THE DEFENDER

by Adrienne Giordano

  Cooked.

  He dialed Brent, who answered after two rings. “What’s up?”

  “I’m in. Up on the southeast bluff. Can’t go anywhere, though, or I’ll be burned. No place to hide once I hit the road.”

  “Can you see her?”

  “No. What’s your status?”

  “I got you a truck. The driver is not too happy. We’re seven minutes out. Give or take.”

  Nice. Russ bumped his fist against the steering wheel. Finally a break.

  “Okay. Call me when you’re here. Once we get confirmation on Zac, we’ll drive right in like we’re here on business.”

  “Hey, we’re not bringing the driver in there. No way. Can you drive this thing?”

  I think so. “I used to drive a flatbed tow truck for the garage where my dad worked. I’ll figure it out.”

  “You sure?”

  “I have to be. We can’t leave her down there alone.”

  * * *

  PENNY PARKED BESIDE the office and turned off the engine. Here we go. She studied the layout of the dilapidated building. Small porch. Not even a chair would fit. Two windows to the left of the door. One to the right. That one was cracked and had a closed sign in front of the shade. They all have shades. No sign of a rifle barrel anywhere. That was good because, at the moment, she made an easy target. She looked up. No one on the roof.

  These thoughts. What nonsense. If they intended to kill her, she’d be dead already. The goon she’d spotted standing at the rear of the building when she’d parked was enough of an indication of that.

  Just ahead, the freshly painted steps were the only part of this dump that looked sturdy. The dwelling couldn’t have been more than three rooms. Could be good. Could be bad.

  The door opened and Penny stopped two feet before reaching the steps. If they wanted to kill me, they’d have done it already. She focused on that thought, let it take root, let it bring alive the in-command-lawyer part of her rather than the terrified victim. Lawyer Penny could handle this.

  She breathed in, watched as a tall man with dark hair stepped into view. He wore jeans and a loose T-shirt. Thin build.

  Heath.

  “Lovely Penny,” he said in that annoying soft voice he probably thought was charming. “Welcome. Please, come in.”

  “Where’s Zac?”

  Heath swung sideways, waved her in. “He’s in here.”

  Penny stayed put. If she stepped into that office, he’d likely shut the door behind her and she and Zac would both be trapped. If Zac was even in there.

  “Zac?” she hollered.

  “I’m here” came the immediate reply.

  Her brother’s voice, strong and direct, just as he sounded in court. If he were in pain, she’d hear it. Or sense it. Something. A rush of relief shot up her back, somehow lifted her higher, strengthened her. He’s alive.

  “Let’s do this outside,” she told Heath.

  “No.”

  Again with controlling the environment. Heath always managed the upper hand. That had to stop. But now, with Zac inside, she wasn’t sure what choice she had. Plus, Russ was here. With backup. Watching and waiting.

  Penny stepped forward, climbed the stairs and entered the office. A blast of frigid air surrounded her as the ancient air conditioner above her head cranked and whined. When she breathed in, the unmistakable intake of dust traveled down her throat. On her left was a desk piled high with papers. Down the short hallway, she saw a second metal desk and beside it sat Zac, his big body consuming the narrow chair.

  She charged toward him, wobbling on the stupid stilt shoes as she ran. Zac’s wrists were zip-tied, the plastic cutting into his skin, leaving his flesh pink and swollen on the sides. He brought his bound hands up just as she entered the tiny room, and the barrel of a rifle swung into view.

  “Stay back,” Zac said.

  She turned toward the weapon being held by one of Heath’s flunkies, an average-size guy with light brown hair and a long, narrow face, standing in the corner. Could he be the courthouse shooter? The man grinned at her—vile man—and she turned back to Zac.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, and despite his wrinkled shirt and missing jacket, not to mention the mussed hair, he appeared unharmed.

  She faced Heath. “Here’s the deal. When I take him out of here, Elizabeth disappears. No testifying. I keep any evidence she has. Call it my safety net. If anything happens to her or anyone I care about, I turn that evidence over to the FBI.”

