The Ultimate Betrayal

by Kat Martin

  “I’ll shoot, Ray. I swear to God I will.”

  “We both know what happened in that basement. How you wanted it, just like the others. You shouldn’t have run, Jessica. If you’d stayed, I would have given it to you, just like you wanted.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Put down the gun, sweetheart, and come to Jordy. We’ll finish what we started.”

  Bran kicked the door open with his boot, his Glock aimed center mass at Cummings’s chest. “She won’t have to kill you, Cummings. It’ll give me great pleasure to take care of it for her.”

  “Brandon...” The hand that held the pistol eased to her side.

  “Get out of the way, Jess. Let me finish this.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “No, Bran! You can’t just kill him!”

  Bullshit. He wanted Cummings dead, wanted Jessie safe. His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Don’t, Brandon, please!”

  She didn’t want him to kill the prick. His jaw tightened. He’d told her he could change. He looked at Cummings. Hesitated. Maybe there was another way.

  Cummings’s hand moved. Bran saw it an instant too late. A gunshot cracked, a thunderclap in the confines of the small apartment. Jessie! Then Cummings hit the floor.

  Jessie dropped the pistol, turned and ran straight into his arms.

  “Easy.” Bran holstered his weapon and his arms tightened around her. He didn’t let her go. “It’s all right, baby. Everything’s okay.”

  She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “You waited. Why did you wait? You could have been killed.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Oh, God.” She hugged him harder. “You could never disappoint me, Brandon. Never.”

  He kissed her quick and hard, set her away, and went to see about scumball Ray Cummings. As he knelt to assess the wound, he looked back at Jessie. “Your shot missed the heart. You didn’t kill him.”

  “I didn’t miss. I didn’t kill him because I wanted to so badly.”

  He almost smiled.

  “I’ll call 911.” While Jessie went to make the call, he grabbed a towel and used it to slow the flow of blood.

  Jessie made another call, this one to Detective D’Marco Porter. “Ray Cummings is on the floor of my living room. He’s bleeding from a bullet to the chest that came from my pistol.”

  Porter said something, then Jessie ended the call and turned to Bran. “The police have been dispatched. Detective Porter is on his way.”

  Bran pressed harder on the wound. “He’s losing a lot of blood. Grab another towel, will you?”

  “Or maybe we should just let him bleed out.”

  This time he did smile. “There’s my girl.”

  Shaking her head, Jessie went after more towels.

  Cummings was still breathing when the ambulance hauled his sorry ass away. Porter and another detective took his and Jessie’s statements, then, finally, they were alone.

  “I shouldn’t have left you the way I did,” Bran said, pacing over to the window, his hands on his hips. “The bastard could have killed you.”

  “I don’t think so. If anyone was going to die today, it was Ray Cummings.”

  He turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

  “That’s right.” She walked up to him. “And if you can forgive me for being such a coward before, I’d love to accept your invitation and go to Dallas with you.”

  His chest clamped down. He started to shake his head. It was over. Jessie was right—it would never work.

  He felt her hand on his cheek, drawing his attention. “I know you. I know the man you are. I trust you to handle whatever your job requires. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “Jessie...”

  “Do you love me, Brandon?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. Not about something so important. “I should have told you. I wanted to. You’re not the only coward.”

  She smiled up at him. “You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. You’re the man I love. I want us to make a life together.”

  Something was opening inside him. Something warm that felt like the sun shining on his heart. He wanted what she was offering, wanted it so badly.

  He drew her in front of him, set his hands at her waist. “You really think Danny would be okay with us being together?”

  Jessie smiled at him so sweetly his chest ached. “If he saw us together, yes, I really do.”

  The tension slid out of his shoulders and a feeling settled over him that felt like coming home. She wanted to be with him. He could make it work, have the woman he loved. A woman who also loved him.

  “So...ah...you’re moving to Dallas?”

  She smiled. “Looks that way.”

  Bran felt the biggest grin sliding across his face. Dipping his head, he very thoroughly kissed her.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Ray Cummings was on his way back to prison—this time for good, according to Detective Porter. His history of psychiatric disorders wasn’t enough to get him released again.

  A phone call Jessie received from Special Agent Tripp said Andrew Horton was still on the run, but the CID and Homeland had made some progress on the buyer of the second batch of chemicals.

  “Looks like they were purchased by a different branch of the sawt Allah. A cell closer to home, we think. We haven’t made any arrests yet, but we’re getting there.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Jessie said.

  “If it weren’t for you, we’d still be back at square one.”

  The CID was interrogating Holloway. They were looking for Horton and the rest of the stolen munitions. Cummings was back in prison, no longer a threat.

  Which meant it was time to let the army take over, and Brandon could go back to Dallas, a thought that, even a few days ago, would have been heartbreakingly painful. Now, instead of never seeing him again, Jessie was going with him.

  “Are you sure?” he’d asked. Standing in her living room, his hands settled on her waist as he looked down at her. “I want you to be happy, Jess. I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen, but I need you to be sure.”

