by Kaylea Cross
“Who are you working for?” he snapped, shoving the hands higher up toward the man’s shoulder blades. This had to be about the letter and intel Sam had received. There was no other explanation.
“Get the fuck off me!”
Luke jammed his knee into the middle of the guys’ spine, earning an enraged shout. “Who do you work for?” The cops would be here soon to deal with this piece of shit. Luke planned to have what he needed and be gone by then. “Talk, or I start breaking bones.”
“Joe Hanes,” he growled out.
Fuck. “Where did they take the women?”
Idiot tried to struggle. Luke jammed his knee harder into the bastard’s spine and laid a forearm across the side of his neck, applying his body weight behind it.
The guy choked and bucked beneath him, but Luke held fast, and only let up on the pressure after he’d gotten his point across. Blood poured down the guy’s face from a wound in his forehead. Christa had hit him hard with something. Good for her.
“Where are the other women?” Luke snarled.
“The…fort,” he rasped out, eyes bulging under the pressure of Luke’s forearm.
Fort Sumter? “Why?” he pressed. He could hear the wail of sirens somewhere in the distance. Hopefully coming here.
“Wants…address,” the guy wheezed.
“What address?”
“To the storage…unit.”
Jesus. This was the first Luke had heard about it, but whatever was in that unit must be incredibly damning for Hanes to go this far to find it.
Luke had what he needed for now, and time was running short. He let up on his hold just long enough to haul back his arm and land a solid punch against the man’s temple. The big body beneath him instantly went slack.
Luke got up, dragged the unconscious man to the sidewalk and dumped him in the circle of light beneath the nearest streetlamp, then took off running across the road as he pulled out his phone and dialed Dec’s number.
He needed to find them a fast boat.
****
Dec’s eyes snapped open when his cell phone rang. He rolled over and grabbed it from the bedside table, finding Luke’s number on the screen.
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice thick with sleep. He’d been deep under when that ringtone went off.
“Dec, listen to me.”
He stilled, unease tightening his muscles. Luke’s voice was uneven, as if he was running. What was going on?
“Joseph Hanes is here, and he just took Bryn and Sam.”
“What the fuck?” Dec snapped, shooting to his feet, his heart thudding hard.
“He’s taking them out to Fort Sumter.”
Dec was already partway down the hallway heading for the stairs, his mind going a million miles an hour as he thought of Bryn and possible rescue scenarios. “Why?” he demanded. What the fuck did Hanes want with Bryn, or Sam?
“He wants an address to a storage facility. Has to be in what Sam was sent the other day.”
Jesus. “Where is it?”
“In my study. Grab the piece of paper on my desk and the flash drive with Sam’s laptop. Then go down into the basement and get enough weapons and gear for four of us, and meet me at the marina near Liberty Square next to the Fort Sumter Tour building, A-fucking-SAP. You copy? We can’t afford to wait for the cops to respond to this. Every minute counts.”
“Yeah, copy.” Fuck!
He ended the call, shoved his phone into his jeans pocket and raced down the stairs, his muscles taut with a chaotic mixture of rage and panic. He battled to force all emotion from his mind as he ran into Luke’s study and grabbed the piece of paper and flash drive from the desk.
But Jesus, Hanes had Bryn, and that traitorous son of a bitch had been working with Kader behind everyone’s backs.
Running now, he found his way into the basement and flipped on the light to illuminate the small arsenal Luke had stored down here. He grabbed comms equipment, weapons and ammo, and started stuffing it all into a large duffel he’d found on a shelf, the seconds ticking loud in his head as they passed.
He thought of Bryn. Of how strong she was, and how terrified she must be right now in spite of that. She would fight. And with a man like Hanes, that put her in even more danger.
His heart hammered in his ears, his mind screaming at him to move faster. Hold on, baby. I’m coming.
Without pause, he whirled and raced back up the stairs and out of the house, running for his rental car. No matter what else happened tonight, he was going to save his wife.
