Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4

by T. Hammond

  A gentle tug on my arm reminded me to continue my pace alongside Grainger.

  “It feels colder. Thank you for the heater, but would you consider returning my clothes?”

  “Your clothing was destroyed when Banner removed it. The heater will have to be enough.” His tone was somewhat impatient, so I dropped the subject, not wanting to antagonize him. I heard the scrape of chair legs before Grainger directed me to sit on the seat he explained was angled so I faced the wall mounted camera. “I’ll grab a bottle of water and some of the bread sticks. Stay put. You move from this spot, and you lose your remaining clothing,” he warned. “When I get back, we’re making a call to your boyfriend.”

  I listened to Grainger’s retreating footsteps. He didn’t close the garage door, but I was aimed away from it, and for the first time, my hands were free. No longer restricted to signing letters of the alphabet, I used a combination of ASL and our Team shorthand to send a quick message to Bas.

  Grainger will be right back. Getting ready to call you. Hope you brought clothes. I don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again. Love you. Can’t wait to get home.

  Without reestablishing mind-sight, Red replied for Bas. “We’re close. Bas says you’re in one of three houses. Bas is calling Henry. Henry will say Bas is not available, he’s en route to the airport to pick up David. Bas hopes they won’t drug you right away, so you’ll be awake for a later phone call.”

  Wow, that’s right. It was Sunday already, but…

  I thought David was flying in later this afternoon.

  “Bas hopes they don’t know David’s schedule. After all, they didn’t even know he’d left the state. If Grainger challenges the arrival time, Henry will say David caught an earlier flight. At this point, Russ and Bas want to buy extra time so they can get into place to storm the house.”

  I hear someone coming.

  “Bas says he’ll warm you up,” Red added. “We are close, Teresa. You’ll be home soon.”

  I began briskly rubbing my hands together and blowing warm breath on my closed fists, hoping the actions would disguise my ASL hand movements—in case Grainger had caught any of my covert activity.

  “There was only one bread stick remaining, Miss March, so I brought it as well as another slice of pizza.” A bottle of water was tapped against my hands, signaling I should reach out to grab it. The cap had already been removed, so I canted the bottle and thankfully swallowed the cool liquid. “Hand out. I have the pizza first. I zapped it this time, so it’s warm.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. It was good to have something warm in my stomach, even if it was pizza. Again. This time it was simple pepperoni and cheese. I was nibbling on the breadstick before Grainger spoke again.

  “I’m calling your house, Miss March. It’s time to let them know our terms for your return. You are to remain quiet. If you speak without my permission, you will be drugged again, and Adamson will escort you on your next bathroom break. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Excellent. Feel free to continue your breakfast while I dial,” he added graciously. I could hear the dial tones, letting me know the call was on speakerphone.

  “March residence. Henry speaking,” Henry formally answered.

  “This is Mr. Smith. I’d like to speak with Mr. Declan, please.” My, my, everyone was so polite. Who knew there was ransom call decorum?

  “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Declan won’t be back for another hour. He’s picking up Mr. Preston at the airport. He left about,” there was a pause as Henry pretended to consult a clock, “fifty minutes ago. I believe Mr. Preston’s plane is landing right about now.”

  Grainger didn’t reply immediately, obviously not expecting Bas to have left the vicinity of the phone, let alone the house. Picking up David would be the only valid excuse Grainger might accept. “Very well. It’s almost seven-thirty now. I will call back at nine to give them a little extra time in case of traffic. It is best I speak with both of them anyway.” Without saying goodbye, Grainer disconnected the call, which had lasted less than a minute.

  “Miss March, you get a reprieve from the benzo,” my captor said.

  “What’s benzo?”

  “Short for benzodiazepine, the sedative we are using for your continued cooperation,” Grainger explained, the name of the drug slipping fluently off his tongue.

  “Can’t we just use the honor system?” I asked, pseudo-hopefully. “That stuff gives me a bad case of cotton mouth, not to mention the nausea and grogginess when I come out of it.”

  “Those can be some of the milder side effects. Unfortunately for you, I’m not feeling the trust, Miss March. It’s safer for you, and less hassle for us, to keep you constantly sedated. If Preston and Declan cooperate, you should be home in the next couple days.”

  I took another gulp of my water, before responding, “Do you truly believe they will hand over their project to you?” I felt it best not to acknowledge my suspicion Grainger and his crew were most likely hoping for the military password codes which accompanied the program. The passcodes would be changed by the military, almost immediately after the software was installed, but they were necessary for the initial upload so it would integrate properly with preexisting military programs. David had numerous fail-safes in place to guard the military data from virtual piracy. The only way to get access to the codes was if David allowed it.

  “You better hope so,” Grainger responded simply. “For now, I’m feeling generous. I can tape you to the chair, or place you back on the floor, while we wait for nine o’clock to roll around.”

  If I was bound to the chair, he’d likely bind my wrists behind me, so I couldn’t sign to the camera. “Floor, please. At least I can stretch and change positions; not to mention, I could inch closer to the heater to warm up a little.”

