by Victoria Sue
Cryer took a step and paused. “With the IM rifles, though. They will know something is wrong if you use regular bullets.” Cryer glanced at Vance. “I hate to throw away good raw material, but you will serve my purpose better this way. There is talk of repealing the enemy combatant rules, and this will effectively quash any such idea. The authorities will be horrified, especially as I understand you have such a personal following. They will be grateful for me to provide the rug to sweep you all under and to pay them for the broom.”
He looked at Ramirez. “Go get the boy. He is a nuisance that she could do without, and I have indulged her long enough.”
Ramirez nodded. “What about Sam, though?”
“You still feel there is something between him and Vance?”
Vance held his breath.
Ramirez shrugged. “Sam refused to let me use him when he would have come in handy for intimidation.”
Intimidation? So that’s why Sam refused to let Vance become involved. And in the middle of everything that was so messed up, Vance suddenly felt a little brighter. Sam hadn’t excluded him because he thought Vance was incapable but because Vance could no more intimidate people than Finn.
“You need to convince him that his partner is responsible for his brother’s death. It will further break the bonds we need to ensure his cooperation.” He looked at Marie. “You feel so much as a cool breeze, take her out first.”
Vance was forced to head back to the cells with Ryder, Dominic, and Marie. He glanced up as Kit, Lawrence, and the other three enhanced all came to their respective doors as they walked through. Graves gestured to the nearest cell, and Vance hesitated. Graves immediately nodded to Cryer’s men, all armed with real guns. “Can you stop a bullet?”
Vance had no choice but to let himself be pushed into the cell with Ryder, Marie, and Dominic. They all watched in horror as the podium and surrounding area was completely trashed, a hundred times worse than Marie had made it. Vance felt Marie slip her hand into his. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ve never done the thing with the guns that I did before,” Dominic admitted. “I’ve only played about with pencils, that sort of thing. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
Vance tried to think while the men also trashed the empty cells. He could hear beds being thrown about. He couldn’t do anything while the real guns were in play, but he had maybe a minute if he was lucky when Cryer’s men ran out and just left the guards, because Cryer couldn’t risk them being here. “Dominic, would you be able to lift the rifles? It would give me the few seconds I would need to overpower them.”
“I’ll try,” he agreed immediately.
“Do you want me to help?” Marie said eagerly.
“What are you even doing here?”
She huffed. “I had a row with my mom and dad about being expelled. Every window in the house exploded.”
And Vance smiled.
“You really have a weird sense of humor,” Marie said solemnly.
Yeah, he knew. Someone who meant more to him than he ever thought possible had told him the exact same thing.
Chapter Nineteen
SAM LOOKED at the door. Was it locked? He stood up and walked over to it, listened for a second, and then just as he grasped the handle, he heard footsteps and hurried back to the table. A few seconds later, the door opened and Ramirez stood there with another guard. “Luis, you’re to come now.” A crash and a shout was heard from farther away in the building.
Sam stood up. “What is it? I thought he was to stay in here.”
Ramirez beckoned Luis. “Now.” And Luis shrank away toward Sam. Ramirez just grabbed him and yanked Luis nearly off his feet.
Sam took a step but found Cryer’s man pointing a gun at him. Another bang. “What is it?” Shit. It might be one of the kids.
Ramirez clutched Luis and hesitated for a split second before he smiled. “He’s got a thing for you.” He shook his head. “Shame, really. He would probably have made a good cop.” Ramirez nodded to the other gunman and pulled Luis out with him.
Cold clutched at Sam’s insides. Vance. He must mean Vance. “What’s going on?” Sam took a step to the door just in time to hear a scream, a woman’s scream. It sounded like his mother. Cryer’s man glanced nervously at the door, clearly not wanting to be here.
“Let me out,” Sam pleaded. “I might be able to help. You heard Ramirez. Let me try before he kills someone.” The thought that Vance would lose his temper was ridiculous, but if the guards thought he would, they might just let him out.
