Hope felt stupid, like shock had wiped away half her IQ. “No, no she didn’t. She —” she swallowed. “My mother is dead. She was killed. Someone ran her car off the road. I was in the car too but I survived. I don’t remember anything about her.” All of a sudden her eyes filled with tears and for the first time she mourned the mother she couldn’t remember. “Mr. Redfield, I think your father had her killed.”
His face closed up like a fist, hard and angular. She would have been afraid of this man if she’d been in the same room with him. For an instant the temptation was huge to just hang up. Her phone was untraceable. He’d never know where she was.
But a tiny wisp of smoke, so faint it was almost invisible, ghosted into the locker. She and Luke could die in here.
This man might help. He might not. If not, if he had sent killers after her, she and Luke were in trouble. Maybe lost.
Her own face closed up. “I have DNA analyses that prove what I am saying. They are with a lawyer,” she lied. “My lawyer has instructions to send the results to all the major press outlets and online press. It would be a scandal your father doesn’t need at the start of his campaign.”
“Fuck my father and fuck his campaign,” he said sharply. “You say my father had Lucy killed?”
“In 1995, or so my uncle told me. And he’s trying to kill me. I am with an operative of ASI in a Black Inc safe house in Sacramento. An armed drone is attempting to kill us. My friend is hit. He’s bleeding badly. We are in the safe house’s gun locker but to get here we had to start a fire, which I think is now out of control. We can’t leave the locker because the drone is outside, together with the man or men operating it. But if we don’t leave very soon, we’ll burn in here.”
She panned the room so he could see, lingering on Luke, on his gray sweaty face, on the blood-soaked improvised bandage on his shoulder.
She brought the phone back to her, talking fast, the words tripping over themselves. “We’re in real trouble here. If it’s not you coming after us, then I think it’s your father who sent these people. Black Inc is coming but I don’t know if they’ll get here in time. Can you call our attackers off?”
The man’s face was even tighter. “Goddamn right I can. Can you stay on the line?”
She nodded. “Hurry,” she whispered. The smell of smoke was unmistakable. Luke coughed. Oh god, had the bullet gone through his lungs? How could you tell? “Hurry,” she said again.
“Be right back. I’m switching to another phone.”
Hope let the phone clatter to the ground and fell to her knees next to Luke. Closer to the floor there was an acrid smell that made her cough. Worse, it made Luke cough, leaving him weak. He leaned his head against the locker wall and closed his eyes.
“No!” Hope yelled, taking him by his good shoulder and pulling him forward. It was horrible to feel how lax he was, this super strong former soldier. He felt like a rag doll, barely able to sit upright. His entire side was red, the blood glistening, fresh. He coughed again, weakly.
The tendrils of smoke were visible, a gray pall in the small room. She lifted Luke’s phone and saw the shadows of flames dancing on the walls through the entrance security cameras. There was no way to know how far the fire had spread but if smoke was already penetrating the gun locker, they were in trouble.
One thing was for sure — Hope would rather take her chances with the Borg than wait in a small room to be roasted alive. The very thought of being trapped there while a fire raged made her skin prickle. Even something that gave them a small chance of survival was better than simply waiting here to burn.
She mapped out the house in her head. Assuming the flames were concentrated for the moment in the living room area and kitchen, maybe she could help Luke up and they could make their way to the garage. He couldn’t crouch, he’d fall over. But she’d make sure that they were covered with the thermal blanket and anyway at least as far as the corridor the flames would mask their presence.
The plan was a little vague after that. Dragging Luke to the car and driving like a bat out of hell was the only thing to do. With no idea where the attackers were, she could be driving herself and Luke straight into their path. The drone could certainly follow them and maybe shoot straight into the roof of the vehicle. She wasn’t much of a driver and was perfectly capable of driving them into a tree if someone was shooting at them.
In the movies it looked easy but she knew herself. The chances of her driving them away to safety were very close to nil.
The chances of them burning alive in here were 100%.
