“Naw, we won’t hurt her.” Cal handed Roy and Nicole a couple of pistols from a duffel. Then he slid his K-bar knife into his belt. “We’ll just rip her clothes off and have our way with her.”
“He’s serious, you know,” Roy added. “You see, we’re going to get into that safe you undoubtedly have in there, and if it takes interrogating your little sister, we’ll do it. Of course, you might be shark bait by that point, you and your friend. Cal, get that safe-drilling kit in case Ward doesn’t cooperate at the expense of his sister and friend. Frisco, guard him. We’ll call you when we’ve got them under control.”
Frisco nodded.
Roy closed the door, once more dropping them into darkness.
Gritting his teeth, Jonathan squirmed against his bonds. He had to get free, had to save Abigail. His breath coming in quick puffs to relieve the pain from his broken ribs, he worked his wrists again. Futile. Just futile. He slumped against the van wall.
Lord, I don’t want her to die here. And I don’t want to die. Not now. I don’t.
Frisco swiveled on the bench and faced him, elbows on knees, his thumbs flying across his phone’s screen.
Jonathan tried not to think about Abigail suffering at his hands.
They’d kill David without hesitation because not even David Shepherd, the soldier’s soldier, could fend off an ambush of three armed people.
Frisco stared at him for a long moment. The glow from the phone turned his face pale, like that of a ghost.
He stilled like an animal knowing it was going to be sacrificed. Maybe they’d texted him to go ahead and do the deed.
Frisco set the phone down. He reached up and cut on the interior light. Slowly, he undid the zipper to the duffel and lifted out a pair of wire cutters.
That was strange. Why use wire cutters when he had a gun and knife?
On his knees, Frisco approached him.
Jonathan cocked his head. “What are you doing?” His lips formed the question, but no words came across his suddenly dry lips.
Frisco helped him sit up and propped him against a wall. He reached down. In one deft motion, he clipped the tie binding Jonathan’s ankles.
Blessed freedom. But why was he doing this? Why free him and run the risk of the wrath of Nicole falling on him?
Then Frisco took hold of his wrists and completely freed him.
Jonathan finally found his voice. “I—I—I don’t understand.”
Frisco met his gaze. His light brown eyes remained veiled in the dim light. Quietly, he stated, “Listen to me. I’m only going to say this once. You need to punch me. Then get out of here. Take my phone, gun, and knife.”
He set those on Cal’s bench and hauled Jonathan to his knees.
“Leave. Save your sister and your friend because Cal will have his way with her and kill them both. Use my phone to call for help. I changed the code to one-two-three-four. Do you understand me?”
“Uh…”
“Do it. Punch me. Hard. Now.”
“I…” Shock paralyzed Jonathan.
“Don’t worry about hurting me. It’s…it’s worth it. Your sister and friend are counting on you. I’ll be fine. I’ll say you cut the ties, then got the drop on me and escaped. Do it now.”
The agony of what he’d endured sent a hot flash of anger through Jonathan. He drew back his fist. With his remaining strength, he slammed it into Frisco’s face.
With a sharp crack, the man’s nose snapped.
Frisco fell backwards.
Jonathan toppled onto him. He moaned as his ribs raged with pain. He forced himself off Frisco until he sat crumpled against the passenger’s seat with his sides heaving.
Between the two benches, Frisco remained still.
Jonathan didn’t wait. He grabbed the gun and phone as well as the knife and tucked them into the pockets and waistband of his jeans.
After crawling toward the side door, he turned the handle and pulled.
No give.
He pulled with all of his might.
The door inched open. Several more frantic tugs created an opening wide enough for him to slip through. He put his foot out and toppled from the van.
His right shoulder slammed onto the hard pavement. Stars sparked in his vision. Only with superhuman will did he tamp down the scream that clawed at his throat. His torso twisted as his body completed the fall. He moaned at the agony blazing up and down his side.
