by Juno Rushdan
“Wait! Wait! What if he parachutes out or something? Then I’ll still go pop!”
Jeez. Her fears were legit, but they didn’t have time for this.
“I’ll come back to the window to confirm. But you have to shut off the jammer. If you don’t, the rest of my team isn’t going to make it, including the one man who can take that device out of your neck without your head exploding.”
Laurel nodded like she understood that more than her own life was at stake.
He leaped to the fire escape, catching hold of the top railing and using the bottom metal bar to support his feet.
Pain burst through his body, but the metal platform gave a startling jerk, stealing his full focus. A metallic groan bled over the fading thump, thump of the rotor blades.
The helicopter was airborne. Daedalus was getting away.
The steel apparatus creaked and groaned, tottering as though it would collapse at any second. Rusty bolts connecting the staircase to the brick wall popped out, and the emergency stairs wobbled.
Gideon shifted his weight a hair of a fraction.
In a loud screech of old metal, the fire escape gave way. The joints folded in, the last of the bolts popped from the wall, and the staircase buckled.
Laurel screamed.
Gideon jumped just before the platform crashed, sending up a cloud of dirt. Landing with too much weight on his injured leg, his ankle twisted. He tucked into a roll away from the wreckage, but he couldn’t take in enough air to make sound.
Laurel was still screaming. “Oh God. Oh God. Are you okay?”
He dragged himself upright, shifting his weight to his right leg with a grunt, and gave Laurel a weak thumbs-up. He hobbled inside the building through the rear doors Reece had blown open.
Pressing a hand to his leg, he ran as fast as his injuries allowed, more of a hurried limp really. Sheer determination and rage fueled him. Daedalus wanted to take away Hannah and destroy the Gray Box. Gideon was going to take his life.
He found one of the cases he’d passed earlier, swiped an RPG, and hustled outside.
Not pain, not fatigue, nothing would stand in his way. Nothing.
He pushed the gut-wrenching hurt in his body from his mind and ignored the warm, sticky blood seeping from his abdomen and leg.
Backing up from the building, he searched the sky. He used his ears as well as his eyes. His heart went from a furious pounding to a desperate throb in the hollow of his throat.
There! To the east, he spotted the helicopter. It was within range.
Taking Daedalus in alive and squeezing every dirty secret out of him before killing him would’ve been better for the Gray Box and the country. But that fucker had murdered his wife and threatened Willow and now Hannah. Daedalus had the resources and the motivation to keep coming after Gideon until he made good on his promise to take away what he loved.
Daedalus had to die.
Gideon opened the sights and the grips on the yard-long firing tube and removed the safety cap from the tip of the rocket.
Dropping to a knee in the grass and wincing from the agony, he put the antitank grenade launcher on his shoulder.
He had to get this right. If he missed and Daedalus lived…
No. That was not going to happen.
The target was almost out of range. Cocking the hammer, he closed his left eye. He lined up the sight with his right. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his cornea. His vision darkened, and he shook it off. He focused on the beat of his internal metronome.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then scrubbed his palm on his pants.
The slightest jerk, the tiniest slip of his finger would throw off the shot. For the kill, he had to be dead-on. No mistakes.
Panic bloomed as his window of opportunity narrowed. He reacquired the target in his sights and inhaled. The acquisition display beeped. A tiny red light flashed. The helicopter had just slipped out of range. If he fired now, he’d hit nothing.
His chest heaved. He set the RPG on the ground. This couldn’t be over, not like this.
When you go into a fight, it isn’t to lose. You don’t stop. Go all the way. Ben’s words were so loud in Gideon’s head, it was as if he were beside him. He couldn’t succumb to defeat.
Daedalus was due a comeuppance and Gideon was going to be the one to give it to him. Today.
The drone. Gideon had the chopper’s tail number and hopefully the drone was overhead somewhere. They could track that slippery bastard and still end this.
Gideon estimated his position on the ground was about thirty feet from the building, far enough outside the range of the jammer, and got on comms to the Gray Box. “Do we have a drone on site?”
“Yes,” Sanborn said.
Gideon didn’t bother looking for the small UAV. “Patch me through to the operator. Now.”
“Hold,” Sanborn said, trusting him and not wasting time asking for an explanation.
Gideon loved him for that. His breath came in ragged pants. The pain and the sting of his mistake burned through him.
“This is Jeff Pratt with—”
“Do you have a visual on an EC155?” Gideon asked, adding in the tail number.
“Yes, sir,” Jeff said over comms. “It’s headed due east.”
“Track it. Don’t lose it. No matter what.”
“Are you certain you want me to leave the area, sir?”
Was this dipshit listening? “Yes! Yes. Follow the helicopter. If it lands, the passenger is the priority. Don’t lose the passenger.”
“Sir, please be advised, there is no passenger.”
Gideon’s heart squeezed, the air in his lungs stalled. “What do you mean?”
There had to be a passenger. Daedalus went to the roof and got on that chopper. He must have. There was no other way out of the building for him besides going through the rest of Gideon’s team.
Did Daedalus turn into fucking Houdini?
