Quickly, she dropped to the floor on her belly, backing up into the space beneath the bed. She’d thought about hiding in the bathroom, but if the guy could find his way through a triple-locked metal door, the flimsy lock on the wooden bathroom door would offer no protection.
From the loud thuds coming from the corridor, it sounded like the stalker was throwing himself bodily at the door. From under the bed, she could stab at his hands if he reached for her to take her alive. If he wanted her dead, well, there wasn’t a single spot in her apartment that would keep her safe from that.
Silence settled in for a few moments, and at first, she wondered if he was gone. Her heart beat loudly in the quiet. Was he through the door yet? Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she watched for signs of the dresser moving and pressed herself bodily against the wall.
“Ma’am. Ma’am,” the dispatcher called.
Clumsily, she pulled the phone back to her ear. “Yes, I’m here,” she whispered.
“Police have been dispatched. I should have someone with you in three minutes. Is the intruder in the apartment?”
“I’m not sure. It’s gone quiet. I just had a new frame and locks fitted this morning. The door is metal. He seems to have—” Gunfire resumed outside the door. Had he been simply reloading? “Shit. No. He’s still trying to get in. He’s dressed in a Lucy’s Floral uniform.”
“Stay calm. Are there weapons on the premises? Where are you?” The dispatcher was calm, and it helped her focus, catch her breath.
“He has a gun. I’m under the bed, no guns, but I did grab two cooking knives from the kitchen.”
“If there is no other exit from your apartment, stay there. The police car is very close now.”
Silence filled the hallway again, but Delaney put little faith in it. Time passed slowly. The hammering on the door began again.
“The police are a minute away.”
A minute away. Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight.
The dispatcher kept asking questions, nonsensical ones that seemed repetitive. No, she couldn’t see what he was doing. No, she didn’t know how many weapons he had. No, she didn’t know why he was trying to break in, other than the fact that she’d seen him following her a couple of times. Yes, she was alone. Yes, the front door was the only exit. Yes, those were more gunshots.
Time dragged by. The rest of her life hinged on the duration of that minute. She prayed for it to pass quickly.
“The officers are in the building. Stay where you are, ma’am, until I tell you otherwise.”
The count of sixty passed. As did another sixty. Her reporting experience told her they were setting up to secure the building and then make their way up to her without getting shot themselves. But despite the pep talk she tried to give herself, she was about to fall apart.
There was a knock at her front door, and her entire body froze.
“Ma’am. It’s okay to answer the door,” the dispatcher said.
Delaney crawled out from under the bed, knives in hand. “What if it’s not them?” she asked, her voice catching at the end. “Can you get them to say something to me, to identify themselves?”
“Ma’am,” a voice came from outside. “We’ve been instructed to identify ourselves.”
It was all the proof Delaney needed before she sprinted to the door. When she looked through the peephole and saw two men in police uniforms, she burst into tears.
Then she placed the knives down on the hallway table before opening the door.
* * *
Mac stretched his arms above his head, then leaned to the left and right feeling his neck crack in relief. His night shift was almost over, and within the hour, Ryder and Sherlock would be back for their handover debriefing in the hallway. With the doors closed to the suite and the door closed to the hotel corridor, there was no natural light, making it feel like a bit of a time warp. Mac was glad the job was nearly over. It had paid well, and the conditions were luxurious to say the least. But there was no adventure to it.
Overnight, he’d been reviewing their hiring plans and the performance so far of the guys already on board. He liked his team. Lazily, they’d avoided team names and just numbered them. Six led Team One with Buddha, Gaz, and newbie Jackson—a former SEAL who spoke both Arabic and Kurdish, perfect for what they were doing in Syria. Cabe led Team Three, with Lite, Bailey—a former DEVGRU intelligence specialist with balls of steel—and new member Harley, a former SEAL from one of Cabe’s old teams. Which left him with Team Two, Sherlock, Ryder, and another newbie, Ghost.
The current job hadn’t needed Ghost, so he was back in the office holding down the fort, for which Mac was hugely grateful. None of them liked paperwork, or inventories, or anything mundane, so he was quite happy to dump it all on the newbie. When he’d first joined the Navy, the older guys had hazed the shit out of him. Now that he was older, he thought death by paperwork was worse than any of the shit that had been pulled on him when he was younger.
He’d also texted Delaney who hadn’t responded to a single message. The last one he’d gotten a reply to had been the image of the lilies. As soon as he’d seen them, he’d thought of her. Of his prom. He’d always thought of that night as their first night as an official couple. It was the first night Brock had relaxed about the whole thing, even though he’d threatened to beat the crap out of Mac if he so much as breathed a word about what he did with Delaney to the rest of the guys. Not that Mac had ever intended to disrespect Delaney that way. The things they did when they were together were private.
Like the way her hair had fallen in soft waves as he removed all the pins from the updo the hairdressers had taken an hour to do. He’d spent an age lying on her bed that night after he’d crept in through her window, just running his fingers through it. Delaney always joked she’d made him wait for sex, but the truth was he’d known she was worth waiting for. Because the way those lips of hers had felt against his that night was magic. And he hadn’t been thinking about what would happen in the next hour or, or day, or week with her. He’d been thinking about forever at the tender age of eighteen.
