“For now. Things are heating up in Texas, and it may get crazy in a bit. Intel says they’ve lost the subject due here, and we have no idea what to expect.”
“Unit eight. Trooper, would you like to request additional manpower inside the house?”
“Negative, unit eight. At this time I’ve got it under control. I’ll be checking with all of you once an hour on the hour to make sure everybody’s still in position. If one of you doesn’t respond, I’ll pull the ripcord,” Jack said, knowing they’d get the parachute reference.
“Unit eight, roger that, trooper.”
Jack turned the radio’s dial back to the dispatch channel. He couldn’t just sit there and stare at the radio. Phone in hand, he called the post and was informed that Cappy was in a meeting, but that his input was requested at fifteen hundred hours. He knew what that meant. His laptop had to be powered up, because they’d be placing an online call to pull him in via video conferencing. He’d be ready.
At that point, Jack did the one thing he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do. “Aleta?” he called out.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Could you come in the bedroom, please?” He could hear her moving through the house before she appeared in the doorway.
She stopped cold. “I don’t like the look on your face.”
“We have to do this. We don’t have a choice now.” He was already moving to the closet, and when he straightened, Aleta’s face paled.
“No. I don’t―”
“You’ve proven to me that you can handle it. You have to take this, and you have to be ready to use it.” He grasped the Glock by the barrel and held it out to her. “Take this. And be ready.”
Jaw set, she folded her arms across her chest. “No. I’m not doing that.”
“Yes. You will. Anything could happen at this point, and I want you to be ready.” He waited and eventually her hand reached out and she took the gun gingerly by the stock. “Don’t be afraid. You need to be in the mindset that this thing can save your life. It may be all that’s between you and a person who wants to hurt you.”
“But what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me, but don’t depend on me to keep you safe. Depend on yourself.” The frown on her face told him that wasn’t what she’d thought was going to happen, but he remembered something important. “You told me you weren’t using Joshua’s insurance money because you wanted to prove to yourself and everybody else that you were self-sufficient and strong and capable. Remember that?”
She sighed and seemed to deflate before his eyes, shoulders drooping to match the corners of her mouth. “Yeah.”
“This is your chance. You can do this. I have faith in you. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, but I can only do so much. This is your time to take responsibility for your own safety, Aleta, and I believe you can do it.”
“So what do I do? Wait for him to stop in front of me like a target so I can shoot him? Because I―”
Hands gripping her shoulders, Jack bent to her level and stared into her eyes. “You see Moss, you shoot. I don’t care who’s between you and him. I don’t care what he’s doing. I don’t care if he’s near or far. You see him, you shoot, and don’t shoot to hurt him. Shoot to kill him, because he’s damn sure going to shoot to kill you.” The realization was settling in. He could see it on her face, the slackness of her cheeks, the terrified whites of her eyes. “Aleta, keep your head, but this guy? He’s not coming for me. He’s coming for you, and you’ve got to be prepared.”
The resolve on her face was surprising when her head snapped around and their eyes locked. “Can we try something I read in one of those books?”
You have GOT to be kidding me, Jack thought. A romance novel? How ridiculous. Her life is in danger. Humor her, Fletcher, a tiny voice told him. “Sure. Why not? At this point, I guess anything’s worth a try.”
“Okay. Um, come over here.” She placed the Glock gently on the dresser’s surface. “Now, come around behind me and grab me around the neck or shoulders. Use your hand to make like a gun.” He was pretty sure of what she was doing, but he wasn’t going to ask, just let it play out so she could see for herself how it wouldn’t work. As soon as his arm was around her, she said, “Now make your hand like it’s a gun and point it at me, anywhere on me.” Jack splayed out his index finger and thumb and put it to her temple. “Okay. You’re the bad guy. You’ve just taken me. This is what I’m going to do.”
