by Tiffany Snow
I walked forward until I stood next to her. Alexa followed, but at a slight distance, as though she didn’t trust Vega. She’d also taken the rifles from the fallen men. One was in her hands, the other slung over her back.
Glancing up at the screens, I searched them all. They were different security camera views of the exterior. One of them showed waves crashing against the cliff, which I thought a strange thing to capture . . . until I saw a man was strapped to the rocks, being pummeled with each wave.
“Devon! Oh my God!”
It was him. She’d manacled his wrists to the cliff on either side. He looked soaked through, but conscious.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried, grabbing Vega’s shoulder and spinning her around. “Are you trying to kill him?”
“He’s proving his loyalty to me,” she said. She looked at my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”
Her snarl didn’t faze me. “Oh I’ll do a lot more than touch you if you don’t get him off that cliff.”
“Threaten me all you like,” she dismissed. “You’re not going to kill me. You don’t have it in you.”
“But I do.” Alexa’s rifle was pointed at Vega. “And there’s not a soul who’d arrest me for it.”
“I always thought you had more panache, more style, than that,” Vega said. “Though you’ve turned into a whore since your Shadow days, so I could be wrong.”
I turned to Alexa. “Keep her here. I need to go get Devon.”
Alexa swung the rifle from over her shoulder and gave it to me. “There are three guards out there,” she said. “You’ll need this.”
Since I had no other option, I took it. I didn’t want to shoot anyone, but if it came down to their lives or saving Devon’s, there was no choice at all.
“Do you know how to use it?” she asked, then went on as if I’d said no. “The safety is here,” she pointed. “It’s off at the moment. The trigger is here and brace yourself when you shoot. It’ll knock you back some.”
“Okay.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t knock me on my ass.
Hurrying to the elevator, I punched the button and waited impatiently for it to rise. When I stepped out, I had my first encounter with one of the guards. His back was to me, which gave me a split-second advantage before he turned to see who was getting out.
I didn’t shoot him. Instead, I turned the butt of the rifle toward him and jabbed at his face. It made contact with his nose and blood spurted. He stumbled back, his hands flying upward to his face, which was a mistake.
I used the butt again, shoving it as hard as I could into his solar plexus. He bent over and I used it again on the back of his neck like I’d seen Alexa do. He went down and didn’t get up.
My hands were shaking with adrenaline and fear, but terror for Devon outweighed them all. I’d do whatever I needed to do in order to get him off that cliff.
The rain hadn’t let up and I started shivering as the icy drops hit me. The other two guards were nowhere around, and I wondered if they had deserted Vega, too.
In the dark and rain, it was nearly impossible to see. But what did capture my attention were the headlights bouncing down the road toward me.
Shit! Now what?
I hurried to the side of the building so the headlights wouldn’t illuminate me, and waited. I wanted to gnash my teeth in frustration at the delay. But my getting caught or captured might leave Devon to die.
The car doors slammed and I heard voices as men got out. I couldn’t discern their words over the rain, but one voice was familiar.
Beau. He could help me.
Peeking out from my hiding place, I saw it was him and another man, an older man, who looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t recognize him at this distance or in the dark.
“Beau!” I called, stepping out. His head whipped toward me, as did his gun arm. I swallowed, holding up my arms. “It’s me. Ivy.”
The other man had stopped to look, too, as I approached. Beau lowered his weapon.
“How’d you get here so fast?” I asked. “I thought you went to bring help.”
“I did,” he said, then pointed at the man with him. “I brought Mark Clay, Devon’s grandfather.”
Devon’s grandfather?” I echoed in stunned disbelief. “But how . . . ?”
“Mark worked as an informant for the CIA for a while under another name,” Beau said. “Once Elva told us the story, I remembered something about a high-value informant from the Shadow. So I got a hold of my station chief and went and picked up Mark here. Thought maybe he could help us.”
“We need to help Devon first,” I said, then explained what I’d seen on the screen. “So he’s somewhere off the side of the cliff, but I don’t know where, and I know I’m not strong enough to pull him up.”
“I know where he is,” Mark said, his jaw tight. “Follow me.”
For a man in his sixties, he was spry and attractive, tall with salt-and-pepper hair and the lean, muscular frame of a younger man.
The rain had finally let up to a heavy mist, so it was easier to follow Mark down the hill toward the cliffs. To my surprise, he found his way unerringly in the dark to a nearly obscured path that wound downward. Wide enough for only one person at a time, we went single file. To my right was a sheer drop onto the waves pounding against the rocks. On my left was the sheer face of the cliff.
I swallowed hard as I brought up the rear. I was terrified of heights and on the verge of panic. I had to focus on Devon and getting to him—that was the only way I’d get through this.
It seemed to take forever, each step perhaps being my last, when finally Mark halted.
“He’s there,” he said, pointing.
Beyond the end of the path was an empty space, then a platform where Devon was bound. His head hung low on his chest and I caught my breath in dismay.
“Okay, I’ll go over and unlock him,” Beau said to Mark. “You be ready to grab him from me.”
