by Debra Webb
Lucky had learned something about this seemingly cold, distant man over the course of the afternoon and evening. He didn’t appear to care whether he survived this rescue operation or not. There were no exit plans for him. He’d given Lucky detailed instructions on how to get out once she’d found Mrs. Colby-Camp. He would leave his cell phone for her and she was to call the number he’d made her memorize as soon as she and Victoria were out of the tunnel. She would receive further instructions at that point.
And all of that hinged on whether or not she found her boss. Lucky was terrified that she wouldn’t be able to locate her and then get her out safely. Thankfully there were no cameras inside the institute other than those at the building’s entry points, none of which they would be using. Dr. Byrd wanted no recorded evidence of the goings-on inside the institute. From what Garrett had told her the man had good reason for concealing his evil deeds.
Clearly Garrett had misunderstood her question about whether or not there was another way. Lucky threaded her fingers through her hair and gathered her patience. She was worried about him. He’d covered all the bases for her. “What will he do to you?” Garrett hadn’t elaborated on the horrors he’d suffered in this place, but her vivid imagination had filled in the blanks a little too well.
Garrett removed his wallet and all other personal items from his pockets. “He’ll want to know why I’m here.” He opened a cabinet door and started tucking those personal items on the highest shelf. “Where I’ve been. What I’ve been up to, yada yada.”
Lucky gestured to the cabinet. “Why are you leaving your stuff?” She noticed he hadn’t removed the weapon from the waistband of his jeans.
“I don’t want to give them any ammunition.” He closed the cabinet door. “They’re going to have to work for whatever they get. My name, address, etcetera, will take some digging to uncover.”
Lucky frowned. “But they know your name.”
He locked his gaze onto hers with an unrelenting heaviness that spanned the distance between them. “They know who I used to be.”
“You changed your name.” She had wanted to do that so many times. To erase who she was and start over.
“I changed everything.” He looked away then but she could feel the tension radiating off him.
Lucky hugged her arms around herself. “They’ll torture you for that information. For where you’ve been. Who you’ve told.” A new fist of fear rammed into her sternum. “And why you’re back.”
“They will.” He checked the time on the wall clock. Then his gaze settled on her. “The same way they’ll torture you if you get caught.”
Uncertainty attempted to hammer away at her courage. Lucky wrestled it aside and squared her shoulders. “I’m aware of that.” She understood the risk. She had no choice. The operation had been sanctioned by Mr. Camp. Pride welled inside her. This operation scared her a little, yeah. But the idea that the agency felt she could handle an assignment of such importance gave her courage. Garrett had explained that this was the most feasible option for a safe, speedy rescue. Since his orders were coming from Mr. Camp she had to trust that. She’d gotten past her concerns about whether Mr. Camp had actually sent him. He would never risk so much otherwise.
“Are you sure about that?”
He moved closer to her. Rather than spout an instant yes, Lucky held her breath. He stopped, the toes of his shoes pressed against the toes of hers, and stared straight into her eyes. He looked for a long time, searching for the doubt.
“Yes,” she insisted. Her voice wobbled just a little, annoying the heck out of her. But he was close, really close. Having him so near caused the strangest fluttering in her chest. Not to mention that stir of restlessness that was so totally unexpected.
“If they catch you, they’ll try psychological tactics first.”
She held his gaze without blinking. “That’s to be expected.”
“Then they’ll move on to something like…” He shrugged those wide shoulders. “Electrical shock treatments or maybe a well-placed incision.”
This time she flinched. “I won’t get caught.”
His brown eyes bore into hers for enough time to make her shift nervously. “If you do get caught, just make sure they don’t find out why you’re really there. Your boss’s value will go down substantially if the risk of holding her goes up too much. As long as Byrd believes no one is aware of her presence, she’s an asset for whatever he has planned.”
“I won’t tell.” Lucky wanted to shake her head for emphasis but his eyes held her still. “No matter what they do to me.”
For a single second his gaze lowered to her lips. Her throat tightened and she couldn’t resist checking out his. His mouth was wide, his lips full. He had nice lips, she realized for the first time. Kissing him would be interesting. She’d never been kissed by a man with lips like that. How long had it been since she’d been kissed at all? Years. Lucky Malone had trouble making that leap from friends to lovers. For the first time in a very long time she wanted to no matter that he was basically a total stranger.
“I hope you’re as brave as you think you are,” he said as his gaze settled on hers once more. “A life-and-death situation can steal your courage fast.”
A new kind of tension, as old and familiar as her own name, whipped through her. “I know.” She’d been in that place once before. The blast of her no-good daddy’s shotgun echoed in her ears. At seventeen, Lucky had wondered more than once how she would react if put in a life-or-death scenario. God knew she’d had good reason to ponder the possibility. Would she be able to think? To act with courage?
She had discovered that there wasn’t time to think at moments like that. Only to act. Lucky had pulled the trigger instinctively and without hesitation even as she stared into the eyes of her own father. Her mother’s screams reverberated inside her skull as if Lucky had only just pulled that trigger. A shudder quaked through her.
