SEALs of Honor: Markus

by Mayer, Dale

  She buried her face in her knees. Surely he’d see the place was empty and leave? Please let him leave.

  Her prayers were answered when the door opened and closed again. He fiddled with the knob and then walked along the wooden porch. She released her pent up breath and relaxed.

  “Thank God for that,” she whispered under her breath. She peered around the corner of the desk, but there were only long shadows adding to her already overactive imagination. No sounds. No movement. She straightened enough to look out the window. Only the deserted parking lot stared back. Yay. She slipped out of her hiding place and walked back over to the bench she’d been seated on before. How long before someone came back for her?

  She no longer wanted to sleep here. She couldn’t trust the stranger wouldn’t return. Although it could have been the injured officer coming in to help. Or others. She didn’t know who all they called on in times of need, but just because she was afraid he was on the wrong side of this issue didn’t mean he was.

  Then again she was making up possibilities to make herself feel better.

  She plunked down on the bench and stretched out her legs.

  And that’s when she heard a sound that made her blood run cold.

  Liquid splashing on the ground. Oh no.

  She raced to the window and looked out. A dark shadow ran down the side of the building pouring liquid from a gas can. At the end of the wall he threw it down and grabbed up a second one. And she caught sight of his profile – again. It was him. The same arsonist. She could barely see the stack of cans by the front wall, but she saw enough to know he had several. She raced to the front door. And tugged on the handle.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  He’d locked the damn door. She struggled again, her mind racing as she looked around for another way to open the door. But it wasn’t budging. There had to be a back door, although that was closer to where the arsonist was. Damn it. She tried the window to the side of the front door. That’s when she realized the windows had bars across them.

  Panicked, she went from window to window but they were all barred. She couldn’t even get out by busting through the glass.

  “Markus, where are you?” she cried. There was a small hallway to the left. She raced down it. A bathroom, a storeroom and a more private office like an interview room. Tears rolling down her face and her chest heaving, she went from one to the other. And caught sight of the back door. She hit it like a ram but it didn’t move. Through her panic she saw the dead bolt keeping it locked up tight.

  Sobbing now, she pulled the deadbolt back and tugged. The handles were big metal loops. She tugged and tugged. It moved slightly but was caught by something on the other side. Damn it.

  She was locked inside.

  If someone didn’t get here fast, she was going to burn right in front of the asshole who set the fire.

  And just maybe that’s what he’d planned all along.

  *

  Markus raced the mile and a half across the neighborhood. He’d be there in another four minutes at this pace. Evan was at his side. Two more were coming by truck. Bree… He shuddered just thinking about an intruder entering the station while she slept on the bench.

  Dear God, let her be safe.

  Evan grabbed his arm and pointed slightly to the left. They were only a block away. Power rippled through his legs as he raced toward Bree. He couldn’t stop the similarities between this panicked run and his wife’s death. There shouldn’t be any similarities. Fiona had been diving. Bree was sleeping. Fiona had died on her own. Bree was struggling to survive against another man. Fiona’s had been an accident. Bree’s would be murder.

  And now that he’d listed all the reasons why they weren’t alike there was the one huge one that said they were so damn similar he couldn’t discount them – in Fiona’s case he’d been unable to help. Right now in Bree’s case he was unable to help.

  But he would be in a position to do so, in three…two…on–

  And that’s when he saw the flames.

  Oh no. Dear God. He didn’t think he could run any faster, but he flew toward the building. Fire raced from the back to the front of the wooden structure.

  The firebug was back.

  Where was Bree? Surely she wasn’t in the building. She’d been free to come and go when he left. Then again, she’d been prepared to sleep at that time.

  “Look at the door,” Evan shouted at him.

  Markus’s gaze zinged to the front door and his insides cramped into granite. A piece of wood had been shoved through both front handles effectively locking the door closed.

  And then he saw her – at the window inside trying to pull the bars off the window.

  Shit.

  “I’ll open the front door,” Markus said. “Find the asshole.”

  “On it.” Evan took off into a loop around the burning building, his gaze going from side to side.

  Markus raced to the front door. And wrenched the stick out.

  “Bree,” he yelled as he opened the door.

  “I’m here,” she cried out, her voice faint and raspy. The smoke billowed out. All he’d done was add oxygen to the flames inside.

  She came running toward him. “He locked me in. I couldn’t open the doors,” she cried out as she threw herself into his arms.

  He lifted her in one fell swoop and pivoted toward the front door. Just as he bolted through – he knew.

  Already in motion he threw the two of them to the ground, hating the pained sound of her cry as he hit the ground, pulling her down with him and rolling down behind the truck.

  He heard the shot.

  Hopefully she didn’t.

  He lifted his head slightly and watched as Evan tackled a man on the opposite side of the street. Two more trucks raced toward them. The lone fire truck sounded in the distance.

  “Bree? Are you okay?”

  She coughed and lifted her head to look down at him.

  “You knew and prepared to deal with this asshole waiting for us outside?” she asked incredulously. “It was all I could do but run in a panic and you were already dealing with the possibility? Are you crazy?”

