Chapter Twenty-Six
Liam didn’t stop moving—he couldn’t close his eyes for a second and not see Kara standing there by the snowmobile while he’d made his promises. Promises he’d broken before she’d even left the parking lot.
He might be going to Helheim, but it wouldn’t be for breaking his vow not to kill.
The backpack he’d brought from his apartment was empty now, the contents spread across the main counter in the police station. He scanned them, remembering each in turn as he added them to his arsenal.
The throwing knives. The police baton. The small flashbang grenades kept on hand in case of emergency. This met the definition, and then some.
He looked up at a map of the Ridge tacked to a nearby bulletin board. Earlier they’d managed to keep clear of the hotel with some careful maneuvering, staying out of the Sons’ line of sight while they made their way around the town.
Today he didn’t need to be so careful.
The plan was simple—take out the Sons one on one, try to neutralize them before anyone got hurt.
Except he couldn’t kill them. He wouldn’t kill them.
Even at the cost of his own life.
And if he had to, in order to save one of the hostages, he’d do so—and pray for mercy on Judgment Day.
But he wouldn’t until it was absolutely necessary.
He repacked the supplies and slung the backpack over his shoulder before heading for the exit.
It wouldn’t be easy. But then, nothing worthwhile ever was.
The cold night air nipped at his face as he made his way through the empty streets and up to the observation post they’d established atop the building across from the hotel. The listening apparatus was still there, but had been silent for hours. Either they’d picked up on the antenna or, more likely, it was too cold to stand outside in the dark and discuss strategy—especially since it seemed to hinge on one thing.
The hostages.
Liam eyed the window across from him, the one he’d suggested breaking into earlier. The concrete ledge shone in the moonlight, betraying its slipperiness. If he didn’t make it through it’d be hard to stay on the narrow piece. One misstep and he’d fall four stories into the snow. It may not kill him, but the Sons surely would, once they came out and dragged him inside.
So, he wouldn’t fall.
He scraped away enough snow to widen the original path and make a runway, give himself as much space as possible to launch himself across the gap. Every few minutes he’d pause to listen, straining to catch the smallest noise.
Nothing.
Finally, he stared at the closed window, closing the ten-foot gap in his mind. The curtains were drawn, the small lock on the bottom waiting to be wedged open. It was a simple job, one he’d done a thousand times before in other places, far away from the Ridge.
Except none of them had been in the middle of winter and wearing snowshoes, clawing to keep from falling.
Liam steadied himself before sprinting down the lane, using every bit of energy to launch himself from the building’s edge.
His bare fingers dug into the snow-encrusted bricks on each side of the window as he scrambled to get a grip, the ridged metal edges on his snowshoes scraping on concrete.
Safe.
His pulse hammered in his ears. Safe was a relative word—he couldn’t relax yet. It took another minute to reach down and withdraw the metal strip from his pocket, sliding it under the window latch to open it.
Another few minutes to slowly, slowly edge the window up—praying no one on the ground floor came out and looked up.
Liam moved into the room, trying to place its location in the hotel.
Fourth floor—not far from the stairwell.
He rolled onto his back as the cold air rushed in over him. After recovering, he closed the window again and pulled his snowshoes and boots off—he wouldn’t need them until he left. He reached into his pockets and brought out the thin sneakers, slipping them on.
Flexing his fingers, Liam shucked off the parka and moved to the front door. He wore his working clothing—black turtleneck and black pants, the black combat vest holding his gear.
He pressed his ear to the door before opening it and sliding into the hall, his black sneakers giving him a light footprint. If he was lucky, there was no one here on this floor—they’d either be above or below him.
The stairwell was empty, letting him climb to the top floor in silence.
He froze as he put one foot on the fifth floor, his instincts taking over.
Wait. Look.
Liam squinted in the dim red neon light, the fire exit sign the only illumination.
The fist-size cube was set in the corner, wedged up against the white emergency light box. A small black box pressed into the top held a single blinking red light.
Explosive.
A fist grabbed hold of Liam’s heart and squeezed, hard.
He knew this plan because he’d used it himself in the past—a diversion to allow easy escape with maximum casualties.
The Sons had wired the hotel with explosives. He had no doubt there were others spread out through the building, placed at strategic locations to maximize the damage. Here, on the fifth floor, it’d bring down the roof and trap anyone in the stairwell trying to escape.
And if the hotel went…it was a good chance the building next to it might be damaged or catch fire as well. Even if the volunteer fire department was able to get through the snowy streets, there was a chance they couldn’t reach the hot spots before it spread through the town.
The entire Ridge might go up in flames.
It was the Sons’ escape plan, no matter if he surrendered himself or not—they’d blow the hotel and kill the residents as soon as the plows arrived, adding chaos and confusion to their disappearance. During the pandemonium they’d hide in town, waiting for a chance to get to Denver and freedom—leaving a charred and devastated Ridge behind.
He would not let that happen. Not as long as he was alive.
He steadied himself, focusing on the mission at hand.
