by CJ Lyons
They grabbed their laptops and purses and moved through the door to the kitchen.
Nick craned his head out into the hall and looked down towards the door. Not an ideal negotiating position but he’d just talked his way out of an encounter with a sociopathic killer, so why not? After all, he’d read all the hostage negotiating texts, had even contributed a few chapters himself.
He studied the pistol. Revolver. Simple enough that even he could handle it. Although despite Lucy’s best efforts, he was not the best shot in the world. Should he leave it with the women to defend themselves?
No. He was their defense. The weight of that realization made the gun feel heavy in his hand. Not only was he responsible for the safety of Esther and her friends, but he had to somehow stay alive long enough for more help to arrive.
Not going to be easy. He glanced down the hallway towards the front foyer. Lucy always said to take the high ground and put your back to a wall. Should he make a dash for the steps, make his stand there? He’d have an excellent shot at the front door, but if they came in the back he’d be blind and out of position.
The middle of the hallway was the only place where he could cover both entrances. He’d be in direct line of fire of anyone coming from either direction. Damn, how did Lucy make these decisions? He’d been standing here almost a full minute and she usually only had split seconds before acting.
Clearly the gun wasn’t the answer as much as a last resort. He positioned it on the floor beside the front door where he could reach it quickly. If it came to that.
“Mathias,” he called out as soon as he saw the door to the basement shut with the ladies safely on the other side. “Let’s talk. I think I can help you.”
<><><>
Lucy nodded to Jenna. “Go ahead. Turn around and drive down Ruby. But slowly. Anything looks off, get us out of here.”
Jenna craned her head to take a look at Stone. “You caught my bomber. Way to go.”
“Bomber? I haven’t done anything,” Stone protested.
“Then you won’t mind letting me take your waist pack and search you for weapons.” Lucy grabbed a pair of flex-cuffs from her vest and held them out for Stone. “Put your hands out.”
“Look, lady—”
“That’s Supervisory Special Agent Guardino,” Haddad snapped in a tone Lucy hadn’t heard from him before. “She’s securing her position, Stone. Cooperate, Marine.”
Stone blew out his breath. “Yes, sir. But I’m on your side.”
He slid his hands into the plastic restraints. For the first time Lucy got a good look at the scars left from his burns. She pulled the restraints over the cuffs of his jacket so they wouldn’t bite into his skin. Once he was secure, she took his waist pack, handed it to Haddad to examine then patted him down for weapons. All she found was a folding knife, which she pocketed.
They crested the hill above the Rippers’ HQ. Jenna stopped the Tahoe. “We got trouble.”
Lucy leaned forward, expecting to see Rippers coming at them from Kujo's. Smoke hung above the house and there were still flames visible at the side of the house. Product of Stone’s firebomb. Two Rippers stood guard at the front porch. Other than that, the place looked deserted.
She glanced farther down the hill. Two blocks down, several SUVs gathered in front of a group of row houses. Their headlights silhouetted two men with machine pistols aiming at the center house.
“That’s my grams’ house,” Stone said. “You have to help her.”
Lucy used her monocular to get a better look. The Rippers had only shot the upper floor’s windows; the first floor appeared intact. Then the front door opened. A man dressed in gray sweatpants and a navy fleece jacket appeared. He stepped into the glare of the headlights, arms held open and wide, hands empty indicating that he wasn’t a threat. White, about six foot with reddish-blond hair.
Nick.
<><><>
Trooper 4: Allegheny Tower, Allegheny Tower, do you copy?
Allegheny Air Traffic Control: Copy, Trooper 4, go ahead.
Trooper 4: Having trouble getting through to Incident Command. Can you relay message that we’re fine, no need to divert assets to assist?
Allegheny Air Traffic Control: Trooper 4, confirm your status.
Trooper 4: Downed by mechanical failure but otherwise A-OK
Allegheny Air Traffic Control: Roger that, Trooper 4. Glad to hear it. Will relay to NIMS Incident Command.