Mark nodded and Beau took a running leap across the chasm, landing at Devon’s feet. I held my breath as he skidded on the wet rocks, but he caught himself. Devon stirred then, his head lifting. I realized he wasn’t shivering, which was a bad sign. Hypothermia could’ve set in by now.
“’Bout time you showed up,” Devon said weakly. “It’s been a bit dull without you.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Beau replied, getting to his feet. He pulled something out of his pocket and went to work on the manacles. He had them undone in moments and Devon collapsed against him, his knees buckling.
“Easy there, buddy,” Beau said. “Let’s get you out of here. C’mon, wake up. Your girl is right there, waiting for you. You don’t want to look like a pussy, right? Man up.”
I knew Beau was trying to get a reaction from Devon so he’d have the strength to jump the empty space to where Mark and I stood. Devon lifted his head and peered our way. He looked past Mark, his gaze finding mine.
“You were supposed to look after her,” he rasped to Beau. “Not drag her here.”
“Talk to Alexa. I didn’t have a choice.”
“I’m going to need to collect your man card, my friend.”
“Since you’re well enough to insult me, then you’re well enough to haul your ass back over there,” Beau said, nodding toward the chasm. “I’d advise a running start at it.”
Devon nodded and I was terrified as he took a couple of steps back. He swiped a hand over his face to remove some of the water and rain, then I saw his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. He took off and I stopped breathing altogether.
He didn’t go far enough. His hands caught at the edge of where we stood and I screamed. Mark was there, though, flat on his stomach and his hands around Devon’s wrists. I hurried to help, dropping down and holding on to Mark’s legs. I felt him pulling on Devon and I held on with everything I had. I couldn’t lose Devon. Not like this.
Inch by agonizing inch, Mark pulled Devon up until Devon was able to grab a better hold and pull himself onto the
path. He rolled over onto his back, just breathing. His clothes were soaked and torn, mud streaking the cloth as well as his skin.
Beau landed next to him a moment later, having made the jump back easily, and helped Devon to his feet. Devon looked at Mark.
“I should thank you, but I don’t know who you are.”
“Mark Clay.” Mark held his hand, but Devon just stared at him.
“Mark . . . Clay,” Devon repeated. “My . . . grandfather.”
Mark’s nod was solemn. “Indeed.”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “Elizabeth never told me you survived the attack on Dillon . . . on our son.”
“So my parents were killed because of you both,” Devon argued. “Why?”
“I was the first commander of the Shadow,” Mark answered me. “Begun during the Cold War, it was meant to be more secret and black than even MI6. Politicians talk and too many people knew too much. The Shadow had only one commander, with agents at my disposal, and no one knew more than was necessary.
“In the eighties, the Shadow had infiltrated the IRA and our source was very highly placed. It wasn’t until Elizabeth came to work for me that I realized that our agent was also our son.”
Devon’s father had been a Shadow agent. Suddenly, it all began to make sense.
Mark continued his story. “Elizabeth wanted him pulled out—the situation was dangerous—but he refused and I backed him. It was the wrong decision. His cover was blown, and before we could warn him, they killed him.”
“My father was an agent?”
“Yes, he was. After he was killed, Elizabeth and I had a terrible falling out. She blamed me for Dillon’s death. In the end she orchestrated a coup and took over the Shadow and put a hit out on me.
“I faked my death, let her think she got me, and went to work for the CIA, spending the rest of the eighties and early nineties fighting the Cold War. Frankly, I never expected to see Elizabeth again, and she never told me that you’d survived. If she had, I swear, Devon, I would have come for you. Raised you properly.”
The two men stared at each other and Devon finally gave a curt nod, then held out his hand. Mark clasped it, then pulled Devon toward him for an ever-so-brief British man-hug.
“Can we finish this touching family reunion up above?” Beau asked. “I’d rather not meet my maker tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” Devon said. “You’d be heading somewhere further south.”
I smiled tightly at his joke, glad he could still give Beau a hard time even though he was as white as a sheet and had to be freezing.
Mark led the way back up again and I breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the top.
“Let me have that, darling,” Devon said quietly, taking the rifle from me. I let him. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to use it, but I was positive if a situation came up where we needed it, he’d be a better shot than me.
I was following the men, lagging a little because, hello, I wasn’t in as good shape as they were. When we got to the top, I paused to catch my breath.
Suddenly, an arm went around my neck and I was hauled back. I started to struggle, but felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing against my temple.
“I’d love to shoot you, child, so I’d suggest you start cooperating and don’t give me an excuse.”
Vega. I froze. Where was Alexa? What had happened to her?
“I see you didn’t learn your lesson, Devon,” Vega called out. All three men turned around. I heard Vega’s sharp intake of breath. Then she pressed the gun deeper into my skin and I winced at the pain. “No . . .” she whispered. “It can’t be . . .”
“Elizabeth,” Mark said, walking back toward us, stopping while still a few yards away. “It’s good to see you again.”
Vega didn’t immediately reply.
“But . . . you’re dead,” she said.
“As you can see, I’m in perfect health.”
“Maybe I should shoot you instead,” she said bitterly.
“After all these years, you still blame me for Dillon’s death?”
“I told you to get him out!”
“And it was his choice to stay,” Mark countered. “He knew the dangers of the job.”