Then, above the shouts, Sam heard what sounded like a helicopter. Cryer’s man had clearly heard it too. “That’s either everyone’s ride and they’re ditching you, or it’s the cops and you’re screwed.”
The man took one look at Sam and bolted. Sam didn’t waste time and ran in the direction of the banging. He raced through the clinic area as the sound of the helicopter grew louder. He really hoped it was the cops, but he was equally afraid it could be ENu. Sam didn’t know where he was going, but he could follow the shouting, and burst through another door just in time to hear his mother’s agonized scream and see Vance straighten up clutching the body of his little brother among the devastation that had once been God knows what.
“Let go of him,” his mother yelled and pointed a gun at Vance. Ramirez tried to grab it, but she stepped back. “He’s hurting him.”
“Who the fuck cares?” Ramirez said. “I’m out of here. You have five seconds or I leave you to the cops.”
The gunfire was ten times louder than Sam had expected, even used to the noise as he was. Ramirez stared in shock as a red stain rapidly spread on the front of his shirt. His stunned disbelief that she had actually fired lasted another second before his knees buckled and he hit the floor.
“Mamá.” Sam took a step toward her as her hands shook.
“No,” she screamed. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t been so selfish, we would never have had to come here. Los americanos,” she spat. “You always wanted this.” She licked her lips and gripped the gun tighter.
His fault?
Sam shook his head, staring at Vance, who just looked at him wretchedly. Like he didn’t expect to be believed. Like Sam didn’t know that the safest place for Luis was exactly with who held him now. “You’re wrong, Mamá. Vance won’t hurt anyone.”
Estella gazed beseechingly at Sam, and her hand lowered a fraction. Sam let out a breath, and then as if she changed her mind, her hand lifted, and before Sam could react at the decision he recognized in her eyes, she pulled the trigger.
“Mamá!” Sam was running before she hit the floor, and then it seemed like hundreds of people were in the room.
“Let me see.” Gael rushed over as Sam gathered her up in his arms.
His fault.
From a long way off, he heard Vance explaining. “He got knocked unconscious with one of the gun barrels, but his breathing is okay. I don’t think they know that enhanced heads can be a little harder to crack.”
But not hearts. Sam closed his eyes for a brief second, only to open them at a touch on his arm. It was the paramedics. “Sir, sir, let her go.” But Sam couldn’t move.
His fault.
Talon was barking out orders, but Sam didn’t seem to be able to work out what he was saying. His arms were empty. They had taken her.
His fault.
“He got knocked out.” Vance gently laid Luis down on the stretcher they wheeled in. “But his breathing is okay.”
The other paramedics nodded and did their own quick checks.
Sam couldn’t watch the furious activity at his feet as people swarmed his mamá’s body.
“Who was it, Vance?” Talon asked as Cryer’s men were herded together, and Vance pointed to Graves, who had been rounded up with them and disarmed.
“It was him.”
“You’re a liar,” Graves screamed. “He’s one of them. Don’t believe him,” he begged the cops.
Gael turned a deris
ive stare on him. “When you say ‘one of them,’ I am assuming you mean a highly respected federal special agent whose father also happens to be a police lieutenant?”
“To say nothing of his brothers,” Daniel added, walking toward Vance. “Hey, little brother.”
“Sam?” It was Gael, and Sam didn’t understand why he was shaking his shoulder. He didn’t want to look at her body.
His fault.
Talon nodded, and Vance then pointed out Ryder. Marie and Dominic rushed over to him. “Dr. Benson’s moving—”
“We got them,” Jake shouted, entering the room. “Aaron, Gus, and the other man are being airlifted to the nearest ER as we speak.”
“Sam needs to go with Luis,” Vance carried on as if Talon hadn’t spoken. “He’s his little brother.”
His fault.
“Sam?”
Sam wrenched his eyes from Vance to focus on Gael.
“You need to go.” Gael pointed to the stretcher, and Sam stared in confusion. An oxygen mask? He watched as his mamá was lifted onto a stretcher. “She’s still alive, Sam. You need to go.”