Chapter 28
Nick.
Lucy’s instincts took over. Fury and fear exploded in a surge of adrenalin. She lowered her monocular. Turned to Stone. He straightened, not liking the look in her eye. Smart man.
“What’s happening? What did you see?”
She raised her Glock, held it at Stone’s throat. “Want to tell me what my husband is doing surrounded by Rippers with guns? At your grandmother’s house?”
Her voice was low, calm. Jenna jerked around. “Nick’s there? Why would—”
“Shut up,” Lucy said. “I’m waiting for Mr. Stone’s answer.”
To his credit, Stone didn’t flinch from her gun. She wished again that he wasn’t wearing the mask, but his eyes narrowed as if he was puzzled. “Nick? Doc Callahan is your husband?”
“Tell me exactly what’s going on here. Fast.”
“Callahan is my shrink. He comes out, we workout together, he and my grams chat, she feeds him apple cake and cookies and shit. He calls it therapy. I don't know. The VA set it up.”
Nick had mentioned a Marine with severe burns. Hadn’t mentioned making house calls to the most dangerous neighborhood in Pittsburgh.
“What’s he doing here tonight?”
“We were jogging, talking on the phone. He heard the Rippers grab me, ask me to kill this guy I knew in Afghanistan.”
“Rashid Raziq.”
“Right. Anyway, the Doc heard it all through my phone. I asked him to call the cops, make sure Grams was safe—knew the Rippers would go after her to make sure I cooperated.” For some reason he suddenly relaxed. “I should’ve never doubted him. He really came through for me.”
“That’s what Nick does.” She lowered the Glock. “Haddad, get as close as you can and keep an eye on Nick.” She handed the DEA agent her monocular.
“Rules of engagement?” Haddad asked.
“They’re gang bangers holding a gun on an unarmed man. Take them out if they make a move against him.” She would have preferred to just shoot them on sight but no way could she risk Nick while he was out in the open. What the hell was he thinking?
Haddad slipped out of the SUV. Lucy tapped Jenna on the shoulder. “Find me a way to that house, out of sight of the Rippers.”
“Best way is head a block south and turn,” Stone said. “There’s no alley in the back, but you can go through the Guzman’s back yard to Grams’. Nothing but a few bushes between them.”
Jenna made the turn. Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, wishing there was a way she could stay and keep eyes on Nick herself.
“How would the Rippers approach?” she asked Stone.
He thought for a moment. “If I was them, I’d have a man at the back porch—it’s the only rear exit. Force anyone inside out the front.”
“And if I need to get inside?” Might not come to that. If Nick was smart enough to go back inside, she and her team could take care of things, clear the streets. But she needed as much intel as she could get.
“The porch door is solid, you’d need a ram. But there’s a basement window under the porch. You might fit through it. Or she might,” he nodded to Jenna. “No way I can, though.”
“You? You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m a Marine. That’s my grams. And Nick's my friend. Let me help.”
He sounded sincere. But Lucy couldn’t take the risk. “No. You stay here.” She reached across him and zip-tied his bound hands to the door handle. “Jenna, let’s go take out the Rippers in the back.” She keyed her radio. “Haddad, what’s the situation o
ut front?”
“They’re still talking. Whatever your husband's saying, he’s got them laughing, relaxed. If you can get to a vantage point inside, I think between us we can take them down. Or maybe lure them inside, take them prisoner? They might know where Rashid is.”
It was the best idea he’d had all night, but lousy timing. “Only after we have Nick and the woman safe.”
She and Jenna left the Tahoe backed into a driveway across the street from the Guzman’s, Stone’s backyard neighbors. They crept through the darkness towards the house backing onto Stone’s. It was a small single-family bungalow. Christmas lights and ornaments scattered over the lawn but they were turned off. Curtains in the front window shut with only a faint crack of light shining through. Lucy motioned Jenna to the left as she went around to the right. The backyard was tiny, a swing set and sliding board plus assorted shrubs filled it. No signs of any Rippers.