“He was our son—”
“And this is our grandson,” Mark interrupted. “Your fear of losing him has consumed you. You’ve got to let Devon go.”
Beau and Devon inched farther apart to flank Mark, Devon’s rifle at the ready.
“Don’t move!” Vega cried out, obviously spotting their intentions. “Move one step further and I’ll blow her head off.” Her arm tightened around my neck so it was hard to breathe.
The men stopped in their tracks. Devon’s hard gaze was on Vega, his jaw locked tight. He held the rifle steady despite what he’d just endured.
“But I found him, Mark,” she said. “I found Devon—”
“And now what are you doing? Torturing him? Holding the girl with a gun to her head?”
“I’ve lost everyone,” Vega said, and her voice sounded strangled. “My mother, Dillon, you. Devon’s all I have left.”
Vega might have been having an epiphany or existential crisis or whatever, but I’d had just about enough of her using me as a hostage. God only knew what she would do next. And my life was already forfeit, so it wasn’t as though I was really losing anything that wouldn’t be lost anyway. Only this way, I’d be choosing the manner and time of my death.
I wanted to take a deep breath, but didn’t dare. That might alert her that I was about to move. Instead, I sent up a quick prayer, then acted.
Jerking my head back toward Vega, I grabbed her wrist just as she reflexively pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, thank God, because my head was now out of the direct line of fire. I twisted her wrist and arm around and down behind her back and she cried out in pain, dropping the weapon. In a flash, I’d snatched it up and was pointing it at her.
She stepped backward, away from me, and I saw the cliff behind her.
“No, stop!” I called, but it was too late. Her heel hit the edge and the ground crumbled beneath her feet. In the blink of an eye, she was lost to view.
I ran forward and fell to my knees at the cliff’s edge. Peering over, I saw Vega had managed to grab on to an outcropping of rock. She hung, suspended in midair. Quickly, I set aside the pistol and reached for her.
“Take my hand,” I said. “I’ll pull you up.”
But she didn’t. Instead, she looked past me to Mark and Devon.
“Move,” Devon said to me, but he didn’t wait for me to respond. He picked me up and set me aside.
Mark was already down on the ground, reaching for Vega. Devon held on to his legs as Mark hauled her up until they were both lying on the sodden grass, panting from exertion and adrenaline.
Devon rose and took me in his arms. We held each other so tight, I would’ve crawled inside his skin, if I could’ve. He was soaked and so was I, but I could feel warmth from his skin. For a moment, I just closed my eyes and savored it. I hadn’t told him what Vega had said about the vaccine. It could wait. Nothing could change what was going to happen anyway.
“All these years,” I heard Vega saying to Mark, “you let me believe I was alone, that you were dead. How could you do that to me?”
“You couldn’t forgive me,” Mark said.
“I couldn’t forgive you, but I never stopped loving you.” I was shocked to hear tears in Vega’s voice. “I just couldn’t be weak anymore. Being weak cost me our baby. It cost me you, for a long time. And then we lost our son all over again.”
I felt an unwilling pang of empathy. I knew what it felt like to be weak and at the mercy of others.
Sirens, in the distance, approached us. I knew who it was, because I had called them. Extradition to America was easy if you were a wanted fugitive.
“They’ll arrest you, darling,” Mark said. “For your father’s murder and a thousand other things. You’ll be
vilified in the press and the trial will drag on for years.”
“Not exactly the ending I’d had in mind,” she said, a bit of her wry sarcasm back as she glanced at the headlights, still a ways off.
“I’d hoped one day we’d find our way back to each other,” Mark said, taking her hands in his. “Every second without you over the years has been excruciating.”
Vega looked at him. “I don’t want to go to prison.”
“Then you know what we have to do,” Mark said. Vega nodded.
“Wait, what are you going to do?” Devon asked, letting go of me and taking a few steps toward the couple. Mark had an arm around her shoulders and Vega had both hers around his waist. That’s when I noticed he’d picked up the revolver I’d left on the ground.
“Stop right there, Devon,” Mark said. “Don’t come any closer.”
“What are you doing?” Devon asked again. He had to speak louder because the sirens were almost upon us.
“What we should’ve done a long time ago,” Mark said, gazing down fondly into Vega’s eyes. The look on her face was one of peace. “Ready, my love?”
“No! Wait—”
But Mark had already raised the revolver, and instead of shooting Vega, then himself, as I’d expected, he aimed for something on the ground. I had a split second to see it was one of those artillery shells Alexa had told me about. Then Devon was knocking me to the ground, his body covering mine.
The report of the revolver was immediately followed by an explosion that shook the ground. Bits of mud and rock rained down on us, Devon taking the brunt of it. When it finally stopped, my ears were ringing.
I sat up, afraid to look to the spot where Vega and Mark had stood. I expected . . . I don’t know. Blood? Body parts? Something. Instead, there was nothing there but burnt grass.
Devon got to his feet and helped me up, too. The sirens were muted now, the cars parked and men in uniform filing toward us. Devon and I walked to the edge of the cliff.
“The impact must have blown them off the cliff,” he said, peering down at the crashing waves.
