by CJ Snyder
Which was exactly where he wanted her. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling her wonderful, if dusty, scent, until her urgent whisper stopped him cold. Then he closed his left hand around her arm and jerked her away to stare at her. “How do you know it was her?”
She looked utterly disgusted for just a moment and then smiled. “You made her chili. And from the look on her face that wasn’t all you were cookin’ that day.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of a torn, dirty jacket and lifted. “This is hers. And these shoes. I think they took my shoes. We couldn’t find them.”
Max knees smacked hard, right on the cold concrete floor of the old gas station. It didn’t occur to him to reprimand her for her inappropriate comment. He touched the black fleece that fell nearly to Lizzie’s knees. She’d told Reicher she was going to get Lizzie. “Where is she?”
Lizzie positively beamed. “I can show you.”
He shook his head, brain whirling. Was Vic with her? Helping her? “Tell me.”
She shook her head right back at him. “Can’t. It’s down a street, and through a field, and another field, and across another a street, and then there’s twelve trees and then you get to the wall–“ She smiled smugly at his look of bewilderment. “See, I told you. I have to show you. We’re like partners. My job is to get you. And we have to hurry. Vic’s gonna–“ She frowned when Max’s hand bit into her arm. “Ow, that hurts.”
This time Max didn’t apologize. “Vic?”
Lizzie nodded again. “Vic. He’s the bad one.”
Max bit back the curse that boiled up inside. Lizzie wasn’t finished.
“He’s gonna be real mad when he finds out I’m gone. I’m afraid he’s gonna–he’ll hurt her.” Her eyes flooded again and Max yanked her back into his arms. Why hadn’t he brought his rifle? He bent to lift Lizzie in his arms and spied the toes of his boots. It would have to be enough. Lizzie was right. They had to hurry.
Chapter Seventeen
Max bought milk, donuts, a flashlight, and with another glance at Lizzie’s foot, a bottle of extra-strength pain medicine. He paid the kid behind the counter his fifty bucks and drove Lizzie back to the last field she’d crossed, parking close enough to the last street light that he could see her, but far enough away that the car wasn’t clearly outlined.
Lizzie was eating like she hadn’t been fed in days, and he waited until she slowed down, enjoying just the sight of her, even while worry for Kat loomed larger and larger. The entire time he drove and enjoyed and worried, he gathered information, translating Lizzie’s offhand comments into solid data. Four guards rotated duty inside the house. Walled compound. Rifles. Hand guns. And Victor Fordon running the show.
“She is pretty, Uncle Max. I like her.”
Max watched Lizzie lick gooey white filling from a finger after her fifth Twinkie. “Me too.” He cleared his throat. “We should have washed your hands.”
“We should be going. What’s Kat’s house like? She said you were staying with her. Is it nice? This is her fleece. She gave it to me so my t-shirt wouldn’t shine.”
“Lizard.”
“What?” She flashed him the most guilty smile he’d ever seen.
“Button it, would you? I’m trying to figure this out.”
“The rescue?” At his glance, she lifted her fingers to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”
“Tell me about the yard.”
“I only saw the back. There’s the house, then another building more toward the front. I don’t know what’s in front of that. They knew our code, Max. Did I tell you that?”
It shouldn’t have surprised him. He should have figured she wouldn’t just go with a stranger. But he hadn’t. “How did they know?” The question was out before he could stop it. He was asking a ten year old for the answers now? Time to go.
“I don’t know. Kat was surprised, too, when I told her. Course she didn’t know about the code. She doesn’t have kids. Do you think she wants any?”
Max placed one finger over her perpetually moving lips, and then eased the rebuff by stroking her cheek. “Missed you, sweetheart.”
“I missed you, too. But we need to go get Kat now.”
“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to make two phone calls, and then you’re going to sit right here, with the doors locked, holding my phone, until I come back.”
“But--”
Max shook his head. “No buts. Quiet now, while I call.”
Viper first. He got voice mail, but Viper called him back even before Max could dial Reicher. He rapidly filled him in, gave him the approximate location of the compound.
“Let us pick you up, Ice.”
“I’m nearly there. Meet you?”
Viper chuckled. “Yeah. Just like old times. I’ll meet you there.”
Dialing Reicher, Max repeated his information. The detective wasn’t as accommodating as Viper.
“Stay where you are, Max. We’ll take care of it.”
He cursed the static that interfered with Reicher’s voice. “I’m going in, Reicher. Bring SWAT. Sounds to me like they’re loaded for bear. I’ve got guys from my old unit meeting us too, but the more the merrier.”
“Crayton!”
Max flipped his phone shut. He turned to Lizzie, who wasn’t looking nearly as calm and compliant as he’d hoped. He cleared his throat, preparing for a fight. “Now, honey, I know—”
“Just go, already.” She grabbed the phone from his hand. “I’ll stay. Until you come back. The new code is chili.” Lizzie touched his leg. “Don’t let them hurt her, Uncle Max.”
