“Things went south,” he said. “We need to get you out of here.” If there’d been any time, he’d reevaluate all the decisions that had led up to this moment. The bottom line was that he’d genuinely thought this would be the safest and most effective plan. Even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t waste any energy with second guesses.
“Delaney, you still wearing a braid?”
“No, but I’m on it now.”
He opened one of the cabinets. “Rebecca, I need you and your grandfather to wear tactical gear.”
“But I don’t know how—”
“I don’t want you to use it. Just look the part.”
Delaney slipped off her belt. “She can use mine. It’s already adjusted. It’s a good plan, sir.”
“Well, I don’t know the plan.” The judge’s voice rose.
“They’re tranquilizing our men. I imagine their orders have them only taking out—”
“Me,” Rebecca said. “No. These are contracted killers. Delaney can’t pretend to be me. I’m not taking your belt!”
THIRTEEN
Rebecca’s stomach threatened to revolt against the wild rice soup she’d made herself eat an hour ago. It was hard enough to sit waiting while men put their lives on the line to stop the mercenaries, but she couldn’t ask Delaney to take her place.
“If they go after me, I’ll be ready,” Delaney said. She approached Rebecca and wrapped the belt around her waist without asking. She gave the belt a hard pull and snapped it before Rebecca could react.
“I won’t be unarmed,” Delaney said. “We’re a team. They’ve got my back. This is my job.”
“No time for arguments. I wanted to be out by now.” Kurt handed Rebecca a ball cap with the US Marshals logo. Their hands met and she wanted to see his eyes again, but all she could see were the circle shapes of the goggles over his eyes. “I’m hoping it won’t even be an issue. Your safety is my highest priority.” Her heart raced and while she knew it was his job to think like that, his words seemed to hold personal meaning. Her imagination had set her up for disappointment in the past, though.
Delaney handed her a jacket with US Marshals written on each sleeve.
She turned to find Grandpa wearing a similar hat and jacket. Through the goggles she finally understood why Kurt insisted. By looking at her Grandpa, she couldn’t tell his age. He wore the uniform and the equipment and looked like a solider.
Kurt ran into the room with the beds and returned with blankets, which he flung at them. They must have been made of wool. She’d always hated the itchy fabric.
“Drape them over yourself.”
She followed his instructions. “Can I ask why?”
“They’re thick and if someone has obtained Newton’s thermal scope, or worse, the mercenaries have their own thermal imaging, then the wool blankets will help defeat it.” He spoke so fast she had to replay the words in her head to understand his point.
For an older man, Grandpa proved he could still move with agility. He swung the blanket over his jacket until it looked like a hooded cloak. She followed his example.
Kurt pulled down his communication microphone but only listened for a bit before flipping it up. “Okay, the men are engaged. Now’s the time. Patton, you will escort them to the tram. I’ll run down ahead of the rails to ensure safe passage to the dock. Get them to the boat and go. I’ll assist SWAT. As soon as you’re in range in Coeur d’Alene, request assistance from police.”
“Understood, sir.” Delaney positioned herself in front of Rebecca.
He strode to the back door and his hand hovered over the dead bolt. “If you see anything odd with your night vision, let me know immediately. No matter how insignificant.”
Rebecca nodded out of habit, but no one was looking at her. The weight of the blanket, the jacket, the hat, the ballistic vest, and the tactical belt made her lungs and back hurt instantly. It had to take a tremendous amount of training and strength to ever get used to it.
Kurt’s fingers flipped the dead bolt, but he hesitated. She knew once he went out the door, there was no coming back. He’d told her it was a one-way exit.
“Judging by the commands through comms, our men aren’t overtaking the mercenaries. So far it’s evenly matched, but if we stay here, they’d be sitting ducks.” Delaney must have sensed his hesitation since her words seemed to be a response.
Kurt nodded. “Let’s go.”
