Remember who’s number one …
Cannon and Daisy had had that conversation and she said she wanted to be number one in his book. She needed to be first. But that word that she’d thrown on the end there – today.
Daisy was talking about Pasha. She wanted him to protect Pasha.
That was good enough for Cannon.
Oh, bless you, Daisy, you brilliant, caring, understanding woman, you.
Now if he could just clear Daisy from this area he could deal with each situation individually.
Cannon told the man on the other side of the door, “This is your last chance. Walk away now or pay the price.”
“Get her out of here!” said the man.
Cannon saw Daisy being yanked up the stairs as the bathroom door slammed shut.
Hopefully that helped the situation instead of making it worse. Cannon had never been in such a tight spot, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.
-------------------------------------
Was Cannon okay? Was Pasha? Were any of them going to survive this? Daisy sat crammed into Bruce and Bruce’s roomette. This was really happening. Bad guys and guns and she didn’t want to think of what else. In a few minutes they’d be at the train station and she had no idea what would happen then. She was scared, more scared than she’d ever been. The two guys had been talking to each other; nasty, filthy things they would do to her if they got the chance. She thought she might vomit at any second.
Right after Bruce and Bruce had dragged her away, she’d heard gunshots! A few really loud ones, and dozens of quiet ones that she assumed came from guns like the ones with silencers that the two Bruces had pointed at her.
“Y-you don’t have to keep your fingers on the t-triggers like that,” she told them, barely able to speak. She was definitely not James Bond girlfriend material. She had done enough research in her editing of action scenes to know that a sharp bump of the train or a random loud noise could cause them to accidentally fire the weapons. “Police shoot people all the time by doing that.”
They looked at each other, and the little one said, “Can’t have her dead if we’re going to have some fun with her later.”
The thought made Daisy feel dirty, and sick to her stomach again, but at least they put their fingers on the outside of the trigger guard. That comment had been mild compared to some of their other statements. Try as she might, she couldn’t unhear their filthy speech.
Little Bruce checked his phone again. Probably waiting for confirmation of what they were supposed to do with her.
Was Cannon okay? Was Pasha? Daisy hoped he’d gotten the message she was trying to send and had somehow tried to protect Pasha instead of some foolish rescue attempt of Daisy. If anything happened to her little sister, Daisy would never forgive herself. Coming on the train again with them hadn’t been the best idea. Being around Cannon was good any time, and not having the hope or expectation that he would put her first made it fun even when he was all serious and on duty. But he had a job to do and just by being here, she made that hard for him. She’d never expected anything like this though.
There were a lot of men down there, and a lot of guns, and from what she could see they had Cannon cornered. There was barely room in those bathrooms to turn around, much less try to fight or defend yourself.
And that had been a lot of gunshots. Daisy couldn’t think of any way someone could avoid that many gunshots in the small bathroom or even in the narrow hallways of the train.
Tears formed in her eyes and trickled out the edges. She’d never been in love like this before, and now she’d lost him.
Big Bruce’s phone chirped from inside his jeans pocket. He looked at Little Bruce, then started digging it out, which wasn’t easy in the tight quarters. She was glad he’d taken his finger off the trigger with all the maneuvering he was attempting.
When he finally retrieved it, his face scrunched up, making him look like a confused monkey. “From the boss,” he said to the other Bruce turning the phone.
Daisy was dying to see what the text said.
“Why is he texting you?” Little Bruce ripped the phone away and muttered, “Alive?”
What did that mean? Who was alive? Obviously their boss was or he couldn’t be texting them.
Daisy considered lashing out while they were distracted. Would well-placed kicks to the groin give her enough time to run? Or could she grab a gun away? And if she did, could she really shoot someone?
Yes, in the case of these two pieces of filth, she thought she could. Actually getting a gun away was the part of the plan she doubted she could do.
Big Bruce said, “He must want me to be in charge now. So, let’s, uh, we should …” He scratched his temple with the tip of his silencer. “What should we do?”