Pale light simmered at the horizon as he climbed out and closed the door of his rental car. He motioned for Lizzie to lock the doors and she did with the touch of a button. She shooed him away but he didn’t go until he saw her cross her heart and give him a thumb’s up. Only then did he make his way to the field.
Lizzie’s trail of reflective tape shone like a beacon. The scary bedtime tales she’d always loved had finally paid off. It wasn’t until he’d crossed the road and picked up the trail on the other side that he realized the path she’d laid out could just as easily been used to track her. Max shut the thought away. He needed Ice. Ice didn’t have a daughter. Ice didn’t need the lady psychiatrist Max couldn’t live without. For the last time in his life, he dug into the dark recesses of his soul, resurrecting the sniper who wouldn’t die.
##
Ice approached the back of the compound, staying low. Two men were near the property’s perimeter. Ice didn’t have a gun, but that wasn’t a problem. Objective number one: take out the man on the left. Garner weapons. Take out the man on the right. Use of weapons would be back up only. His best weapon was surprise. Any noise would spoil that.
The guards seemed jubilant. Aware, but just too happy. One lowered his weapon to light a cigarette. Ice frowned and crept closer, wishing he had his scope, visualizing the action to come. One. Two. Lights out. Three to go. He wouldn’t waste a bullet on Vic. The adrenalin he felt inside alone was enough to rip Vic’s head off, even with his injuries.
He crouched behind one corner of the back wall. There were two outbuildings he could see from here, not one. Other than that, Lizzie’s description was picture perfect. He could hear the guards now, talking about an easy coup.
“That guy’s face—begging Viper not to shoot.”
Viper? Some of the pressure in Max’s chest began to lift.
The guard’s companion chuckled. “Haven’t had one this easy in a decade. Too bad Ice isn’t here to see it.”
“Ice? Here?” The young guard’s voice filled with awe. “I thought he was dead. Years ago.”
“I’d heard that too, but he’s not dead any more. The woman in the house? Viper hinted she’s his.”
The speaker was Crater, the explosives specialist for his old team. Viper had beaten him here. It was over. Max closed his eyes in relief. The woman in the house had to be Kat.
“Did you see her? If she is Ice’s girl, it’s good he’s no
t here.”
Had they arrived too late? He’d see for himself. Max banished Ice and stood, vaulting over the wall, heedless of how his ribs and wrist screamed protest. “But I am here, Crater.
“Ice! Is that really you? It’s been years.”
“It would appear I missed the party.”
Crater swept the yard with his rifle, disgust riding his features. “Weren’t no party, man. Bunch of kids playing soldier and one old man. English guy. Thought he’d scream when Viper shoved a pistol up his nose.” He touched a button on the microphone wrapped around one ear. “He’s here. We’re coming in. Right. Rear. Over.”
“Is Ghost here?” For all the warm welcome, Max didn’t particularly like Crater. He never had. No one was better at blowing stuff up, but Crater was not usually in charge of intel. That was Ghost’s job. Max had–and would–trust Ghost with his life. With Kat’s life. If he was inside with her, she’d be fine now.
“He’s expected. Shouldn’t be long. He’s on clean-up.”
Clean-up. That sounded like Ghost. Intel, no one better.
Max glanced at the other solider, who hadn’t said a word since Max popped over the wall. “New to the team? When did you join?” Too tough and way too much attitude, Max decided immediately. He’d probably looked just like him at that age. The youngster looked him up and down, then ignored his question.
“So you’re Ice, huh? Viper’s waiting to see you inside.”
“Where’s the woman?”
“Inside.”
Max started across the yard, flanked by the two soldiers. “You don’t—”
Crater cut him off. “Orders, man. We’ve been waiting for you. Viper’s like a little kid. I think he’s missed you, Ice. Is it true you’re coming back?”
“In his dreams.” Max lengthened his strides, fending off questions from both sides, trying to ignore internal sensors that were going off at a staggering rate. Where were the bodies? The blood? This yard didn’t look anything like a battlefield. He glanced at his old teammate.
Crater replied before he got the question out. “The fight, such as it was, happened out front. Two by the front gate and one at the main door. The other two are in the house.”
That explained that. So why were his alarms still screaming? The back door stood ajar. Max heard the voice drifting into the yard and his jaw clenched. Vic.
Then he heard Kat’s soft murmur, a sound his heart instantly recognized. Max ignored his ribs, ignored the splint on his wrist and clenched his fists.
What the hell was Viper doing? You didn’t keep the victim and the perp in the same room. Ever. Most definitely not if the victim was Kat. He took the four cement stairs in one huge leap.
“All in good time, love,” Vic was saying from somewhere inside. Somewhere close. Max’s fist clenched in anticipation. He was glad Reicher wasn’t here yet. He and Vic had business to conduct. Viper wouldn’t stop him from finishing it.