  He groaned, his body sagging as another truck screamed to a stop beside them. Doors opened and Swede and Hawk raced to help Evan subdue the arsonist. He relaxed onto the ground and tugged her up close. “Are you hurt?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes.

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m okay. It’s the same man. I saw him outside. I couldn’t stop him.”

  He frowned because her voice said she wasn’t okay. A common enough phenomenon when someone came through a horrific event like this. Just by being alive they assumed they were not hurt when, in fact, they often were.

  He sat up slowly, shifting her around until she was sitting in his lap. As he made the last of the turn she cried out and reached for her ribs.

  Damn.

  She gasped, her face scrunched up before she buried her face in his neck.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Let’s get you up and check all of you over. We landed pretty hard. I tried to protect you…”

  Fingers slapped against his mouth. “I’m alive. Not burning alive so any aches and pains I have from the rescue are still a joy because it means I can feel them.”

  “Maybe.” He got to his feet as gently as he could and carried her away from where his men were dealing with the man they apprehended. There was a car parked on the side. He sat her on the hood.

  “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine,” she exclaimed.

  “No, you’re not.” He stared down at her. “And we’ll sit here until morning and I check it out to make sure for myself.”

  She glared at him.

  He stared back.

  Chapter 23

  She didn’t have any fight left in her, but damn it, she was a bag of bones. Who wanted to look at that? “What if I don’t want to?” she muttered halfheartedly.
/>   “Too bad. We could probably rustle up some food and coffee, but that would only be after you’re checked over.” He could hear his men approaching from behind.

  “It’s going to be one of us, so either me or one of my unit.”

  Instantly she threw her arms around him. “You.”

  “Then let me look.”

  She sighed and slowly lifted her shirt up, wincing at the movement. “It’s just a bruise.”

  He grabbed her shirt and lifted it up farther, his fingers carefully sliding along her ribs, looking for breaks and cracks. He checked her chest and back. When he stepped back, letting her pull her shirt down, she said, “See, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve likely got a cracked rib, if not two. At the very least they are badly bruised.”

  She glared at him. She’d suspected so but hadn’t wanted to make a fuss. Her bones broke easily now and ugly bruises that stayed colorful way past their time. It wasn’t the first time she’d had this kind of damage in the last year, and she’d heal. It would just take time. So no heavy lifting or bending over. She almost laughed. She could barely do either before this.

  “I’m going home to my father,” she said abruptly. “This is silly. I need to go to bed and stay there for a week.”

  A warm light came into his eyes. “I agree you do.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “And that will bring you much closer to me.”

  “And where are you?” She’d wondered where he lived. “My father lives just outside of San Diego.”

  He grinned. “Perfect. I’m in Coronado.”

  Well, perfect would be living in the same house, but as far as secondary options this was damn good. They’d be like an hour tops from each other. She gave a happy sigh. “Now all I have to do is get home.”

  She didn’t look forward to the long bus trip or the stopovers and possible connections she’d have to make, but there was no way she could fly on her pennies. At least she didn’t think so. She wasn’t going to ask her father. It was already enough that she’d need help when she got to his place. She had no clothes or computer or phone. All things that would have to be replaced.

  She shifted on the car hood and wondered if she’d ever get a good night’s sleep again. These last couple of days had been shit all around.

  “Markus, you all good?”

  “As good as can be,” he said calmly. “She’s got a couple of injured ribs from the hard landing.”

  The men turned those laser eyes on her. She wondered if that determination and casual can handle anything attitude was required before these men went into the military or if they taught it to them while there. These guys were navy supposedly, and yet they were training in Alaska at one of the military bases. She’d heard whispers about them being SEALs but even that didn’t mean much to her – just super special ops of some kind. Like Markus said, he’d killed people.

  “I wish you’d killed him,” she said, nodding toward the man being questioned right now.

  “Why?” Evan asked her.

  “So I know he’s not going to come after me again,” she said honestly. The man looked up and glared at her. “He’s the guy that broke into my room, hurt Doris, and burned down Boomer’s diner. And he was there at the diner that morning with the men who kidnapped me.”

  “He was?” someone behind her asked.

  “I didn’t remember because he wasn’t at the cabin. He had been there at the diner but left early with another man.”

  “Are you sure?” Markus asked carefully.

  She nodded. “I’m sure. There had been…let me think…” She closed her eyes and mentally returned to that morning when everything had blown up. “They sat in the far corner. All wanted coffees before ordering food. I brought three. Then this man and another arrived a few minutes later.”

  “So that’s all good. We got four men at the cabin, including Barry, and this one makes five.”

  “So we’re good then? We’ve got them all?”

  “No.” She looked at Markus then let her gaze drift from one tough face to another. “The two men that arrived late at the diner were never at the cabin. So unless you have a sixth man in custody, one is still out there.”

  The men exchanged grim looks.

  “Can you identify the missing man?” Markus asked. “From when you saw him at the diner?”