Which got him to thinking. How on earth was he supposed to rebuild something with her if he wasn’t around to spend time with her? A relationship by text would do for now, but not for the long term.
She could ignore his messages, but she couldn’t ignore him solidly planted in her life in person. Would she turn him away if he showed up at her door with her favorite bagels and light cream cheese one morning for breakfast? Could she ignore him if he turned up one night with a copy of The Thomas Crown Affair—her favorite movie—popcorn, and a red Zinfandel? Hell, he wasn’t beyond dragging his mom into it, asking Delaney to come over and spend time with his family.
No. Text messages were never going to cut it. He needed to be there in person.
The knock on the suite door jolted him from his thoughts, and he checked the cameras. Breakfast delivery by the looks of things. He opened the door, checked the food cart, checked the server, watched the delivery into the room … and then watched server leave.
He envied Cabe, who was in Colorado doing intel on a cult for a wealthy family from North Carolina who believed their daughter had been brainwashed. Way more interesting. Cabe had decided that if the job was over quickly, he was going to go ski for a couple of days. Lucky bastard.
Mac put in his earpiece and mic and connected with Cabe. “How goes it?” he asked when Cabe’s face finally filled the screen.
Cabe was sitting in a large vehicle drinking a take-out cup of coffee, night vision goggles still perched on his head. He turned the phone to face out of the window of the moving truck. Mac could see nothing but darkness. “Going well. Although I am seriously fed up with this idiot’s company,” he said with a laugh, turning the camera toward Bailey, who was driving.
Bailey flipped the bird. “Asshole.”
Mac laughed.
“We got the drones airborne so we could see what’s going on inside their compound,” Cabe
said. “Spoke to local police who aren’t being too helpful. They say these guys are nut jobs, but harmless. Our visual says they are armed, but amateur. I’m thinking of dropping a message in via drone tomorrow. Ask if she really wants to be there. If not, gonna ask her to send us something simple back with the drone. A pebble or something she can readily get her hands on. Something that will give us a clue as to whether we should go in and get her.”
“Yeah, no point risking your neck if she doesn’t want to leave,” Mac said, although brainwashing in this kind of situation was real.
“I’m still trying to figure out how we fully determine that. Looks like a sweet young thing. Impressionable. I’m not sure that even if she says she doesn’t want to be rescued, she means it. Depending on what she does, I’m tempted to go get her out of there anyway. She can always go back if she really wants to. Should be a straightforward in and out to retrieve her. Their attempt at security is three guys sitting together huddled around a tin can fire. We’d be on them in no time. We’ll see.
“Listen, I got a call from Noah just before we connected.” Normally a call from Noah, Cabe’s brother and a detective in the major case squad, wouldn’t have been a big deal, but there was something about Cabe’s tone that told Mac he wasn’t going to like what followed.
“And…” Mac wasn’t in the mood for show-and-tell games.
“Someone tried to get into Delaney’s apartment last night. Forensics just left,” Cabe said, bluntly.
Mac stood, a cold chill slithering down his spine, and began to pace the entrance hall. “Describe ‘tried.’ Is she okay?”
“Dude, stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy with the video. Yes. She’s fine. Should have started with that. And, yeah, ‘tried’ as in seven bullet holes in her door.”
What the fuck? Trouble had clearly followed her home. His chest tightened at the thought of how terrified she must have been. How close somebody had gotten to her. How did they know where she lived? They must have been following her. “I need to get home,” he snapped.
“You know you can’t, bro. You got a job and don’t have enough backup to do that job right for another forty-eight hours. And did you hear the part where I said she’s fine?”
“Then let’s get Ghost out here. He can take the third spot on the team, Sherlock can take lead, and I’ll—”
“Can it, Mac. I looked before you called. Even if Ghost got the first flight out to you in the morning, it’s going to be late afternoon before he arrives. You might make it to the airport to catch a flight back that night, but you’ll get in during the early hours. And Ghost can’t go from a full day of travel straight onto a shift.”
“We’re SEALs. Of course he can.” They’d survived on zero sleep during Hell Week, and on many occasions since.
“Fine. Well, he kinda could, but we all know security requires you to be alert. And. She’s. Fine.”
Mac looked around the stupid hallway for something to hit. He should have listened to his gut, should have followed up with his friend at the hotel sooner to get a picture on the guy who’d been following her. He’d screwed up, but he wasn’t going to do it again. “I get it. This is the job, whether we like it or not. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t leave. So, I’ll call Ghost, get him over to her place and—”
“Already done. First call I made.” Cabe looked at his watch. “He’s probably there already.”
“Fuck,” he cursed. Even though he couldn’t leave and go to her, there were still things he could do. “I gotta go.”
“Figured as much. Let me know what I can do, man.” Cabe’s face disappeared.
Mac grabbed the radio. “Sherlock, you awake?”
The radio crackled. “Yeah. What’s up?”
“I need you to cover me for an hour.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Pack a bag. Ghost is going to take you back to my place,” Mac said. His voice was calm, his tone cool, yet Delaney could tell he was pissed. He’d held his tongue until she’d relayed the whole story.