No question what she had to do though she was scared to death. Maybe she couldn’t even bear Luke’s weight and they’d slump to the ground outside and be burned to a crisp almost immediately.
One thing for sure. She wasn’t leaving Luke. No way. He was wounded because of her. All he’d done was work to protect her. He wouldn’t leave her and she wouldn’t leave him.
She loved him.
It came in a blinding flash of utter clarity, maybe the last intuition of her life. Love had always seemed so far from anything she could ever experience, something not ever meant for her. But here it was. She admired him, cared for him. Loved him. Wanted to be with him for the rest of her life.
She’d cheated death twenty-five years ago but death had only been lying in wait. It was coming to claim her, maybe angry that she’d escaped it all those years ago. Maybe that was her destiny but it wasn’t Luke’s. It was wrong for Luke to die. Luke — so brave and so noble. A truly good man. He didn’t deserve to die. She’d do everything in her power to keep him alive.
The smoke was thick enough now to be visible. It burned the eyes and throat and she was sure the air was hotter than a few minutes ago. Maybe the fire wasn’t far off in the living room but was right outside that door.
They had to go, now.
“Up you go,” she said, tugging at Luke’s good arm. He coughed hard, without opening his eyes. “Up, Luke,” she said again. His combat boots scrabbled on the floor until they found some purchase and he rose shakily to his feet. “Lean on me.”
He did, heavily. Hope nearly staggered under his weight. What had seemed like a small shot at survival while he was on the floor now seemed almost impossible. They’d have to move fast but he was barely able to stay on his feet. God, she couldn’t carry him, didn’t think she could drag him if he fell.
Despair washed over her. Either they’d have to walk through fire or be exposed to gunfire. Probably both. Even if they managed to make it to the garage, getting Luke into the vehicle was going to be hard.
The only way to deal with it was like dealing with an IT problem. Step by step. Solve problem one, go on to problem two.
Problem one — keeping Luke upright. She angled herself under his right shoulder, put his right arm around her, and snaked her left arm around his waist. Holding him up, barely.
Now to get going. The smell of smoke was intense and her eyes stung. God help them if the fire was right outside the gun locker. Guns … she eyed the walls, filled with guns. Guns everywhere. Guns would help if she knew how to shoot, which she didn’t. Luke already had his own gun. It hadn’t left his hand in all this time. He wasn’t letting it go, and it rested on her shoulder, clutched in his hand.
She didn’t know if he had the strength to lift it, to shoot it. Even if he did, he certainly couldn’t handle more than one.
When she opened the door, they’d be met by a wall of smoke, so she took in a deep breath and startled when a face appeared on her cell.
Bard Redfield.
“Shooter’s gone.” His face was drawn, his voice urgent. “Men from Black Inc are arriving right now. Get out of there as fast as you can.”
“There’s a shooting drone right outside!” It was hard to keep the panic from her voice.
“No. The drone has been taken down, man operating it is … neutralized. Get out!”
Hope tried to study that face with such oddly familiar features, tried to see the truth in
pixels on a small screen. Was this a ruse? Were the men outside, trying to kill them, his men? Was he simply trying to make things easier for his killers?
Was she going to lead Luke to his death? Wipe out that infinitesimal chance they had of surviving this?
That dark, weather-beaten face came closer, filled the screen. “Listen to me, Hope. I loved your mother with all my heart. I thought she’d left me when I was wounded. I had no idea —” His deep voice cracked. “No idea she’d been killed, no idea you existed. I would never ever harm you. You need to get out of that house and get to Black’s men outside. You trust Jacob Black, right?”
She nodded, throat too tight to talk.
“Then trust them until I get a chance to earn your trust. But do this for me — live. Get out alive. I am coming for you as fast as I can.”
“Luke needs medical attention, now.”
“They all have medic training. Now go!”
Hope settled her shoulder more solidly under Luke’s arm and reached out to open the gun locker door.
