A_Father's Sacrifice

by Mallory Kane

  Mintz gripped his shoulder. “Dylan, you’ve got to calm down. The FBI is already on it. They’ll find him.”

  Dylan could barely think. His entire body was on fire with fear for Ben’s safety. His chest cramped, cutting off his breath. Alfred’s words echoed at the edge of his mind.

  FBI. He glared at his friend. “FBI? Are you kidding me? The FBI hasn’t done anything, but make things worse.” He included Natasha in his glare.

  “What did they do when my wife was killed? Nothing.” He swiped at his stinging eyes. “Everybody keeps telling me everything’s going to be fine. But that’s not true, is it? Nothing is fine.” He took a shuddering breath.

  “You two got what you wanted. You took Ben away from me—for his safety.” He swallowed against the huge lump in his throat. “Now he’s in danger. He was safe here!”

  “Dylan,” Natasha said. “I promise you they’ll find him.”

  “You! You can’t promise me anything. You don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You can’t even figure out who the hacker is.” He stopped, his hand on his neck.

  The hacker. Of course. “Can you send him a message?” He frowned at Natasha.

  She narrowed her eyes. “The hacker? I could, but why? You’re not seriously thinking of—”

  “Send him a message. Tell him I’ll give him everything if he lets my son go unharmed.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  He sent her a withering glance. “I can and I will. The hacker took him. Didn’t he?”

  He intercepted the glance Natasha sent toward Alfred. “Both of you know it’s the hacker. Do it.”

  “Dylan, you can’t negotiate with terrorists. It’s suicide. They’ll take everything you’ll give them, but there’s no guarantee they’ll let Ben go.”

  “He’s three years old. He can’t identify them. He’s of no use to them after they get the interface program.”

  “Exactly. Dylan, he’s of no use. This is a ruthless, greedy man who doesn’t care about anyone except himself. He’ll never let Ben go.”

  He met her gaze, suspicion tightening his chest. “He? You know who he is?”

  Her eyes widened. “I—I can’t be positive.”

  Dylan glared at her. “You know. Who is he? Are you protecting him?” He reached for her arm, but she whirled out of his reach.

  “All right, both of you—that’s enough.” Alfred stepped between him and Natasha, gripping Dylan’s shoulders.

  “Agent Rudolph, your fellow agents have been pulled to join the search for Ben.” Alfred held Dylan’s gaze as he spoke. “And Special Agent Decker asked me to have you contact him.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

  Dylan watched her go. He could hardly think, he was so numb with shock and fear. “She’s protecting the hacker.”

  Alfred shook him once. “She’s not. And when you start thinking rationally you’ll know she’s not.”

  Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. His throat burned, his chest ached. His pulse thrummed in his temples. “I’ve lost him, haven’t I? I sent him away. I betrayed my little boy.”

  Alfred shook his head. “No you didn’t.”

  “Yes.” He looked into his friend’s eyes. “Do you know what I did? I spent the night with her. I indulged myself like a horny kid. Know what I was doing when my child was stolen? I was sleeping.”

  “Dylan, listen to me. I want you to snap out of this.” Alfred released his grip. “I’m glad you finally got some sleep, no matter how you managed it.”

  “You’re glad?”

  “That’s right. You weren’t going to last another day without collapsing. At least now you’re rested.” Alfred glanced beyond Dylan’s shoulder toward the clean room. “Did you say the device is finished?”

  Dylan nodded miserably.

  “Good. Let’s get it packed and transported to a secure facility. Then it will be ready and waiting when we get Ben back.”

  Alfred’s husky voice penetrated Dylan’s grief and guilt. He was right. Dylan couldn’t afford to break down, couldn’t afford the luxury of wallowing in guilt. He had to be ready.

  He straightened and met Alfred’s gaze. “Call NSA. It’s ready to go. I just need to get it packed into the special transport box.”

  Alfred nodded. “I’ll send Campbell down to help.” Then he quickly and awkwardly hugged Dylan and gave him a pat on the back.

