by Mallory Kane
“Hand me a com unit. And don’t we have some Tasers around here?”
Deke had already pulled a small wired box out of his pocket. “Pocket Tasers and handcuffs are stowed in the duffel bag I brought in.”
Irina watched them in awe. They hadn’t seen or talked to each other in two years, yet they worked completely in synch, anticipating each other’s needs. Their calm efficiency was reassuring and yet profoundly frightening at the same time.
As he grabbed the com unit and inserted the earpiece, Rook nodded at Irina. “You’re going to the basement.”
“Wait. I can take the Sig. I can help—”
“Now!” He pointed a finger at her. “And don’t open the door until you hear my signal. There’s a Glock down there, with plenty of extra ammo. Remember the safe word?”
She nodded stiffly, nearly paralyzed with fear. Years ago, when Rook had bought the cabin, he’d extended the basement to the barn and turned it into a safe room, reinforced with steel.
Since the barn was downhill from the cabin, a short tunnel was all that was necessary to join the two buildings. A door at the far end of the basement joined the back wall of the barn.
He’d gone over a long list of precautions with her. His insistence on such extensive safety measures had spooked her at the time, but they’d never had to use any of them.
For her, Rook’s very presence had always meant safety. But no more. The man standing in front of her with cold determination hardening his face was not the same man she’d married.
“Go!” he barked.
“Don’t—” she choked out through her constricted throat “—don’t get killed.”
ROOK DECIDED to follow Irina down the stairs from the pantry to the basement. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d see for himself that she was securely locked in the basement safe room.
He didn’t touch her—he didn’t have to, to know that she was shivering with fear and confusion. That and more radiated from her like a fever. He couldn’t blame her, but he couldn’t reassure her, either.
He wanted to tell her how sorry he was. Wanted to somehow explain. But even if he could form the words, they were meaningless. Mere words couldn’t make up for what she’d been through.
Hell, nothing could.
He opened the basement door and stepped back to let her pass. She went through the reinforced metal door and pushed it almost closed, then paused, peering at him through the narrow opening.
Long ago, he’d promised her that she would never be afraid again. He’d promised himself that she’d never have cause to regret marrying him. He’d broken both promises.
“Why?” she whispered, as if she knew his thoughts. “Why did you let me believe you were dead? All this time—”
He clenched his jaw. “Not now, Rina.”
She recoiled slightly, as if dodging a blow.
He’d hurt her again. More. It seemed that all he’d ever be able to do from now on was hurt her.
Reassuring words lodged in his throat. If he said them, they could turn into yet another lie. She needed time to heal, time to learn that she could trust him.
But right now time was a luxury they couldn’t afford, because Novus had found them. So he said nothing.
She lowered her gaze and closed the door.
Rook stood there until he heard the massive lock click into place, then he mounted the stairs.
He tapped the ultralight communications transmitter in his ear.
“Deke?” he muttered.
“Front room. And whisper, dammit. You’re busting my eardrums.” Deke’s words slid through his head as if they were his own thoughts.
“Irina’s secure,” he mouthed, barely making a sound. “I’m in the kitchen. Whatcha got?”
“I see two, slinking around behind the trees.”
Deke’s voice was clear and as smooth as silk. These were damn good units. A far cry from the staticky ones they’d used during their Air Force missions.
“I figure there are four of them,” Deke continued. “And two of us. That makes it even odds.”
Rook’s mouth twitched. “You’re giving those four guys a lot of credit.”
“Yeah, well, they may have explosives. How do you want to handle this?”
“The two you don’t see—where are they?”
“My guess—one at the front door and one at the back, waiting for us to come out. I’m betting Novus wants you alive, so they’ll try tear gas first. Then escalate to stun grenades if they have to.”
“What about these grenades we’ve got?”
“New toy, courtesy of Homeland Security. Works like a regular grenade. The flash blinds the enemy for thirty seconds or so. The goggles you’ve got hanging around your neck will protect you.”
“What if they have the goggles, too?”
“These babies are brand-new technology. Prototypes. Theory is you can stare at the sun for hours with them on. I doubt Novus has them yet. We don’t have them—officially. Whoa!”
“What?”
“They’re on the move.”
“Deke, go get Rina and get the hell out of here. Through the basement into the barn. The keys are in the rental car. I’ll hold them off.”
“The hell you will! Four against one’s not the same as four against two. You’ll be playing right into their hands. You get Irina, I’ll hold off these—” Deke spilled a few choice curse words. “I’ve gotten away from Novus twice before. I can do it again.”
“With that arm you may not be able to handle the 416. It’s heavy.”
“You don’t worry about me. I can handle anything you can.”
Rook heard something clatter against the kitchen window. “Something hit the window. Probably tear gas.”
“Rook—go! Take Irina and get to safety. They’re after you, not me.”
“No way. We’ll take them together and then I’ll get Rina. As long as she stays in the safe room, she’ll be fine.”
“Unless one of our visitors decides to check out the barn.”
“The steel door from the barn into the safe room is rated for twenty minutes against dynamite.”
“Good to know. So how do we want to take these guys? Stay together or split up?”