  Grainger made quick work of re-taping my ankles and hands, behind me, of course. I made sure to curl up, facing the heater which left my hands angled toward the camera lens. Luckily, the chair was scooted back from the center of the floor, so the view to my fingers should be unimpeded.

  The door closed and latched behind him, and I heard Grainger’s footsteps move away. I signed what new information I had gathered.

  Drug called benzo. Garage door has deadbolt. I am locked in.

  “Lights on,” Red warned as Bas’ face replaced the darkness. Once again, Red’s snout was cupped in his hands, and a look of profound relief filled his eyes. “We found you,” he mouthed, before Red repeated it for me.

  “Bas says the Mustangs are almost in place. They will strike fast. Roll in the direction of the camera to the end of the tool bench, where the chair is. Get as much of your body wedged between the bench and chair as possible. There doesn’t appear to be anything else in the garage to shield you if there’s gunfire.

  “Bas is coming through the garage side-door which he suspects is only a few feet away from the camera. The door won’t hit you, but it will be loud. Russ and his men will neutralize the kidnappers in the main area of the house. The drones show all three are together in the living room, so you need to move fast. Now, Teresa!”

  Without warning, I lost the visual connection, which helped me concentrate on what I had to do. I rolled frantically toward, what I hoped, was right area. In my haste, I accidentally knocked over the chair. Shit! I scurried beside the bench, scraping my elbows. Ignoring the chair, I curled myself into a tight ball, making myself as small a target as possible.

  “Stay there. One of the kidnappers is on his way to the garage,” Red warned. A shuffling gait indicated Adamson drew the short straw to check on the noise. As I heard the deadbolt turn, the exterior door beside me imploded with a crash. Without warning, Red reestablished mind-sight and dashed past Bas to stand guard in front of me, straddling my huddled form. His coarse fur, familiar scent, and warmth were a comfort at odds with watching through Red’s eyes as Adamson slowly raised a pistol in our direction.

  “Down, Babe!” Bas shouted as I heard an ear
-shattering blast from a large handgun. There was a look of surprise on Adamson’s unmasked face as a red dot appeared on his forehead. I would have expected more blood from a head wound, I thought through some weird fugue of emotion. I watched the man’s knees buckle, exposing a large splatter of blood against the pristine white of the garage wall. Oh, there it was.

  Red swiveled his gaze to Bastian, who depressed a button on a small microphone on his collar. “Rock, here. Mole secure. Asshole down and out.” The intense, angry look on his face morphed immediately to relief, as his eyes dropped down to me. Red crouched tighter, practically laying on top of me, at a disturbance near the open interior doorway to the house. Bas pivoted, raising his gun hand up immediately, but Red’s view showed Frost and Russ spilling through the opening at a run. Their eyes immediately swept the room before their shoulders relaxed and Frost assumed a guard position, his back to the blood stained wall, not saying a word and, I noted, careful to avert his eyes from my scantily clad form. Although, now I felt practically modest, attired in very relieved German shepherd.

  “Banner and Grainger secured. No shots fired, although Jazz and Dex took the liberty of exorcizing a few of their anger issues. It may be a few hours before Banner awakens,” Russ smirked.

  “Not sure that’s what you meant, boss, when you said ‘secure’ the prisoner,” Frost snickered, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a reluctant smile.

  Russ chuckled, evilly, “It works for me. I’ll be more specific next time. My bad.”

  Dexter’s face appeared over his shoulder. And there it was, the pleased, peaceful look that creeped me out before. I watched as he absentmindedly wiped blood from the blade of a K-bar knife on a rag he pulled out of his pocket.

  Once again, Red swung his head toward Bas, who was now hunkered down beside me, smoothing hair away from my face. I think he’d been saying my name softly, but I hadn’t registered his voice, or his touch, until now. “I knew you’d find me,” I told him, solemnly, leaning my face into the caress of his hand.

  “Always, Babe. I would never have stopped looking for you. I love you,” he replied, simply. “There was no other option.”

  “Lights out, Red. Too much stimulation for now,” I explained.

  My mind went blessedly black, but the image of the bloody wall was indelibly embossed against the back of my thoughts. Red nuzzled his head under my neck, taking comfort and comforting me as we leaned against each other.

  “I missed you, Beautiful. Let’s not do this again, okay?” Red whimpered against my throat.

  “I’ll do my best, Red. Thanks for helping find me, they couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Bas leaned over us, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m going to carry you out to the vehicle, Babe. Are you okay with me touching you? Picking you up?”

  The question puzzled me. “Of course you can pick me up, Bas.” Sensing his hesitancy, despite my assurance, my mind spun. I realized he saw everything through the camera and was likely worried I was touch-traumatized from the kidnapping and subsequent abuse. I clarified, “I trust you Bastian. I will never shy away from your hand, and always feel comforted and loved by your touch.”

