Acceptable Risks

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  Now Jason fell silent. Nils would crack. He just had to wait.

  But time ran out. There was a click from the hallway, and the creak of a door hinge. Nils jumped up and spun, his hand going to the Taser stuck in his back pocket. Jason must have been out longer than he realized, if Nils had time to reload the gun. Unless he had two of them.

  Didn’t matter. Jason took advantage of being out of sight to wiggle his hands out of the rope. Nils wasn’t so good at tying knots. He struggled to his feet, swaying and tensing against his legs’ desire to give way. He couldn’t get the jump on Nils, not like this. He might get close enough to grab him, but he’d get shocked again before he could disable the smaller man. He didn’t have the strength to land a good punch.

  Nils took a tentative step toward the hall, Taser out. No one appeared in the doorway. A floorboard creaked in the room to their right, probably the kitchen. Nils didn’t seem to hear it. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting. Jason, infuriatingly impotent, also waited.

  Seconds ticked by. Silence filled the room with its weight. Jason gathered his strength, picturing how he’d leap forward, wrap an arm around Nils’ neck, and bear him to the ground, hopefully on top, not under him. He took a deep breath—and a figure flew in from the kitchen, silent and swift.

  Nils spun, too late. A cast-iron frying pan came down on his head. He screeched as he fell, his gun hand rising. His finger compressed the trigger, and the Taser leads buried themselves in the plaster ceiling.

  Lark dropped the frying pan and stomped her right foot onto Nils’ chest.

  “Where the hell is my father?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Matthew was out of patience. His best guess put the time at somewhere in the middle of the night. Gabby couldn’t stop shivering, not even wrapped in one of the blankets and sharing body heat. Isaac might still be trying to psych Matthew out, making him cool his heels, but he now suspected the kidnapping was more about keeping him out of the picture than trying to get something from him. And Matthew wasn’t on board with that.

  He explained his plan to Gabby, who didn’t hesitate, even when he emphasized the risks. His respect for her, already high, rose even more.

  She surprised him by contributing her ideas. Once Matthew was sure they were both in sync, he went to the intercom and pressed the button. A moment later John’s voice crackled through the speaker.

  “What?”

  “We need someone down here. Gabby’s sick.”

  “Sure she is.”

  Matthew wasn’t surprised by John’s skepticism. “I know you’re too smart to believe me if I were lying, but John, I trained you. Why would I use a ploy you wouldn’t fall for?”

  After a pause, John asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Fever. Convulsions. Delirium.”

  “Why didn’t you say something before now?”

  “It got bad pretty fast. I thought she was just cold at first.” He waited, but John didn’t respond. “John?”

  “Where is she?”

  Satisfaction burned through Matthew. He was biting. “On the pallet.”

  “You get on the opposite side of the room, against the wall,” John ordered. “Sit with your back on the wall, legs out straight. You got it?”

  “Yeah. Hurry, though. She’s in bad shape. If Isaac wants her because of her knowledge, he’s going to be pissed if she’s too out of it to share.”

  A pissed-off boss involved in criminal activities was always a good motivator. In seconds John crossed the floor above. Matthew did as he’d been told and went to sit against the wall. Gabby stayed where she was, moaning and shuddering on the pallet of blankets. When the trap door opened and the light hit her face, Matthew was shocked to see how pale and haggard she looked. Maybe he hadn’t been completely lying.

  The barrel of a semi-automatic rifle appeared in the square hole first, aimed in his direction. He sat still, watching. After a moment John’s head slowly appeared, until the man could see Matthew sitting docilely. The big man leaned further into the gap, not enough to make himself a real target, but enough to see inside the entire pit. He eyed Gabby, who lay with her eyes closed, her lips parted as she panted fast, fretful breaths. The barrel of the gun swept around the opening, checking the entire pit, and then disappeared.

  “Don’t move,” John called down.

  Matthew didn’t move.

  A moment later a rope ladder fell into the pit. John didn’t climb down, but jumped to the floor, his weapon aimed unerringly at Matthew.

  His satisfaction grew. He’d been right—Isaac had limited manpower. John wouldn’t have come down here alone if he had someone else on guard duty with him. Was Isaac’s staff that small, or hadn’t he pulled everyone into his scheme? Probably the latter. He couldn’t be running a legitimate security company without having some employees with integrity. And when someone with no history of criminal bent started down the wrong path, he had to be careful whom to trust.

  “Don’t move,” John said again.

  “I won’t. I just want her to have help.”