Lucy kept her Remington at the ready and stayed low as she headed for the shoulder-height boxwood hedge forming the rear property boundary. Jenna was right behind her, scanning the way they came, making sure no one snuck up on them from behind. Lucy pulled a branch aside. There was a lone Ripper sitting on the back porch steps of Stone’s house, weapon across his knees.
She beckoned Jenna close and whispered, “Good news. Their manpower must be depleted with all the action throughout the city. There’s only one.”
“About time.”
“Bad news is there was no way to cross the backyard without him spotting me. We’ll need to bring him to us. If I get him close, can you take him out quietly?”
Jenna grinned. “Got just the thing. Give me a minute.” She turned and ran back towards where the Tahoe was parked. When she returned she was holding a stun gun. “Never leave home without it.”
Once Jenna was set, hidden in the shrubs, Lucy used her shotgun to rustle the branches in front of her. It took a few tries and she’d almost given up when finally the Ripper noticed and sprung up. Lucy wondered if he’d been sleeping. If so, he was wide awake now. If she wasn’t in a hurry it would have been funny to watch him hold his gun like in the movies, waving it from side to side as he approached.
She waited. Finally he began poking the branches with his Mac-10. When he got close enough it was an easy matter to grab his wrists and haul him through the bushes. He flew off balance, tripping over his own feet. As soon as he was on their side, Jenna stepped forward and used her stun gun, dropping him.
Once Jenna had him restrained, Lucy sprinted to the house. Now all she had to do was get inside, get Nick inside, and take care of the Rippers out front without them sending for the cavalry.
The back of the house was quiet. She found the basement window Stone told them about. Took a calculated risk that the walls of the house between her and the Rippers on the street would muffle the noise, and smashed the glass with the butt of her shotgun.
As she reversed the gun, ready to clear the glass with its barrel she heard women’s voices. “Stop right there,” one of them said loud and clear. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will.”
Lucy rolled away from the window, grabbed her flashlight and, reaching at an angle so she wouldn’t expose herself to any gunfire, looked into the basement. A bunch of old ladies, holding gardening tools and hammers and… a laptop?
“FBI,” she whispered into them. “Are you ladies locked in?”
“No. We’re barricaded in,” one of them said.
“Wait.” Another, holding a claw hammer and looking like she meant business said. “Show us your ID.”
“How many white girls not the police gonna come ‘round here with a shotgun?” a third argued.
Lucy didn’t have time for this. “Could one of you open the back door so I can escort you to safety and get my husband out of here before those Rippers out front decide he’s not as funny as he thinks he is and shoot him?”
<><><>
The redhead returned alone and took up a position in the driveway, guarding the SUV.
Andre couldn’t help but stare. Stunning was the best word he could come up with. He wasn’t usually attracted to white chicks, but she had this look in her eye, like there was more than just good looks going on. It was the same look he saw when he looked in the mirror while putting his mask on. Haunted. Wary. Vulnerable.
And hating it. He wondered where her scars were—certainly not anywhere obvious. Guessed in some ways that probably made them worse than his kind.
He stretched his hands to roll down his window. “So, what’s your name?”
All that got him was a flick of her gaze and a curt, “Jenna Galloway.”
Andre didn’t give up that easily. Besides, there was obviously a helluva lot more going on here than he knew about and he figured it was about time someone let him in on the secret. “I know Haddad is DEA. And I’m guessing Miss Supervisory Special Agent Lucy is FBI, given the stick up her butt.” That earned him a smile. Nice. He’d like to see more. “Are you FBI as well?”
“Nope.” He waited. “US Postal Inspector.”
“Okay. Wasn’t expecting that. You out here with a sniper rifle because someone forgot to put a stamp on their Christmas cookies?”
She leaned down to stare straight into his eyes. Favored him with another smile, but this one reminded him of Darius. Predatory. “I’m here to fry your ass for sending threatening letters and a bomb through the US Mail, Andre Stone.”