  “Or I could kill you both right here.”

  He could. “But you won’t because you don’t know where that evidence is. Elizabeth will still disappear and you’ll wonder what safeguards I’ve established. I can tell you, if I don’t walk out of here with my brother, you’re going to prison. Bet on it.”

  * * *

  RUSS, BRENT AND a highly agitated thirtysomething truck driver stood on an obscure dirt road a mile from the quarry while Russ stared up at the giant 18-wheeler Brent had commandeered.

  An 18-wheeler. Not only had it been ten years since he’d driven a truck, he’d never attempted anything this size. But hey, now would be as good a time as any.

  “Seriously, dude,” the truck driver said. “I got a load that needs to be delivered by six. My boss will kill me.”

  Russ ditched his tie and started unbuttoning his dress shirt. “No, he won’t. You’ll stay here. I’m driving. The FBI will take responsibility.”

  Sure they will. Russ Voight, the man who brought down the Chicago field office.

  He stripped down to his undershirt and tossed the dress shirt into his car. When he drove into the quarry, anyone who spotted him would see a man in a white T-shirt rather than clothing that screamed FBI.

  “I’m going with you,” Brent said.

  “Uh, no. It’ll look suspicious if there are two.”

  “You’re not going in alone. Besides, she’s my responsibility.”

  Russ glanced up, saw the set jaw and knew Brent wouldn’t cave. This was a matter of pride. Penny had been under his protection and he’d lost her—a macho-code violation for sure. Russ would feel the same way.

  “Fine. But you squat on the floor.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Hell if I know. We’re driving in and drawing them out of that office. He’s got men watching. A truck entering will rattle them, but it’s not totally out of the realm of reason.”

  “And once we get in there?”

  “No clue.”

  Brent huffed, “Great.”

  “Hey, I’m open to ideas, but until we get there, we don’t know. There’s men on the north and southeast bluffs. They’ve got us.” Russ turned to the truck driver. “You stay here.”

  The guy nodded.

  Good enough. “Let’s roll.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We got a problem,” someone barked through Heath’s radio.

  Penny stood still, no twitching fingers, no scrunching her nose, no tapping foot, nothing that would indicate any form of a reaction.

  Heath ripped the radio from his belt and hit the button. “What?”

  “There’s a truck coming through the gate.”

  Russ.

  Heath swung to the ape with the rifle. “What the hell is this, now?”

  The guy shrugged. “I’ll check it out.”

  “There’s nothing on the schedule.” He jerked his chin toward Zac and Penny. “We’ll lock them in here and both go.”

  Yes, please. Lock us in. It would give them a second to form some kind of a plan as Russ drove whatever truck they’d confiscated down that treacherous entry road.

  And heaven help him if he couldn’t control that thing, because he’d tumble off the side of the qua
rry. She held her breath a second, refusing to show any emotion until Heath and his goon left.

  When the lock snicked from the outer hallway, she spun to Zac, bent low next to his ear. “It’s Russ driving that truck.”

  Zac nodded. “Check the desk. See if there’s a scissors or something to cut these zip ties. We need to get outta here.”

  “How?”

  He gestured to the wall and the door with a full glass panel in the middle. “Through there. It’s locked, but we can break the glass.”

  Penny turned to the glass door and her stomach clenched. Her brother was suddenly delusional. Still, she raced to the desk, rifled through the thin drawer on the underside of the desk. No scissors. Quickly, she checked the side drawers. “How are we getting through the glass?”

  “It’s a cheap door. Get my hands free and I’ll toss the chair through it. Hurry up, Pen.”

  She closed the last drawer and checked under the files on top of the desk. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Forget it. I’ll work around the ties.”

  “How?”

  Zac twisted his hands and clamped each one clawlike around the top rung of the chair. “Like that. Back up.”

  Using little effort, he swung the chair once, then a second time to get some momentum.

  “Zac, be...”