****
“I still can’t get over it,” Ben said to his twin, shaking his head as they walked along the row of stores in the historic center of Charleston, past holiday shoppers out grabbing last-minute gifts. Like they were supposed to be.
Ben already had Sam’s gifts, but he wanted to get something for Nev and the baby now, and Rhys needed to get her something special to mark their momentous news too. “That you’re gonna be a dad.”
“Yeah, I know.”
No one else would be able to tell, but Ben knew his brother like he knew himself, and Rhys was secretly scared shitless. He found it freaking hilarious that Mr. Calm, Cool and Remote would be rattled about the prospect of becoming a parent. “Mom and Dad are gonna freak.”
“Yeah.” Rhys kept walking, glancing around at the shops they passed.
Ben loved his brother, but trying to have a conversation with his closed-up twin about meaningful shit was painful at the best of times. “You’re excited though, right? I mean, aside from worrying about all the shit beyond your control?” It had been like pulling teeth, but Rhys had finally admitted he was worried something would happen to Nev and the baby between now and when it was born.
“Yeah.”
Ben rolled his eyes and prayed for patience. Nev had gone a long way toward cracking through Rhys’s remote outer shell, but his brother needed to drop the whole cyborg thing once and for all before the baby came along. “You thought about names yet?”
“Not really.”
Course not. Couldn’t let himself relax and actually start looking forward to something. In Rhys’s mind, that meant it might get taken away. “Well, if you need any help, Ben’s an awesome name for a boy. Or, maybe Benita or something for a girl.”
Those dark blue eyes shot to him. “I can only handle one Ben at a time in my life,” he said in a dry tone.
Wow, an attempt at a joke? Amazing. “I can’t wait for the baby to get here. I’m gonna teach him or her all about the Red Sox, how to play catch, and some slick self-defense moves. Mostly I’m looking forward to filling your kid full of sugar when he or she comes for a sleepover, and then dropping them back off at your place right when the high kicks in.”
“You would, too.”
Absolutely.
“But payback’s a bitch. I’ll return the favor when it’s your turn.”
“I’m gonna be the favorite uncle.” And Sam would be an awesome aunt. She balanced him out with her serious nature.
“You’re gonna be the only uncle,” Rhys pointed out. “And how are you gonna have my kid over for sleepovers when you’re in Virginia and we’re in New York? You think I’m putting my kid on a plane every weekend to come see you?”
“Hey, who said it was gonna be every weekend? Okay, it’ll probably be most weekends. And one of us is just gonna have to move, that’s all.”
Rhys looked at him in surprise as they walked along the cobbled street closed to traffic, open only to pedestrians. “You’d move just to be closer to my kid?”
“Yeah, of course,” Ben said, wondering how his twin could think otherwise. “Though it would be easier for us if you guys moved south, since Sam and I are both still doing contract work in our area.” Rhys was working behind the scenes as a consultant now, like Luke. “I dunno, I haven’t talked to her about it yet, but I don’t want to be the kind of uncle my niece or nephew only gets to see twice a year.”
One side of Rhys’s mouth kicked up in the
hint of a grin. “Good to know.”
Ben frowned. “Why, did you think I wouldn’t want to be involved?”
“No, I just didn’t realize you would be so into it.”
Ben stopped walking to scowl at his brother, insulted. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one of us that has the twin connection thing going. Because yours is either broken or missing entirely.”
Rhys grinned and reached over to ruffle Ben’s hair in a rare show of affection. And in public, too. “Whatever, punk. I’ve got it too.”
“Yeah, and it sure shows,” he grumbled, starting forward again. They’d passed a couple kid/baby stores but he hadn’t seen anything in them that he liked. “I’m gonna get the baby a BoSox onesie and a hat, so don’t order that yourself. Stick to camo or whatever.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
“Then get pink camo.” Duh.
