Capture the Night

by Cheryl Pierson

  He nodded. “With my life.” He let his breath out slowly, trying to avoid the pain. He looked up at her. “And that may cost you yours, Lex.”

  Alexa glanced over her shoulder once more, then leaned close to Johnny, her voice low. “He’s gone, but we’ll have to be very careful what we say.”

  “You got that right.”

  Alexa stood and shook the blanket out over Johnny, then placed the pillow gently under his head. “Can I…lie down with you?” she asked hesitantly.

  In spite of it all, he smiled and opened an arm to her. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 12

  “I am going to kill him if they don’t,” Carter muttered to himself. Had he ever been this pissed off? No. And that would just figure, wouldn’t it? That one of the Logan brothers would be the one to manage to get him this riled. He’d survived five years with Johnny—and it hadn’t been easy.

  Johnny Logan was not cautious. Careful, but not cautious. He took chances Ray would never have taken on his own; dared things that gave Ray pause.

  He shook his head. Five years he’d partnered with Johnny. Five years of pushing the envelope. He grinned. Best damn five years of his life. But this thing with Pete—this was going too far.

  Pete was definitely cut from the same cloth as his older brother. He was a damn good cop. But doing what he’d done—Damn it! Carter slapped his hand against his thigh and let out a harsh sigh. He should never have trusted Pete. He’d seen that innocent look enough—on both brothers’ faces—that, by now, he should have known just what to expect.

  So, what had possessed him to let Pete even get close to that hotel? Should’ve sent him home when Levi— His lips compressed as the throbbing knell of a blasting headache started up.

  And Johnny? Where was he? Wounded? Dead? The questions were endless, and unanswerable. He understood Pete’s desperation to get to his brother—just to see for himself how things were inside; to be sure the Prime Minister was unharmed; to see if Johnny was still even…alive.

  Yes, he could certainly understand—but he couldn’t condone Pete’s disobedience of his direct order. And if and when Pete came out of that hotel, he’d be damn lucky if he didn’t have to give up his badge. Yet, what was a badge, compared to a brother, after all?

  “Captain Carter?”

  Ray turned to face the officer who’d spoken and a tall man who stood beside him, a Houston Astros ball cap clasped in his hands. He was holding it like a lifeline, Carter thought, as he watched him wring it this way and that.

  “Captain Carter, sir, this is Ronnie Williams. He’s the head maintenance man for The Riverwind Hotel.”

  At that, Carter’s interest picked up. He put a hand out, wondering if Williams would let go of the cap long enough to shake. He did, and gave Carter a quick nod.

  “Howdy.” He went back to wringing the cap.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Williams?”

  “It’s my brother, Officer.” Williams wouldn’t look up.

  “Your brother? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  The wringing stopped, and Carter was jolted as he realized the man was crying. He looked questioningly at the officer that had accompanied Williams.

  “Mr. Williams tells us his brother is a—er—special resident of the hotel.”

  Carter nodded at Williams, then turned back to the uniform. “How’d he get through, anyway? That perimeter is supposed to be closed to civilians.”

  “We thought you’d want to talk to him—”

  “Officer—” Carter glared at the nameplate, “—Mullins. If I had wanted to talk to friends and relatives of the people who are hostages I would have—”

  “He’s not a hostage, Captain. Leastwise, I don’t think he is,” Williams said, finally looking up. “I—I did something really bad a couple of years ago. But I was just trying to help my brother.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Williams?” Carter practically shouted.

  Williams sighed. “Daniel—that’s my brother—he got in a fight. He killed another man. They were homeless—both of them, and I always tried to watch out for Danny, but he was hungry. He got in a fight over a box of donuts, and the other man pulled a knife. Danny took it away and used it on him.” The wringing started once more, and Williams looked down.

  “I fixed him up a little place on the roof of that hotel—’cause I worked there. I made him a little corner to stay in—inside the maintenance housing.” His gaze went to the very top of the hotel where the outline of the maintenance structure rose up against the night sky.

