Forged in Ember

by Trish McCallan

  “You’re on escort from the bird. Target will walk out.”

  There was a moment of confused silence while Cosky deciphered that cryptic comment. Then—“You. Fucking. Bastard.” Another moment of silence. Mac could almost feel the wave of volcanic fury rolling down the line, every bit of it directed at him. “You’re dead. You get me? Dead.”

  Yeah, he got him.

  But damn it, Kait needed to be here. He’d keep her safe. He’d keep her alive. He’d do whatever it took to ensure her safety. Embray wouldn’t survive being unhooked from those machines. That they knew for a fact. They couldn’t afford to assume Kait could pull the man back from death. Nobody had been able to pull Jude back. Fuck, if Rawls really had died, like he insisted, he’d been gone only seconds. Same with Faith. Embray would be officially dead for a hell of a lot longer than that—several minutes at least. They couldn’t afford to assume Kait could work a miracle and bring him back to life. No, he needed her in this room to heal Embray while he was still living.

  Benji’s life depended on it.

  Plus, there was this whole fucking NRO Armageddon agenda. Embray had been blessed with one of the sharpest intellects in modern times. If they couldn’t locate Coulson’s sonic bombs, they’d need strategies for neutralizing the devices’ effects. Embray’s mind, assuming he recovered with it intact, might just be the difference between humanity’s salvation or destruction.

  Maybe Cos would forgive him for throwing Kait into the hot spot eventually.

  Like in a million years.

  The minutes ticked by as Mac waited for Kait and Cosky to join them. Their captives were sitting there all nice and quiet, like good little lambs. Embray was lying still and silent, machines expanding his lungs and pumping his heart.

  The poor bastard.

  Even if Kait—with Cosky’s help—did bring the guy back to life, Embray was still going to have a shitpile of work ahead of him. He’d spent months lifeless in that bed; his body was bound to have atrophied.

  More minutes ticked by.

  Finally, closing in on seven minutes after Cosky’s last livid response, Mac heard the muffled sound of boots in the hall.

  Cosky’s cold, impersonal voice followed through the headset. “Alphas Two and Four, at rendezvous.”

  “Copy,” Mac acknowledged quietly.

  So Kait had gotten her way, which meant Mac had too—by default. Mac had suspected she would bulldoze into the room, but he hadn’t been 100 percent certain. After all, Cosky always had the option of hog-tying her and leaving her at the chopper.

  When the pair reached the room, they immediately made their way to Embray’s bed, pulling off helmets and gloves as they walked.

  Kait’s face, head, neck, and long golden braid were soaked. Her flex pants were as well, and they clung to her legs and hips like a second skin. Cosky was every bit as wet, although his BDUs repelled the water so he didn’t look as damp.

  After one livid glance, his gray eyes so furious they looked burnished in steel, Cosky ignored Mac.

  The pair converged on Embray. Kait leaned over the bed, her hands pressed to Embray’s head. Cosky’s hands joined them, his hands settling over hers.

  One second, two, three—

  Was it working? Mac shifted to the side so he could see the two sets of hands pressed against Embray’s head, searching for that weird glow that he’d seen in the woods when they’d worked on Rawls’s motionless body.

  Nothing was happening.

  Four seconds, five . . . come on, come on.

  Still nothing.

  Frustration and disappointment stirred. The magic should have started by now, right?

  Nine seconds, ten.

  Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

  Rubbing a hand down his wet face, Mac leaned forward, urging the magic to flow.

  Come on. Damn it, come on.

  He was so certain that the power in Kait’s hands hadn’t sparked that when the bright light suddenly kindled across Embray’s face, Mac wondered whether he was imagining it—wishful thinking and all. He shut his eyes, counted to three, and reopened them. The luminescent glow had intensified and climbed up to Kait’s and Cosky’s wrists.

  It was working.

  The relief was a raw, shaky rush.

  Rawls moved closer to the bed, watching Embray intently. “His eyes are moving.”

  The bastard hadn’t awoken yet, so Mac wasn’t sure why the eye movement was important, but from the intense relief in his corpsman’s voice, it was.