“You take the front. I’ll take the back and then we’ll catch the middle two in a crossfire. No casualties unless absolutely necessary. I want them in custody, spilling their guts.”
He heard a hissing noise outside the window. “There goes the tear gas. They wasted that one.”
“I’m at the door. You?”
Rook flattened his back against the kitchen door, mentally measuring the distance out to the yard. The door opened onto a small stoop and then down five steps. “Yeah. See anything?”
“Nah. I say we go on three. If you spot one, try the flash grenade, but be ready with firepower. I’ll be shooting down from the porch.” The edge in Deke’s voice cut like a razor blade through Rook’s head. He knew the tone. Deke was prepared to die to protect him. Rook felt the same way.
But it wasn’t going to happen. Not today—not ever. Deke had every reason to stay alive. He had Mindy and their newborn baby boy.
And Rook had—He gripped his machine pistol in both hands and shoved those thoughts away. “On my mark,” he growled.
“One.” He tensed his thighs and pushed to a standing position, then pulled the night-vision goggles over his eyes. It took him a second to adjust to the Matrix-like look of the world through the infrared lenses.
“Two.” He turned the key in the back door and reached for the knob, ready to angle around. Ready for anything. A heady rush of adrenaline buzzed through him, making him super-aware. He heard the whisper-light hum of a mosquito, noticed the faint cold breeze on his neck.
He took a long, slow breath.
“Three!” He slung the door open and slid around it, his finger on the trigger of the HK 416. The 416 was a heavy piece of equipment and carried plenty of ammo, but right now its weight was comforting.
A second wave of adrenaline jacked up his heart rate and sharpened his already-honed senses.
Deke’s labored breathing sounded like a windstorm above the sawing of his own breaths. His nose picked up the fresh, earthy smell of rain from the brief thunderstorm. His trigger finger tightened.
In one long stride, he crossed the stoop and put his back against a wooden pillar.
Poised to shoot, he swung out and swept the backyard with his gaze and his gun. It was empty—no shadowy figures, no sound other than rain dripping off eaves and tree branches.
Where were they? If they were his men, they’d be covering the main entrances to the cabin.
He didn’t like that he couldn’t see them. Had they circled around to the barn? Or was Deke wrong? Were there just two of them?
He shook his head. Deke was rarely wrong.
“Whatcha got?” he whispered into the com mic.
“Nothing.” Deke’s voice was laced with disgust.
“Still think there are four of them?”
“Yeah. But maybe not.”
A noise to Rook’s left had him swinging his weapon in that direction. Glass shattered.
“They breached the kitchen window with a tear-gas grenade. Ready to go? Flash grenade first?”
“On your mark,” his friend replied.
“One…” Rook hopped lightly to the ground and planted his back against the north wall of the cabin, east of the porch. The grass, wet from the thunderstorm, muffled his footsteps.
“Two…” He cradled the HK416 in his right arm and pulled out a flash grenade with his left, noticing his arm, dark and edged with acid green, through the goggles.
“Three!”
He rounded the corner of the cabin in time to see a human-shaped green monster slink away from the kitchen window back toward the woods.
He jerked the pin with his teeth and tossed it a couple of feet beyond the man.
“Flash!” he muttered into his com unit. “Look out.”
Suddenly the yard lit up like the midway of a state fair. Even through the goggles the flare was painfully bright. Someone screeched in pain.
Then all hell broke loose.
The air around him filled with the deep rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire. The blinded enemy were strafing the yard randomly, hoping to score a hit.
And coming damn close.
Rook shrank against the wall, making himself as small as possible as a flurry of bullets zinged past him. If he could dodge them long enough, their attackers would soon be out of ammo.
If he could dodge them.
“Deke?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“Soon as they’re done wasting ammo, let’s take them. Tasers and cuffs. Then we’ll see how many buddies they’ve got.”
“Say the word.”
Rook stayed flattened against the wall until he heard the spit of machine-gun fire slow down and then stop. The volley that seemed to go on forever had probably only lasted a few seconds.
He pulled the fully charged Taser from the scabbard he’d attached to his belt and checked its setting.
Medium. He turned it to high. To the danger zone, in fact. He wanted the bastards helpless and moaning with muscle cramps.
Then, with his finger on the trigger of the HK 416, he tensed.
“Go!” he spat through the com unit.
He rounded the northeast corner of the house just as Deke appeared on the southeast end of the long front porch.
The guy who’d thrown the tear gas was dressed head to toe in black. He lurched across the bare yard toward the woods, obviously still blinded by the high-powered flash. Rook hoped Deke had the other man in his sights.
He slung the 416 over his shoulder by its strap and ran toward the stumbling terrorist. He took him down easily, zapped him with the Taser and then, ignoring his moans, cuffed him and jerked his ski cap over his eyes as a blindfold.
“Move, and I’ll shock you again.”
The man squealed in protest. His legs jerked involuntarily.
The unmistakable stacatto of machine-gun fire broke the silence.
“Deke?”
“Over here. I got two for one. Had to take one out. Got the other one trussed up like a turkey.”
“Mine, too. That makes three.”