  Dylan’s eyes stung and his throat clogged up. “Alfred,” he croaked as the older man turned to leave. “Thanks.”

  NATASHA WALKED OUTSIDE to the play area and called Decker, but his information on the abductors was sketchy. The guard had been a Deputy U.S. Marshall. He’d been pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.

  She asked about Storm and Gambrini, and found out they were helping to secure the crime scene and canvass for possible witnesses.

  As she disconnected, Mintz appeared from the kitchen.

  “How’s Dylan?” she asked.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Not good. I got him to prepare the interface for transport.”

  Natasha nodded. “At least that’ll keep him occupied for a while.”

  “I told him he needed to be ready to operate as soon as Ben is found.”

  She studied the ex-military man as guilt bored a hole in her heart. “Mintz—I need to tell you what happened.”

  “I know what happened.”

  “He told you?”

  He nodded. “Not really, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

  Her cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean it to happen—”

  Mintz held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. I’m just glad he got some sleep. Did you find out anything from your boss?”

  “No. Just that the guard was a deputy marshal. He was DOA.”

  “So there’s no intel on Ben and Charlene’s whereabouts?”

  “Nothing.”

  Mintz stared out beyond the overgrown hedge to the open field beyond.

  Natasha watched him, knowing what was coming. She swallowed, wishing she’d done what she’d intended to do last night—told Dylan about Tom.

  “Do you think this is the hacker’s doing?”

  Natasha moistened her dry lips. “Yes.”

  Mintz faced her. “And you know who he is.”

  It took all her courage not to look away. “Yes.”

  Mintz nodded. He crossed his arms, and she knew she wasn’t going anywhere until she explained.

  “His name is Tom. I met him when—”

  “Why don’t you wait and tell Dylan.”

  “Alfred—I wasn’t sure until last night.”

  “Come on. Let’s go down to the lab.”

  She followed Mintz downstairs and into the virtual surgery lab, where Dylan was placing a tiny, bubble-wrapped package into a small metal box that was sitting on the desk. The box had four suspension arms attached to the inside. The tiny package would float on the suspension arms.

  “Is it ready?” Mintz asked.

  Dylan nodded. “Just as soon as Campbell burns the program off onto DVD.” He closed the box and locked it. “All we need to do is let NSA know to come and get it. Meanwhile I need to put it back into the clean room. The temperature is controlled in there, and dust and detritus are at a minimum.”

  Campbell retrieved a disk from his computer. “Here we go. Two copies. I’ll take them to the clean room with the transport box.” He set the disks on top of the metal case and headed out of the room and down the hall.

  Dylan turned to Mintz. “What is it? Have you heard something?”

  Mintz looked at Natasha.

  She ignored the ache in her heart and did her best to stay composed. “Dylan, I know the hacker.”

  “You do?” His eyes lit up. “Have you told your boss? Are they going to pick him up?”

  She held out her hands, palms up. “Wait. I don’t just know who he is, I know him.”

  “You know—” Dylan’s face registered shock. “You didn
’t just figure that out this morning,” he said accusingly. His blue eyes flared like an oxygen-fed flame.

  “No.” She steeled herself against his anger. “Last night.”

  “Last night? You knew when—” He stopped, his fists clenched, his face a distorted mask of anger and pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He bit off each word.

  Mintz took two steps, inserting himself between them.

  She shook her head miserably. “I should have, I know.” She couldn’t bring herself to look into his angry hurt eyes. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure until I read the e-mail he sent.”

  “E-mail. The man who stole my son sent you an e-mail and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”

  Natasha looked from Dylan to Mintz. Both of them were glaring at her. “I notified my boss. Tom’s too smart to leave a clear trail. Decker will start a search, but I’m afraid the only way we’re going to be able to trace him is through his hacking attempts.”

  She took a shaky breath and blinked against the stinging in her eyes. “I went to the clean room to tell you.”

  Dylan’s blue eyes flashed with fire as he looked at her in disgust. “And what? It slipped your mind?”

