Mission: Irresistible

by Sharon Sala

  Ally rolled over on her back, groaning in disbelief at the cheery voice of the radio host as the clock radio East had set last night came on. When she saw him reach for the Off button without opening his eyes, she grinned and impulsively crawled around the mattress, scooting it a little farther out of his reach as the host continued his spiel with an update on the day’s weather.

  “On the home front today, the temperatures are predicted to reach the high seventies, with a nighttime low of forty-four.”

  East muttered beneath his breath and slapped toward the sound. The radio kept playing.

  Ally stifled a fit of giggles as she watched him open his eyes reluctantly, in search of the offending noise.

  “In national news, the Grand Jury testimony continues on Capitol Hill and members of the ATF are expected to testify before the day is out. It is rumored that certain agents of the U.S. Treasury will be called. It’s difficult to say what the IRS could possibly have to add to the testimony of the ATF agents, so it looks as if it will be a case of wait and see.”

  Ally had been too focused on her fun with East to pay much attention to what was being broadcast until something the announcer said suddenly clicked. She sat up with a start and then bounced to her feet, dashing over East’s body to the console where the hard copies of the information she’d downloaded were lying.

  East opened his eyes just in time to see Ally vault over his legs. He sat up with a jerk, looking around for his gun while the radio continued to play.

  “In Hollywood, insiders are saying—”

  East reached for the radio, slapping the Off button and tossing it against the wall as he bolted up from where they’d been sleeping.

  “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  She was slinging papers and files, moving mouse pads and pens, digging through the accumulation of information that they’d been gathering for days, all the while muttering.

  “Bob…it’s not really Bob after all. Where did I put those…I thought they were…never mind, here they are.”

  “Who’s not Bob?”

  Then the moment he asked it, he knew what she meant. The name Jeff had left on the floor of his apartment. If it wasn’t Bob, then who?

  Ally headed back to the mattress where she knelt and began sorting the pages out around her. East knelt beside her, watching and trying, without success, to figure out what she was doing.

  Suddenly, she slapped her knee with the flat of her hand.

  “I knew it!” she crowed, snatching a paper from one stack and adding it to the one she was holding.

  “Let me in on the news.”

  “What if Bob isn’t Bob, but an acronym?”

  “For what?”

  She handed him the papers in her hand.

  “Read for yourself. Elmore Todd was in Jeff’s house. We know that from the fingerprint. And Elmore Todd is a known militia sympathizer. We know that from his priors. And…Elmore Todd is a native of Idaho, which is where we believe Jeff is being held.”

  “Yes, but what does—”

  “I’m getting to that,” Ally said, all but clapping her hands with glee. “Bob. All this time, we thought Bob was one of the kidnapper’s names, but what if it’s not?”

  She got to her knees and pointed to separate lines on each of the pages in East’s hands.

  “Elmore Todd has been tied to three different militia groups in the last twenty-one years—America’s Freemen, Sons of Glory, and the Brotherhood of Blood. B. O. B. Bob.”

  East rocked back on his heels. It had been there all the time. He looked at Ally, then shook his head in disbelief.

  “How did you figure this out?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t need to know. It’s enough that you did.”

  “So you think I’m right?” she asked.

  East grinned. “Honey, after last night, I’m never going to question your ability to do anything again.”

  She smiled prettily, blushing the least little bit as she began gathering the papers she’d scattered.

  “What can we do with this information?” she asked.

  “We can skip going to New Township to look for Elmore Todd. Instead, we need to find out where the Brotherhood of Blood is keeping house and find a way to pay them a visit.”

  She frowned. “I don’t like that. We’re severely outnumbered.”

  “So’s Jeff,” East growled, then grabbed her from behind and rolled, taking her with him. “And right now, so are you.”

  They fell in the middle of the mattresses with paper scattered all around them and began to renew the discoveries they’d made last night.

  “Know any more of those tricks?” East asked.

  “Oh, yes, I believe there are thirty-five chapters in the Kama Sutra and last night was worth only a couple of pages.”

  He grinned. “I have a few tricks of my own,” he said. “Wanna trade?”

  Three days later, they were no closer to finding Jeff. All of their leads had run into nothing and not even flashing their badges at the Idaho Bureau of Investigation had given them access to the Brotherhood of Blood. It was, according to the bureau chief, one of the few survivalist groups in the state that stayed on the move. They’d been flushed out of national park areas only to reappear months later in another area of the state. The last two reports the bureau had were over nine months old. For a group bent on revolt, they maintained a remarkably low profile, which according to the chief, made them more dangerous than most. His comment to East had been telling, and East couldn’t get it out of his mind.

  He’d said, “Big dogs bark and snarl and make a lot of noise, but it’s those little dogs that come around behind you when you’re not expecting it that will bite you in the ass.”

  So the Brotherhood didn’t spread themselves as thinly as others. So they kept to themselves and if they were responsible for myriad dirty deeds, they kept the glory to themselves. So if this was so, how in hell was East supposed to find them?