Sam took one last look at Vance and let Gael drag him to his feet.
His fault.
“HOW IS he?”
Sam looked up to see Finn at the hospital room door. “Asleep, finally. He came around not long after we got here, and they’re waking him up every two hours to do head injury checks, and he’s not happy.”
Finn smiled. “Reminds me of someone,” he said with feeling and came into the room properly. “I wondered if you needed a break or a coffee. Anything?”
Sam didn’t reply. He was functioning. He had gotten himself together watching Luis. He knew he needed to talk to Vance, but he didn’t know what to say.
“Your mom’s doctors want to see you,” Finn responded gently.
He knew. “How is everyone?” he replied, avoiding the answer.
“Everyone is fine. They are keeping the three in that were sedated tonight. Jamie is the only child from the prison who will have to stay in, but Vance is with him.”
“Jamie?”
“They used him for taking blood, and the doctors are worried they took too much too fast. He’s being matched now, and obviously everyone from the team has volunteered to donate, but we’ll see. They are also still trying to find the other external site, because there’s no results or any sign of what they were doing. Dr. Benson is insisting he only became involved at the new prison, and Christopher verifies this.”
We have Cryer, but he’s trying to blame Ramirez, and that isn’t gonna work. Obviously he lawyered up immediately. Gael and Daniel are practically taking all the computers apart to see what they can find, but it’s early days.”
Finn paused and smiled as a nurse entered. She checked Luis’s vitals but didn’t insist on waking him up. She left quickly. “Talon needs you to explain your mom’s involvement. I’ve only seen Vance briefly because he’s with Jamie.”
He was here, but he hadn’t come to talk to him.
“I think he’s worried you don’t want to see him,” Finn said as if Vance had said that out loud.
Because Sam didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how he felt. And it wasn’t even that he didn’t trust Vance. Vance wouldn’t hurt him. But he still didn’t know if he had enough trust in himself to cross what seemed a huge gap between what Vance wanted—forever—and what Sam could give him.
“I don’t want him to think I’m ready for something I might never be,” Sam admitted.
“Love?” Finn smiled indulgently, and Sam panicked.
“Love?” Sam tried to laugh like that was ridiculous, shaking his head. “No, I never said that. I just felt like shit for the way we left things.” He didn’t love Vance. He just felt guilty. That was all. So why was his heart trying to pound out of his chest?
Then they both heard a noise, and Sam looked up into Vance’s pained brown eyes. Vance, who had been standing next to Talon, spun around, and Sam just wanted to die. Nobody moved. Sam didn’t think he would ever move again.
Talon firmed his lips and glanced at Finn. “Did you tell him?” Finn sent Sam a miserable look.
“My mother?”
Talon nodded, his anger apparent.
“I don’t want anything to do with her, and I’m staying here until Luis wakes up.”
Talon didn’t reply, just left. After a minute, Finn did as well.
“SAM?”
Sam opened his eyes the next morning to see the sun shining and glanced at Luis and smiled. “You look a ton better.”
“And you look like shit,” Luis countered impishly.
“Don’t swear,” Sam scolded, realizing he was going to have to watch his own language now. The times Luis had woken throughout the night and they had talked a little had shown just how stupid Cryer and his mother were to doubt Luis’s intelligence. Sam stood up and groaned and immediately remembered the last time he had slept in a plastic chair. And then he had spent three hours wrapped in comfort.
And he’d just thrown all that away.
Luis played with the cotton sheet, twisting it in his fingers. “Why does it matter to you what I say?”
Sam knew what he was really asking. He’d quizzed the doctor who had appeared last night, and apparently his mom was a mess. They had no idea what she had been on, and she obviously couldn’t tell them. Whatever was going on with her, she was certainly not capable of looking after Luis, if indeed she ever had been.
“Because you can’t curse if you’re gonna come home with me.”
A huge smile broke over Luis’s face. “Really?”
“But you’re gonna have to go to school.”
Luis nodded eagerly.