Little Bruce leaned forward. They both smelled like cigarette smoke and old sweat. “Get her back to the alpha car,” said Little Bruce. He waved his gun at Daisy. “Up, hot stuff.”
“Is … is Cannon alive?” she asked, not budging.
Little Bruce sneered. “No. So sorry, but your boyfriend decided to play the hero.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Daisy with a tremble in her bottom lip.
“We can make you,” he said, raising the gun to her face.
“Bu-ut, your boss wants me alive.” Maybe that’s what the text had said. It was worth a shot.
Uncertainty flashed across his face, but he covered it quickly. “No, he said that if you come nicely, the princess will stay alive.”
“That’s a lie.” If Cannon really was … dead, then Daisy was in even more trouble than before. She had to try to be smart about this, and brave.
“If you don’t want to come nicely, I can shoot both of your feet and give Bruce a reason to carry you.” His sneering smile turned cruel. “Of if you don’t want to come, I can gag you and just leave you alone in here with big, cuddly Bruce for a while.”
Big Bruce’s eyes went wide and he licked his lips.
Tears were welling in her eyes and bile was rising in her throat. “Fine, I’ll go. “
“Don’t try anything,” said Little Bruce. “Because now, my finger is on the trigger.”
----------------------------------------
Please, Lord, let me be a weapon in your hand, so I can protect those in my care against men with evil intent, said Cannon in a silent prayer.
Daisy was gone. Safely out of the fighting zone for the moment. It was time for action.
The man on the other side of the bathroom door yelled, “You just made a big mis—”
Cannon put a bullet through the door where the man’s face was and followed with two in the chest, shutting him up immediately. The three shots reverberated through the bathroom like, well, cannon shots. He jumped up onto the counter, with one foot in the sink, smashed the nightlight, and conformed his body to the mirror and ceiling. As he had expected, bullets like a hailstorm poured through the thin door and out the wall of the train. They were all suppressed, sounding like popcorn going off on hot grease. If he had been standing on the floor, he’d have taken twenty wounds or more.
The barrage lasted a few seconds, and Cannon felt a sharp jolt pass through his calf, but he didn’t feel any pain. Not yet anyway. When the shooting stopped, Cannon stayed put. He had an idea of how these men would operate and he knew they couldn’t go for Pasha until they were confident Cannon was out of the way.
Seconds passed like hours, but this was not Cannon’s first fire fight and he waited … waited … waited. Shadows shifted in the hallway, changing the faint light patterns that came through the door.
Wait for it, he calmly told himself.
A second onslaught of bullets came, not as heavy as the first, but just as deadly if he’d been standing in the wrong spot. With this volley, they had shot high and low. Not quite high enough to hit him, but the door was Swiss cheese.
When that stream of bullets ended, Cannon heard someone whisper, “Check it.”
The outline of a face appeared and Cannon shot without hesitation and without remorse. These men were as bad as the cowardly men in Iraq who tortured and killed women and children.
Immediately after shooting, Cannon dropped to the floor and barreled through the door. He collided with one man, sending him off balance. Cannon whipped the stun rod out and jabbed it in the direction of Pasha’s door without even looking. Sure enough, it made impact with someone who took the jolt of the stun rod full in the chest.
As bullets started flying down the hall from the other direction, Cannon grabbed the man he’d collided with and turned him to use him as a shield. His companions filled the man with bullets, some of which passed through and struck Cannon. The shield’s legs went out and Cannon dropped to his knees behind the corpse.
“Now, Miss Dee!” With his last bullet, Cannon took out the nearest guy from a kneeling position.
Behind him, he heard the door to the suite fly open and two quick shots boomed out as Miss Dee shot over Cannon’s head, knocking the last man off his feet. They’d arranged in the past that if it ever came to a shootout, Cannon would shoot low, since he’d most likely be in the line of fire, and Miss Dee would shoot high.