  His harsh words hurt. He’d been there, too. He had distracted her, but she knew it was her fault. She could have stopped him and she didn’t. She’d wanted him as much as he had her.

  She dropped her gaze. And now it was too late. There was nothing she could say or do to fix this. She’d endangered Ben because she hadn’t wanted to admit that she’d once been a hacker, like Tom.

  Dylan rubbed his temple. “So, Agent Rudolph. Do you and Tom keep in touch?”

  “No! Of course not. I haven’t seen him in eight years. He tried to frame me for hacking into the FBI’s domestic terrorist database.”

  “I think you need to leave.” In a split second, Dylan’s white-hot anger changed to icy calm.

  His words flayed open her heart as cleanly and efficiently as a scalpel. Her stomach felt queasy, and a huge lump lodged in her throat.

  “Hold on, son,” Mintz said. “Don’t go off halfcocked. We need her. No sense letting your personal feelings get in the way of saving Ben.”

  “My personal feelings? It can’t get more personal. My son is missing. The person who’s supposed to be stopping the hacker turns out to be best buddies with him.”

  Natasha swallowed, and resisted the urge to wipe her burning eyes. “Sir, I’ll be happy to call my boss and request a replacement—or you can. But please understand. Eight years ago, Tom was the best. But he was greedy and psychopathically unconcerned about anyone but himself. He’s a classic narcissist. From what I’ve seen him do these past few days, he’s still the best.” She shrugged. “Or close.”

  Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “You think you can beat him.”

  Did she? Yesterday, she’d have said she didn’t know. But today—today a little boy’s survival and a father’s sanity rested on her shoulders. She had no choice. She had to be the best.

  “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

  Dylan turned to Mintz. Natasha saw the question in his gaze, and then the softening of his features as Mintz inclined his head a fraction.

  “Okay,” Dylan said grudgingly. “As long as Alfred believes you. Obviously I can’t be objective right now.” His voice nearly broke. “Find him. Find him and stop him.”

  Natasha heard what he didn’t say. He hated her too much to be objective. She stiffened her back. “I intend to.”

  “Son, you need to get some rest.”

  “Rest?” A burst of grim laughter accompanied the word. “I can’t rest. My child is out there with strangers. In danger. He thinks I’ve abandoned him. How can I sleep?”

  “Because as soon as we get Ben back, you need to be ready to operate on him.” Mintz’s face was lined with worry. “You need steady hands and a clear head if you’re going to save Ben’s legs.”

  Dylan rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He looked up at Mintz. “You’ll let me know as soon as you hear anything?”

  The older man squeezed Dylan’s shoulder. “The very second.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mintz gestured to Natasha. “Agent Rudolph and I are going upstairs to contact the FBI. We’ll see—”

  A muffled explosion hit Natasha’s ears. A split second later, the sirens whooped in a long-short-short cadence.

  “That’s Ben’s play area.” Mintz jerked his mobile radio from its belt clip.

  Natasha’s hand went to her fanny pack, feeling the reassuring weight of her Glock.

  “Come with me, Natasha,” Mintz commanded. “You—” he pointed to Dylan “—stay here.”

  Dylan knew that the explosion had to be massive to be heard in the basement. He glared at Alfred. “Hell, no! I’m going with you.”

  Alfred opened his mouth to argue, but Dylan lifted his chin. Alfred clamped his jaw.

  He followed Alfred and Natasha up the back stairs and through the family quarters. As they ran, Alfred yelled into the radio.

  “What’s going on?”

  Static crackled and Dylan couldn’t make out the answer.

  “What did they say?” he puffed.

  “Robby’s on the front door. He said the explosion was deafening up here. It knocked the lights out. We’re on generator power.”

  When Natasha jerked opened the door to the atrium, smoke billowed in.

  “What the—” Alfred pulled her back inside. “You two wait here. I’m going to check out the damage.”

  “I’m going with you.” Dylan grabbed his arm.

