Bolton tried to look at her, but he couldn’t see her face. Her fingers loosened. She tried to break away from him, but he gripped her hand and didn’t let her.
“Give it up, Andy.”
“I guess I’ll just have to accept that’s the kind of woman you are. Hopping from man to man when it suits you. You’ve probably been with all of your friend’s husbands and boyfriends, too, on the side. Do they know that’s what you do?”
“Andy—” Nadia’s voice broke.
The word that spewed from his mouth made Bolton’s blood boil. Nadia blanched. Men and women around the room gasped. Andra covered her mouth, but he saw fire in her eyes. She was ready to go to bat for her friend. If Andra believed in her, then Bolton would give Nadia the benefit of the doubt also. She’d never given him any indication she was that kind of person.
“That’s enough.” Bolton set her aside and moved toward Andy.
He saw the punch coming. Andy wasn’t that good. Bolton undercut him in the diaphragm, and Andy slumped to the floor.
Bolton turned. Nadia looked about ready to cry. He wasn’t good at emotions. About as good as he was with people in general.
Nadia glanced over his shoulder and gasped.
Before he could turn, something slammed into his back.
A chair splintered across his injury.
Bolton’s legs collapsed, and he crashed into the floor.
**
Dirt was in his eyes, his mouth. His nose. Shadrach tried to breathe, and it got in his lungs. He clawed at the earth while his entire body burned like he’d crashed his motorcycle in shorts and no shirt.
His fingers touched air. He dug and dug until sweet air filled his lungs. He was buried, only his head and arms above the surface. With no strength to hold up his head, it slumped back against the dirt. There was no way he could get out of this. The mountain had come down on top of him.
“Shadrach.”
He fought against fatigue to open his eyes.
“Thank goodness. I thought you were gone.”
Remy was perched on the bed beside him. A hospital? “What happened?”
“The truck was ambushed. The driver and that other guy in the front seat are both dead.”
“Billy?”
“He’s outside, yelling at the nurse about why you’re not awake yet.”
Shadrach felt his lips curl up in a smile. He groaned. That hurt.
“You bumped your head, but other than that you’re good.”
He closed his eyes instead of nodding.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He felt the touch of her soft fingers on his face. Something had been happening between them for three weeks, since she’d landed in his corner of Afghanistan on some crazy research trip involving a mountain plant he’d never heard of, let alone seen. But they had seen it. Collected it.
“Did the thing get back?”
She giggled, the sound so sweet it made his heart hurt. Sometimes she looked so fearful it was like she thought the world would turn on her. He’d seen it before, in friends who’d had abusive family members or coaches who pushed too hard. One angry drill sergeant and they were right back in that place where they were the smallest thing in the world.
“We got the plant. You did good, soldier.”
Her fingers found his, and he squeezed with as much strength as he could.
Sleep descended, but before Shadrach succumbed he swore he felt the softness of her lips on his as she whispered, “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Cold air numbed his face. Shadrach tried to move, but he was entombed in dirt. And when he tried to breathe, pain sliced through his chest.
A dog barked.
“Dauntless.” His voice was barely louder than a croak, and then he saw him.
The dog raced up the hill.
“Dauntless.” Louder now. He yelled again, “Dauntless!”
He ran close enough to swipe his tongue up Shadrach’s face.
He grasped Dauntless’ collar.
The dog pulled.
Chapter 25
Sam fought the wave of dizziness as he lifted his feet and heaved the sheet of drywall off him. After the dark, day shone in his face. His lungs burned. He’d inhaled more dust than air since he was swept away with the house. Sticky wetness ran down one side of his face, but he didn’t want to touch it with his dirty fingers. He had to get out of this, and he had to do it himself.
More dust rained down, but above him was a wide expanse of cloudy sky. He’d never been so happy to see an overcast day in his life. He’d take snow right now if it decided to fall.
Sam hauled himself up and coughed. Through the ringing in his ears, Sam heard someone grunt and the scrape of metal against stone.
He crawled across what remained of the house to a hole that was four feet wide and three feet deep. “Remy.”
She whirled around and put her hand on her chest. “You scared me.” She sucked in a breath. Below her was the entrance to the basement he’d seen before he was swept away.
“Can you get it open?” He crawled over the side and dropped down. His injured leg screamed in pain, but today wasn’t the day he could take off to rest it. That day would be tomorrow.
She turned to the door. “That’s a nasty cut on your head.”
“I’ll see to it when we get these people out.”
Remy pulled at the door. Sam moved her aside and crawled down into the opening. All he could see was structural materials. Open wiring that sparked. Hanging beams. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
His voice echoed through the small cavern.
He strained to listen.
“I think I hear something.” Sam crawled inside.
Remy grabbed his leg and held him still. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“No more for me than it is for them.” He looked back and eyed her. “Let me go, Rem.”
She bit her lip. Sam crawled on his elbows through the debris. “Hello?” He stilled. Listened. Someone called out to him, but he couldn’t pin-point where they were.
He crawled farther and came upon a hand. Lifeless. Male. The flood of relief that hit when he realized it couldn’t be Beth settled in his stomach like bad sushi. Someone had lost their life today.