“Cover him,” ordered Cannon, pointing to the one he’d dropped with the stun rod. She dropped to one knee to reduce her profile, and Cannon rushed forward, needing to be sure all of the men were down. He covered the thirty feet of hallway in no time, and confirmed that there were no more shooters.
On the way back, he checked each man to make sure that they were really down, and not playing possum.
“Pasha?” asked Cannon when he reached Miss Dee.
“She’s fine.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am,” said Miss Dee. “But you’re shot.”
“I know.” Looking down at his calf made the pain finally register.
“Here too,” said Miss Dee, pointing at his right shoulder and the left side of his abdomen. “I’ll have paramedics meet us at the train station in Sacramento. Police also.”
“There are two more men,” said Cannon. “I have to get to them before we stop in Sacramento.” Leaving Pasha felt like leaving a man behind in combat, but he’d done what he could here. If Bruce and Bruce didn’t see their companions get off the train in Sacramento, they would most likely kill Daisy and exit the train quietly, expecting her to not be discovered until Seattle.
Miss Dee didn’t look convinced. He considered making up an excuse about not being able to rest until all of their attackers were dealt with, but it came down to needing to rescue Daisy.
“I’m going,” he told her, then turned to the guy on the ground. “Where are they? Where did Bruce and Bruce take her?”
The guy was wide-eyed, laying on his side, hands up in surrender.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” said Cannon. “But I have a lot of ideas how to make you talk.”
The man glanced up the hallway at the bodies. “Room six on the next car.”
Cannon popped into his room and grabbed a set of handcuffs from his bag. As he slapped them on the prisoner, he said, “If you’re lying, I’ll make you sorry.” There was only one good shot at a rescue; Cannon needed good intel.
“I’m not lying. I swear.”
Cannon looked at Miss Dee. “I’ll send Felix down to watch this guy. When you see Felix, close the door and don’t open it for anyone but me.”
Miss Dee’s mouth was pinched. “Mr. Gold will not be pleased if you leave.”
There was no question what Cannon had to do, and he didn’t care right now about Mr. Gold. He grabbed a few more gadgets from his room.
“Keep her safe,” said Cannon, turning to the stairwell. He climbed cautiously, watching for any more surprises. At the top of stairs, he found a cautious Felix, standing by, but staying clear. “Pasha and Miss Dee are fine, but there are some dead men down there. I need you to keep an eye on one man in handcuffs in the aisle and also alert Miss Dee if anyone else approaches. But first, call Gustav. Have him meet me right here.”
---------------------------------
The barrel of the gun in Daisy’s back felt like a dagger that was about to puncture her spine. Daisy was so terrified she could barely stand.
Before heading back to the alpha car, as one of the Bruce’s had called it, the three of them got carefully arranged with Big Bruce in the front, then Daisy, followed by Little Bruce with his gun digging into her back.
That trigger finger made her nervous. Her armpits were working overtime, sweating with every bounce, jerk, and rumble of the train. One of Camille Jackson’s novels dealt with a concept called bimanual synkinesis. It’s what she had mentioned to the Bruces in their roomette. When one hand makes a movement, the other hand often mirrors it subconsciously.
Never did she think she’d use that obscure knowledge, and never with her on the barrel end of a gun.
The storm raged outside, thunder and rain. Still, after the commotion in the front car, she expected people sticking their heads out, concealed carry people coming out of the woodwork, and maybe an overhead announcement to duck and cover. The thunder and the mechanical noises and late hour explained the lack of alarm in this car, but people in the front car had to have heard the gunshots, at least the ones that weren’t suppressed. And even if they mistook those for sounds from the engine, it would still alarm people, right?
Daisy considered calling out for help, or trying to squirm away from Little Bruce and duck into a bedroom. But not only did she not know which ones were locked and which were unlocked, she would probably just be endangering an innocent stranger if she did that.