  “Stay here!” Alfred’s voice thundered in Dylan’s ears, loud enough to overpower the sirens.

  He nodded and took a step back. He knew that tone—it was Alfred’s Marine Sergeant voice. It wasn’t smart to disobey him when he was in military mode.

  But Dylan couldn’t wait here, doing nothing. His heart thudded painfully against his chest and echoed in his ears. Too much was happening. He felt out of control, helpless. His child was missing, his home was under attack.

  Alfred plunged into the smoke. Dylan held on to the door for a few seconds.

  Through the haze of smoke he saw two security guards brandishing weapons. They had on masks. One unhooked a spare mask from his belt and tossed it to Alfred.

  Natasha pushed the door shut. He turned and glared at her. “I heard what Mintz said,” he said shortly.

  “You need to let him do his job. Don’t make it more difficult.”

  He didn’t answer her. “What do you think happened?”

  “I think there’s been another attack.”

  Just then the sirens stopped. “Thank goodness,” he breathed. “Those things can drive you insane.”

  Natasha smiled grimly. “Yes, they can.”

  Dylan took a good look at her. She looked the way she had the night the truck rammed into his front gates. Competent. Self-assured. She was in her element. She clutched her Glock and stood on the balls of her feet—perfectly balanced, ready for anything. Her hair was twisted up into a ponytail, her top and jeans fit her body snugly—no loose fabric to get in her way if she had to run or fight.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. For an instant their gazes held and his body grew hard at the sight of her. She was gorgeous. There was no part of her that wasn’t strong and smooth and feminine. He knew firsthand. And God help him, he hated her for affecting him that way.

  She let her gaze travel down and back up his length, and he realized as much as she might fight it, she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

  Alfred pushed the door open, letting in black smoke. Both of them scrambled backward, out of the way as he entered. Alfred bent over in a coughing fit. As the door closed he dug a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes.

  Dylan put an arm around his shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  Alfred nodded. His face was wet with sweat and streaked with soot. He swiped the handkerchief across
his cheeks and forehead.

  “What caused the explosion?” Natasha asked.

  Alfred coughed again, and wiped his eyes. “A helicopter.”

  “A helicopter?” Dylan repeated, trying to make sense of Alfred’s words. “It crashed?”

  Alfred nodded. “Right into the play area. The kitchen and dining room are destroyed. My men are pumping water in from the reservoir tank, but it’s going to take a while to get the temperature down.”

  “What about injuries?”

  Alfred rubbed his chin. “We lost a guard. He was a good man. Been here nearly a year. I never got to know him very well, but Robby liked him.” He sighed. “Two men are on their way to the hospital with burns and smoke inhalation.”

  “I should notify Decker,” Natasha said.

  “Right, but first I want you two downstairs. Find Campbell and take him with you. I’m initiating terminal lockdown.”

  “Alfred, you can’t.”

  Alfred leveled a gaze at Dylan. “Yes, I can, and I am.”

  Dylan glanced at Natasha, who looked as surprised and dismayed as he felt. Her face had turned pale, and she was frowning at Alfred.

  “Sir? Are you sure?” she asked.

  “The helicopter crash was no accident. It’s another suicide mission.”

  Dylan grimaced. Another man had died trying to hurt him. “But why? All they’d have to do is contact me. I’d give them everything if they’d give me my son.”

  Alfred shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible we’re dealing with two different attackers.”

  “That’s not likely,” Natasha commented.

  “I know, but what other explanation is there?”

  “Maybe this plan was put into action before we sent Ben to the safe house.” She looked from Alfred to Dylan.

  Alfred nodded. “Could be. Do you think your hacker knows Ben’s no longer here?”

  “Depends on who his informant is.”

  Alfred straightened and cleared his throat. “You two get down to the basement now! Thank goodness Cook is off today. If she’d been in the kitchen, she’d have been killed. I’m keeping the guards on duty until the fires are out and the house is safe. Robby will report to the locals that this was an accident. He’ll let them in to process the scene and recover the body of the pilot.”