“Pink camo,” Rhys muttered with a low chuckle, then went quiet as his cell rang. He pulled it out of his pocket just as Ben’s rang.
Ben pulled his out. Recognizing the number, Ben answered. “Hey, Hutch. What’s up?”
“Ben.”
Ben stopped walking, dread curling in the pit of his stomach at Luke’s tone. Five feet away, Rhys was talking rapidly to someone else, his body tense, face tight. “What?” he demanded, anxiety building at Luke’s tone.
“Joe Hanes is here.”
No…
“And he just took Sam and Bryn. They’re heading for Fort Sumter.”
It took a moment to process the words, everything around him funneling out except for the panic flooding him and the roar of blood in his ears. “What?” His voice was low, taut as fear crawled up his spine. Sam…
“Dec’s on his way to the waterfront with weapons and gear. Meet us at the marina at Liberty Square in ten minutes, because we’re going after them right now.”
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s go,” Joe ordered, and threw open the SUV front passenger door just as the driver jerked to a halt in the marina parking lot several miles from where they’d taken the women.
Weapon in hand, he started for the wooden dock jutting out into the water. Two of his men were already at the fort, waiting for them. Another was guarding the Zodiac.
There was no one else around. He turned and waved two more of his men forward. They dragged the prisoners from the vehicle and hustled down the gangplank.
Both women were struggling in spite of the duct tape across their mouths and their hands secured behind them. The dark-haired one obviously had some training because she was putting up enough resistance to give Thomas—a former Green Beret—a hard time.
Joe hurried down the wooden dock to the Zodiac and jumped aboard. “Any trouble here?” he asked the man at the helm.
“Negative.”
Good. Because they had only minutes to make their getaway.
Taking the women in such a public place wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, especially since one had gotten away and the last member of Joe’s team hadn’t responded to his calls. The cops would likely already be after them.
He swung around at the sound of running footsteps on the wood, and a low, muttered curse. The dark-haired woman had managed to get free of Thomas’s grip and was trying to make a run for it, darting back up the dock.
Joe rushed for the stern of the boat, ready to race after her, but Thomas was already on her.
He tackled her, landing hard on the wooden planks, Thomas on top. The brunette must have had the air knocked out of her because she only struggled weakly this time when Thomas seized her and threw her over one shoulder.
Samarra was struggling too now, bucking in the other man’s grip, and getting nowhere. Not surprising that a civilian tech contractor didn’t have much if any hand-to-hand training, but Joe would keep a close eye on the brunette until they got to the fort.
His men hauled the women aboard the Zodiac. The instant the brunette was pulled in, Joe gave the signal and the helmsman fired up the engine. They pushed away from the dock and swung out into the dark, quiet marina.
“Hit it,” Joe commanded. They couldn’t afford to lose a moment.
The engine opened up with a throaty roar. The bow lifted, bouncing over the surface of the calm water as they sped out into the harbor. Joe’s hair whipped around his face as he scanned the shoreline for any sign that the cops or someone else was following them, but saw nothing.
He turned to face the bow and the mouth of the harbor. Their destination lay ahead in the distance, a low-lit island fortress a mile or so out into the harbor.
It was closed now and all but deserted except for the Park Rangers on duty. The security cameras were about to be temporarily offline, and it bought him some time in a secure place to interrogate his prisoner. Once there, he would hopefully get the intel he needed, and alert the remainder of the team standing by in the city. Now he needed to verify their exfil.
He pulled the radio from his hip and contacted the helo pilot waiting for his signal. “Start countdown now,” he ordered.
Tucking the radio away, he turned to face his prisoners. Both women had stopped struggling. Thomas had the brunette at the far end of the stern. She glared at Joe with utter loathing.
Ignoring her, Joe stalked toward Samarra, the moonlight revealing the terror and fury on her face. No reason to wait now that they were away from shore. He could start the interrogation now.