“Hey.” Deke’s voice brightened. “Here comes the cavalry, right on time.”
As his voice faded, Rook saw the headlights. He jerked his captive to his feet by the neck of his black sweater, but the man’s legs buckled under him.
“Get moving. I’ll drag you if I have to,” Rook growled and proceeded to do just that. By the time he got to Deke his arm muscles were protesting.
Rook dumped the man onto the ground next to Deke’s prisoner and shoved his goggles up onto his forehead. “Where’s the casualty?”
Deke nodded toward the bushes that hugged the edge of the porch. At that moment, the headlights of a black SUV shone on them like spotlights, and four Secret Service agents jumped out, dressed in flak jackets with weapons at the ready. The driver stepped over next to Deke while the other two took charge of the prisoners.
“Good timing, Dan,” Deke said, nodding at the driver.
Rook glanced beyond the SUV as a second vehicle pulled up and four more flak-jacketed men emerged.
“Rook, meet Special Agent Dan Taylor, with the Secret Service. He just took over as Agent in Charge of Security around the ranch. He’s been briefed about your situation. Dan, this is Colonel Rook Castle.”
Taylor shook his hand. “Pleasure, Colonel.”
“Glad to meet you,” he said. “Deke, I’m going to get Rina.”
Deke nodded as he continued talking with Taylor. “Dan, we think these guys are working for Novus Ordo. I’m afraid the one in the bushes over there didn’t make it, but these two are healthy. We need all the intel they’ve got.”
“Any means necessary?” the Secret Service agent asked.
“That’s right,” Deke responded. It looked to Rook like Deke had everything handled for the moment. So he turned on his heel and headed for the house to fetch Irina from the fortified basement.
As soon as Deke and Agent Taylor headed off with the prisoners, and he and Irina were finally alone, they could talk. The thought sent apprehension skittering down his spine.
He was halfway up the steps to the kitchen door when the blast shook the cabin. The force of the explosion knocked him down the steps and on his butt. Heated air gushed over him.
Black smoke billowed up over the west roof.
The barn.
“Rina!” he screamed, pushing himself to his feet. He ran toward the smoke and flames.
“Rook, wait!”
Deke’s hand brushed his arm. He jerked away, pumping his legs faster.
Then Deke tackled him. He went down heavily, with Deke’s arms locked around his legs.
Rook struggled, kicking. “Let go!”
Deke propelled himself up and over him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a bear hug. “Stop it, Rook!”
Rook heard a shout and the pounding of boots on the wet ground. He kicked again and tried to buck Deke off.
“You’ll kill yourself. Taylor’s men are checking it out.”
Rook barely heard him. He bucked again.
“Get off me you son of a bitch! I’ve got to get to Rina!”
Chapter Four
Rook finally pushed Deke off of him, or Deke gave up and rolled away. He vaulted over Deke and up the porch steps, heading for the basement safe room. From the color and height of the smoke coming from the barn, he was sure nobody could get to the basement going that way. The fire was burning too hot.
He raced through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. With a giant leap off the bottom stair, he hurtled himself against the metal door, pounding with his right fist and groping for the intercom switch with his left.
He prayed that the wires hadn’t been burned or shorted.
“Irina!” he shouted through the interco
m’s speaker. “Answer me!”
Nothing.
His scalp burned with fearful anticipation. Had the explosion compromised the steel mesh-reinforced walls of the safe room? Had she been hurt? Or worse, had the men gotten to her?
He took a deep breath and shouted the safe word. It was actually a phrase, made up one night as they lay in each other’s arms after an hour of nonstop lovemaking. Loosely translated to English, the phrase meant “Come here often?”
“Irina, Priyed’te s’uda chasto?” he said carefully, enunciating the words the way he’d learned. He’d never been great with the language, although he could speak it. According to Irina, he always bungled the pronunciation. She’d laughed every time he spoke. He wished he could hear her laughter right now.
“Priyed’te s’uda chasto, Irina.” He hit the door with his fist again, then spread his palm against the metal, ridiculously relieved to feel its chill against his skin. Rationally, he knew it was too thick to allow heat to penetrate, especially after only a few minutes, but he breathed easier anyway.
Please, he begged silently. Answer me.
“Tol’ko—” a choked voice crackled through the intercom. “Tol’ko, kogda suda vhod’at.”
Only when the ships come in.
Relief sent shivers across his scalp and the nape of his neck, where sweat prickled.
“Irina, thank God. Are you all right? Are you hurt? Can you unlatch the door?”
He heard her fumbling with the lock, then with a cold metallic snick, the latch sprung.
For an instant, he paused. She hadn’t answered any of his questions. What if she wasn’t alone? What if one of Novus’s men was holding her?
But, no. She knew what to do. If she weren’t safe, she’d have answered Vse vrem’a, “All the time,” if she were compromised.
He swung the door open, expecting her to throw herself into his arms. But she didn’t. She stood, a couple of feet back from the door, her arms wrapped around herself.
He examined her closely, looking for any sign of burns or injuries. She looked unhurt, but she was shivering.
“You’re freezing. Dammit. I should have grabbed that blanket for you. Come here.” He held out his arms.