  Made sense, Carter thought. He hadn’t really even noticed the roofline of the extra building until they’d been talking about it.

  “That way,” Williams continued, “he’d be safe—but so would everyone else. I bring him food. He’s—He’s got everything he needs and I—take care of him.”

  Carter nodded. “Okay, so what’s the problem?”

  “Well, nothing, until now. Danny, he was in Vietnam and he got hurt over there, real bad. He liked to’ve died. Sometimes he seems real smart—almost like he was before the accident. Other times—well, there’s no figurin’ him out. He gets mad all of a sudden and he gets like a fearsome killin’ look about him—then it goes just as quick as it come in the first place.

  “That’s why I thought—” he stopped and swallowed hard, “that makin’ him his own place up there was a good fix-all, ya know?” He scratched his balding head. “I know he don’t mean nothin’ by his temper fits, but—well, he can’t be around people if he’s gonna fly off like ’at, you know?”

  “So, he stays up there—all the time?” Carter prompted impatiently. “Never comes down?”

  Williams nodded vigorously. “Oh, yessir. That was the deal we made. I told him, I says, ‘Danny, now that you went and killed that fella, well, you’re gonna end up a-goin’ to prison.’ He says, ‘But, Ronnie, I didn’t mean to kill him. It was a accident. He wouldn’t share them damned donuts, and by God, that’s the law of gettin’ along with others, ain’t it?’ I says, ‘Yes, it is. But still, he didn’t deserve to die for a box of Donut World Winners.’ He said he knowed it, too, and what was we gonna do? He was scared, Captain, and I was, too.

  “‘Ronnie,’ he says, ‘I be damned if I’ll be able to live in a prison. Can’t we figger out somethin’?’ So I come up with the idea of him just livin’ up on top of the hotel. And it’s worked pretty well, so far.” Williams glanced up at the roof again, as if expecting to see his brother looking down at him. “I just hope he’s okay, is all.”

  Carter placed a hand on Williams’s thin shoulder. “Mr. Williams, I appreciate you coming forward, and letting us know he’s there. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt accidentally—so you did the right thing.”

  “I did? I’m glad to hear that, Captain. But what’s gonna happen to him after all this is over? If he comes out alive, is he gonna have to—to go to jail?”

  “I don’t know.” Carter was suddenly anxious to be alone with his thoughts again. It seemed like things had just gone from very bad to so much worse. “Why don’t you stick around? We may need you, since you’re familiar with the layout inside.”

  “Just tell me where I can wait.” Williams looked down again. “He’s all I’ve got, sir. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Officer Mullins will be your escort, Mr. Williams. If you’re a coffee drinker, we have a temporary mess set up—”

  “No. No, thank you, Captain. I just want my brother out of there—safe and sound.”

  Carter nodded, thinking of the last glimpse he’d had of Pete Logan going through the glass door, desperate to find Johnny. “I understand.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Kieran McShane swaggered among his hostages, a half-eaten piece of pepperoni pizza in his slight hand. From time to time, he stopped, gazing down at whichever unfortunate recipient of his attention he happened to fancy, exchanging a few words with them.

  He had called Sorley O’Brian a
nd Eileen Bannion to come down for dinner, and although Sorley was packing the food away, Eileen looked green around the gills. McShane stopped his pacing and looked at her, watching as she coughed. He smiled faintly. She was a scrapper, Eileen was. And a good fuck, when she wanted to be. His brows drew together as he watched Sorley offer her a piece of pizza—again. She motioned him away—again. Very…solicitous. Was Sorley doing her? Not if he knew what was good for him, he wasn’t. Still…they’d been gone a long time this afternoon, and they’d come down together when he’d radioed.

  His gaze went to the police officer seated away from the rest. A loner. Yet, Logan had let himself be taken in place of one of the others. A loner, but not entirely selfish.

  At that moment, Logan looked up, and McShane started toward him.

  “Officer Logan,” he called jovially. “Have you had a piece of pizza yet?”