McKay’s room was right outside the stairwell door—as far from the elevator as possible and giving easy access to a speedy exit.
Liam went to the room and listened.
A light snore rumbled through the air. He could pick out a single tone.
Didn’t prove the sleeper was alone. Only that one of them snored.
The lockpick gun gave him access as it’d done before, but this time Liam moved slower, pushing the door open a fraction at a time, listening for the slightest change in the sound.
His eyes adjusted to the dark room as he slipped in, pressing himself against the wall.
One man spread across the bed on his back, snoring fitfully.
Liam held back a grin.
McKay.
A few minutes later Liam exited the room, dragging the mercenary behind him—hogtied and gagged, likely still in shock at the rapid shift in his reality. McKay’s nose was still swollen and bloated, thanks to Kara’s previous attack. Liam added a concussion, holding back the urge to take revenge for the knife wound.
He dumped McKay in the empty hotel room at the far end of the floor, rolling him into the bathtub and closing the bathroom door.
One down, four to go.
Speed counted now—at some point Rick would call for his scout, and when McKay didn’t answer, the search would begin. They’d find him eventually, but it’d suck up valuable time and energy, not to mention the psychological impact. Put a bit of the old Hammer fear into them.
Liam went back into the room and donned his boots and parka before ducking out into the hallway again, holding his snowshoes.
Now came the tough part—the extraction.
He went to the far room and popped the lock with ease. The hotel room was empty, a clone of the one he’d just left—with one major advantage. The window opened up onto the back alley where he’d confronted McKay not so long ago.
Liam pulled on
the snowshoes, opened the window and edged out on the ledge. The snowshoes twisted upward as he closed the window, leaving no trace of his entrance. The fire escape ladder was right next to the window—covered with ice and likely as slippery as hell.
He glanced down, trying to steady his racing heart. The metal rung was just a few inches away, a bit of a stretch—but he could make it.
His gloved hand touched the rung, fingers wrapping around the cold steel.
Liam slid his feet along the edge, cursing as the snowshoes slowed his movements to a stumble. Finally, he had both hands on the ladder. All he had to do now was descend to the snowdrift below…
The ladder gave an ominous creak as he set his feet on the lower rungs.
Suddenly the ice under his hands gave way, cracking and breaking. He scrambled to get a firm hold on the sides, on the rungs above and below but the damage was done.
His gaze turned skyward, to the gray sky as he fell.
Should take two, three seconds to hit.
One.
Two.
The world spun around him as something grabbed his shoulders and yanked, his arms protesting at nearly being yanked out of their sockets. His fingers brushed against cold brick, scratching his skin.
He let out a yelp as he rose up over the hotel roof, heading for the makeshift surveillance post on the other building.
I’m dead.
The cold air rushing into his face canceled that theory out.
I’m alive.
“Damn it, you’re heavy.” The familiar voice shouted into his ear. “Too much mac and cheese.”
He resisted the urge to turn around as they flew over to the roof top.
It took the last of Kara’s strength to make it to the rooftop of the adjoining building and the relative comfort of the stairwell.
Liam landed face-first in the snow as she released him, her wings working frantically to push herself backward so she wouldn’t fall.
She dropped to her knees near his feet, letting out an anguished cry as pain rippled through her—whether from her freshly-healed injuries or from her sense of loss, she couldn’t say.
Liam rolled over and raised himself up on his elbows, staring at her.
Staring past her at her wings.
She turned her head to see the multicolored feathers curl up at the edges, disintegrating in front of her eyes.
“My God…” Liam scrambled to his knees and grabbed her in a tight hug. “I never…”
“Me neither,” she gulped.
He pulled her close, rocking her slowly as she felt the wings fade away, leaving a hole in her heart. “They…they were beautiful.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “And now they’re gone.”
He cupped her face, noses touching. “I don’t care. You’re here.” He moved in for a scorching kiss, the intensity wiping away the unshed tears.
Finally, she pulled back, gasping for breath. “What the hell were you doing?”
“Trying to make a getaway. Which doesn’t seem to be going too well.” He glanced around. “Did anyone see you?”
“Not likely.” She looked toward the horizon where the sun had just risen, stretching out long, leisurely fingertips to brush away the shadows. “And not now.”
“You came back.”
She drew her hand over his naked chin. “You shaved.”
“Not exactly the same thing,” he countered.
“I saw Marie and the plows, set off the flares. They’re on the way. All we need to do is return to the police station and…” Her words fell away as she stared at him. “Liam. You don’t have to die. You don’t have to turn yourself over to them. We can stall, we can wait.”
“No. I have to, more now than ever.” He drew a staggered breath. “The Sons have the building wired with explosives. If I don’t show soon, they’ll blow the hotel. If I show, they’re going to kill me and set the bombs off anyway to cover their tracks and cause a diversion. Half the town’s going to go up as well—there’s no way the fire department can deal with this.” He shook his head. “Before, I was worried about losing the hostages here in the hotel. But now the entire Ridge is at risk of being destroyed. All those people we told to stay in their homes, not dig their way out—they’re trapped.”