He uncovered the body and pulled the man to the entrance. He’d met him a couple of times around town, but they hadn’t spoken much.
Remy gasped as he emerged. “Hal!”
Sam pulled the lifeless body from the hole and hauled the man onto level ground. If Pop were here, he’d know what to say.
He touched Remy’s shoulder and went back in. Would he find Beth like that? Sam Tura? Michael, Sonny, and Louis? If he’d stayed, it wouldn’t have helped them. They hadn’t known what was coming, and they’d thought they were safe. He would be trapped down here with them. But the reality was he’d left his wife alone to face this. Sure, she’d had the men here with her, but Sam was her husband, and he’d shut the door and walked away. Consigned her to this fate. If he’d prayed more, would God have warned him not to do it? If he’d been more like Pop, could he have saved her from this?
Sam choked down tears as he crawled one way and then the other, all around the remains of the “safe” room. The call was louder now. He moved two beams out of the way and saw Michael. The man’s body was beat-up and bloody, the stump of his left arm clutched against his body with his whole hand.
Sam got close. “Can you crawl out? I can show you the way.”
“Maybe.”
He helped the old Italian shift, and then he found Louis half-buried underneath him.
Louis stirred. “Sal?”
Michael’s look turned dark in the dim light.
Sam helped both men free and pointed the way out. “I have to find Beth and Tura. Where were they?”
Michael pointed at a pile of dirt and furniture, the remains of a room framed-in below the house. “They were by the bathroom.”
That may have been so, but it wasn’t even there anymore. Sam�
�s heart sank. “You guys get out. I’ll keep looking.”
Louis moved past him. “We’ll dig from above. Maybe we can find them.”
Sam nodded, but he was on the edge where hope tumbled down a cliff to a deadly drop and was dashed on rocks.
If he was more like Pop, he’d know how to have faith even through this. How to stand fast and believe God would bring his wife out into the light. To believe Beth—and his baby—would be safe. That all was not lost—so long as he didn’t give up on that faith, everything would be okay.
Sam dropped his head. The wet blood on his face stuck to the earth beneath him. God, I’m no good at this. I’m not Pop, and I can’t believe like he did. This is my fault. I left her here to this, and now she’s gone, and I’ll never get her back.
Sam tried to breathe, but steel bands wrapped around his chest. He may as well die here. Tommy hadn’t paid. His brothers were dead in the Afghan dirt. His wife and baby were buried here. Pop and his dad were gone. His mom wanted barely anything to do with him. What was there left?
Emptiness. The yawning chasm of years ahead of him, isolated from everyone he’d ever loved. All because Sam wasn’t good enough to save them.
The roar of a truck engine cut through his thoughts.
“Sam!” Remy called to him over the noise. “Get out here before that comes down on you.”
He stared at her, unmoving.
“Sam. Get out. Now!”
He crawled to the opening. Matthias reached down and hauled him out. “Let’s get your girl out.”
“What?”
They helped him over the side of the hole, and then Remy jumped up. She eyed him, but he ignored her study. Michael and Louis attached a winch to a stretch of debris. Matthias jogged to the truck, and Sam and Remy stood back while Louis gave the signal. Matthias started the winch rolling. It pulled taut, inching the wreckage aside. The screaming metal line did its job, and soon the space was clear. Michael knelt, turned his ear, and set his head to the ground. “I hear them.”
Sam’s feet carried him to the spot. He stuck his hands in the dirt and began to dig.
**
Grant paced the gas station forecourt while the tank filled. “Yes, I know that. Yes, I understand.”
Ben lifted one eyebrow. Across the car, his brother stared at him. Did Ben think he would fare much better? Grant was the one who was the director of a federal agency for crying out loud.
“I want the town reconnected. We have no idea what’s going on.”
The general said, “That’s precisely why I will not. There could be a major incursion happening. How do we know reconnecting them to the outside world would not shift the balance of power in the town and turn everything in the favor of these insurgents?”
“I don’t. But we also won’t know if any of these upstanding Americans are currently dead or requiring serious medical attention—attention that the town cannot give them. We are supposed to protect these people, General. Archaic emergency protocols are putting them all the more in danger.”
“The town is a loss your superiors are prepared to accept.”
Grant stilled. “You went to the congressional committee?”
“I have.”
“And they want you to let them die?”
“I hardly think—”
Grant fisted his other hand. “That’s exactly what—”
The phone was ripped from his hand. Ben stuck it to his ear. “General Harper, this is Ben Mason.” He walked away so that Grant couldn’t hear what he was saying.
The gas pump clicked off. He took care of it while Ben turned and walked back.
Ben glanced aside, unseeing. “I trust you will, General.” He ended the call and handed it to Grant. “Wait ten minutes and you should be able to call John.”
“How did you—”
Ben circled the car and got in.
**
With Pat safe in the company of Matthias’ mother and her extended family, Andra dashed up the steps. She’d put down Andy—but hadn’t killed him, thank-you-very-much. Bolton was down, though, unable to move. The look on his face, and Nadia’s, had been heartbreaking. John had to know what was happening in the Meeting House. Everyone was freaked.
