine seared with the upright position it’d been forced into.
Alix…I don’t know if I can get out of this without you. If I don’t…I hope you know I do love you.
Struggling against the cry she gulped down, she saw Billy lift his head and pierce her in that cold, heartless stare once more. Then she remembered something.
How much he hated tears.
The day she’d broken her foot as a kid jumping off a rock, Billy had snapped at her for crying. That might have been the only moment in her life she recalled her father being angry with his long-time friend.
She could cry now. Mustering the tears wouldn’t be very hard, when they hung so close to the surface.
Then what? Incite his wrath? He could hit her or worse.
Or he could let her out to use the bathroom, then she’d run.
After bottling her emotions for her entire life, it was time to let them out.
Vivian allowed her sob to bubble up, and then she released a wail to accompany it for good measure.
Chapter Twelve
“Cora, can you fly this chopper faster?”
“Broshears, I’m doing all I can to get you and the team there.” She shot a look over her shoulder at him. Her headset and mic didn’t conceal the tenseness bracketing her mouth.
“We all know what you’re capable of in that pilot’s seat, Cora.”
“I won’t put your lives in jeopardy,” she said in an even tone.
Lipton brought his hand down on Broshears’ shoulder. “Lay off her, man. She’s doing her best.”
Broshears bent forward, head in his hands. Every corner of his lungs were aflame with the need to roar. He needed to reach Vivian—now. Each second that ticked by meant life or death. If Billy really did have her…
When he sat upright again, slicing his fingers through his hair, Hepburn caught his attention. “Did you ever tell her you love her, Broshears?”
If the chopper had enough room to pace, he’d launch to his feet and stomp around simply to expend some of his energy.
All he could do was nod. “I told her, and she made me back off.”
“Damn, that’s hard.” Hepburn turned his attention to his boots. No man liked witnessing another man’s pain.
“ETA six minutes,” Cora announced.
Broshears looked to Lipton, their second-in-command when Penn wasn’t with them. “What’s the plan?”
Lipton held out his phone and brought up an aerial view of the cabin. Seeing the small structure gave Broshears a sharp pang. His woman was inside that place, and he would get her back—in more ways than one.
If she tried to set him loose again, claiming she wasn’t wife material or didn’t want a relationship, well, he’d only kiss her silent. And if she tried to argue further, he could think of a dozen other ways to distract her. This time, he’d fight. He’d fight because Vivian was his life.
Scooting to the edge of his seat, Lipton held out the device for Gasper and Hepburn to see as well. “We land here.” He pointed to a field a mile away from the cabin.
Broshears wanted to bellow. So many precious seconds would be wasted running the distance between the chopper and the cabin, but he knew Lipton was calling the right shots. If Billy Christopher was with Vivian, he’d hear the chopper and be forced to desperate measures. They couldn’t put her life in any more danger than it already was.
He expanded his chest with air and slowly expelled it as he listened to Lipton’s instructions. The route they’d take to the cabin would be a six-minute run with full gear, tops. They’d done it before, and he, Lipton, Gasper and Hepburn were the best runners of the Xtreme Ops team.
When they reached the cabin, two would go in the front while the other two guarded the rear. Cora would remain with the chopper in the event they needed her fast.
He wouldn’t think about why they might require an emergency airlift. He refused to think of anything happening to Vivian.
I’m coming, honey. Hang on.
“What do we know of Christopher?” he asked. “Is he armed?”
“Not as far as we know. He managed to slip away from the guards when a fight broke out between two prisoners being transported with him. He ran into the woods, and the guards pursued but lost him in the thick underbrush,” Lipton said.
“But he could have found a way to arm himself since. Every other truck in Alaska has a shotgun on a rack or a handgun in the glove compartment—he could easily steal one.”
They all nodded at Broshears’ statement.
“Besides…if he does have Vivian in that cabin, I know she’s armed.”
Silence pervaded the chopper. The noise of the engine and blades changed pitch as Cora dropped in altitude.
Minutes later, they were touching down. Broshears leaped to the ground following Lipton, but he quickly surged ahead, running flat out to the cabin. The map ingrained on his brain so deep that he recalled the coordinates of every tree along the way.
“If I’d known I’d be setting sprint records, I woulda worn my lighter boots,” Gasper said into their comms devices. Lipton’s chuckle came in answer, but Broshears only felt fear.
How long since he’d known this heart-thudding terror? Probably when he and his team in
vaded the compound in North Korea and freed those hostages. It was his first big solo mission, and he knew if he fucked it up and failed, he’d never forgive himself.
Now, his fight/flight response launched high enough to circle Earth. One misstep could cost Vivian her life—and if that was on his conscience, he couldn’t live with it.
When he spotted the landmark indicating they needed to turn west to reach the cabin, he surged with energy. The others picked up speed, nobody speaking due to the hard pace he set.
They reached the break in the trees. He paused to glance around but not for long before he blasted forward, weapon up, prepared to disarm, disable or shoot to kill. Any threat against the woman he loved would be neutralized.
Lipton motioned to Hepburn to follow him to the rear of the cabin, while Broshears and Gasper took the front, running in total stealth mode so as not to alert Christopher. If he had Vivian, he’d use her as leverage to free himself, but they wouldn’t allow him to walk away.
He paused in front of the door, ticking off the countdown on his fingers. On one, Gasper kicked the door in, and Broshears swept inside, weapon ready.
A muffled scream came from his left, and he glanced at the woman bound to a wooden chair, a gag around her sweet mouth. A man exploded up from a seat at the table, and Gasper bellowed a warning to the man to put his hands on his head even as the back door of the cabin splintered.
“Hands on your head! On your head!” Gasper shouted.
Broshears whirled to Vivian and ripped his knife from his belt. When he cut her hands free, his own shook, and he had to focus to keep from slicing her with the blade. When she didn’t immediately move her arms to reach for the gag over her mouth, he realized that she might have lost all sensation in those limbs.
He tore the gag away and went for her ankles last. She didn’t move, but her eyes begged him to help her.
Christ, she was so vulnerable right this minute. He’d never seen her anyway but bad-ass, and it broke him to see her this way.
“I got you!” He wrapped an arm about her waist and lifted her. The toes of her boots dragged on the wood floor, and he tossed her over his shoulder and blasted out of the cabin. A bullet whizzed by his ear, and he angled his body to protect Vivian. Aiming his sights on Christopher, he fired in the same second.