He was ready to tell her that she’d never be able to grab his arm and throw him in the familiar martial arts move when she collapsed. His natural instinct was to grasp her, but her downward weight threw his balance off, and when he stopped, his hand was a good ten inches above her head, pointed at nothing. He was stunned. “Aleta, I―”
“Don’t think it will work, right? Looks to me like it will.”
“No. I was going to say that’s fucking brilliant. If you did that, it would throw him off enough that I could get a shot off and stop him.. Wouldn’t matter if it was his head or his shoulder, it would put him out of commission long enough for you to get away.”
“You really think it will work?” There was a bit of hope in her voice that he hadn’t heard before.
“Yeah, it actually might. Of course, the idea here is to not let him get close enough for that to be an issue. But if he does, well, that’s a workable plan.” And he’d thought those romance novels were useless!
“Good. We should practice that every once in a while over the next few days. Oh, and my sign to you will be blinking three times. If I do that, you’ll know I’m going to drop.”
He nodded in agreement. “That works. Good thinking.”
“Okay then.” There was a confidence in her voice that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier, and for the first time, Jack thought they just might come out of the whole thing alive. Unscathed, probably not, but alive, yeah.
And he could work with anything other than dead.
Lunch was over and his laptop was set up. At two minutes before three, his messaging account started to ring, and when he accepted the call, he was looking straight into Morgan’s face. “Hello, Cappy,” he answered.
“Good afternoon, Trooper Fletcher. Can you see me okay?”
“Yes, sir. Just fine.”
“You’re coming in okay here too. We’re about to be joined by the FBI field office supervisor and the local DEA supervisor, as well as the KDCI supervisor. I know they’ve been involved for a while now, but they have a special focus now. Ortiz has stepped into a sex crime by holding the Stone girl, and that’s their field. Anything that happens to her, they’ll be investigating and handling.”
“Yes, sir.”
The conference room door opened and people started trickling in. Jack was pleased to learn that, along with the SRT, the FBI intended to continue their surveillance and protection of his home, and were planning to bring some people up from Texas. He didn’t know if Cruz would be one of them, but he hoped someday he’d get to meet the FBI agent from San Antonio who’d gone to the mat for him time and again during the investigation.
As soon as the conference was over, Jack shut down his computer and sighed. There’d still been no sightings of Moss. Nobody could find him. If they raided Ortiz’s compound, they might be able to get him to give them some information, but there was no guarantee. Apprehending Moss would lead to kidnapping charges against Ortiz, and the wannabe drug kingpin didn’t want that tacked onto the already-obvious charges. He wanted everyone to believe Kennedie Stone had come to him of her own free will. But they had to get to Ortiz before Menendez did or it would all be for nothing.
Jack’s nerves were frayed but his resolve was deepening. Nothing could happen to Aleta. Nothing.
Fused together, his hardness softening inside her, Jack wrapped his arms around Aleta and she pressed herself to his chest. He loved the feel of her legs around his hips as they lay there on their sides, his lips buried in her hair. Heather had been the love of his life,
or so he’d thought, but this woman was much, much more. He didn’t just love her―he admired her. She was tenacious, tender, fierce, warm, determined, vulnerable, so many things that he respected not just in her but in anyone. She wanted to live, to laugh and sing and dance, and a pang of regret shot through him. Because of their religion, Aleta had never been able to go to a dance, and he wanted desperately to take her dancing. The idea that it might not ever happen darted through his brain, but he shut it down. They were going to be fine. Somebody out there was going to find Moss and when they did, it would all be over.
His text pinged, and he looked at the clock. It was after two in the morning. Who in the world would be texting him? When he picked it up, his heart froze as he saw Cruz’s name in his feed.
Raid accomplished. FBI has Ortiz and Stone in custody. Be ready. He’s coming for Aleta. We’re sure of it.
He sent back a simple answer: Thanks. Will do. Keep us posted. Nothing else was really necessary.
Jack lay there in the dark, wondering what would happen. Would he manage to sneak up to the house somehow? Steal some kind of vehicle and come crashing up the drive to get to the front door? Did the agents outside have the kind of firepower that would keep him at bay? What exactly were their orders? It spun ‘round and ‘round in his head until he was almost dizzy. There was nothing he could do at that point except wait and hope they were all ready.