  If Mac hadn’t been watching his corpsman for signs of how well the healing was progressing, he would never have seen the narrow, elongated shadow slide across the window behind the bed.

  An arm. A hand. A gun.

  Fuckfuckfuck.

  He couldn’t take the shot. If Rawls popped up, it would take out his skull.

  “Gun. Down,” he roared, swinging up his rifle.

  Rawls dropped, opening a line of fire, but neither Cosky nor Kait moved.

  Jesus. Jesus. They were in some kind of fucking trance.

  The shadow in the window shifted, settling at a direct angle with Kait’s head. He had a shot now, but a bad one. There was only an arm. A hand. A gun. No head, no chest. Through a window. Weird angle. If he missed, Kait would die.

  With no time to think, he acted instinctively, throwing himself forward with every ounce of strength he possessed. He hit Kait and Cosky, knocking them to the floor as a gun coughed. The window shattered.

  An icy pinch hit his chest, then a second. He went down hard, sprawled on top of Kait.

  He tried to roll off her, get his feet beneath him, bring up his rifle. But nothing would move. A puddle of ice spread across his chest and around his sides and sank into his back until his entire torso was numb.

  Ah fuck . . . this was bad. Really bad.

  “Rawls.” The name burbled wetly from his mouth. “Gun. Window.”

  “Got him,” Rawls barked. “You just fuckin’ breathe. Mac, breathe.”

  Mac tried to follow the order, but his lungs wouldn’t cooperate.

  Yeah . . . bad.

  A blast of gunfire sounded. His men? Or the other . . . the tango Link hadn’t listed?

  Fucking bastard.

  Vaguely he registered hands on him. Pushing him aside. Dragging off his helmet, ripping off his ballistics vest. The coldness spread down his legs. His mind went fuzzy. Except for one thought.

  One thought that kept recycling.

  He forced open his eyes, tried to blink the fuzziness from them, but all he could see were black dots crawling across an ocean of red.

  “Not me.” He forced the words past the blood clogging his throat. “Kait on Embray,” he wheezed, praying they understood. “Not me.”

  Embray hadn’t awoken. She couldn’t heal both of them. She had to do Embray. Had to.

  Exhausted, he fought out one more instruction. “Tell . . . Amy . . . sorry.”

  No. No . . . not right.

  His fuzzy mind tried to focus. Tried to get the words right. “Love . . . her.”

  He wasn’t sure whether the words made it out of his darkening mind. He couldn’t feel his legs, arms, torso. Couldn’t feel anything anymore. No cold. No pain. Just nothing.

  Why hadn’t he told her when he’d had a chance? He’d known for a while.

  Despair followed him into the darkness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  FOR THE FIRST time Eric could remember, David Coulson’s call hit at the perfect moment. He looked to the clean, bright hallway they’d taken Esme down. He wanted to go after her, to hold her hand through the examination, but she’d wanted to face the procedure alone. Which left him out in the private waiting room . . . alone, vibrating with an odd anxiety. He wasn’t even sure why he was so anxious and tense. He wanted to find out why they hadn’t conceived. He wanted a baby.

  Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he wanted it too much.

  Regardless, a distraction was just what he needed.

  �
�David, old chap,” he said, forcing a jovial tone despite the itchy, jumpy sensation playing across his nervous system. “It seems like I just spoke with you yesterday.”

  Well, not quite yesterday, but it hadn’t been that long ago. James Link had been taken, when? Two days ago? Three?

  “Leonard Embray was taken last night,” Coulson said, dropping the news on Eric like one of the bombs he was so fond of utilizing.

  “What do you mean, taken?”

  “I mean he was unhooked from the machines keeping him alive, hauled out of his bed, and carried to a chopper that flew him off the island.”

  “Why the devil would anyone do that?” Eric asked in bewilderment. “The man was in a coma. No brain function whatsoever. He’s incapable of answering any questions. He’s of no use to anyone.”

  “Any chance his condition improved recently?” Coulson asked, the same puzzlement in his voice that was in Eric’s.