Crouching in front of her, he ripped the tape off her mouth. She winced and jerked her head back, but he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head to the side. “What did he send you in that envelope?”
Her jaw set, her eyes narrowing.
Joe jerked on her hair, his temper fraying. He was working on a short deadline and didn’t have time to fuck around. “What was in that envelope, Samarra?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, her face tight with discomfort from the angle he had her neck bent at. “Flash drive,” she said.
He’d figured. And he also had a pretty good guess as to what was on it. Not that he could do anything about it if she’d already sent the files to someone else. “What else?” He needed the location on that goddamn storage unit. She had to have it. Had to.
Her mouth tightened and he wrenched her neck back even farther, until she grimaced, her body straining to alleviate the pressure on her neck. “Let go,” she snarled.
Not on your life.
“Coming up on our approach,” the helmsman yelled back to him over the wind.
Joe held Samarra’s angry stare for a long moment, then released her hair with a shove and got to his feet. She thought she wouldn’t talk, but she was wrong. He was an expert at extracting intel from reluctant prisoners.
He would have her blurting out every last secret she had before he killed her.
SAM STIFLED A cry as Hanes released her with a shove, sending her slamming back into the solid wall of the man holding her captive.
Hanes was crazy. To pull something like this here, he was desperate and insane.
And that made him incredibly unpredictable and dangerous.
Her mind whirled as the cold wind whipped over her face, the long strands of her hair lashing her skin and the haze of alcohol long since burned away. Bryn was aboard with her, but Christa might have gotten away. Maybe she’d called for help. If she had, she would tell Ben and Luke and the others what had happened. If she hadn’t gotten away, then…
Then Sam and Bryn were on their own.
No, she told herself, refusing to give into despair. Christa must have gotten away, and called the others. Ben would know what had happened to her. He would come for her and Bryn with the other guys.
Sam stubbornly clung to that hope, and it was the only thing keeping the fear from turning into abject terror.
The boat bounced over the surface of the water. She squinted, looking past Hanes and the man driving the boat. A low, shadowy island sat ahead of them in the water, most likely Fort Sumter. They seemed to be heading s
traight for it.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the man driving the boat cut back on the engine. The bow dropped as the craft slowed. There was only minimal lighting at the fort, but enough for her to see a dock jutting out into the water, and that it appeared deserted.
The driver steered past the dock, however, heading around the back of the island before angling the bow sharply toward shore. The rubber hull scraped over rocks as the bow pulled up onto the beach.
Hanes leaped ashore, talking to someone on a handheld radio. Then he turned and gestured at the men in the boat. Sam’s pulse tripped, then she stiffened when the guy holding her suddenly wrenched her upward by the arms. A cry of outrage and pain shot from her as her shoulder joints protested the painful jolt.
She struggled but was no match for the man’s strength. He subdued her with demoralizing ease and dragged her from the boat onto the rocky shore. Her shoes slipped on the wet rocks. She stumbled, hit her knees on the jagged edges before he hauled her to her feet and forced her up the beach toward the fortified wall enclosing the fort.
Glancing back, she saw Bryn being propelled up the beach behind her. Sam’s head snapped back when the man holding her shook her roughly.
“Move it,” he snapped, his hand like an iron band around her upper arm, digging in with bruising force.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as he pushed her toward the wall looming ahead in the darkness. Someone rolled a flexible ladder down the side of it.
Sam dug her feet in, her whole body rebelling at the sight of it and what it meant. She didn’t want to go into the fort. Instinct warned her she would die in there if she did.
But the man holding her ignored her resistance, bent and threw her over his shoulder then grasped the edges of the ladder. “If you don’t want to fall and break your neck, hold still,” he warned, and started climbing, one arm locked around the backs of her thighs.
Every muscle in her body went rigid, the fear intensifying as he carried her up the side of the wall while she hung over his back. Cold sweat broke out across her skin. What would happen once they were inside? Hanes might torture her. Torture Bryn, to make her talk.