“A man wearing a suit boarded the helicopter on the roof, but the chopper set down in front of the building and let him out. He’s in a car headed south. Do you still want me to track the helo? Over.”
Daedalus had expected them to track the helicopter. The range on that detonator wasn’t infinite. A few miles out, Daedalus must have anticipated Gideon would flip the switch on the jammer, their guys would end the firestorm, and they’d seek support to locate the helo.
Of course, Daedalus decided to do what wasn’t obvious and not be on it, so their team would be chasing their own tail.
Only Gideon had the foresight to already have eyes in the sky.
He grabbed the RPG and raced around to the other side of the building in a running hop, dragging his leg. He spotted the SUV, tearing down a road, leaving a dust trail behind it.
Gideon lowered to a knee, propped the tube on his shoulder, and lined up the crosshairs on the vehicle. “I’ve got you now, slippery bastard.”
“Sir, are you talking to me?” Jeff asked.
“No, but I’m sorry for calling you a dipshit in my head.” Gideon tightened his grip on the tube and applied smooth pressure to the trigger.
A roaring whoosh erupted, and the projectile launched in a blaze of fiery light. The rocket streaked toward the SUV, ripping through the air with a whizzing sound.
He held his breath, every muscle clenched tight as a bowstring.
Direct contact. The car jumped into the air as it exploded into flames. The SUV went up in a fireball that flipped and dropped to the ground.
Nothing had survived that.
No open casket for you either, asshole.
46
Near the Potomac River, Northern Virginia
Monday, July 8, 7:25 p.m. EDT
Gideon got up from the ground. Dizziness waylaid him, and the world spun for a second. Once the ground
stopped seesawing, he began hobbling back around the building.
“Thanks, Jeff. Track the helicopter. We want the pilot too.” None of Daedalus’s employees were going to escape scot-free.
“Roger that, sir.”
Gideon switched comms channels and reached the bathroom window. “Laurel!”
She stuck her head outside. “Is he dead?”
“Yes,” he said, winded.
“Are you sure? I want to go home to my kids, not get decapitated.”
“Hundred percent certain.” He bent over, bracing one hand on his knee and trying to slow the bleeding from his abdomen with the other. “Shut the jammer off. Please!”
“Okay.” She ducked inside.
Seconds later, a crackle resounded over the airwaves. “We’re a go. We’re a go,” he said into his throat mic, giving the team the signal.
“It’s so much more fun being a winner,” Alistair said over the earpiece.
“More of Daedalus’s men were headed back your way. They should’ve hit you guys by now.”
“Yeah. Ares took care of them. That show-off,” Alistair said. “Let’s finish this. On my count. Five seconds.”
“Hey, Allie, do me a favor?” Gideon’s voice was shaky, his limbs starting to tremble.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let me bleed out, and don’t tell Willow that I’m in the hospital.”
“I knew you guys were shagging. And that’d be two favors. Can’t you count? Speaking of which, three, two…”
Gideon stumbled away from the building, putting in his earplugs.
He was so tired, bone-weary from exhaustion and blood loss. Weakness threaded through his legs, and his knees buckled. The last thing he saw was Willow’s face in the sky before everything hazed white.
* * *
Saint Margaret’s Hospital, Vienna, Virginia
Monday, July 8, 9:20 p.m. EDT
Willow sat in a chair at her father’s bedside, singing the Frank Sinatra version of “That’s Life.”
She held his hand, crooning the brave lyrics, desperate to soak up a fraction of the courage and strength in the words.
The doctors had found a high concentration of methyl iodide in her dad’s bloodstream, which caused his coma. In order to treat him, they’d been forced to stop the medication for his Hodgkin’s and wait for it to leave his system.
His condition improved, and he’d been moved from the ICU that afternoon. According to the doctor, he was no longer in the worst stage of a coma and was in what they considered a minimally conscious state. An encouraging sign that he’d eventually wake up and might make a full recovery from the poisoning, but they wouldn’t know for certain until he opened his eyes.
Maddox had been great, bringing her coffee, convincing the nurses to let Willow stay past visiting hours, paying to have the television in his private room turned on so he could watch his favorite shows when he woke up, giving her uninterrupted time with her dad. Maddox was out in the hall like a vigilant sentinel alongside the police detail who were still assigned to watch Willow’s dad.
Willow pressed her forehead to the back of her dad’s hand. She was scraped bare, with nothing left. Not her wallet. None of her identification. Not even her mother’s pearls.
Or Gideon.
Everything inside her ached. She shut her eyes, fighting the pain hemorrhaging through her. “You’re going to be okay, Daddy. You have to be.”
The door opened.
She didn’t look over to square off with the nurse about having more time. “I know it’s past visiting hours and I have to go. Can I just have five more minutes please?”
“Willow?”
She swiveled in her chair, facing the door. It was Laurel. Her sister looked as if she’d been dragged through the streets by her hair.
“Oh my God, Laurel.” Willow shot to her feet. “Are you okay?”
Her sister nodded. “The people you work with rescued me. I’m fine, now.”
She didn’t look fine, not in the least.