Delaney held her rifle with two hands but stayed in front of the judge and Rebecca. Kurt scanned the area. The rain had eased up, but the wind had kicked in. The breeze blew back the makeshift hood Rebecca had donned. The green trees shifted; the branches in their eerie glow seemed to be waving at her. It was hard to believe she could see better with the goggles than if she yanked them off. As it was, the weird hue gave her the creeps, as if eyes were everywhere, watching her. An oval black hole sidled into her peripheral vision. She tilted her head, wondering if she’d imagined it. The fuzzy blackness moved. She pointed over Kurt’s shoulder. “Black hole in that tree.”
“Interference,” Delaney yelled.
“Get down!” Kurt swung his rifle up to his shoulder.
* * *
His men would’ve shown up on the night goggles, which meant the blackness was one of the mercenaries. Kurt spotted the black hole, aimed for the center of it and squeezed the trigger. A bright light flashed and an intense force shoved into his chest. He staggered backward and momentarily lost his breath. He swept the area with the goggles to see if he’d made contact, as well. Delaney hadn’t wasted a second. He could see her running with two shady gray objects, so he needed to make sure the focus remained on him.
He forced his legs to move forward while scanning the trees in front of him. The black hole moved, albeit more slowly this time. He didn’t take the time to find his mark with the rifle again. Instead he lifted the handgun from his holster and shot it right into the middle of the darkness.
Branches snapped. Kurt sucked in a breath, past the pain in his ribs, and ran toward the direction of the shot. Hard metal swiped his leg and he fell onto the bumpy ground. A figure held a metal baton in his hands. The man ripped the helmet from Kurt’s head.
Without the night vision, he felt blind for a half second too many as he waited for his eyes to adjust. The man dropped to a knee on his chest and the pressure was almost enough to make him pass out. His ribs, likely bruised from the vest taking the bullet, pressed against his burning lungs. “No more radio. Your friends can’t help now.” The thick accent was as Rebecca described, but Kurt had no way of knowing if it was the guard who’d first attacked her. All of the contracted soldiers could’ve originated from the same locale. The probability seemed high.
The guy shoved a giant hand over Kurt’s neck, his thumb pushing into Kurt’s windpipe. Kurt wheezed. His throat felt like it might collapse. The man pulled a gun from his belt and shoved it into Kurt’s forehead. “Where’d you hide the girl? You might live if you tell me.”
A hard, round rock poked into Kurt’s side. His fingers wrapped around it. If it were smoother, it’d be the same size as a baseball. He reared back his arm as far over his head as the terrain allowed and let the rock fly into the man’s face.
The soldier howled. Kurt braced one of the man’s ankles with his leg and used his knee to vault the man off his torso. His throat burned so badly he saw spots. He couldn’t afford to take even a second to recover.
Kurt popped up and shoved a knee into the man’s lower back. His hands and arms worked as if on autopilot from years of practice. Within seconds, the guy’s wrists were locked with an industrial-size yellow zip tie Kurt kept in his tactical belt. For good measure, Kurt wrapped another one around the guy’s ankles. It wasn’t standard operating procedure, but these men weren’t standard, either.
Kurt stood on shaky legs. The rain soaked his hair and dripped down his face. He h
unted until he could find his communication unit. “Patton?” he rasped.
“Secure,” a deep voice that sounded like Fowley’s answered. “We have four men. Minor injuries.”
“Need assistance.” Kurt tried to say it loud and clear, but his voice sounded like a croak.
It only took twenty seconds for a soldier he recognized to jog toward him to relieve him of holding the guy. But it was twenty seconds too long.
“Patton, status?”
The silence almost brought him back down to his knees.
* * *
Rebecca shivered, despite the thick blanket she held up over both her and Grandpa. Given everything she wore, she doubted it was the temperature or the weather that chilled her. The gunshots played on a repeating echo inside her mind. She was just as sure that one of the sounds had come from the woods as she was that one had come from Kurt’s gun.
If Delaney hadn’t dragged her by the wrist toward the side of the building, Rebecca wouldn’t have been able to leave him alone. Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t afford to cry. There was no fast way to wipe tears away inside the goggles.