  John crouched and touched Gabby’s head. “She doesn’t feel feverish.”

  “It’s cold down here. Skin temperature isn’t a good indicator.”

  “Dr. Berwell, can you hear me?”

  Gabby groaned and rolled her head back, but didn’t open her eyes. She was doing a good job. It looked real.

  “Dr. Berwell?”

  Her lids fluttered, but she didn’t respond. John cursed and stood. “Come here,” he said to Matthew. “Slowly.”

  He did.

  “Pick her up.”

  “What are you—”

  “Just do it.”

  Matthew already knew John’s intentions. He gently lifted Gabby in his arms and cradled her against his chest. A warmth swept through him, nothing physical, but a sense of protectiveness and possessiveness out of proportion to how he thought he felt about this woman. He banished it as soon as it flickered into his mind. He had to concentrate on his plan.

  “I’ll go up the ladder first,” John said. “You carry her up.”

  “But—”

  The gun came up, aimed at his head.

  “Okay.” Climbing the ladder wouldn’t be easy, but he’d known that was what John would make him do. The guard had to keep control at all times, which meant putting the burden on his prisoner.

  The big man scaled the swaying ladder quickly, then stood at the top and aimed his weapon into the hole. “Come on.”

  “Put your arms around my neck,” Matthew murmured to Gabby, low enough that John couldn’t hear. She didn’t move. He jostled her a little, worried that she wasn’t faking it any more. “Gabby, put your arms around my neck. I need you to help me.” After a few more proddings, she did, shifting her weight closer to his body and taking the burden off. He twisted his arms under her and grabbed a rung of the ladder, balancing her across his arms, and lifted a foot onto the bottom rung. The ladder swayed forward and twisted, tilting him back, and he tightened his grip. He hoped to hell he could do this without dumping Gabby on her head.

  He brought his left foot up to join his right, straining to lift Gabby enough to catch hold of the next rung with his right hand. Then his left hand. Right foot one rung higher, now left foot. The climb took forever, Matthew’s muscles doing their own vibrating dance by the time he reached the trap door. Now was the moment of uncertainty. Would John make himself vulnerable and pull Gabby through? Would he make Matthew come up, or drop him back down in?

  “Roll her up here,” John said.

  “How?” Matthew growled. His forearms and calves screamed and cramped. “I’m barely hanging on.”

  John reached down with one hand and slapped Gabby’s cheek, lightly. “Hey. Dr. Berwell. Little help here.”

  After a moment Gabby roused. Matthew gritted his teeth. Did she have to play the part so damned well? His hands clamped around the rung, staying put only because the muscles in his fingers had seized up.


  “Roll onto the floor, Gabby.”

  With a distinct lack of coordination, Gabby got herself onto the floor. Free of her weight, Matthew pulled himself high enough to see into the room. It was empty, the walls bare of any kind of decoration, equipment, furniture, or storage cabinets. It looked like an old hunting cabin.

  He eyed John, who seemed to be debating his next move. “Let me come up and help you with her,” he said in a low voice. John gave him an implacable look with no hint of conscience. “Come on, John. I can’t believe you’d be a deliberate party to harm. You can’t have known it would come to this.”

  John hesitated long enough to give Matthew hope, then shook his head. “Back down, sir.” Matthew held on, but John poked him in the chest with the gun barrel. “Down. I’ll take care of her. But I know you too well.”

  Matthew had to grin at that. He dropped down to the dirt floor, landing lightly despite his protesting muscles, and watched as John pulled up the ladder, unhooked it from the metal rings next to the opening, and dropped the door back into place.

  The first part of the plan had gone exactly as Matthew had hoped. Now, on to phase two.

  * * *

  Nils ignored Lark’s demand and yanked at the Taser, trying to pull the leads out of the ceiling. Lark slapped the gun out of his hand. It swung wide, then came back to smack Nils in the side of the head where she’d hit him with the pan.

  “Ow! Lark, for God’s sake, come on!”

  She pressed down harder on his chest. He yelped and grabbed at her foot, trying to push it off. It didn’t budge, and she allowed a bit of pride to seep into her fury and fear. Seeing Jason sprawled like that, so vulnerable, had made her decision easy. But now she had to struggle to focus on Nils and not reveal—to either of them—just how much Jason’s well-being meant to her.

  “Look, Nils, I’m not in the best mood. You tell me right now where Kemmerling has my father and Gabby, or so help me God I’ll crack your chest open and crush your heart.”