She rocked back on her heels, the invisible blow landing true. “What?” Kara risked a look over at the hotel.
“I got over and knocked McKay out, leaving only four of them. But on the way I saw explosives in the stairwell. Radio detonator—and I’d bet my left testicle Landsdowne is the one holding the trigger.”
“We have to get him.” She gathered her thoughts. “And stop the bomb from going off.”
“Bombs,” he corrected her. He stroked her cheek. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I realized you were going to throw your life away. I couldn’t let you do that.” She was on the verge of tears again. “Not after I found you again.”
“The wings.”
She swiped at her eyes. “Mother came to me. Told me to come and help you out. The wings were just to get me here in time.” She swallowed hard, steeling herself. “So now what?”
The grin surprised her. “We release the Hammer.”
His original plan had been to face down the mercenaries and try to incapacitate as many of them as he could.
But now…
He scrubbed his face, letting out a chuckle as Kara ran her fingers through his short, badly-cut hair.
“I like it,” she announced. “Not as much to hold onto, but I can work with it.” She tried not to look across at the hotel. “Sun’s about to come up. They’re going to expect you.”
“I know.” He pointed at the stairwell. “Let’s get inside, head on downstairs. We’ll talk on the way.”
His heart was hammering so hard he feared it would pop out of his chest as they navigated the stairs, his parka brushing against the walls. “They don’t know you’re here, or if they do, won’t suspect I’d bring you into the fight.”
“I’m a warrior.” The whispered response bounced off the walls. “I don’t retreat or surrender.”
He nodded. “Exactly. Here.” He dug in his vest and handed her the two small tubes. “These are called flashbang grenades. Pull the pin and toss—it’ll create a loud flash and a bang, like the name says. It’ll be enough to blind those in the immediate area. It’s nonlethal but still very effective.” He continued, ignoring her inquisitive stare. “You’ve got to get inside the hotel and evacuate everyone—if those explosives go off they’ll be killed. The building can be replaced, the entire town, even, but we can’t rebuild lives. Your mission is to save them.” He handed over the police baton. “Better than your bare fists.”
She started to speak, but he held up a hand, stalling her. “Jamie, Tony, the mayor…and there should be three, four other residents there. I don’t know how many—Jamie can tell you who’s where. Move them out and back to the police station, drag them through the snow if you have to, but get away from me and the Sons of Cain. Use the flashbangs to cover your exit if you need to.”
Her steps echoed behind him. “What are you going to do?”
“Face Rick and the others. Try to stop him from setting off the bomb.” He paused. “Without killing them.”
“Well, then.” Kara’s chuckle echoed through the stairwell. “That sounds easy enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The bravado in her voice was a mixture of faith and hope with a dash of sarcasm mixed in—he’d grown to love that about her. It was what they needed right now, facing down very bad odds.
But still…
“You shouldn’t be here,” Liam groused as they landed on the main floor. “I sent you away to be safe.”
She gripped his arm and pulled him around to face her. “Mother Freyja sent me back for a reason, and it wasn’t to see you die.” The faith in her words filled the hole inside his soul created when she’d gone. “She does nothing without a purpose.”
“And what
’s your purpose?” he asked. “Did she send you back to collect my soul if I die?”
Kara looked away. “Maybe. I don’t know. She didn’t tell me what to do. She only told me to fly.”
“Maybe you’re here for the Sons, like you first thought.” He smiled. “I like that reason better.”
“But after that, I’ll be gone—back to Valhalla.” She whispered the words like a curse. “And you’ll be here, left behind.”
He fought past the lump in his throat. “You’ll be where you’re supposed to be. When it’s my time, I’ll hopefully be joining you.” He studied his watch. “Speaking of…”
“Won’t they notice McKay’s gone and search for him?”
“I’m sure they will. Then I’ve put a bit of the fear of the Hammer into them—psychological warfare.” He pulled her in for another fast kiss. “I’ll draw them out into the street. You go in as fast as you can and get everyone to safety.”
He glanced down at her feet. “Here. Take my snowshoes. I can plow through the snow until I arrive at the front of the hotel. Odds are they’ll have enough space cleared to confront me—the Sons like to put on a show for themselves, do a little grandstanding when they think the odds are in their favor. Go around the side and wait until all their attention is focused on me, then climb in one of the windows.”
He handed her a metal strip before she could object. “Use this. Slip it under the wood and twist it to flip the latch open—it’s pretty easy. If it doesn’t work after a few seconds, smash the glass with your gloved hand and climb inside, start getting people out. I’ll keep their attention on me.”
“Won’t they hear the breaking glass and come investigate?”
Liam shook his head. “Not likely. I’m their primary target. Remember, I’m the one with the contract on my head. But if they do, you’ll have to take care of them. I’m sorry. If that happens, don’t hold back. Go at them with all you have, all you can give—these are professional killers, and they won’t give ground because you’re a woman or a civilian. Do the best you can, but the hostages are a priority.” He sighed. “Not a perfect scenario but it’s the best we’ve got.”
Warrior Nights Page 21