Behind the door was hell itself. Black smoke billowed in her face, acrid and oily, coating her throat. She and Luke immediately started coughing. Beyond the smoke were dark yellow flames reaching out with greedy fingers to the curtains. Her vision grew cloudy, it was hard to think. Lack of oxygen.
You were supposed to go low in a fire, below the rising smoke, but Hope couldn’t get Luke to crouch. He’d fall over and she’d never get him back up again. They had to run. Now.
Luke was swaying. The only way for him to move was basically pulling him. “Luke!” she yelled. “We have to get out!”
He blinked, visibly groggy, then bent over coughing. Her arm was around him and she tried to push him forward. He looked at her, frowning and coughing. “Hope? Are you ok?”
She had a flash of genius. “No, I’m hurt Luke! We have to get out! Black’s men are waiting for us outside!”
“Hurt? You’re hurt? Where?”
Where was she hurt? Somewhere he couldn’t see. “My back. I’m bleeding. We have to get out now!”
Luke’s face hardened, the tendons in his neck stuck out with effort. “Hold on to me, honey.”
She nodded. She was holding on to him to keep him standing. But if he thought he was leading her to safety that might make a difference, allow him to stay on his feet long enough to make it out.
A snazzy modern corrugated-paper floor lamp went up with a whoosh, the flames crackling so hard they couldn’t hear each other any more.
In the distance were sirens. The fire brigade. Come to save them, only it was too late. They had to save themselves.
She pushed forward with her arm across his back, using the strength of her entire body. He came with her, stumbling and unsteady. His labored breathing rose above the noise of the fire and he was leaning heavily on her.
Hope’s lungs were on fire and it was hard to think, hard to see. Everything hurt — her lungs, her throat, her eyes. Straight ahead should be the door to the garage but she couldn’t see it for the smoke. They were slowing down when they should be speeding up. A lone spark flew in the air and caught on her bare skin. Biting pain but she couldn’t pay any attention. Then another spark and another, burning her skin.
Luke stumbled over a rug and almost fell. His entire weight rested on her for a moment and she nearly crumpled. She stopped and pushed against him until he stood upright again. Her knees and legs were trembling with the strain. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, could barely move …
They bumped straight into a wall, Hope’s head bouncing off it. They were trapped! Nowhere to go! Her hand reached out wildly and she felt hinges, the door. The handle was brass and hot but she pushed down, opened and there was blessed air! Sweet and smokeless and life-giving.
She bent a moment and wheezed in and out but she’d been propping Luke up and he fell. Hope caught him, struggling to keep him upright.
Hands reached for them and she recoiled in horror. “No!” she screamed. They’d found them and were going to kill them! She fought the hands wildly, kicking and screaming. Luke fell out of her grasp and slid to the concrete floor of the garage and she fell over him, shielding him. The idea of men wanting to hurt him when he was already so grievously injured burned in her chest. She’d die before she let that happen.
Hands reached for her again and she kicked out wildly, body splayed over Luke’s.
His trembling hand came up with the gun. “Stay away from her, you fuckers!” he rasped, voice broken from the smoke.
They were surrounded by men, there was no hope. They all looked like insects, with hard carapaces, ski masks and goggles. One man took off the ski mask and the goggles and smiled.
The son of a bitch was smiling! In rage, Hope aimed a vicious kick that barely touched his shin which was covered by a sturdy boot anyway.
The man took her hand. “Ms. Ellis. Hope. We’re here to save you and Luke, not hurt you. Jacob Black sent us. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.”
She panted, searching his eyes. They were brown, cool and assessing. Then he smiled and they turned warm. “You’re safe,” he repeated.
His words finally penetrated. “Safe?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Yes you’re safe, both of you. But we have to go now.”
She glanced over. Luke was unconscious, face sweaty and sooty and completely colorless. She met the man’s eyes. “Take care of him.”
“We will.” His voice was steady. “And we’ll take care of you, too.”
“I don’t need it,” she said, and passed out.