##
Kat heard the commotion in the yard. Hope soared. The police? Finally. Except Vic didn’t quit talking, telling her how he was preparing things so she’d understand before she died. Her ex-husband, turned kidnapper, turned would-be murderer, wanted a session with a psychiatrist?
He’d showered and shaved, looking strange without his graying beard. He looked. . .younger. Stronger somehow, as if he’d shed pounds along with his beard. Which was silly, of course, she’d witnessed his strength first-hand, both when she’d arrived and again tonight. Next to Max, Vic was the strongest man she’d ever met.
She was bleeding. Wet warmth trickled down the back of her neck and from somewhere next to her eye, down her cheek. Was he going to talk forever, while she bled to death? A kinder scenario than she’d imagined. Effective, especially if the injection the one they called Crater had given her was what she suspected. She’d managed to put the vial in her pocket, scooping it off the floor while Vic gave the younger man instructions. Crater wasn’t like Cap. Cap’s direct answers and indirect gazes were, if not kind, at least respectful. Crater leered. He seemed to enjoy carrying out the orders Vic gave him.
How long before she truly no longer cared? Two cuts, both to the head–more blood than anywhere else on the body, but deep enough to bleed out? How long would it take? Maybe not long. She was already so tired, tired of Vic, tired of his game. Why not kill her quickly and get it over with? He had what he wanted–even though he kept telling her he didn’t, not yet. What else was there? He must have planned all this for years, but how had he found out about Lizzie? And why now?
Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need to understand. Before she died. She sat up straighter in the too-short, uncomfortable chair and tried to focus on her ex-husband.
The voices in the yard grew closer, coming to the door that was just out of her sight. Vic had her tucked around a corner in the living room–a not-quite-willing audience to his soliloquies as he paced.
“Explain it to me then,” she requested. “And I could use a cup of coffee if it’s going to take long.” Coffee would wake her up. It would also make her heart beat faster, her blood flow more quickly. Probably too much to hope for.
“All in good time, love,” he soothed, stopping at the short wall that served as a windbreak for the back door. His eyes were bright, anxious with anticipation. She heard heavy footsteps pound up the concrete stairs outside. Vic stood motionless, smiling. “Ice,” he breathed.
“Just what we need,” Kat murmured. Another muscle-bound soldier with no name.
“What the hell–“
Kat leaped out of her chair. That voice she’d gladly listen to for hours.
“–are you doing, Viper?”
She froze. Viper? Viper was Max’s friend–his one-time commander.
“He shouldn’t be–“ Max strode into the room, far enough to see her. His feet halted mid-stride. She watched his anxious eyes scan the room, saw disbelief and hope war in his features. Both emotions faded away as he ignored her and turned back to Vic. Now his eyes held nothing but awful realization.
Awful, yes. Stunning and horrible, that her ex-husband was the man he knew as Viper. Hadn’t he called him for help? Wasn’t Viper the one who’d brought him the rifle? Kat fought down a shudder. Max was here. Surely that meant Reicher was, too. The detective had promised her he wouldn’t let Max track down the men alone. She dove into his chest, heedless of the bandages around his ribs, burying her nose against his throat, reveling in the scent she never thought she’d smell again.
It took a moment for Kat to realize Max didn’t wrap her up tight. Instead, he held his arms out stiffly from his body, purposefully not touching her. It wasn’t until she heard the certain slide of a revolver being loaded that she realized the object poking the wound in the back of her head wasn’t related in the least to Max. She dropped her arms and Max gently pushed her away. He gave her a little smile but even that faded as he looked her over. “Hi, baby. You okay?”
She whirled to face Vic. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed. A yell from Max accompanied a wave of Victor’s hand and the gun didn’t go off. It did nudge closer to her head. Kat was beyond caring. She wanted to rip his eyes out. If he shot her before she finished, so be it, but she would at least scratch that cocksure smile off his face.
Only she couldn’t move her arms. They were held firmly at her side, by strong hands, one of which was framed with an elastic splint. “Stay out of this, baby.”
Stay out? Was Max crazy? How much further in could she be?
“It’s not about you.” His chin rested gentle on her shoulder, his voice tender in her ear, but his hands were like steel. “It never was. Was it, Viper?”
“Release her.”
Vic’s voice, but no accent. Kat felt so dizzy she barely sensed Max’s hands as they slid up her arms to her elbows and then let go. She knew what they all wanted: Kat back in the chair. Kat out of the way while they had their stupid showdown. Well, Kat wasn’t going.
She whirled again but had to catch his arm for b
alance. Max might not let her attack Vic, but Max himself was fair game. “Where’s Lizzie?”
“Safe.” For the first time, he met her eyes. They spoke in volumes, of love, gratitude, and horrible sorrow.
Vic couldn’t break her, but Max did. With a single glance.
Reicher wasn’t coming. Max had come for her and he’d come alone.
The room started to spin seriously now. Kat backed into the wall for support. “Didn’t she tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Max’s gaze shifted now, between her and Vic.