Andra sprinted through the main room and hit the bar on the double doors at a run.
Main Street was completely deserted. She ran across the road and into the sheriff’s office. It looked like a war zone. Furniture and papers everywhere. The jail open—Tommy Locan nowhere to be found. John was—
“John.”
She rushed to him and fell to the floor at his side. The silver letter opener was stuck high in his chest, surrounded by the damp spread of his blood. Jesus, Lord, help me.
“John.”
She shook his other shoulder. He groaned and opened his eyes. What was she supposed to do? There was no doctor in town, and how would she get Remy here? Andra didn’t have any medical training. She’d killed people for a living—she’d never actually tried to save anyone.
She was going to have to pull the letter opener out.
John’s lips moved, but no sound emerged. Her husband lay on the floor of his office, dying.
She gripped the letter opener, her hands slick with sweat and winced. “This is probably going to hurt.”
John grabbed her hands, his strength more substantial than she’d have thought it should be. “Don’t pull it out.”
“It’s stuck in you. I have to get it.”
“Don’t.” His hands fell to his sides, and his chest moved with a shallow breath. “Right now it’s a stopper.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
She released the letter opener. Seriously?
A ringing permeated the quiet in the room. “Is that your phone?” She scrambled around for the source of the noise and found his phone under his desk on the far side. Grant. “Hey. Hey.” She couldn’t think. Couldn’t even breathe. Was he even there?
“Andra?”
“John is. He’s been—”
“Take a breath, honey.”
“Stabbed.” Her voice was a wail. She looked at the ceiling. God, why has being a wife turned me into a big wimp? She sucked a breath. “John has been stabbed.”
John shifted. “Give me the phone.”
She collapsed back by his side and handed him the phone. What she wanted to do was curl up to him like they did at night and just…cry. What’s wrong with me?
John touched her hand. She shifted it and held his. He spoke into the phone, his gaze on her. “Tommy Locan stabbed me, but it’s not bad. Shadrach Carleigh ensured the bomb detonated at a safe location, but it took out half a mountain.”
Andra gasped. That’s what that earthquake had been about?
John continued, “I have no idea how many casualties there are, if any, but we need help.” He was quiet for a minute then said, “Got it. Yeah, she’s good. I’ll need stitches, but I’m fine.”
He hung up.
She let go of his hand and sat back. “You’re fine?”
“Grant got our connection turned back on, but the military won’t send anyone. Maybe we should just be grateful they don’t plan to destroy our power and water supply. He’s calling in a few favors, and Ben is mustering help. They’ll get us private transport and medical personnel to help.” His teeth were gritted. “Now help me up. We have to go see the damage.”
“Bolton needs medical help.”
“We have to go to the ranch, also, and see what happened there.”
She helped him up, slowly, and then got on his radio to tell Nadia—on Bolton’s radio—what was happening. When Nadia asked if people could leave, John got on.
“As soon as we can, someone will come get you. For now, tell everyone to stay put. Tommy Locan is loose. Consider him armed and extremely dangerous. I don’t want anyone walking the streets.”
**
Sam gripped his wife under the arms and hauled her from the dirt onto his lap. Beth’s body bucked. She wrapped her slender arms around him and
sobbed. Sam stared over the top of her head while he rubbed up and down her back.
Sam Tura was pulled up behind her, grazed and covered with dirt smears but otherwise okay.
Sam sucked in a breath and pushed it out, along with the residue of all the emotion he’d been hit with in that cave. She was okay.
He shifted to push gently on her shoulders until she looked at him. “The baby?”
“I think we’re okay. But Remy will be able to tell us.” She reached up with her sleeve, toward the blood on his face.
Sam jerked his head back. “Don’t.”
It had dried, and he didn’t want it to start up bleeding again. Aside from that, his wife wasn’t the kind of person who needed blood on her sleeve.
She frowned. Sam touched her face instead. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
Beth seemed satisfied by that, but there was an element of confusion in her gaze. Sam lifted her to her feet as he stood. “Let’s find Remy. Then we’ll know for sure.”
Beth glanced aside. “I can’t believe Hal is gone.”
Michael and Louis stood around the deceased man, and a blanket had been laid over his body. This was going to hit the town hard when they found out Hal had been killed by the explosion.
“What is—”
Sam turned. A golf cart sped down the street and slowed to a crawl as it bumped across the grass. Andra was driving with the sheriff in the seat beside her. Sam made sure Beth was steady on her feet before he strode over. The sheriff’s shoulder was wet with blood, and he pressed against a towel gathered around thin metal sticking out of his chest.
“Tommy escaped?”
Andra shot him a disapproving look, but John nodded. “Yep.”
Sam wanted to cuss. Instead, he kicked the dirt. Matthias strode over, and Sam saw Remy walk to Beth. Matthias planted his feet. “Guess Bolton will be building a new house now.”
Andra shook her head. She filled them in on what had happened in the Meeting House. Matthias fisted his hands. “I really hate Andy Evangeline.”
Sanctuary Breached WITSEC Town Series Book 3 Page 28