  I heard movement in the open doorway behind Bastian’s crouched form. “I grabbed her clothes from the vehicle,” Fritz said. “We need to get Teresa dressed and into a hot bath to warm her up. A helicopter is on its way from Fairchild to transport the prisoners. Gil, and other appropriate law enforcement personnel have been notified. Let me have your gun, Bas. You were behind the camera when you fired; I watched it on the camera feed and all that showed on video was the barrel of the pistol.” His tone changed to one of conspiratorial glee. “Must have been the blast, but strangely the feed went dead immediately after Adamson dropped, so we don’t have any visuals as you moved forward. I’ll take credit for the awesome kill shot, so you can get Teresa out of here. You won’t be bogged down in paperwork for the next two days, and I’ll be the hero.”

  “Thanks man,” Bas sighed. “Take the gloves too, for forensic evidence; they’ll have gunshot residue. Gun’s registered to me, so don’t wipe it down, but make sure your handprints are all over it. We can admit I loaded it and gave you a full clip, to explain my prints over the bullets.”

  “Not my first rodeo, Bas. I can handle the questions. You work on getting Teresa bundled up, then home so Doc can look her over.”

  There was a shuffle of footsteps, as men split off to opposite directions to prepare for law enforcement’s arrival to the scene.

  Adrenaline still strong, and with a little help from Bastian, I quickly pulled on the sweat suit and thick socks provided, not even considering lack of privacy as I dressed in front of the Mustangs. Crap, I’d been on camera, in my underwear, so there wasn’t really any mystery remaining. Bas swung me high up in his arms, carefully maneuvering us through the splintered door frame.

  Footfalls crunched in the snow behind us. My head tilt probably signaled my confusion as I wondered who followed.

  “Got your back,” Frost informed me, from his position to our right. Comforted, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Bastian’s shoulder. For the first time in two days, I felt safe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bastian’s hands were shaking as he stroked them over my hair. The familiar action more to soothe himself than me, I think. For all the intensity and fear running through him, his touch was gentle, aware of my assorted injuries, yet unable to release me. Red collapsed into sleep a few minutes after laying in the cargo area behind my seat. Bas told me he’d worked tirelessly to help find me.

  “God, Babe, I never want to go through anything like that again. My heart stopped a million times over the last few days. It will be at least a month before I can let you out of my sight for more than a few minutes. I’ll go ahead and apologize in advance for my asshole-ish behavior. I’m, no doubt, going to smother you in the coming weeks. I’m sorry. Please just remember this moment, right now, and know I’m so in love with you.”

  The preemptive apology was unexpected, but even more surprising was Bas made no effort to downplay his fear and emotions in front of Frost and Eddie, who was driving, since Fritz, Jaspar, and Dex stayed behind to answer questions about the shooting, and slightly damaged kidnappers. I would have expected macho stoicism from Bas, not this soft-centered persona.

  “I’ll apologize in advance, too,” Frost stated.

  “Yeah,” Eddie echoed from the front seat, “Me too. You’ll probably feel like you’re suffocating for a while, Teresa. We all had a huge scare. You were snatched right off the property. Broad daylight. Twenty trained security specialists not a half mile from your location. Not only are we kicking ourselves for dropping the ball, we genuinely like you. You’re one of us, so we took it personally. We all lost a little piece of ourselves when you were taken.”

  “My fault. I left the property.” I turned my face up to Bastian’s. “My last thought before they plopped me over a snowmobile was how mad you’d be. Lured away by a dead deer. Geez, I felt like an idiot.”

  “There were three dead deer around the property. They’d covered their bases, familiar enough with your daily routine to place the carcasses where you’d be sure to stumble across at least one of them. Quentin and Jose were watching the monitors. They were ready to sound the alarm when you didn’t reappear right away on the other side of the gully. We were already suited up as soon as your first boot came flying into camera range. Fast thinking, Babe.”

  “Russ was pissed we didn’t have snowmobiles. Couldn’t follow over the terrain.” Eddie divulged.

  I smiled against Bas’ neck as I settled back under his jaw. “Bet you have a few now.”

  “Shipment arrives Tuesday. Leased six ‘til then,” Frost informed me.

  I inhaled the clean cinnamon scent that clung to the man in my arms. “I’m sorry, too, Bas. You killed a man because of me.”

  “I’m a solider, Babe. Not the first time I’ve killed, but probably the first time I’ve
felt satisfaction. Adamson was a dead man walking; he committed suicide the first time he laid a violent hand on you, I simply provided the bullet.” He sounded calm and resolute. He believed it was a righteous kill, and would probably feel no remorse. That was both sad and relief.

  “What happened to Grainger and Banner? And how did you guys know who was who?”

  “The ‘who’ was easy,” Eddie laughed, “after all, our Mole practically handed us the info we needed to make an identification. Ted Adamson’s size, and the length of his rap sheet, made him the first guy we figured out. Erik Grainger could have been a problem, but he used his real name on the snowmobile rental paperwork. A rookie move.”

  Frost seamlessly picked up the explanation. “Cory Bannerman was hardest. Didn’t have full name. Rose, from SD, performed computer magic. Pinned down three likely profiles. Knowing the guy was ‘nto knives narrowed it to Bannerman. Saw the skinny body on camera, even wit’ balaclavas, couldn’t disguise who he was.”