  Pete didn’t answer. He waited until McShane halted, standing just in front of him. After a long moment, he said, “Where are the others, McShane? Two hundred-three rooms were occupied. You released fifty-eight people. I count thirty-four down here in the lobby.”

  McShane grinned. “Well, I never claimed to be a math wizard, but I believe that adds up to ninety-two.” He glanced around the room, then took another bite of his pizza. “My goodness! We are missing a few aren’t we?” He winked conspiratorially at Pete. “They’re not really ‘missing’ though, Officer. They’re still with us, I’m sure. In spirit.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Pete sat silent. Dead? Well over a hundred people, assuming a good many of those occupied rooms accommodated more than one guest…the hotel staff… He couldn’t get his mind around it. He looked down, knowing McShane was watching for his reaction. He wasn’t going to let the little son-of-a-bitch see the surprise—or the anger.

  McShane’s grin widened. “What’s wrong, Peter? Did we upset the apple cart a bit, hmmm?”

  Pete’s throat tightened, but he kept the words back until he got control of himself. When he looked up, he made sure his eyes were devoid of emotion, his expression bland. He shook his head and gave a short laugh. “No—it’s pretty much what we expected…from you.”

  The grin faded from McShane’s pitted face as he held Pete’s stare. He ran his tongue across his lips. “Aye,” he muttered finally. “It’s what you’d be expectin’ from us Irish, eh? Nothin’ but force and brutality. An’ killin’.”

  “We weren’t wrong, were we?”

  McShane shook his head. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “No. You weren’t.” He looked away toward where the girl, Eileen, sat. She wasn’t interested in what was going on. She was looking in her bag, probably for more cigarettes.

  “Logan’s an Irish name, eh?”

  Pete’s lips curved up. “Couldn’t say for sure. My family’s more Hispanic than anything else.”

  “Mexican, huh?” There was an underlying sneer in McShane’s tone.

  The air sizzled. He waited for Pete to speak. To take the bait. To try to hit him. He was itching for a fight.

  Pete gave him a tolerant look. “Yeah. Mexican.”

  “Habla Espanol, Officer-o?” McShane asked mockingly.

  Pete’s lips tightened. How he would love to pound this little bastard. He took a long, deep breath and forced the calmness back into his body language. Calmese. He could almost hear his grandmother speaking to him, admonishing him. Calmese, m’ijo.

  “Sí,” he responded evenly. “Un poco.”

  McShane looked puzzled.

  “A little,” Pete translated.

  The terrorist leader laughed. “You know, I’m beginnin’ to like you, Officer Logan. You entertain me. You’re much more interesting than Brendan, over there.” He nodded toward the Prime Minister, then glanced over his shoulder to where Alan Farley and Terry Latham stood talking. He motioned for them, and they hurried to his side.

  McShane smiled. “Unfortunately for you, Peter, your lofty position garners you our special treatment.” At his nod, the two lackeys grasped Pete’s arms and hauled him up out of the chair. “No matter how—entertaining—I may find you, I have to be certain that you know your place here among us.”

  Pete’s eyes narrowed. “I think I can figure that out without a beating, McShane.”

  “Yes. You seem bright enough. However, the fact remains you are a police officer—sworn to protect and serve, right?” McShane glanced at the hostages, then leaned in close to Pete. “By the time we’re done with you, Officer, you’ll be in no way capable of either protecting or serving anyone.” He tilted his head toward the hostages again. “They have to understand that heroes—” he smiled, “can be broken. Even one of Dallas’s finest. Make sense? It’s nothing personal, you understand. Just the next step in breakin’ them down mentally.”

  McShane walked to Brendan Roberts’s side, then turned, meeting Pete’s eyes again. A look of utter loathing marked Roberts’s wrinkled features, but still there was no trace of fear. McShane drew his Glock and placed it against the Prime Minister’s left temple.

  Pete started forward, only to be hauled back by Farley and Latham. McShane grinned at Pete, then looked at his men. “Get started on him,” he instructed casually. Then, to Pete, “Don’t fight back, Officer. Just let them do their job.”