Slowly, he pushed himself onto all fours. With his head hung, he brought one knee to his chest, then grasped the lip of the doorway and hauled himself to his feet. He found the side and leaned against it until the pain settled to a dull roar before he opened his eyes and wobbled toward the front.
Latticework separated their hiding place from the road. He peered through one of the holes.
Three shadows darted across the street and paused under the stairs. They blended with the darkness, meaning Abigail and David wouldn’t see them until too late.
Jonathan curled his fingers around the slats. Nausea roiled in his gut. He had to do something. Taking a deep breath drilled more shards of pain into his lungs.
“God, please. Just a bit more,” he whispered.
He clamped his jaw against the pain and got his legs moving. If he stopped, he’d collapse and not get up. He staggered across the driveway and into the scrub across the street from his house. In the darkness, he stumbled over exposed roots. Sand spurs added pinpricks of pain in his feet, but he ignored them and pressed onward. He felt his way through low trees as bent and worn from the salt air and wind as he felt.
His legs wobbled, and he collapsed to his knees.
His breath whistled between his teeth as his vision began tunneling from the pain.
He forced his eyes open.
Panic sent one more shot of adrenaline through his fading system as he watched the front door to the house open. Two figures, one with a ponytail and one tall and built, emerged.
Abigail, no!
His plea remained locked in his throat. He tried to rise but toppled forward. No more strength, not when he needed it the most. He couldn’t save them.
Not by himself.
Grasping the branches for support, he pushed himself to his knees as he fumbled for Frisco’s phone. It fell to the sand beside him. His shaking fingers brushed the case. He activated the screen. A keypad appeared.
“Code…code…” he muttered. It flew to his mind. One-two-three-four. He punched it, brought up the phone’s keypad, and dialed three more numbers. God, let them answer.
“Nine-One-One, how may I help you?” the Southern, feminine voice stated.
“I need your help at 3245 West Beach Boulevard in Holden Beach.” Jonathan drew a sharp breath between his teeth. “Burglars have broken into my house, and they’re coming after my sister and me.”
“Help’s on the way. Stay on the line with me, sir.”
“Th—thank you.” Trembling started from deep inside.
The pain worsened. He began panting in an effort to relieve it.
“Are you hurt, sir?”
“Badly.” Jonathan swallowed hard.
The trembling graduated to shaking. Hold on, he urged himself. Not much longer. Just hold on. His grip tightened on branches as his world began tilting.
“Both police and paramedics have been dispatched. Stay with me.”
He passed out.
Holden Beach, North Carolina
David stepped onto the front porch and surveyed the area as he shucked his gloves. Almost there. He could feel it. Problem was, the feeling of relief that came toward the end of a mission or deployment could make your guard drop. People got killed too easily during those times. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Not tonight. Not on his watch. And not with Abigail. David kept his gun low but ready to fire.
The door closed with a thump. Wisps of hair tousled his cheek as she brushed by him. “I couldn’t get the deadbolt locked. Oh, well. He’ll just have to forgive me. You see anything?”
/> “Nope.” He did one last scan. “Good to go.”
“I’ll lead.” Abigail stuffed her gloves in her jeans pockets and carefully descended the steps.
Using his peripheral vision, David took advantage of what little light remained on this moonless night. Now he wished they’d turned on the carport lights.
“Coast is clear,” she murmured so low that he barely heard her above the soothing rhythm of waves hitting sand.
His feet hit solid ground. “I’m not letting up—”
Abigail yelped. A thud and a grunt from her followed. “Let me go!”
“Get her to the back,” a harsh female voice ordered.
David turned toward the voice. Too late, he realized his mistake. Pain exploded in his kidney. He groaned and staggered into one of the house’s pilings.
“I’ll take that,” a man with an Australian accent said as he lifted the Beretta from his hand. It landed with a thud somewhere in the sand near the edge of the concrete.
“Get him over there.” The woman again.
David finally put a name to the voice. Nicole Chardet. He pushed back—straight into the muzzle of a gun.