  Crash. The chair sailed through the glass that rained down in varying chunks and shards and landed with a tinkling sound all around.

  “Careful.”

  “Go, Pen!”

  She grabbed his arm and the two of them leaped through the open frame to the small porch. Her left foot wobbled—stupid shoes—and her ankle gave way. She stumbled as her ankle collapsed and a piercing pain shot up her calf. “Ow.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Twisted my ankle. Damned heels.”

  Ditch the shoes. She kicked her shoes off, felt a stab of glass on the ball of her foot—worry about it later—and ran toward Dad’s car. Zac ran beside her, clearly not willing to pass her despite his much longer legs being able to make it happen. Her brother never left her stranded. Never.

  From the opposite side of the office, Heath rounded the corner, a pistol in his hand. He halted and aimed the gun at Penny, tracking her movements as she ran. No, no, no.

  “Stop,” Heath said, his voice low and calm and cutting. “Or I kill her right here.”

  Madman. “Go, Zachary. He won’t do it.”

  “Yeah, I will. At this point, my options are dwindling. If killing you both means getting out of here, I’ll do it.”

  “The trucker,” Penny said.

  “Another body won’t matter.”

  * * *

  “STAY DOWN,” RUSS muttered to Brent, who had squeezed his giant body into the passenger-side floorboard.

  “Roger that.”

  Russ hit the brake, jerking the big rig as he maneuvered down the treacherous road. If he hit a hole the wrong way, the truck could drop into the pit.

  “Don’t kill us,” Brent said.

  Russ grunted. Brent would pay for that later. He hit the gas and focused on the road ahead. Almost there.

  Movement to the left of the office drew his gaze. “What the hell?”

  “What?”

  “A chair just flew through a window. Or maybe a door. Can’t tell. Oh, crap. Zac jumped out. With Penny.”

  Get there. Russ pressed the accelerator, shifting fast. Grinding the gear wasn’t stellar—damn—but the big tires dug in, sending the truck roaring forward. Another sixty yards and they’d hit the bottom of the road and have a flat surface straight to Penny and Zac.

  Two men tore around the building. One appeared to be Heath, but from this distance, Russ couldn’t be sure. One man carried a rifle, the other a handgun. The one with the handgun stopped, brought the gun up toward Penny’s and Zac’s chests. Russ banged on the steering wheel, trying to breathe, but nothing. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  He’d watch her tiny body drop, that blond hair flying and blood seeping from her as she went down. She’d die in front of him and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t help her, couldn’t stop it. I never said it. Never told her he loved her. She’d die and he’d never said it.

  In front of him, Penny kept running. As usual, pressing on, because that was what Killer Cupcake did. She never gave up. Suddenly, Russ’s chest unlocked and a burst of oxygen shot into his lungs.

  “Go!” he hollered as if she could hear him.

  Penny ran toward her father’s Mercedes and the second guy, the one with the rifle, aimed right at her. Stop him.

  Russ sat on the truck’s horn, the sound filling his head, slamming around. The unsub spun to the truck, fired off a round. Russ flinched and the blast shattered the truck’s windshield, sending shards of glass flying. He reared back, thankful for the sunglasses protecting his eyes, and ripped his Glock from his waist holster.

  “Damn it!” Brent hollered, scrambling up from the floorboard.

  “He’s at two o’clock,” Russ said. “Two o’clock.”

  The truck bounced and Russ held the wheel steady. Aim low. If he aimed low, when the truck moved upward, the shot would come up to meet his target. Wait for it. Now. Boom, boom, boom—three shots—dead ahead.

  Missed.

  Brent fired three rounds. Another loud boom sounded from the bluff and the target dropped, his body crumpling to the ground. Someone got him.

  With Brent offering cover, Russ set his Glock in his lap to shift and swung the truck toward the two men chasing Penny and Zac. He blasted the horn again, the truck’s engine roaring as the guy chasing Penny—presumably Heath—body-slammed her into the Mercedes.