  “Damn you, McShane, I’d like to—”

  McShane chuckled. “I know you would. But if you throw a punch—fight back in any way—ol’ Brendan, here, will be pickin’ his brains up off the floor.” He winked again. “Let’s see just how much self-control ye’ve got, boyo.”

  Chapter 13

  Johnny drifted on a stream of consciousness that was anything but peaceful. Lying inside the giant orifice with Alexa Bailey close beside him was mixed torture and pleasure. He tried to listen for any sounds outside the tubing, but when the compressors turned on, the noise was so deafening he doubted he and Alexa could’ve heard each other, lying as close as they were, even had they shouted. There was no chance of hearing anything else.

  He closed his eyes, his fingers running idle patterns on Alexa’s arm. He was proud of her, in an odd sort of way. Even though it wasn’t his right. He had no claim on her, he knew that. But he wished things were different, somehow. That brought a quick, cynical smile to his lips. ‘Different’ was something he wished for, now, in a lot of respects. He wasn’t crazy about lying here in a vent duct, bleeding and hurting and hungry. He certainly didn’t like the idea of waiting like this…trapped, wounded, and unable to help solve the situation down below.

  And then there was Daniel…

  Their mysterious savior had materialized from thin air, seemingly, and gotten them up here…though, now that he tried to think about it, there were gaps missing in his memory. He must’ve blacked out.

  So, how had he gotten here? Alexa wasn’t strong enough…and he remembered stairs—red stairs that seemed to go on forever, up and up, into the ceiling, almost. He couldn’t have climbed those.

  It was dark in the tubing, with only a very dim light falling on the entrance and just inside, the first four feet…maybe five. He and Alexa lay out of range of most of the direct light, in the shadowy interior of the ducts. It took some getting used to, but the indirect light was enough to be able to see. He felt Alexa turn toward him, careful of her movement.

  “Are you awake?” she asked, propping on her elbow. “I think you must be,” she continued without waiting for his response, “because… I can feel you thinking.”

  His fingertips grazed across her shoulder blade. Almost imperceptibly, she moved closer to him.

  “Now you can read my thoughts, huh? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Lex.”

  She laughed softly. “No. Not ‘read your thoughts’ like that. I just can tell you’re thinking—not sleeping.”

  They were silent for a moment, then Johnny asked, “Alexa, how did I—we—get here? I don’t remember—”

  “Daniel. He carried you.”

  Johnny shook his head, clearing his mind. “I rememb
er walking out into the open room…leaning on him, then—nothing until I woke up as he was leaving.”

  Alexa nodded. “You tried to make it on your own—” Sudden tears welled up in her eyes. “Daniel—he knew. Somehow. Just as you blacked out, he caught you over his shoulder and carried you.”

  Johnny listened to Alexa’s words—and her tone. She was grateful to Daniel. But she didn’t completely trust him, either.

  “You don’t trust him, I know.”

  Johnny didn’t answer. Whether or not he trusted Daniel wasn’t the issue in his mind at the moment. “I think he’s—half in love with you, Alexa.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

  Alexa cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. “Oh, Johnny, I don’t think that. I don’t see how he could be—I mean, we just met him—”

  “Yeah, that’s right. But you can bet he’s been watching us since the minute we came in.”

  Alexa shivered, and he pulled her close to him in silent comfort. She lay down again, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

  “I saw how he was lookin’ at you, Lex.” He didn’t want to scare her, but—dammit, he wanted her to know, to be careful—

  “And it bothered you—”

  “You’re damn straight! It would’ve bothered you, too, if you’d seen it—”

  “What was I doing?”

  “Getting the medical supplies out.”

  Alexa was silent a moment. “I—I did see it. He was jealous.” It was a statement—not a question. She came up on her elbow again, looking into his eyes.

  Johnny let his breath out very slowly. “Yeah. That was it. And no mistaking it.”

  Alexa didn’t respond right away. After a moment, she asked, “And—did he have reason to be? Jealous?”