  “No,” Eric said with certainty. “After Link’s departure from our organization, I reached out to Embray’s physician. As of yesterday, Leonard Embray was still in a coma.”

  “I see . . .” Coulson’s voice trailed off. “I don’t suppose it matters. Once they unhooked him from the heart-and-lung machine, they effectively killed him. Everything he knew about us died with him.”

  “Hmm . . . yes,” Eric agreed absently as something else started niggling at his mind. “How did you find out about this so soon?”

  The crew on Wilkes Island had reported to Link, and Link had reported to Eric—at least until he’d disappeared. Coulson hadn’t been in that loop at all. He shouldn’t have known where Link had moved Embray. He shouldn’t have known about the island. He sure as hell shouldn’t have received this news before Eric.

  There was a moment of calculating silence, as though his American compatriot was wondering how much to reveal. When he finally started talking, it was with the vocal impression of a shrug. “Considering how obsessed Link was with Embray’s condition and comfort, I suspected he might visit the compound if his disappearance was self-devised. So I sent a man to the island to keep an eye out for him.”

  “You sent a man,” Eric repeated. He didn’t bother asking how Coulson had even known about the island. The American had proven repeatedly that he had fingers in many pies and ears in many places. “Let me guess. Your man had orders to take out Link?”

  “And Embray, if Link attempted to remove him. They know too much.”

  Eric had to agree. Link in particular knew enough to do some serious damage to the organization.

  It did not matter if he’d disappeared under his own steam or been kidnapped. Under the right drugs or physical encouragement, everything he knew could be made available to outside sources.

  The fact someone had logged into Dynamic Solutions’ mainframe under Link’s username and password and attempted to access the database meant one of two possible things. Either Link had gone AWOL and tried to run from the repercussion of severing ties with the NRO, or he’d been taken and convinced to try to access the databank.

  Luckily, they’d had their protocols in place to prevent such things.

  “Was your man able to take out Embray before they grabbed him?”

  “No. There were multiple agents involved, and access to Embray was limited. He tried to line up a shot through a window but missed. When he was sighted and wounded, he retreated. Since Embray wouldn’t survive removal anyway, he didn’t feel it was worth the risk to reengage.” The sudden coldness in Coulson’s tone was a clear indication of how he felt about that decision.

  “I see,” Eric murmured. He turned at a noise in the hallway and ambled closer for a better view but lost interest when a nurse walked past instead of his wife. “Did your man get a good look at the crew that crashed the compound?”

  “Sounds like Mackenzie, Simcosky, and Rawlings. He said there was some blonde gal there too,” Coulson said.

  “No Indians this time?” Eric asked, glancing down the hall again.

  “Doesn’t appear so, but my guy mentioned their sweet ride. He said it wasn’t a Black Hawk, but it looked military—like nothing he’s seen before. Sounds like the damn machine they escaped in up in the Cascade Mountains, so I’d say they are still hooked up with those Indians.” He paused, and a deep booming horn echoed down the line, as though he was near the water and a ferry was traveling past. “What about those assholes you sent up to Anchorage? They get back to you with anything?”

  Eric debated about passing on his not-so-good news. Coulson would almost certainly blame him for this turn of events. But, hell, he couldn’t hide it forever; might as well get it over now.

  “They’ve disappeared. Cell phones just go to voice mail. According to the motel desk clerk, they checked out. Took all their stuff.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Coulson sounded beyond frustrated. “They cut and run?”

  “I find that doubtful,” Eric said. “Their last money drop has gone unclaimed.”

  “Just fucking great,” Coulson growled. “You can’t take care of anything, can you?” He barreled over Eric’s denial. “Well, I can’t afford to send anyone up there to cover your ass. If Link was taken, we don’t know what the fuck he told them or which operations he compromised. I need all my men on security detail, guarding our warehouses and labs. You need to fucking step up and find out where those bastards are holed up.”