  After what seemed to be an endless drive, they parked Baby at a KOA campground outside of Ketchum that night and settled down to wait for the kidnapper’s call. East’s plan was to demand to speak to Jeff again and then try and trace the call, hoping to pinpoint the Brotherhood’s location. The state was too vast and too desolate to just strike out on a mile-by-mile search. Far too many areas of the state were accessible only by boat or by air. Waiting was risky, but it was their only option. Waiting with Ally had become a risky business of its own. Day by day, they worked head-to-head—by night, they slept in each other’s arms. For East, life was getting more complicated by the minute.

  Ally was blossoming in a way she would have never believed. When she looked at herself in a mirror, she saw a woman in love. Each day that she awoke beside East was a day closer to heaven. She didn’t think past the time when this case would be over. She couldn’t let herself face what her future might be. East had said nothing about what he was feeling, save the fact that he loved to make love to her. That much she already knew from the wild, crazy nights they spent in each other’s arms. What she wanted—no, needed—was to know that he truly loved her—that when this was over, their relationship would still exist.

  Yet, as badly as she needed to hear this, pressing him now when his son’s life was at stake seemed insensitive. So she laughed with him, argued with him, and at night, made love with him and let it be enough.

  The next day, at four minutes after six in the evening, East’s phone began to ring. It was what they’d been waiting for, and yet they both stared without moving at the small, black appliance as if it had grown fangs. Suddenly, Ally bolted toward the equipment and hit the controls. East grabbed the phone, then looked to see if Ally was on the trace. When she nodded, he answered.

  “This is Kirby.”

  “I was beginning to think you’d lost interest, my friend.”

  The urge to kill was so strong East could feel it in his bones. Instead of reacting to his rage, he took a deep breath, then answered in a sarc
astic drawl.

  “I’m not your friend and where is my son?”

  A low chuckle from the kidnapper rattled his poise.

  “There’s something you haven’t realized. You’re not calling the shots. Now what do you have for me? Something special, I hope. I don’t want you to disappoint me again.”

  East glanced at Ally. She was motioning for him to continue.

  “I have what you asked for, but I want to talk to my son first. Then I’ll give you the details.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, then an angry snarl.

  “That won’t do. I’m tired of playing games with you. I want my information now or your son dies.”

  East clenched a fist, but he kept on talking.

  “I don’t give you a damn thing until I know my son is still alive. You don’t have to like it, buddy, but that’s the way I play.”

  The line went dead in his ear.

  “Did you get anything?” he asked.

  Ally shook her head. “Nothing that will help, although I can tell you for certain that was an international call.”

  “You mean he’s not even in the U.S.?”

  “Not today,” she said.

  “Call Jonah, and hurry. I need the information now before the kidnapper calls back.”

  Seconds later, she made the call, then hung up. All they could do was wait. Within two minutes, Jonah was on the phone.

  “It’s going down,” East said. “Give me something…fast.”

  Jonah rattled off a series of names and codes that made East’s hair stand on end. Even though he knew this was false information, just the thought of giving away the identities of double agents abroad made him sick to his stomach.

  “You’re sure it’s okay to use these?” he asked.

  “Last week it would have meant their death. Today they’ve already been relocated and their codes have been changed.”

  “Okay,” East said. “We’ll see what we see.”

  Jonah hesitated, then added, “He’s got to be stopped.”

  “I’m doing the best I can,” East said.

  Jonah disconnected.

  A moment of guilt came and went, then East shook it off. Nothing mattered but Jeff. He turned to Ally, who was still on the trace.

  “Out of curiosity, did you get a lock on that call?” he asked.

  She grinned. “The moon.”

  “Hell of a scrambler he’s got on that thing.”

  She laughed.

  East’s phone rang again. He pointed to Ally, counted down with his fingers; three…two…one. They picked up at the same time and the trace began.

  Caleb Carpenter came out of the Brotherhood headquarters on the run with a cell phone in his hand.

  “Get the hostage out of the hole! Now!” he yelled, motioning toward three nearby men.

  Immediately, they dropped the guns they’d been cleaning and ran toward the hole. Within moments, the door was lifted and for the first time in many, many days, light spilled across the flat, concrete floor. One of the men leaned down and shouted.

  “Hey boy! Get yourself up here on the double!”

  Nothing moved and no one answered.

  By now, Caleb was at the hole and peering down.

  “Hey, smart-mouth. Your old man wants to reach out and touch. Don’t you want to talk to him?”

  Caleb could just see the foot of the cot and thought he saw something move.

  “Wake the hell up!” he shouted.

  This time, they heard a distinct groan. At the sound, Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. God almighty, the success of everything they were doing involved keeping him alive.

  “Get down there now,” he ordered. “But watch yourselves. He could be faking.”

  They thumped down the steps in rapid succession. But the first man had barely hit the bottom step when he stopped and turned, his expression panicky as he yelled back at Caleb.

  “Sir! This doesn’t look good!”

  Caleb cursed beneath his breath and took the steps down, two at a time.

  Jeff Kirby was almost unrecognizable. The heavy growth of whiskers on his face, along with a blood-caked forehead and lack of color beneath his skin, was proof enough to Caleb that they were all in big trouble. He felt Jeff’s skin. The kid was burning with fever. A dark frown cut between Caleb’s eyebrows, mirroring the lines that deepened beside his mouth. He turned.