  “You think I know?” he shot at her. “Isaac’s too smart to tell me where he’s got them!” He tried to kick her in the back. She shifted forward, and he missed. Jason chuckled behind her, but Lark didn’t spare a glance at him.

  “Why does he have them, then?” She leaned forward, her knee bent, and Nils moaned out some air. “What’s he going to do with them?”

  Nils’ fingers pried at her shoe. “I don’t know,” he wheezed. She pressed harder and reached for his hair.

  “All right, all right!” He waved his hands. “I’ll tell you. Just—” gasp, “—let me up.”

  Lark knew she should ease back and make him get up slowly, but she didn’t have the patience. She fisted his shirt and hauled him up, then shoved him into the chair hard enough to tilt it backward. Her foot caught on the edge of the seat and slammed it back down. Nils paled, eyeing her toes centimeters from his dangly bits.

  “Talk.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath and glanced at Jason before giving her his full attention, though he kept his eyes downcast. “What, specifically—”

  “Nils!”

  “They want to sell the regeneration therapy as a weapon!” he shouted, flinging a hand up in front of his face.

  Lark froze, her fist cocked, the building rage arrested by her surprise. “What? How?”

  Nils jittered, his gaze flicking back and forth between Jason and Lark’s fist. “I don’t know. I’m not really a scientist. I just feed Isaac whatever information I can get a hold of. I can go a lot of places inside Hummingbird.”

  “You learned of the therapy and told Isaac. And he saw that as the way to take down the company?” Lark’s mind raced. If Isaac got his hands on proof that Hummingbird had used the untested, unapproved therapy on Jason, he could get what he wanted. But selling it made no sense, especially by calling it a weapon. It wasn’t.

  Jason’s thoughts apparently went in a different direction. “Who’s the buyer?” he asked in a low voice.

  Nils cringed. “I don’t know. I’m low level, man.”

  “High enough to approach Gabby and stick her with a needle.”

  Lark heard Jason moving around behind her but didn’t take her attention off Nils. A moment later, Jason gently nudged her aside and pulled Nils to his feet, wrapping his wrists with the rope that had been around his own a few minutes ago.

  “What are we going to do with him?” she asked.

  “I’d like to take him to the police.” Jason tightened the rope and Nils yelped. “But they won’t have any reason to hold him.”

  “How about accessory to kidnapping, corporate espionage and assault?” she asked.

  “Hey, you attacked me,” Nils protested.

  She glared at him. “I meant him.” She thrust a thumb at Jason.

  “Oh.”

  Now Jason glared at her. Obviously the Taser had hit his ego as hard as his body.

  He patted Nils down, something she’d neglected to consider, but found nothing. She watched Jason closely, noting the occasional muscle quiver, but if he was still in pain or weak, he hid it well.

  Jason maneuvered Nils to face the hall and marched him in that direction. “There’s no evidence, just our word against his. I’m dead, and you’re the daughter of his boss, accusing a conveniently disgruntled former employee of serious crimes. He’d be out in hours, if not sooner.”

  Lark sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Okay, then what?”

  “We lock him down.” Jason paused at the open door to examine the lock she’d jimmied. “Credit card?”

  “Driver’s license.”

  “Clever.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  They moved swiftly down the stairs. None of the house’s other inhabitants seemed disturbed by the noise. The music downstairs continued to blare, but when they got outside, she noticed the front apartments’ lights were all off now.

  She almost ran up the back of Jason’s leg when he stopped abruptly on the sidewalk.

  “That’s my bike,” he declared.

  “Yeah.” Lark pulled out the keys.

  “My motorcycle,” he said as if she hadn’t understood.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s how I got here.”

  Jason hung his head, his jaw tensing. “You rode my motorcycle.”

  “Uh, yeah. Can we do the macho he-man routine later? I couldn’t have saved your ass if I hadn’t taken the bike. I assume you prefer to ride it back?” She dangled the keys. “Where’s the Rover? I’ll haul Nils to the house.”

  Jason’s face darkened as he looked up at the sky and audibly ground his teeth.

  “No,” he finally grunted. “You take the bike back to the house. I’ll follow you with him.” He gave Nils a shake. “And then we’ll all go.”

  Lark almost asked “go where?” but swallowed it, hard. First, he wasn’t going to say, not out in the open here. Second…well, he was still a little pissed.

  She waited until he and Nils disappeared in the darkness down the unlit street, heading for his truck, before starting the bike. No sense riling him further if she made a mistake or something. In fact, she’d better go ahead so he didn’t see the way she drove it. She carefully rode down the street, then kicked it up a notch once she’d turned the corner.