  Now I’m pissed. Every moment spent pursuing this animal funneled into a series of hot stabs carving him right down the middle. A vision of shoving Heath into a cell, a cold, filthy cell, and mashing his face into the wall, letting him get a taste of the misery, popped into Russ’s mind. He’d find him the worst prison he could. No country clubs.

  He slammed the truck to a stop. “You’ve got Zac,” he said as he jumped from the cab.

  “On it.” Brent charged to the second guy, who’d tackled Zac and was still on the ground.

  Heath glanced back, spotted Russ and—yow—hauled Penny up by her hair, swung her around and held her in front of him, the barrel of his gun shoved at her neck.

  Russ slid a glance right. Brent. Gun. Second guy down. Weapon secured. Cuff him.

  It’s me and Heath now. And the agents on the bluff. But Penny was too close. If they took a shot and missed, they’d kill her. Still, with her small size, Heath had a good ten inches on her.

  Make this shot.

  Penny stood in front of Heath, her cheeks hollowed, jaw set, eyes focused on him. And if he knew her at all, thinking about how to get herself out of this mess.

  Russ raised his Glock, trained it on Heath’s head. Penny’s gaze shot left, right and down. “Russ?”

  “Shut up!” Heath hollered.

  And if Russ wasn’t mistaken, Heath’s gun hand quivered. Add to that the sweat pouring down his face and his damp hair and the guy had a mountain of stress indicators. Nervous.

  Nervous men got amped-up trigger fingers.

  He checked on Penny and her gaze drifted down again. Definitely a message.

  “Let her go, Heath. This is over. You’re leaving here in a body bag or cuffs. Your choice.”

  Heath yanked on Penny’s hair again—one wicked thrust—and her eyes flew open. She made a hissing sound and Russ checked his gun sights again. Just give me the shot.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted Brent rolling the other guy to his belly and cuffing his hands behind his back. The big marshal stood tall and pointed at Zac, who also still had his hands zip-tied.

  “
Sit on him if you have to, but make sure he doesn’t move,” Brent told Zac.

  Wasting no time, Zac marched over and did as he was told.

  Brent turned his sidearm on Heath, who angled Penny so he could see Russ and Brent. “Nobody moves!”

  Again Penny looked down, then came back to Russ. “Russ?”

  “You’re okay,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

  She brought her foot up and—oofff—slammed her bare heel into Heath’s shin. Nice. The woman was fierce. Her kick slid away, but Heath bucked, gave Penny a second to shift right, far enough where Russ could get a shot off and not hit her. All movement slowed, the air became still, voices muffled as Penny swung an elbow and Russ focused on his target, focused on that spot on his forehead that would send him lights out. Penny’s too close. He shifted to his right—gotta aim right—and crack. The sound of the shot echoed through the quarry. Focus, focus, focus. The bullet connected just above Heath’s left eye, he stumbled back, his eyes rolling. Down he went.

  Brent charged in, sidearm drawn, while Russ gave cover. Penny stood to the side, her face white, eyes flat and dead as she took in the chaos. “You’re okay,” he said, refusing to go to her until Brent had given him the go sign. The marshal reached Heath, bent low, checked his pulse.

  “We’re clear,” he said.

  Dead. For the first time in Russ’s career, he’d killed a man. Later, he’d figure out what to do with the emotions involved in that. Later...

  He turned to Zac, still literally sitting on their suspect. “You good?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Take care of Penny.”

  Sirens blared from the top of the pit, the sound drawing closer as the seconds ticked by. The other agents would help clear the area, make sure they’d gotten all the unsubs. No runners. Not this time. Russ wanted them all.

  Penny remained in her spot, still with the stoic eyes staring down at Heath’s dead body. He’d terrorized her. Put fear into her. And now he was a bloody stump.

  “Penny?” Russ said, finally drawing her attention.

  “He’s dead?”

  “He is.”

  Russ glanced at her feet, where blood drops dotted the ground. He rushed over. Grabbed her arm and squeezed. “You’re bleeding.”