  “It’s too bad your man didn’t take out Mackenzie and his men when he had the chance at Clay Purcell’s house, when he had them under his rifle scope. Or even last night when they were hauling off Embray,” Eric drawled, and he straightened as Esme’s slender figure showed up in the hall. “Don’t lay this fuck-up exclusively at my door. I don’t have much more time. What about Link? Is everything in place?”

  “Yeah, we’re set.” Coulson sounded rough and tight, as though he were nursing his fury deep in his throat. “Not sure how Embray is going to play into this. His disappearance will look suspicious as hell. But I’ve got a top-ass digital manipulations wunderkind cutting images out of previous recordings to place Link on scene when Embray disappeared.”

  Smart. Eric nodded approvingly. “Excellent. That should back up the files and digital entries nicely.”

  It had been surprisingly easy to implicate James Link in a violent overthrow of Dynamic Solutions and the attempted murder of its founder and CEO. If things did go downhill and the authorities started investigating what had been happening inside the technology behemoth, Link would be taking the fall, and the evidence that had been planted would lead the investigation away from the NRO.

  Hell, if Link exposed them, no one would believe the word of a man accused of trying to kill his best friend and steal his company. Not when the men Link would accuse were behemoths themselves, and squeaky-clean ones at that.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Amy asked Beth softly, peeking around the corner of the curtain that blocked off her cubicle. The clinic staff had set up Beth in the cubicle next to Benji. Having their two patients close to each other undoubtedly saved time and energy.

  Frightened violet eyes lifted to Amy’s face.

  “I don’t know. They say the baby isn’t in any distress, and the cramps have lessened, but I’m still bleeding.” Beth’s gaze, tinged with fear, dropped back to her hands, which were pressed against the fetal monitor strapped across her swollen belly.

  The way Beth was pressing her palms against her belly reminded Amy of the way Kait healed by pressing her hands against an injury or wound. Beth looked like she was trying to do the same thing, use her own energy to keep her baby safe. Who knew, maybe it was working, because Beth was in much less pain than when she’d arrived. Of course, that could be the medication she’d been given too.

  Amy looked down at Beth’s swollen belly and tense hands. No doubt she was wishing it was Kait’s hands pressed over her. But Kait was down in the San Juan Islands trying to save another life. Three lives, if the first one was successful.

  “Why haven
’t they called for one of the healers?” Kait might be unavailable, but there were several other healers on base. Surely one of them could help.

  “They’re holding some kind of traditional ceremony for Jude. Dr. Zapa doesn’t want to disturb them unless it’s an emergency, and since the baby isn’t in distress, they say it’s not an emergency.”

  Yet.

  While Beth didn’t say the word, it hung clearly there in the air between them.

  “But that’s good news.” Amy worked on an encouraging tone. “If they felt there was real danger to your baby, they’d call the healers in. They must be pretty confident that everything is going to be okay.”

  Beth’s murmur was neutral, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. But she was getting opposing information. The cramps and bleeding were telling her the baby was in trouble while the fetal monitor was telling her it was fine. It would be hard to decide which to believe: your body and instincts or technology.

  “Have you heard anything from Mackenzie? About Embray?” Beth asked, her gaze bouncing off Amy’s face and drifting left toward Benji’s cubicle.

  “Nothing.” Amy hesitated. According to various conversations she’d listened in on between Mac and his men, Beth and Zane had a mental connection. “How about you? Are you picking up anything from Zane?”

  Beth shook her head. Her face and body tensing, she remained silent for a moment before relaxing and continuing. “I’ve shut the link down as much as I’m able. Zane needs to focus on what he’s doing down there. He can’t afford to be distracted. Which means no worrying about me.” Concern settled over her face. “I hope I’ve buried the link enough that he’s not picking up on the cramps and pain. He’s mirrored some of my other symptoms when the link is open. God. I hope he’s not feeling this.”

  Considering that Amy had heard Dr. Zapa give an update to the chopper pilot at the nurses’ station phone, she was pretty sure Zane had picked up on something. She decided to take her cue from the good doctor and keep that information to herself. No need to add to Beth’s anxiety. Mackenzie hadn’t made landfall at that point anyway—so it wasn’t like she could offer Beth any good news to relieve her mind.