The next afternoon, a little dinged but feeling fine, Hope sat by Luke’s hospital bed, holding his hand. He was sitting up and there was color back in his face. The surgeon said that his greatest risk had been blood loss, not the wound itself. He was stitched up, infused and taking the ribbing of two guys from ASI who’d flown down to see how he was doing and had orders to stay until he could be flown back to Portland.
Hope was starting work as soon as she could and Luke was under strictest doctor’s orders to not even think of work for a month. He wasn’t happy at the thought.
The two who were to accompany them back in the corporate jet, Raul Martinez and Pierce Jordan, were known as the ‘twins’, Luke said. They didn’t look anything like each other but they’d been brothers-in-arms in the Navy as SEALs and they’d been through hell together. They’d been assigned a psychopath as a commanding officer in Afghanistan, a man who killed innocent civilians and reveled in it. Taking their career in their hands, they’d reported the commanding officer, who was then subjected to a court martial. The twins had paid a price, though. Their command had shunned them and they’d both quit and gone to work for ASI.
The twins were ribbing Luke for being rescued by a ‘girl’. They winked at Hope as they said it. They were funny and annoying as hell. And they never shut up. Or rather Raul didn’t. Pierce was less of a talker.
“I’m going to get so laid thanks to your story,” Raul said, waggling his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. “The man known as Cool Hand Luke being rescued without getting off a shot.”
“By a girl,” Pierce said, for the billionth time.
It was a miracle Luke’s eyes were still in his head, he was rolling them so much.
Her teeth set. “It wasn’t like that.” He didn’t seem to be annoyed but Hope was. “Luke was very brave,” she said stiffly and the twins laughed. It was really annoying that Luke laughed too.
Hope’s teeth ground. Luke seemed incredibly relaxed for someone who’d been shot at and nearly burned to death. On the other hand, her nerves were shot. She still had the shakes.
Which was why she jumped at the soft knock at the door.
A tall, gray-haired man stuck his head in the opening. “May I?”
Raul and Pierce stood at attention. Luke sat up straighter in his bed. The man who walked in had such a commanding presence Hope felt like saluting herself.
He walked in slowly, never taking his eyes
from Hope and her heart started pounding and her hands shook.
Raul stuck a thumb out. “Gotta go see a guy about a thing,” he said. Pierce nodded and they disappeared. Hope barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the man’s face. A face that looked just like hers.
“Hope,” he said softly.
She nodded, a huge lump in her throat rendering her incapable of speech. She felt so many emotions, all of them huge and unsettling, that she couldn’t open her mouth for fear that she’d scream.
“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. I thought your mother — Lucy — had left me. I’d been wounded and she didn’t answer any of my letters. She seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. It was all my father. He didn’t think she was worthy of a Redfield. Even though he wasn’t worth her little finger. Your mother was so bright and so alive.” He swallowed heavily. “She was pure magic and I loved her with all my heart. I’ve never loved another woman.”
Hope swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “I don’t remember her.”
“You wouldn’t. You were so small. And you were in a coma for months. I checked. There was a very young girl in a coma in a hospital in Modesto. A Jane Doe.”
“Who was it? Was it your father who did this?” She finally found her voice but it was raw, as if the words were being torn out of her.
He nodded.
Her heart was still pounding. “Is he — is he dangerous to me? To us?” She glanced at Luke, who was watching her with a sad expression on his face. His grip on her hand was warm and strong and grounded her.
Something — a predatory shadow — passed across the man’s face and she could see the warrior he was.
“No,” he said firmly. “You’ll read about it in the papers tomorrow. My father committed suicide. I confronted him and told him that I’d see him stand trial for conspiracy to murder Lucy and your friend Kyle and the doorman of your building. And for the attempted murder of his own granddaughter. And that we had Frank Glass’s video. He has good spin doctors but there’s no way to spin this. I’d make sure of it. I told him his life was over and left a gun on his desk. He then did the only honorable thing he has ever done in his life and used it. You’re free.”
Midnight Kiss Page 23