<><><>
Lucy had just gotten inside the house when her radio buzzed. “You might want to get out here,” Haddad said. “We have ourselves a little situation.”
“On my way.” She turned to the three ladies who’d left the basement to let her in. “Why don’t you ladies stay downstairs until I let you know it’s safe to come up.”
They looked ready to argue, but she didn’t stay there long enough to listen. She hadn’t heard any gunfire from out front, but still panic dug its claws in, eroding her concentration. A few deep breaths, reminding herself she wouldn’t do Nick any good if she wasn’t focused, and she was at the front window.
Peering around the edge of the heavy drapes she saw Nick sitting on the porch steps—good grief, could he have chosen a worst tactical position?—talking earnestly with a young Ripper and a middle-aged woman while a second Ripper stood behind them, laughing.
There was a new vehicle on the street, a white van with Holy Trinity Outreach painted on the side. And two nuns standing beside it. Plus several elderly men and women craning their heads out the van’s open side door.
Holy heck. No wonder Haddad hadn’t described the “situation.” How the hell could you? First things first. Securing the Rippers.
“Where are you?” she radioed Haddad.
“Right behind the closest SUV. You missed the screaming match. The lady clocked the kid with her purse and things kind of went sideways from there.”
“Can you subdue the older Ripper?” The one laughing at his friend’s predicament. That was the Ripper still holding his Mac-10 at the ready, although he had it pointed down at the ground. The kid being yelled at had his weapon dangling from his finger as if he'd forgotten it.
“No problem. I’ve got a good angle.”
“Make your move as soon as I come through the door.” She inhaled deeply, the house was cold—all that air coming in from the shattered upstairs windows—but smelled like Christmas, all pine needles and cinnamon. No Christmas tree that she could see, but there was a balsam garland hanging above the drapes. Focus. There were too many civilians out there and too many weapons for her to mess this up.
She moved to the door, kicked a revolver out of her way—what the hell was that doing there?—raised her shotgun, grabbed the brass doorknob. In one fluid motion she yanked the door open and pushed through the heavy grated screen door onto the porch.
“FBI. Put the gun down and show me your hands,” she called to the young Ripper. Behind him Haddad made his move, grabbed the other Ripper’s weapon with one hand as he jammed his
pistol into the man’s neck. Within seconds he had his target prone on the ground.
One down. But her target surprised her—or rather the woman he was arguing with did. She lunged in front of him. “Don’t you shoot. He ain’t done nothing wrong.”
Then Nick stood. Directly in Lucy's line of fire. “Nick, get down.”
He ignored her. “Now, Miss Larimar, no one’s going to shoot anyone. But we really need Jadon to put his guns down. You don’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”
Lucy moved down the porch steps, past Nick. The two nuns ran up to the older woman. Damn. Just what she didn’t need. More potential hostages between her and the kid with the gun. Haddad glanced up from where he was restraining the first Ripper. The kid had backed up against the SUV, blocking any shot the DEA agent might have had.
“Lucy,” Nick said in his therapist’s tone. “Let me.”
Like hell she would. But he touched her arm and whispered, “Trust me.”
It went against all her training and instincts but she nodded. Didn’t relax her grip on the Remington or move her aim away from the kid’s head—the only part of him visible beyond the three women who’d gathered in front of him. He was tall, taller than Nick’s six feet, and towered over them.
Nick had been able to keep the Rippers talking and not shooting for the time it had taken her to get here, she told herself as he walked forward. At least he stayed out of her line of fire this time.
“Jadon,” he said. “You don’t want your aunt to get hurt, right?”
The kid—and despite his size, he was only a kid, maybe fourteen, tops—shook his head. “Just go away. Leave us alone and things be fine.”
“There’s been a lot of killing tonight,” Nick continued in that same hypnotic tone. “But I know you didn’t have any part of that.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t kill no one. All I done was shoot some windows.” The kid was practically in tears.
“We know that. But holding a gun with innocent people like your aunt and the sisters here, well, that makes it hard for people to believe you.”