Kurt could be dead by now. Her body shook harder until her teeth chattered. Grandpa sat next to her on the steel bench inside the carriage that would take them down the rails. It had a ledge to step on and off and raised walls on either side, but no roof. Delaney had left her with a handgun to slide down the steep hill ahead of them. But how would they have any idea if Delaney had made it down the passage safely or not? They hadn’t discussed how many minutes to wait before she should press Go on the rail system. She had finally turned over a new leaf to become a planner, and none of it worked. Kurt’s words seemed to echo in her mind. The point is to be sensitive to what the Lord has in store for you.
Okay, fine. She prayed silently with her eyes open, searching the trees around them for more black holes. Lord, please keep Kurt safe. She inhaled through her nose to push the pesky tears back. I’ve finally reached the point where I’m convinced You have good things in store for me. I’ve seen Your hand in my life, and I’m asking You to help me make the right decisions right this minute. I know You sometimes use a still, small voice and all, but please, in this instance, I’m asking that You yell so I can hear over all this fear I’m trying not to have. Her fingers tensed around the handgun.
Grandpa had kept his blanket wrapped around him like a cloak, but Rebecca didn’t want to risk anyone with night vision being able to see their faces. She ripped off the infrared goggles and placed the gun on her lap. She held the wool fabric up like a tent over them. The wind shook the edges but the weight of it wouldn’t budge from covering their heads.
The blanket prevented her from scanning the area, but even if she spotted another black hole, she would never be able to aim and fire as Kurt had done. She’d be too scared that the black oval was actually a friendly. And there hadn’t been time to ask clarifying questions on whether or not Kurt or Delaney would appear like black holes in trees, as well. She didn’t understand how the things worked, so the safer option seemed to be to stay hidden.
Back at the cabin, Delaney had said they were sitting ducks. That was the last thing Rebecca wanted, and it’d been five minutes since she’d last seen Delaney, so she pressed the green button inside the wooden lift. It jerked slightly before smoothly moving down the rail.
It hummed to life. The hum had to draw attention. “Shh,” she whispered without thinking.
Grandpa’s chest shook slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Either he was laughing at her and wondering who she was trying to hush, or he was distraught again. He’d been on an endless roller-coaster loop of emotions ever since her admission about Kurt. According to him, if she really had fallen in love with Kurt, it would be the forever end to Grandpa’s relationship with her father.
“He’ll never speak to me again,” he’d said. He’d followed up by claiming the entire mess was his fault because he was the reason she was in town in the first place.
The wind howled and the rain picked up, pattering against the wooden bucket they sat within. The boat she’d found so uncomfortable on the way to the cabin would now be a welcome haven, but she didn’t want to leave without Kurt. The gun resting in her lap slid off her knees and hit the small space on the bench between them since both of her arms were busy holding up the blanket. Every second she counted in her head seemed like a minute because a barrage of questions interrupted each one. Where was Kurt? Where was Delaney? Were the men captured?
The blanket tugged and ripped from her fingers. The clouds shifted and the moonlight illuminated the security guard who’d attacked her. He flung the blanket he’d yanked off her to the side. He wore black goggles, so she couldn’t see his cold eyes, but she’d recognize his leer anywhere. He leaned over the edge of the lift. “I knew I’d find you again.” The man lifted his weapon toward her forehead. Images of herself and Grandpa in the dirt, bleeding, faces lifeless, bombarded her mind. She did the only thing that came to mind. She slapped the emergency stop button next to her hip.
The carriage jolted to a stop and the man lost his footing on the ledge outside the door and toppled backward. He caught himself with one hand on an evergreen branch. The gun remained in his right hand as he lifted his arm and aimed at her chest.
A small click sounded behind her. Grandpa had abandoned his blanket and stood tall. He pointed the handgun squarely at the guard. “Get away from my granddaughter.” His voice had such power and surety Rebecca knew in an instant why criminals feared him.