“Your hair color,” Laurel said. “It’s different, but nice.”
“I had to change it.”
“I like the red on you.” Laurel looked at their father. “How’s Dad?”
“Better. He’s still unconscious, but he’s responding to the medication and the doctor is hopeful that he’ll make a full recovery.” Willow wrung her hands. “I’m so sorry you were kidnapped. It’s all my fault. This never would’ve happened to you if I hadn’t called and forced you to come take care of Dad.”
Laurel opened her arms and eased in slowly. In her mind, Willow comprehended what was happening, but when her sister gave her a solid, warm embrace, it left her shell-shocked.
“It’s not your fault. Your…team explained everything. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“For what?”
Laurel pulled back and met Willow’s eyes. “For being such a selfish bitch. For underestimating you and not giving you near enough credit. You’ve taken care of Dad on your own all these years and I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were imposing when you asked me for help.”
That was the first time Laurel had apologized for anything. Her big sister always twisted reality into a pretzel so it was someone else’s fault. “Did you hit your head? Were you checked for a concussion?”
Laurel gave a dry laugh. “I don’t have a head injury. I’ve just had a wake-up call.” She went over to their father and kissed him on the forehead. “The nurse said we have to leave.”
Willow nodded. “Did Gideon bring you here?”
“Um, no.” Laurel looked back at their father and rubbed his hand. “John Reece brought me.”
“Why didn’t Gideon come? Is he okay? I mean, is everyone on the team all right?”
Laurel stared at her in the most peculiar way—her lips parting but no sound coming out—Willow didn’t know what to make of it.
Her heart pounded in her throat. What if something had happened to Gideon? He was already injured and had put his body through more than he should’ve.
“Everyone is safe,” Laurel finally said.
Willow exhaled with relief. Thank goodness he was safe. He might not want her or love her, but she didn’t know what she would do if something had happened to him.
“Come on,” Laurel said.
Willow nodded and kissed her dad on the cheek. “I love you to the moon and back. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
A flutter of a smile whispered across her dad’s face, but then it was gone.
“I think he just smiled,” she said. “The nurse said hopefully we’ll start getting consistent responses from him soon and that I should keep singing and talking to him. Hearing a familiar voice is good for him.”
Laurel ushered Willow out of the room.
In the hall, Maddox was waiting and talking to Reece near the elevators.
“I have to go home to see the girls. And Richard.” Laurel’s mouth twisted like she was sucking on a lemon. “John kindly offered to drive me back to Connecticut.”
John? No one called Reece by his first name. Willow didn’t understand why. It was one of those former military-isms that she didn’t get.
“He saved my life. Gideon too. The whole team. But John removed an explosive device from my neck.” She winced and pointed to the bandage. “He made it seem so easy, talking to me the entire time, making sure I didn’t freak out. I’ll buy him a first-class ticket to DC in the morning. He’s such a sweet man. They’re all great.” Laurel rubbed her arm. “Every single one of them, really. Listen, I want you and Dad to come up for Thanksgiving. I know the invitation might sound premature with Dad’s current state, but I believe he’s going to pull through this and I want you both to come for the holidays.”
Once Dad recovered, that was the last suggestion he’d want t
o entertain. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“The things I said to you on the phone, that I could’ve been a better sister—I meant it. Dad and Mom always gave you so much attention. I resented you. And I was jealous because you were Dad’s favorite. Maybe it was that you were the baby, or you looked the most like Mom, or the way you doted on him like he was your personal hero. I know that was awful of me, petty. Sometimes I felt like they only noticed me if I acted out.”
Her sister had been wretched at times, but Willow hadn’t realized Laurel had been hurting in her own way. “I’m sorry, Laurel. I could’ve been a better sister too.”
“I was the oldest and I knew better. You did nothing wrong.” Laurel cupped Willow’s arm. “Come for the holidays. It’ll be different this time. I promise. I’m going to invite Ivy and Delphine. And if there’s anyone special you want to bring, they’re more than welcome to come.”
Willow’s stomach knotted in degrees, thoughts spilling through her head. The caresses, the kisses, the sweet words. She’d had someone special…for two whole days. Two. Now, he wanted nothing to do with her. The mission was over and so was his interest in her.
Her muscles tensed in the stilted silence.
“Let’s go.” Laurel walked over to Reece and Maddox.
Willow followed, unable to shake the sense of displacement. She had no home to go to.
“Ready to get on the road?” Reece asked.
“Yes.” Laurel kissed Willow on the cheek. “I’m a masterpiece in progress. Bear with me, okay?”
Willow nodded. “Have a safe drive. And Reece, thanks for taking my sister home.”
“Of course. No problem,” he said.
Reece and Laurel took the first elevator and went up to the top walkway connected to the garage. Maddox and Willow caught the next one going down.
“Have you talked to Gideon?” Willow asked, staring at the elevator display.
“After Reece arrived, I called him and we spoke briefly.”
“He didn’t want to talk to me,” Willow said. “Did he?”
“Gideon wants you to focus on your father and putting your life back together.” Maddox cleared her throat. “You need someplace to stay. My condo is vacant and partially furnished.”