Even she couldn’t believe what had happened in the last twelve hours. And despite the way the dents in her door where bullets had hit but not penetrated, she didn’t want to leave.
All her books, her research, her notes, were in this room. If she was going to figure out what was going on, who exactly had put her in their crosshairs, the information would be in there somewhere. It had to be. Somehow, someone she had spoken to somewhere along the way had gotten back to the people she’d been asking about, which was why trouble had followed her back home. There was no other explanation. She needed to follow the leads and see where she ended up.
“I can’t go anywhere without all my research,” she said, looking at the bankers boxes she hadn’t even finished emptying yet. The shelves were full of the stuff she’d already unpacked.
“I don’t give a shit about all that, seeing the guy is still out there,” Mac said. “Step one is getting you safe. We can get the rest of your stuff later once you are secure.”
She wanted to tell Mac she didn’t need his help. That she wasn’t his responsibility. Even though she’d said it a thousand times already. Even though he had ignored her at every turn. But what had happened to her the previous evening had shaken her. Her assailant had managed to evade capture by using the hallway emergency exit that led to the ground floor where he had forced his way into an apartment and escaped through a window on the side of the building. The police had secured her apartment and forced her to leave while the forensic team did its thing—collecting bullets, and a door handle that had been blown apart.
It had been the early hours of the morning when the police had finished their forensic work and roused her from where she’d dozed on her neighbor’s couch. Mrs. Sandusky, an elderly lady, had taken pity on Delaney after seeing her sitting on the floor in the drafty hallway. When Delaney had finally closed and locked the door on all the visitors, she’d counted seven dimples in it where the shots had been fired.
While she wanted to put some distance back between her and Mac and didn’t want him to think of her as the wounded heroine, she realized that until she knew what she was up against, she was better off with Mac than without him.
“I’ll go, Mac. But promise my stuff will follow? I can’t help but think that the answer to this is in my research.”
Mac sighed. “Fine. I’ll find some guys I can trust to meet you at my place, get your keys, and go get your stuff. Box up what you need up and leave it in the hall, but make it the essentials only. Then you are out!”
Urgency crept into his voice, and fear filled her. She was pretty certain that they didn’t hand out a Silver Star complete with a vague, non-description as to how it was earned, to a SEAL who didn’t stay composed under pressure.
“Thank you, Mac,” she said, and meant it sincerely.
There was a slight pause on the other end. “You’re welcome, Buttons,” he said.
“No. I mean it. I’m…” Damn. She couldn’t think of the right words.
“It’s okay, Delaney. Let’s just get you safe. I’ll get the doorman to let you into my place. I’ll give him a call to let him know you are on your way. Stay close to Ghost, sweetheart, please.”
“I will. I promise.”
She heard Mac curse under his breath. “Okay. Call me when you are locked in at my place. Let me speak to Ghost.”
Delaney smiled. “That’s not his real name, is it?” she asked as she tugged her suitcase from under her bed.
“No. It’s Gjosta. Swedish, even though he’s a third-generation American. But nobody can ever be bothered to pronounce it correctly.”
“Well, I’m going to try,” she said, stepping over the case and walking the phone to the tall athletic man with shaggy blond hair currently looking through her peephole. “Stay safe, Mac.”
She handed the phone to Ghost. “He wants to speak to you,” she said before heading back to the bedroom to pack.
Ghost’s voice traveled only so far. She couldn’t
decipher his mumbled words. Not knowing how long she would be at Mac’s, and having finally gotten her clothes from her mother’s storage locker, she filled the suitcase and planned to leave it with the boxes she intended to pack in a moment. In a smaller overnight bag, she packed a couple of outfits, some underwear, pajamas, and toiletries.
Delaney dragged the suitcase and bag into the hall and began to grab the boxes with the files she was going to need.
“Confirmed … yeah. You too.” Ghost ended the call and handed Delaney her phone. “You doing okay?” he asked, grabbing a bankers box and placing it in the hall.
Delaney nodded. Cold had seeped through her bones since the moment she’d realized just who had been standing outside her door, but suddenly she felt the sting of heat flowing through her veins. While she wanted to attribute it to doing something positive, moving somewhere safe, going through her files, taking positive steps, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that a large part of it was about Mac, and feeling … what? Being taken care of?
Staying focused on the task at hand was impossible while thoughts of Mac filled her head, and she shook it to clear them. Getting to the apartment was most important. When the last of the boxes were stacked, they prepared to leave.
“Keep close,” Ghost instructed as he reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a gun. She had no idea what kind it was, being unfamiliar with how to operate the weapon, but he slid something back and looked the gun over.
“I thought concealed carry wasn’t allowed in San Diego,” she said, more to lighten the mood than anything. Her stomach was clenched so tight she felt nauseated.
“There’s going to be nothing concealed about this carry, plus I’m friends with the sheriff. My truck’s at the curb. I want you to stay in the lobby while I check outside. Then I’ll come get you. You’re going to climb over to your seat, and I’m going to follow you in. Then you’re going to stay down. Clear?”
Final Siege Page 12