The clock just kept ticking. Time passed, but he was frozen there, hugging her tightly to him. At some point he thought about telling her to put on her pajamas, but he decided against it. They were safe as long as they were in the house.
He’d almost managed to fall asleep when he heard something, a distinct thud on the roof. Reaching to the nightstand, he flipped on the radio and heard chatter that bled over to the dispatch channel, so he flipped it to channel seventeen.
“Unit four, did you see the object.”
“Affirmative, but I can’t tell what it was.”
“Did you see the direction it came from?”
“Negative, unit four, but if I had to guess, I’d say west.” That was behind the house. Jack sat straight up in bed and grabbed the mic.
“Unit four, this is trooper. Did you say west?”
“Roger, trooper.”
“Unit four, that’s the old rock quarry. There’s access and open space.”
“Unit twelve, you’re on the western side of the property. See anything?”
“Negative, unit one. I don’t see anything. Sending one member of our unit to investigate.”
What was the object on the roof? He’d heard it. They’d seen it, although they couldn’t identify it. There’d been no sound of anything rolling down the slope of the roof. He was thinking about climbing up into the attic when he heard something that chilled him.
“All units! All units! Alert! Incoming!” Before he had a second to react, more noises caught his attention. They sounded like small charges, and he stared out the window, but he couldn’t see anything. The next sight chilled him.
A bright red flame outside the window, coming from the southwest. The minute he heard it hit, the sky lit up.
A propellant. The first projectile was something filled with gasoline or another combustible liquid. And the second? A flare. The radio chatter went wild, but Jack didn’t have time to think about that. “Aleta! Babe, wake up!”
“Whaaa? What’s―”
“Get up. Get dressed. The house is on fire.”
“What? What are you talking about?” She rubbed her eyes and Jack yanked open the blinds, the brightness of the flames visible on the trees at the edge of the clearing. “Holy shit! Oh my god! The house is on fire!”
As he scrambled around to find his jeans, shirt, and shoes, she was doing the same. Over everything else, he heard something that made his blood run cold. “Unit two! Unit two, this is unit one! Respond!” Dead air space. “Unit three! Unit three, this is unit one! Respond!” Nothing. Seconds later, he knew they were doomed when the radio and everything else in the bedroom went dark. The power was cut. He and Aleta were truly on their own.
“Get your weapon and come on!” he called to her from outside the bedroom door. When he saw her behind him, the Glock in her hand, he advanced on the back door, taking one step at a time and motioning for her to keep up. The house was burning, but it would take a while for it to burn through the asbestos shingles and actually get to wood, unless the gasoline had dripped onto the ends of the rafters. Then it would travel up them under the roofing, and it would only be minutes.
At the door, Jack turned the knob silently and waited. He saw nothing, no movement anywhere, and he wondered how many of the FBI agents on their detail were either dead or disabled out there in the tree line. He stuck his head out and looked to either side of the doorway, but there was no one there. “Come on. We’re going to the barn. Stay right beside me.”
“Okay,” Aleta whispered, and he could hear the fear in her voice.
“We’ll be okay, baby. We’ve just got to regroup.” Was he trying to convince her or himself? Jack wasn’t sure, but the barn was their only chance until reinforcements arrived. “Come on!”
He grabbed her hand and darted out the door. The top step was only inches away, and he ran straight for it.
The next thing he knew, he was tumbling down the steps. Fucking trip wire! he told himself as he hit the ground, but the next sensation he had was of an arm around his neck. Then he heard a voice growl, “Well, well, well! What do we have here? You been praying to Jesus while the trooper here was fucking you, girlie?”