“You heard the man,” a hoarse voice announced to her left. “Drop it.”
Rebecca craned her neck. Kurt held a wide stance on the steep terrain, but his legs seemed shaky. With two hands, he trained a weapon of his own on the guard. Water poured down her face in streaks, but Kurt didn’t so much as blink even though the rain pelted him. The confidence on his face made her wonder if he’d trained in the rain, countless times, until he never missed.
The guard’s hand twitched.
“Don’t even think about it!” Ten feet directly below the guard, Delaney stood. “Put the weapon down now.” She had a rip in her jacket and a trail of something dark, like blood, ran down the side of her face. She aimed her weapon at the back of the guard’s head.
The guard scowled, but the weapon fell from his hand. Delaney and Kurt moved in unison. They launched themselves at the guard, pulling his arms behind his back and shoving his face against the ground. Kurt secured his arms and legs with a bright yellow plastic strap while Delaney flung the man’s weapons far away from his person. They flipped him over and worked together to remove the arsenal from the man’s vest and belt.
Kurt looked up briefly as Delaney recited the man’s rights.
“Sir, you can lower the weapon now.”
It took her a second to realize Kurt was talking to the judge. Grandpa exhaled and dropped the gun to the bench. His hands trembled as he pulled her into a hug. She sucked in a giant breath and let the tears roll down her face. The rain had lessened to a light mist but helped wash the strained emotions away. It was over.
If she ever questioned that God had her best interests at heart, she would always remember that not only one but three people had appeared to defend her. She wiped the tears away. Grandpa lifted her chin to see her face. The Marshals cap and the goggles were no longer on his head. The moonlight emphasized his tired eyes. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
“Yes.” The immediate danger was over, but in the back of her mind she knew the man who wanted her dead was still out there. How many others would he hire to make sure she was dead? While she trusted the Marshals, a life in witness protection was the last thing she wanted. Her family’s approval and love was everything to her and to be without it...
Movement from behind the windows in the cabin made her muscles tense. One window opened. “Turn your comms back on,” a man shouted.
Kurt
flipped his microphone down. “Brock reporting. Anyone hurt?” Kurt listened, and even though Rebecca couldn’t hear what was being said she saw the relief on his face. “Good.”
“I found Newton,” Delaney said. “He’d been shot with what appears to be a tranquilizer.”
“Let’s hope it’s nothing else,” Kurt answered.
“He’s breathing.”
“We didn’t want to kill anyone else,” the guard said. “We only do what’s contracted. Nothing more.”
“Who did the contracting?” Delaney asked.
Kurt held his hand to his ear. “What? Seriously?” He narrowed his gaze at the guard. He pulled on the lip of his vest until the man was in a seated position. “Your men are trying to claim they were contracted by the US government to make a hit on Miss Linn.”
“That is what they believe. Nothing is their fault. You must let them go.”
Kurt put his fists on his belt. “There’s nothing I must do except put you in jail. I can believe you might’ve told them the government ordered this, but we both know that wasn’t true. So why would I help you go along with that?”
“Because I can hand you the boss who gave the orders. I have the flash drive the lady is missing plus more. Much more. I want to talk for a deal.”
Hope sparked in Rebecca. The man was ready to give up the evidence and Cabell—Mijovic—whatever his name was... Maybe the nightmare really was about to end.
Delaney crossed her arms. “Do you know where Mijovic is now?”
“He hasn’t left the area. I hid him well. I told him it was safest, but I wanted him close for insurance.”
Kurt shook his head. “You were watching your back all along?”
“Men who hire us cannot always be trusted. You must know this.”
“Here’s a tip. Stop telling us what we must do. We’ll leave the deal making to the FBI,” Kurt said. “They’re taking over this case.”
The third officer who wore an FBI jacket approached and grabbed the man’s wrists. “My boss is in the air as we speak. He’s looking forward to talking to you.” He looked over his shoulder at Kurt. “We’re taking the suspects on the sheriff boats.”
Credible Threat Page 16