  She winced. “Yeah, I probably can. I have a really good memory.”

  “You mentioned that before.” He leaned forward and gently nudged her face toward him. “How good?”

  She sighed. “Basically, photographic. It’s why I do investments so well. I can remember the numbers and recognize patterns.”

  “Right.” Markus shook his head. “They knew too, didn’t they?”

  “I don’t know, but possibly.” She held up her hands. “The other two waitresses knew. They were talkers so it’s likely. Boomer used to bug me about it. Tease me. Test me. Flash me the front news page then have me read it out to him. It was a big joke to everyone,” she cried. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I was bugged enough about it growing up. Like I need more of that shit now.”

  Markus pulled her close. “It’s okay. But it might explain why they’ve been so adamant about taking you out.”

  “I can see pictures and images, words, but I can’t remember conversations,” she said. “So in what way was I a danger to them?”

  “If you overheard their conversations then maybe you do know more than you think you know.” Evan studied her curiously. “They might not know you don’t remember what you hear as well.”

  “Did you see anything they had on the table with them?”

  She yawned and stopped with her mouth open. “Plans. They had plans on the table. They moved the papers when I brought their food.”

  “Plans of what?”

  She stared at them, her mind going click click through the pages of her memories. “A bank. The Wells Fargo bank.”

  *

  That certainly explained why they were being persistent in going after Bree. At this point this was the only explanation that made any sense.

  “So they weren’t doing any protest about park land and oil and gas exploration,” Swede said. “Did we have the wrong end of the stick?”

  “No,” Markus said, anger threading through his voice. “We were given the wrong end of the stick.”

  “Barry?” Evan asked.

  “Just think. If they were planning a bank robbery–”

  “Multiple banks in a few hours apart. Same bank.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I had no idea what they were planning but when you asked, it just clicked. Because I see and remember what I see I have to have a filing system and put everything away very quickly. I can always pull it out again, but it’s overwhelming to keep in my short-term memory so I file it way. They meant nothing to me.”

  “Even after all you’ve been through it didn’t occur to you that bank plans might have been important?” Mason asked, his tone extremely polite.

  She flushed. “I might have but I have barely slept, and when I’m tired my mind doesn’t work right. So it’s just this big fog. But when someone asked about the papers on the table I could go and look at what they were.”

  The men stared at her in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t know it was important.”

  “And there’s no reason you should have,” Markus admitted. “You’ve been waitressing there for only a couple of weeks. Lots of people would have been through that diner carrying papers and books and all kinds of things. If you were to try to sort out the meaning of all of it, that’s going to be a lot.” He couldn’t imagine. Like her, he wouldn’t pay attention to very much. He couldn’t. He’d go crazy.

  “Maybe, but after being kidnapped I should have realized everything they were up to was important. But you were all talking about it being a protest and survivalists holing up etc., and I never thought it would be anything but that.”

  “And it might not be. Th
is could be where they were making plans for the next step in their operation.” Markus shrugged. “It’s too soon to make any kind of interpretation.”

  “Any idea who collected the papers and took them away with him?” Mason asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I delivered breakfast and asked them to move the plans so I could put the hot plates down.” She frowned, trying to remember. “There was an odd silence then, but they quickly cleaned everything up.”

  The men exchanged odd looks. Markus knew what they were thinking at that point. It was likely then that the men had decided kidnapping was the only option. Did Barry even know about their eventual plans, or was he part of it all?

  “We need to talk to Barry,” Markus said abruptly.

  Mason nodded. “I’ll find out where he is.”

  “Can you tell us anything else about the plans you saw?” That was Swede again.

  She pursed her lips. “They were blueprints of the buildings.”

  “More than one?”

  “Yes, maybe four. Could have been five.” She shrugged. “Honestly I couldn’t tell. They were on top of each other and rolled into one bundle.” She used her hands to describe the size. “I saw them laid out, and they all had the same name on top.”

  “Right.”

  “One man was writing a list,” she added. “The man that’s missing.”

  “Of course, how about an image of the man missing? Can you tell us what he looked like?”

  “Like Barry only slightly different. If I had to hazard a guess I’d say a brother. Both had the same mouth and eyes.”

  “Damn it.”

  “The list,” Swede prodded.

  She turned to face the big man then her eyes defocused and she stared, reciting, “More ammo, rope, pick up throw away phones, hockey bags, take the van for a tune up.”

  She stopped with a frown. “The bottom of the list was scribbled out so I couldn’t read it.”

  “That’s fine, we got the message. So they were planning to rob the bank and were using this location as their base with the protest as noise to cover their activities. Who’d know? It’s close enough to do the recon work and far enough away that no one would know where they were from. Easy access to Anchorage and a perfect location to get away to afterwards.” Markus added, “Not to mention who’d know if they slipped away and came back. The protestors would have been their alibis. Smart really. But the protest never gained much traction without them as key instigators and with the kidnapping moving their time frame ahead, it threw the rest of their plans in a mess. The protest was shut down fast.”