  “I was afraid of losing you. After facing Cummings and my worst fears, I’m not a victim anymore and I never will be again.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Which means you don’t have to worry about needing to use the handcuffs.”

  His lips twitched. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

  Jessie laughed.

  Bran kissed her. “I called Reese, got him to send the jet. It’ll be here late tomorrow morning. We’ll be going back in style, baby.”

  “No matter what happens, life with you will never be dull.”

  “Same goes, honey.”

  She and Hallie talked several times.

  “I hate to see you go,” Hallie said, “but you’re doing the right thing.”

  “I know. I feel it every time I look at Bran.”

  “You’re leaving for Dallas tomorrow, right? About the same time we are?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Maybe we could meet somewhere in the terminal, get a chance to say goodbye before you leave.”

  “I would love that. But we’re flying back in the Garrett Resources jet.” She laughed. “Can you believe they have their own jet?”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know. The thing is, we’ll be flying out of the executive terminal so we won’t be close enough to meet. But we’re coming back in two weeks. We’ll make a date for sure, something with the kids that we can all do together.”

  “That would be so great.”

  “Have fun at Disneyland.”

  The next morning, leaving her Honda in the garage beneath her apartment building, they were packed and ready to lea
ve. They would be coming back after Thanksgiving to load up the stuff in her apartment and officially make the move. As a journalist she could work out of a home office, or maybe she would rent space in an office building so she could meet some people and get to know her way around the city.

  Though she would miss the mountains and all of her friends, from a career standpoint, the move was exciting. She figured just story ideas she got from The Max could keep her busy for weeks.

  “Time to go,” Bran said.

  A limo was waiting for the trip to the airport, a big black Cadillac Denali SUV. The driver, a blond man who flashed a mouth full of white-capped teeth, opened the car door and Jessie slid into the backseat.

  Bran slid in beside her. “I can’t wait to see the look on my family’s faces when I walk in with you on Thanksgiving Day.”

  She was excited to meet the rest of his family and friends. “You really think Chase will be surprised?”

  “I think he and Harper will be happy. They seem to want everyone to end up in the married state.” His beautiful blue eyes locked on her face. “Not that I’m trying to rush you or anything.”

  She leaned up and kissed him. “You are the most amazing man. I can’t imagine how I ever said no to you.”

  They pulled into the Signature Executive Terminal and the black SUV rolled to a stop. The driver opened the rear passenger door, then went around to the back, unloaded their luggage, and set it on the asphalt.

  Bran’s cell phone rang.

  Jessie’s heart jerked and nearly stopped when emergency alarms all over the airport started shrieking and the entire terminal erupted in chaos.

  * * *

  “Bran, it’s Ty. I got trouble.”

  His fingers tightened around the phone. “Alarms are going off everywhere. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Hostage situation. We’re in Concourse A, gate 48, down at the far end. They’ve got pallets of munitions set all around this end of the terminal. They’re wired with explosives, Bran.”

  “Jesus.”

  “They took all the cell phones, but I gave them Chris’s and hid mine.”

  “Make sure it’s set on vibrate.”

  “It’s done.”

  “Just keep a low profile and do what they say. I’ll assess the situation and figure my best approach. I’m not that far away, but I’ll need intel. How many of them are there? Where are they? How are they armed? Anything you can tell me will help.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Bran grabbed his gear bag off the asphalt, tossed it into the backseat of the SUV, and slammed the door.

  “Was that Ty?” Jessie asked anxiously, hurrying along beside him. “What’s going on?”

  “My guess, we’ve found the chemical weapons.”

  “Oh, my God.” The alarms were deafening. Distant police sirens, racing toward the terminal, had joined the cacophony.

  “Ty needs help. I’ve got to go.” Bran kissed her quick and hard. “I love you, baby.”

  “No! Don’t you dare say that to me now! You can say it when this is over!”

  Bran just leaned down and kissed her again. With emergency sirens blaring, the limo driver was back in the driver’s seat, getting ready to leave. Bran hauled him out of the car and took his place behind the wheel.

  “Wait a minute!” the driver yelled.

  Bran ignored him. Jamming the car in Reverse, he started backing up when the passenger door flew open and Jessie slid into the seat.

  “You can’t come, Jess! Not this time! You’ll only be in the way.”

  “Drive,” she said, strapping on her seat belt. “I won’t go in with you, but those are my friends, too. I’ll do whatever you need done.”

  He swore foully, slammed the SUV into Drive, and the vehicle heaved forward, tires screeching as the Denali blasted across the parking lot, jumped the curb, and charged onto the jet runway leading from the executive terminal to Concourse A.

  “Call 911,” he said. “Tell them you’re at the airport. Tell them there’s an army ranger named Tyler Folsom among the passengers in Concourse A who can provide intel on the hostage-takers. Tell them Brandon Garrett, former Special Forces, is heading inside. Get a name, someone you can talk to. Get his direct line and tell them I’ll call him back.”