“I wouldn’t do that, Shepherd. You see, Cal’s got a gun on your girl.” The Aussie twisted his arm behind him and marched him toward the rear of the carport. He jerked upward on his arm. “Down on your knees.”
David sank onto the concrete to relieve the pain.
The Aussie released him. “Get your hands on your head. Cross your ankles.”
David obeyed.
“Ow! Let go of me!” Abigail’s shadow thrashed about in the oppressive darkness.
“Stop struggling, and maybe I will.” Cal’s hillbilly accent rode upon the breeze as he called her a foul name. He kept his hand enmeshed in her ponytail and shoved her to her knees. “You stay put, you hear?”
A feminine silhouette, this one with a gun in her hand, joined them. “Where is it?”
“You’re talking to me?” Abigail lifted her chin.
Nicole slapped her hard enough to make her head snap.
She didn’t cry out. Didn’t even make a sound. Instead, she rubbed her cheek. “Ow, that hurt.”
Nicole bent so they were almost nose to nose. “Where’s the drive?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you know darned well what I’m talking about. Your brother has a safe up there. I know he does. And I’m pretty sure you got into it. Now where is it?”
“Seriously, I don’t—”
Nicole backhanded her. “Cal, search her. Strip her if you have to, but I want that drive.” She turned a red light onto Abigail.
Cal loomed over her.
David’s blood churned. He had to neutralize the situation, but he couldn’t. Any move he made would be obvious.
Abigail tensed.
Cal shoved her between the shoulder blades.
Off balance, she toppled forward. “Hey!”
He flipped her over.
Abigail pushed against him.
He popped her across the face.
David unlaced his fingers.
Abigail flailed out and caught Cal on the face.
He grunted. He pounced and blocked David’s view, but he could hear scuffling.
Abigail cried out. Her legs churned as she struggled. Fabric ripped.
David had to stop him. He uncrossed his ankles.
“Make one move to get up, Shepherd, and I’ll blow your brains out.” The Aussie pressed the gun barrel against his head as if to emphasize his point.
“She don’t have it,” Cal said a moment later.
Abigail lay curled up, one hand cupping her cheek. Cal had ripped her T-shirt from top to bottom, and she clung to what was left to hold it together.
“At least she don’t have it up top.” Cal ran his hand down her cheek. Once more, he grabbed her hair, making her sit up to avoid more pain. “Get up, woman. You and me? We gonna have ourselves a real good time.”
Nicole turned off the light. “Get them up upstairs. Then you can have all the fun you want with her. I’ll call Frisco to have him bring Ward over. We’ll make the boys watch.”
David had maybe thirty seconds to come up with a plan. If they got them upstairs, Abigail would be the one to suffer the most, and both of them would die.
His gaze drifted to the back staircase. The beam of Cal’s red light bounced as he shoved Abigail so hard that she grabbed the railing to keep from tumbling up the stairs. “Get up there!”
“Stop shoving me, and I will.” She regained her footing. “So shed some light on this situation for me, Cal. Do you blindly take orders from her?”
“Shut up!” He jabbed her.
David realized what she meant. He peered as best he could through the gloom. Then he saw it, the light switch on the piling next to the stairway.
“Get up.” the Aussie lightly kicked him in the hip.
David slowly rose. In two long strides, he crossed to the stairs. He pretended to stumble.
“Keep your hands up!”
“What do you want me to do? Fall?” He grasped the railing as if catching his balance. He took a step upward and flipped the switch.
Light blazed forth.
“Get that light off!” Nicole shouted. “I can’t see!”
David slammed his heel into the Aussie’s stomach. He tumbled backward, air whooshing out of him.
David yanked Cal’s belt, swinging him backward toward the Aussie.
The two collided.
David leapt the railing and landed in a crouch beside the staircase. Cal’s gun fell from his hand.
A flash and bang blasted through the air.
Abigail cried out.
David charged the two men. He landed a punch on the Aussie’s face before ramming into Cal.