“Time to go.” Garrett backed away from her and headed for the door. “Leave any personal items here and meet me at the truck.”
Lucky cleared her head. She had no personal items with her. She’d left everything but Mr. Camp’s package in the agency car. And her cell phone. God only knew what happened to it. The package she’d been supposed to deliver was in the truck, she thought. At some point she would need to look for it.
In the white sneakers Garrett had found for her earlier, she walked out to the truck. The shoes were a size too large but at least they wouldn’t stand out once she entered the Byrd Institute.
When she reached the truck, Garrett had gathered any documents or items that pointed to his identity as well as the small package Lucky had been supposed to deliver. At least she knew where it was now. She hadn’t opened it. Assuming she survived this rescue, she didn’t want a single one of her actions to be disappointing to Mr. Camp.
Garrett handed the items to her. “Hide these inside while I remove the license plate.”
Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the bundle he’d collected. He felt warm. She, on the other hand, felt as cold as ice. You’re not afraid, she silently chanted as she hurried back to the kitchen to stash the stuff.
By the time she was back at the truck, he had removed the license plate and replaced it with the one from the car parked behind the house. Smart idea. Of course the enemy could track down his identity through the vehicle’s identification number. But that would take time. Like he said, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them. Her respect for his preparation skills expanded a little more.
Lucky stared at the truck bed as best she could with only the moonlight. “You’re sure this part will work?”
Garrett swiped his palms together before bracing his hands on his hips. “You’ve asked me that twice already. The time for second thoughts has passed, Malone. It’s time to go.”
She’d asked a perfectly logical question with good reason. Who had a hiding place built into the bed of his truck? He’d rolled the flexible bed liner back and
there it was: a small trap door that opened to a two foot by four foot by eighteen inches deep box. She’d looked under the truck when he’d first told her how their entrance into the facility was going down. The hidden compartment seemed camouflaged well enough. A person would have to know it was there or it would be missed entirely during any sort of visual search.
“Remember,” he said, drawing her attention to him, “once we’re inside those gates, there’s nothing I can do to help you. You’ll be on your own with no weapon and no means of communication at your immediate disposal.”
“But you said you were leaving your cell in the hole,” she reminded him.
“That’s right. But you can’t take it past the garage. It’s too risky.” Garrett gestured for her to climb into the bed of the truck. “When you do make your call, keep it short,” he warned. “They monitor all transmissions.”
Great. “Okay.”
With his assistance, Lucky stepped up onto the rear bumper and climbed into the bed of the truck. With a big, bolstering breath, she started to get into the box but she stopped. This was crazy but…
She turned to him. Seeing his face clearly in the dark wasn’t necessary. She could imagine the what-the-hell-now expression lined into his face. Before she lost her courage she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Just a brush across his beard-stubbled jaw. Warmth rushed through her even as she wanted to kick herself for doing something so utterly foolish.
“What was that for?”
Lucky was enormously thankful that it was dark because her face felt on fire with humiliation. “I…wanted to thank you now.” She dragged in a shaky breath. “In case…things don’t go as planned.”
“In that case.” He stepped up on the bumper, towering over her.
Before she could grasp his meaning, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth. Lucky resisted at first then she melted into him…into the kiss. The pressure from his mouth softened. His tongue slid across her lips, she opened. His arms tightened around her, crushing her against his chest.
He stopped. Set her aside and said, “You’re welcome.”
Lucky watched, in shock or something along those lines, as he jumped back down.
“Get in,” he ordered. “We have a schedule to keep.
Still rattled, Lucky settled into the box, which definitely was not made for human cargo. The awkward position she had to get into would have her muscles cramping in a hurry. She hoped she wouldn’t have to be in here long.
“Find your boss quickly,” he said, hesitancy in his voice, “and get out of there.”
She nodded, her lips on fire from his kiss. Uncertainty and fear had crowded into her throat, making it impossible to speak. Or maybe it was that other whirlwind of sensations. Focus. She could do this. She had to do this.
He removed the battery from his cell and handed both to her before closing the door. She listened as he rolled the bed liner back into place. The confined space went totally black. She closed her eyes and blocked the memory of his kiss. They were going in.
She could seriously have used a flashlight.
DAKOTA BACKED OUT of the drive and pointed his truck toward the institute. His heart rammed hard against his sternum, making his blood roar in his ears.
He wished he could attribute it to what he was about to do, but right this second it was about that damned kiss. Dakota shook his head. He had definitely gone over the edge.
“Get it together.” He had a job to do.
In the past several hours he’d come to an enlightening conclusion. He wasn’t just doing this for Keaton. He was doing it for himself. This was the one demon he’d never conquered. The one he’d ran hard and fast to escape. His entire adult life had been a complex map of lies, one elaborate fabrication after the other.
It was past time to face it once and for all, regardless of the outcome.