Jack couldn’t see Moss. The man was behind him, and he had Jack pinned up against his body. The barrel of some kind of gun pressed into Jack’s neck, and he had to believe it was the Ruger Super Redhawk. In front of him, Aleta’s terrified eyes were lit up by the flames licking up the roof of the house, and Jack knew they were screwed. Moss didn’t want him; he wanted Aleta, and he had her. One bullet to Jack’s head and Moss could walk away with her, or kill her on the spot. He was about tell Aleta to drop the gun and run when he saw something in her eyes, a flicker of some kind of emotion, and as he watched in horror, she raised the Glock.
“Aleta, no,” he whispered.
“Let him go,” she said, her hand trembling. He could see just well enough to find the outline of her finger lying along the barrel of the gun.
“Oh, for god’s sake, silly girl! I’m going to blow his head off,” Moss said with a chuckle.
“You pull that trigger and I’ll shoot. I swear it,” Aleta said, hand still shaking.
“Look at this, Trooper Fletcher! You’ve got a live one here. I remember you from that morning, sweetheart. Your sad-sack husband, trying to help me, and that little baby. What was his name?”
“Shut up. I’m not answering any of your questions, you piece of shit. Turn him loose,” she snarled through clenched teeth. Jack had never heard Aleta talk like that, and it scared him a little. There was something rising in her, some sap that he’d never seen before, and he knew that meant he couldn’t anticipate what she was going to do next. She’d become a wild card, and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.
“Tell ya what, darlin’.” Moss’s voice sickened Jack. “You put down that gun and I promise I won’t rape you before I kill you. How’s that?”
“You’re not killing anybody else today, you asshole. Isn’t that right, Jack?” Aleta asked and stared right at him.
And he got it.
“That’s right. I know you’ve already killed at least three people today,” Jack answered, knowing she’d get the reference, and he saw her nod. Everything became crystal clear. The shaky hand was an act. Adrenalin was coursing through her body, and she was in fight mode. “Three people or more. You must be proud.”
Moss laughed. “Oh, more than that, buddy. Many, many more.” God, the fucker liked to brag on himself! And that would be his downfall. Jack would make sure of it.
“No. No more than three. And there are
two right here that you’re not going to get. My family deserves justice for what you did to them. I’m just the person to see that they get it,” Aleta announced, and Jack watched as the shaking hand steadied and her finger moved to the trigger. That was his cue.
“The two of you are as good as dead. I’m just playing with …” As Moss rattled on, Jack blinked once, twice, and a third time, then kicked his feet out and dropped.
The sound of the shot echoed in the clearing, the trees buffeting it back, and Jack felt Moss pull him backward as he fell, but before the shorter man landed, his arm dropped away and Jack fell forward, catching himself with his hands in the dirt. Something was in his left eye, and he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was warm. “Jack! Oh, god, Jack, are you okay! Where’s the blood coming from? Oh, god, did I shoot you?” Aleta’s frantic voice screamed. Jack could make out movement around the perimeter of the clearing, and at least three FBI agents in full camo came rushing toward them. “Jack!”
“Trooper! Is everybody okay?” one of the agents asked, and Jack saw another kick Moss’s revolver away from his body.
“I think I shot Jack!” Aleta wailed.
“Come on. We’ve got to get you away from the house. The fire department has been notified.” The man helped Jack to his feet, and when Aleta’s arm wrapped around his waist, he knew everything would be okay.
By the time he was sitting on a bale of hay in the barn and one of the agents was tending to his scalp wound, Jack could hear the sounds of sirens piercing the air. “The other agents―”
The agent dabbed at Jack’s scalp. “We’ve got a couple who are deceased, and a few who were disabled. Hit them in the head and knocked them out.”
His heart ached. “How many deceased?”
“At least four, trooper,” the agent responded, his voice level and firm.
“How’s that look?”
“I’d say she grazed you with the bullet when she fired, but that’s all. They may have to stitch it, but you’re not injured beyond that.” The uniformed agent turned to Aleta. “Ma’am, I’m impressed. You held your own out there and you saved the lives of both yourself and Trooper Fletcher.”
Justice for Aleta Page 15