  She did exactly what he told her. She was calm and completely in control. She was there to help, and he was suddenly glad to have her with him.

  “Tell Sergeant Ramirez that Brandon will call him directly,” she said, and ended the call. “Ramirez is SWAT. They’re en route.” She entered the sergeant’s number into his cell and set it on the center console.

  The SUV roared down the runway. Bran dodged a light jet coming in for a landing, swerving around it as the plane touched down and rolled toward the executive terminal. Nothing else was moving. The small jet appeared to be the last plane cleared, the rest in a holding pattern or being rerouted.

  As he neared Concourse A, Jessie went to Google Maps on her cell phone, which displayed the satellite image of the runway they were traveling at breakneck speed, and the layout of the concourse.

  “Which gate?” she asked.

  “Forty-eight.”

  She magnified the map. “That’s the terminal up ahead. You need to turn left before you get there. That’ll put you on the south side of the building. Gate 48 is at the east end, closest to us. You need to be careful they don’t see you driving past.”

  He turned before he got close enough to be spotted through the big plate glass windows, drove west, then turned north again.

  “How are you getting in?” Jessie asked.

  “Working on it,” he said. SWAT wasn’t there yet. Airport security didn’t have enough manpower to cover the whole place—good news for him at the moment. He needed to get inside unseen.

  The terminal loomed ahead. He pulled up next to an Airbus A330 docked at what the map showed as gate 46, and parked the black Denali beneath the wing.

  “Get behind the wheel.” He got out and opened the rear passenger door, unzipped his gear bag and armed himself: his Glock 9 mil, a .380 S&W semiauto in an ankle holster instead of the .38 revolver still in police custody. A Ruger .45 semiauto backup piece, clipped to his belt behind his back, a six-inch folding knife in one pocket, and an extra 9 mm mag in the other.

  His cell rang. Ty. “It’s bad, Bran. There are at least four pallets of munitions positioned around this end of the terminal, and each is heavily wired with explosives.”

  “There’s probably more.” A total of three thousand pounds, the amount stolen and still missing from the plant. Way overkill, to say the least. But the goal of a terrorist was to make history. To destroy the US economy and cause international chaos. “The bad news is those canisters are filled with mustard gas.”

  “Holy shit, Bran.”

  “How many terrorists?”

  “I counted eight, before three of them disappeared. There’s one guarding each of the pallets and one roaming around, keeping track of everyone. They’re all heavily armed and carrying AK-47 assault rifles.”

  “Middle Eastern?”

  “Yeah. They’re bearded, wearing robes.”

  “How many hostages?”

  “At least two hundred and fifty. People getting ready to board different flights when these guys showed up. With airport personnel, passengers, including women and children, it might be more than that. They’ve got us sitting on the floor all over this end of the terminal, a bunch of people grouped together in the middle of the corridor.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I got Hallie and the kids as far away as I could manage. We’re sitting behind a row of seats on the west end of the group.”

  “I’m on my way. Don’t worry if you don’t see me.”

  Ty made a sound that held a trace of humor. Bran had always had a knack
for blending in, becoming practically invisible. With that many hostages, he couldn’t go in full commando. He needed to be just another passenger, someone who didn’t draw attention.

  Ty ended the call to conserve the battery, and Bran turned to Jessie, now in the driver’s seat.

  “As soon as I’m inside, pull back to where it’s safe. Get Ramirez on the line and bring him up to speed. Tell him I’ll have intel when I call. Advise him we’re likely dealing with mustard gas. If I can find a way to get Hallie and the kids out, I’ll need you to be there for transport.”

  “Just let me know where you want me to be.”

  He cupped her face and leaned in for a final quick kiss. “Stay safe, baby.” Slinging his gear bag over his shoulder, he moved away, silently heading for the doors on ground level below the gates where the passengers boarded the planes.

  Where terrorists now held two hundred and fifty innocent people hostage, the threat of deadly explosives and chemical weapons hanging over their heads.

  * * *

  Jessie sat rigidly in the driver’s seat. She’d been able to hold it together until Bran had slipped away to scout the area around the terminal before he went in to face the hell that waited inside.

  Now her hands were shaking so badly she could barely put the car in reverse. He was heading into danger. He could very well be killed.

  Or he could find a way to help Ty and Hallie, Chris and little Sarah. He could help save hundreds of people’s lives.

  Her breath trembled out. It was what Bran Garrett did. He protected people, as he had protected her. He risked his life for those less able. He was good at it. Better than good. One of the best in the world.

  And she loved him for it. She loved him, and even as she stared at the possibility of his death inside the terminal, she knew that being with him was worth the risk. As her mother had accepted her father’s role as a soldier and loved him every day they shared together, Jessie was prepared to love Brandon every day of their lives.

  Taking a deep breath, she steadied her grip on the wheel. Just like Bran, she had work to do. Turning the car around, she headed back the way they had come, careful to keep out of sight until she reached a spot a safe distance away.