“Have you ever been to school?” Sam asked, feeling the weight of responsibility sink into him, surprised it wasn’t as heavy as he had been expecting.
“Some, yeah. And I can read really good,” Luis said proudly. Sam had no doubt.
Sam looked up eagerly as the door opened and tried not to seem disappointed when Gael stepped in, followed by Finn.
“Hey, buddy,” Finn said gently. “Is it okay if I stay with you for a little while so your brother can go with Gael?”
Sam frowned, but Gael shot him a serious look, and he kept quiet. He glanced at Luis, who didn’t look convinced. “I won’t be long. I promise.” He had a feeling he knew where he was going.
Luis nodded, and Sam bent to brush a kiss on the top of Luis’s head. Luis threw his arms around Sam and hugged him fiercely. “I’ll be as quick as I can, and Finn will stay with you the whole time I am gone.” Finn had stayed with Luis for an hour last night while Sam had completed a statement.
He followed Gael from the room, and as soon as the door was closed, Gael stopped and turned. “I’m really sorry, but if you don’t go see her now, you might not get a second chance.”
Did he care?
“The gunshot—even at point-blank range—isn’t the problem. It’s because they can’t give her whatever she’s been on because they have no idea how to replicate it. I found some notes in a hard drive and have passed them straight to Kenton Williams, but it could take years before they could duplicate it, and then it would have to get licensed.”
“And because she can’t get it, she’s…?”
Gael nodded, answering his unfinished question. “And I need to warn you; her appearance has changed since yesterday.”
“Where is she?” Sam whispered.
“In ICU,” Gael said. “I’ll show you.”
Sam had once wondered what a condemned man felt like on his last walk. He had seen the chamber at the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Prison in Jackson when he had accompanied his sergeant on an interview, and it wasn’t somewhere he was in a hurry to see again. Gael stopped as they went through a pair of swing doors. The nursing station was in the center of the room, and five bays were positioned around it. He was immediately reminded of the room at the back of the church in Baton Rouge. Gael nodded at a doc
tor standing there and gestured to a small private room to the side. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
Sam shook his head. He didn’t want anyone to witness this. He didn’t want to be here at all.
“Gael?”
Gael waited.
“What was she doing by the cells?” It had never occurred to him until right at that moment.
“Cryer’s men told us Ramirez came and got Luis from you because they wanted to get rid of him. Cryer was trying to get her into a car, but she refused without Luis, and in the confusion she slipped inside. She came in barely seconds before you and saw Vance holding him. It was Luis who stopped Vance getting shot because all the guards knew who he was and didn’t dare shoot him. Luis saw Graves aiming for Vance and rushed him. He got hurt when Graves pushed him away, and Graves lost his temper and hit him with his rifle butt. The gun belonged to one of Cryer’s men. It all lasted seconds, but Luis was very brave.”
Yes, he was. He paused and then slid back the glass door and stepped into the room. He barely noticed the nurse, who left as soon as he stepped in, because he was concentrating on not throwing up.
Mamá—or what was left of her—was lying in a bed that looked ridiculously big. It was almost as if she had shrunk. Paper-thin skin covered blue-tinged lips. Oxygen was piped into a cannula fixed into both her nostrils. She had something under the sheet—a frame of sorts—as if the thin sheet was too heavy next to her fragile body, and both her arms, swathed in bandages, were laid on top of the sheet. He had no idea what to say, what to do. Should he hold her hand? Did he even want to hold her hand?
There was a chair next to the bed, and Sam sank down.
“Alejandro?”
“Sí, Mamá?”
“In English,” she scolded gently. “What have I told you?”
He was nearly giddy with excitement. “That one day we will go on a big adventure to ’Merica.” She had told him. She had promised. And there would be candy and ice cream and Mickey Mouse, and he would have to talk like los americanos.
And one day they had. And it had been cold, and no matter how much he tried, he had never been able to warm these cold hands up. With a start, he realized he was holding one of them. And it still seemed cold to him.