They tumbled to the ground.
He drew back his fist for the final blow.
“Unh, unh, unh, I wouldn’t do that.” Nicole’s voice taunted him. “One more move, Shepherd, and your girlfriend gets it.”
She stood next to the staircase with gun pointed at Abigail, who huddled on the stairs with her right hand clamped around her left upper arm. Red oozed between her fingers and dribbled down her arm.
His heart hammered. Abigail!
“Get your hands up all nice and slow, got it? Now!” She jabbed the muzzle into Abigail’s temple.
“Roy?” Nicole didn’t bother turning her head.
“I’m fine.” The Aussie hauled himself upright by clutching the Accord’s trunk. He glared at David. “You and I aren’t finished with this.”
“Me neither,” Cal grunted. In the silence that followed, he tilted his head. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” Roy asked.
“Sirens. Someone must have heard the gunshot and called the cops. We’ve got to get out of here!” Cal sprinted into the darkness without another word.
The faintest sounds of rescue grew louder with each passing second.
“Baby, we’ve got to go,” Roy muttered.
Nicole glared at them. “Okay, you win, Shepherd, but you forget we still have Ward. And next time you won’t walk away. I can promise you that.”
With that, she dashed into the night after her comrades.
David didn’t relax. He whipped around the railing and in one stride reached Abigail. “You’re safe.”
Shaking, she nodded.
He grimaced at the amount of blood dripping from her elbow onto her jeans. “Let me look at that.”
She shook her head.
“Promise I won’t poke and prod.” Gently, he pried her fingers loose. Even in the dim light, he noticed how the bullet from the misfire had punctured her arm. “Can you move your fingers?”
“Y—Yeah.”
He checked for an exit wound and found one. “You are one lucky woman, Abigail Ward. It seems to be a flesh wound. In and out.”
“It hurts!” Pain thickened her voice.
“Oh, I’m sure
. Where are your keys?”
“I—I don’t know. I dropped them when they got us.”
“I’ll find them. I take it there’s a First Aid kit in your car?”
“Y—Yeah. Ow!” She curled into her tuck again.
“Freeze!” The man’s shout made them both jump. A police officer stood in a firing position with both hands clamped around the pistol’s grip. The muzzle shook so badly that David worried he’d kill Abigail even if he fired at him.
David raised his hands and stepped away from her. “Sir, I’m one of the good guys.”
The man focused on him with both the muzzle and his gaze.
“He is.” Abigail’s husky voice made them both turn. She’d risen. She held her gold CID badge where the officer could see it. Then she all but collapsed onto the steps.
Confusion rippled across his face. The officer’s gaze switched between her and David. It landed on David. “Wait. You were the one who called it in.”
He frowned. “I didn’t call anyone.”
“A guy called Nine-One-One. If not you, then who—”
“I did.” A reed-thin voice reached them from the darkness of the driveway.
A man staggered into the golden light. His disheveled sandy blond hair became more apparent under the glow, along with the cigarette burns all over his bare chest and dried blood coating his face. He stopped, braced his hands on his knees, and hung his head.
“Jonathan!” Abigail bolted down the stairs and ran into her brother’s arms. Laughing, crying, she held onto him as he collapsed.
The officer lowered his gun and faced him. “Looks like y’all have some explaining to do.”
28
Southport, North Carolina
At the sound of keys jingling, Abigail opened her eyes a crack. She slouched in the passenger’s seat of her Honda since David had offered to drive. Blinking in the strong midday sun made her head hurt even more than it had from the beating she’d taken at Cal’s hands. Her arm was still numb, thank heavens. With her good hand, she rubbed the back of her neck. “I take it we’re here?”
“Yep. And they promised us two rooms as long as we need them.” A muffled click told her he’d popped the trunk. “I’ve also left a message with the MPs your CO assigned to guard us and Jonathan. Let’s get our stuff inside so we can get some rest.”
The Athena File Page 23