Someone was down at the end of the car by the stairs, but she couldn’t make out who it was. Little Bruce had told Big Bruce to move at a slow pace, to make it easier to stick together. As she got closer, Daisy saw that it was Gustav, the dining car host! Maybe she could make eye contact with him and alert him that something was wrong without causing a huge scene. They had to have hostage protocols in the train system, right?
As they approached, Daisy stared daggers and called out mentally to Gustav, but he was super intent on whatever he was doing with the coffee machine. He didn’t even notice them coming. The most they would get out of him would be a grunt and a nod.
Her one chance of rescue was about to pass.
When Big Bruce was about three steps from Gustav, Daisy noticed a door next to her that was open. The curtains were drawn, and just as she stepped past they parted, and a hand holding something metal came down right behind her back. It hit Little Bruce’s arm with a crack and she heard his gun clatter to the floor.
Daisy screamed in reflex. The jolt made her jump and she still kind of wondered if she’d been shot and just hadn’t felt it yet.
Cannon stepped out of the roomette and grabbed Little Bruce around the neck. Daisy had to pinch herself twice to make sure she hadn’t gone off in some rescue fantasy, but this was really happening! Cannon bent and twisted himself, then Little Bruce rose up off the ground a foot, only to come down with accelerated force, face-first into Cannon’s shoulder. Little Bruce fell to the floor unconscious.
Daisy swiveled her head and saw Big Bruce starting to turn toward her. Gustav shot him in the side of the face with a Taser and for good measure jabbed another stun device into his neck. The big guy shook like Jell-O in an earthquake.
Cannon darted past Daisy and guided Big Bruce to the ground, face down with his arms behind his back. In about one second, he had Big Bruce in handcuffs.
Daisy was glued in place, thinking that maybe everything was fine now, but still not comprehending how it had happened.
Cannon stood from slapping another set of cuffs on Little Bruce then took both of Daisy’s arms in his.
Automatically, she muttered, “Snicker-snack.”
Cannon’s eyebrows went up, searching her face as if she’d gone mad. “Did they hurt you, Daisy?”
She searched for the words, still unsure. “Um, no.” The world was s
tarting to make sense. He had done it. He had rescued her. Bruce and Bruce were in handcuffs on the ground and they couldn’t do anything to her now. Daisy burrowed in his chest and wrapped her arms tight around him, still trembling like a leaf in the wind.
He put his arms around her, but she could feel his neck swiveling, still keeping an eye on the scene.
“What was that?” she asked. “Who …?”
“They wanted to kidnap Pasha,” said Cannon. “The police or FBI will have to investigate.”
“Pasha! Is she okay?” Her expression grew frantic as she looked toward Pasha’s car.
“She’s fine.” He placed his palm on her cheek and she leaned into it.
“You saved me,” she said, gratitude and love for him causing her eyes to fill with tears again.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry I let them take you.”
“You did the right thing,” she sniffled.
He didn’t seem to hear her and kept explaining. “I know you want to be first in my book and under any other circumstances, I would—” He paused and looked at her with a perplexed expression on his face. “What did you say?”
She had to lean back a bit to look up into his face, but still craved the safety of his arms and wanted them tighter around her again. “I’m glad you stayed to protect Pasha.”
“You are?”
Daisy nodded, smiling at his puzzlement. Then with a sigh she said, “I’m sorry it was such a hard decision for you.”
“So you did mean for me to stay? That’s what your code was?”
“One hundred percent. I don’t want a guy who doesn’t believe in duty or loyalty. Or one who would put my safety in front of that of a child.”
He pulled her back in tight and just squeezed her for a second.
She asked, “How’d you know we’d be coming right now and they wouldn’t shoot me?”
He pulled a cell phone out of his pants pocket. “I told them I needed you alive at any cost. And I knew if I could catch him on the wrist, he’d drop the gun. It’s what happened to me with the bathroom door.”
The Peaceful Warrior Page 13