  “Where’s Anderson? He was supposed to be taking care of the hostage.”

  They looked at each other then shrugged. “Not sure, sir. Maybe in the mess hall.”

  “Find him,” he snapped. “Do it now.”

  One of the men bolted up the steps, while Caleb motioned for the others to come closer.

  “Get him up and on his feet,” he said. “He’s got to make this call.”

  When a flood of light suddenly pierced the dark, Jeff thought he was dreaming. But when it persisted, and he could see vague shadows coming toward him and silhouetted against the light, he decided that he’d finally died and was on his way to heaven. It wasn’t until he heard someone curse that he figured he’d made a mistake.

  “Water,” he mumbled.

  Someone lifted a cup to his dry, cracked lips, and although the water went in his mouth, his throat was too swollen to swallow.

  “Son of a bitch,” someone muttered, as they dragged him to his feet.

  Jeff shook his head. “Not in heaven,” he mumbled.

  “Not by a long shot, boy,” Caleb said. “But I’ll send you to hell myself if you don’t do as I say.”

  “Already there,” he muttered, as his legs gave way.

  “Get him up the steps and into the sun,” Caleb ordered.

  The two men all but dragged Jeff up the steps. Then when he would have fallen again, Caleb ordered them to sit him on the top step instead. Gratefully, Jeff sat with his head in his hands and his eyes tightly closed, unable to bear the motion of movement, or the bright, sunlit sky.

  “You’re going to talk to Daddy, do you hear me?” Caleb asked. “You’re going to tell him everything’s fine or so help me, I’ll break your stubborn neck myself.”

  “Go to hell,” Jeff muttered and took a shaky swing at the blur before him.

  Caleb dodged the feeble blow then punched in a series of numbers, waiting for the call to be answered.

  East picked up on the first ring. “This is Kirby.”

  Caleb glanced down at Jeff, wondering how this was going to play out. All he could do was hope for the best.

  “You have thirty seconds. Say what you want to your son and get it over with. The boss isn’t happy with you.”

  “Well, hell,” East drawled. “I’m not too happy with him, either. Now let me talk to Jeff.”

  Caleb put the phone to Jeff’s ear. “Talk,” he ordered.

  Jeff felt the pressure of plastic against his face and moved his mouth toward the sensation.

  “Dad?”

  The word was barely audible, and East’s heart almost stopped.

  “Jeff? Jeff? Are you all right?”

  East sounded so far away. Jeff reached for the phone, wanting to put it closer to his ear.

  Reluctantly, Caleb released it, and he would look back on that action later with regret.

  “Dad…”

  Then the world started to spin. Jeff felt himself fading but couldn’t find the words to speak. He pitched forward, rolling headfirst down the steps like a broken toy, and taking the phone with him. It hit the concrete a second before Jeff did, and then slid out of sight. Jeff’s groan was loud and long, and then unconsciousness took him.

  Caleb saw him falling and grabbed at Jeff’s shirt. But it slipped through his fingers, leaving him to watch in dismay as the phone and the kid went flying.

  “Grab him, damn it!”

  But his order came too late. Both Jeff and the phone were gone.

  East could only listen in horror, trying to imagine what was happening. Never in his life had he felt as hel
pless. He turned to Ally, giving her a frantic look, but she was focused on the computer terminal. The only good thing to come from it all was the phone. The line was still open. The trace was almost done.

  He gripped the phone until his knuckles were white, listening intently, trying to pinpoint a recognizable sound that might help them locate Jeff, but all he could hear was a string of virulent curses, and someone named Anderson catching a large dose of hell.

  A minute passed, and then suddenly Ally jumped to her feet and grabbed East, silently pointing to the screen and giving him a thumbs up.

  East’s shoulders slumped. Even though they’d traced the call, it didn’t mean Jeff would be alive when they got there.

  Suddenly, there was a breathless voice in his ear.

  “Are you there? Are you there?”

  “I’m here, you sorry bastard. What the hell have you done to my son?”

  “We did nothing,” Caleb said. “He fell. He’s fine. Just confused.”

  “No, you’re confused,” East shouted. “You get nothing. Your sorry-ass boss gets nothing. Nothing goes from me to you without proof that Jeff is still alive.” Then he hung up in Caleb Carpenter’s ear.

  “Damn,” Caleb muttered. Then he pointed to Jeff. “Get him out of the hole and into the infirmary. Have Henry take a look at him. See what he can do,” then he stomped up the steps, aware that they were bound to get another call from the boss and he wouldn’t be happy.

  But Caleb wasn’t the only one who was nervous about a call. East knew he was playing fast and loose by making demands, and he had heard Jeff’s voice just before everything hit the fan. What he did know was that, sick or hurt, Jeff was in trouble and they had to get him out fast.

  Within minutes, the call came that East had been waiting for. The kidnapper’s fury was evident as he screamed into the phone.

  “You messed up and signed your kid’s death warrant.”

  East was shaking with an equal rage and a fast growing fear that the man was right.

  “He couldn’t even talk to me,” East shouted back. “You don’t keep your word, I have no reason to keep mine.”