Dakota shifted into first and let out on the clutch. He rocketed forward, shifting through the gears as instinctively as breathing. When he topped the rise in the road he pushed the accelerator to the floor.
He picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey he’d taken from the house and twisted off the top. He chugged a generous gulp, then splashed some of the distinctive smelling whiskey on his shirt. Slapped it on his face like aftershave.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the bottle onto the floorboard and braced for his entrance strategy.
As he approached, two members of security stepped out of the guard shack. Dakota didn’t slow.
Security waved and yelled, but he ignored them.
He just kept driving, straight into the gate.
The impact of metal against metal sent sparks flying through the air. Bursting through the gates, Dakota gripped the steering wheel, braced himself and slammed on the brakes.
Folks had tried this maneuver before. The third security staffer in the shack would hit the open button at the last possible minute, lessening the damage to the gates.
The truck skidded to a jarring halt.
Security surrounded him, and with weapons aimed at his head, they ordered him to get out of the truck.
“Showtime,” he mumbled to himself.
Dakota pulled on the door latch and stumbled out of the truck, hitting the ground face-first.
Security immediately moved in on him.
“What’s going on?” He slurred the words. “Where is Dr. Byrd?” he demanded brokenly. “I need to see Dr. Byrd! He’s the only one who can help me!”
Two of the guards pulled him to his feet. He swayed drunkenly. “I need Dr. Byrd,” he repeated.
“You should be careful what you wish for, buddy,” one of the guards threatened.
Dakota glanced back at the truck. Malone was on her own now. He hoped like hell she was stronger than she looked. And that Keaton knew what he was doing.
LUCKY’S MUSCLES ached. Twice she’d had to concentrate hard to relax a muscle that had started to cramp. What was taking so long?
She would be sore come tomorrow. The crash through the gates had sent her nose flat against metal. She should have been braced. Garrett had warned her about his planned dramatic entrance, so she had known the crash was coming.
God, she hoped he was okay.
The truck’s engine started again after sitting idle for at least half an hour.
Lucky held her breath and listened for voices.
The truck rolled forward.
About time, she thought. Garrett had said that security would take his vehicle to the maintenance garage. She would need to wait until the truck had been parked and everyone was gone before she could climb out. If she made her move too quickly, she would be done for before she even started. She would end up a prisoner of this place and absolutely no good to her boss.
This place. The Byrd Institute—home of the mentally ill. Those whose cases presented the rarest of challenges and those with whom no one wanted to be bothered. The castoffs. Perfect candidates for unethical research.
The idea that Mrs. Colby-Camp was in here somewhere made Lucky sick to her stomach.
Mr. Camp was no doubt beside himself.
Lucky wished they could have stormed the place, cops and Colby investigators kicking butt. But that kind of operation left too much room for a leak or forewarning. If the bad guys got any advance warning whatsoever, Mrs. Colby-Camp could be killed or moved. They couldn’t take that risk. This had to be a sneak attack.
An unexpected invasion.
Garrett was the distraction. Emotion tightened her throat. Don’t go there. Stay on task. The hope was that Byrd and his security staff would be so focused on Garrett that no one would pay particular attention to Lucky wandering the corridors.
She had to make her way through the underground tunnel from the maintenance garage to the hospital’s basement. The tunnel would lead directly into the janitorial and laundry facilities. The tunnel had been built for receiving supplies. Outsiders were only allowed to deliver goods to the guard shack at the gat
e. All deliveries were brought to this building for inspection. Only Byrd’s handpicked staff moved the goods into the institute.
Once in the basement of the institute, she would get a set of scrubs from the stacks of freshly laundered uniforms. She would clip on her badge and go find Mrs. Colby-Camp and get her out.
All without getting caught.
At least that was the plan.
The truck stopped moving. A loud, grating, metal-on-metal screech filled the air for about ten seconds. The truck rolled forward, stopped again and this time the engine shut off.
Voices.
She strained to make out the words and sounds. Shuffling around in the cab. The raising and lowering of the hood. The truck shifted as someone climbed into the bed. She held her breath.
“Check underneath,” a male voice shouted.
Sheer terror ripped through her body.
Seconds ticked off like the countdown to an execution.
“Nothing here.” The truck shifted again as the man climbed out.
“Clear below.”
“We’ll wait and see what Mr. Byrd wants to do with the truck.”
Lucky almost fainted with relief. She strained to hear the sounds that would confirm their departure. Their voices faded and a loud grinding indicated the overhead door to the building had closed.
Not about to take any chances, she waited.
At first she tried counting off the minutes but then she just decided to make her move. She pushed at the small door on her hiding space. Garrett had made her do it twice just so she’d understand how hard she would need to push to successfully move the rubber liner covering the bed of the truck as well as the small door.
She grunted with the effort but finally the bed liner plopped out of the way. With the door pushed open, she climbed out. The garage was dark and deserted, only the exit lights providing any illumination.
