Called to Protect

by Lynette Eason

  18

  Blake paced in front of the building where the bomb squad members worked quickly and efficiently to get inside. Normally, they used robots to handle the explosives, but there was no way to send a robot into this situation. It required putting human lives on the line.

  Another member approached, finger pressed against his ear. Blake assumed he was listening to someone. The man’s eyes slid to Chloe. “Mitch says they’re inside. The door is rigged to blow with C-4. If you’d managed to push it in, you’d be dead.”

  “The deadbolts are on, so that wasn’t even a possibility,” she said. “Maybe he only wanted to kill if someone actually got the deadbolts open.”

  “What about the knob?” Blake asked.

  “There’s no lock on it. Someone put the deadbolts on there instead of just changing the doorknob, I guess. Anyway, looks like that was the trigger for the C-4 should the door actually open.” He gave her a half smile. “Like if someone were to get the deadbolts open. They’re pretty sure if you just let go, everything will be all right.”

  “Pretty sure?” she asked. “I’m not risking my life—and these crazy people who won’t back away—on a ‘pretty sure.’ Could we get a hundred percent positive instead?”

  “That’s what we’re working on, so even though it might be okay to let go, don’t.”

  She scowled at him, and Blake figured Chloe didn’t have any immediate plans to relax her grip.

  A black sedan pulled to a stop behind the bomb squad’s command center and a woman dressed in a dark blue pantsuit exited the vehicle. She swept her sunglasses down over her eyes and planted her hands on her hips.

  Tabitha St. John. The chief of police—and Chloe’s mother.

  “Oh boy,” he breathed.

  She hesitated only a fraction of a second, taking in the scene, before she started their way. An officer laid a hand on her arm and she paused. Said something to him. He backed off and she continued down the slight slope of front yard.

  She stopped when she saw Chloe, Blake, and Linc—and the bomb squad members on top of the building. Blake nudged Linc, who turned, spotted his mother, and jogged toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  Chloe followed him with her eyes. That widened when they landed on her mother. “Oh, great.”

  Mitch came around from the side of the building and nodded to Chloe. “You still doing okay?”

  “Just peachy.”

  The words were spoken through gritted teeth. She’d been holding the knob now for a good twenty minutes.

  “We’re inside and working,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “Chloe?”

  “A little busy right now, Mom. Why don’t you head back to the car and I’ll let you know when I can talk.”

  The woman stopped her approach, standing a good distance away, but not far enough. “Glad to see you’re holding steady.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, “holding steady. Very steady.”

  “How much longer?” Blake asked Mitch.

  Mitch shook his head. “As long as it takes.”

  Blake wanted to punch the man, but since he knew the situation wasn’t his fault, he held his temper and focused on the woman he was coming to care way too much about. “You can do this, Chloe,” he said, his voice low and meant for her ears only.

  She shot him a glare. “Y’all really aren’t giving me much choice. I’d feel a lot better if everyone would just clear out.”

  “Can’t do that and leave you here alone.”

  “Exactly,” the chief said. She might have agreed with him, but he could tell she didn’t like so many people in such proximity to a possible explosion.

  The St. John family stood together. Blake knew that. Envied that. Chloe’s relationship with her brothers and sisters were a source of fascination for him. Being friends with Linc meant having an open invitation into the St. John home. And it didn’t take long to note that when one of them was in trouble, the rest came running to help.

  A shiver wracked her and Chloe’s gaze held his. “Hold on,” he said. “Not much longer.”

  The chief’s phone rang and she grabbed it. A helicopter hovered overhead and Blake figured it was a news crew. Awesome. How had they gotten ahold of this already? “Yes, she’s fine, honey.” Her eyes went to the chopper. “I know what’s playing out on the news, but it’s being handled. She’s fine. Uh-huh. I will. Love you too. Bye.”

  “Dad?” Chloe asked.

  “Yes. He wanted to know that you were okay.” Chief St. John stepped closer, her face pinched. Blake thought she actually vibrated with the tension running through her. “You’re okay, right?”

  Chloe swallowed. Despite the “pretty sure it won’t blow” reassurances, she was so scared she wanted to puke, but since that would up the possibility of getting her—and all of the people trying to help her—killed, she drew in a deep breath. “I’m okay, Mom. Scared, but okay.” She couldn’t break down yet.

  “I am too, baby. But you know you’ve got the best working on it. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ve just postponed the meal, but I expect you to be there for dinner.”

  “Sure. Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do, Mom, but I’d still feel better if you weren’t quite so close. Can’t you back up a little?”

  “Nope. Linc,” her mother said, “why are you standing so close? You too, Blake. You need to get out of range.”

  “We’re not leaving her,” Linc said.

  “Yes, you are. And that’s an order.”

  Linc blinked. Hesitated. Her mother removed her sunglasses and stared at the two men.

  Still they didn’t move, just stared back.

  Her mother’s gaze grew even frostier. Linc finally sighed. “Come on, Mom . . .”

  She didn’t waver.

  Linc’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. Let’s go, Blake.”

  “No.”

  Chloe sucked in a breath. Another one. Shivers hit her in spite of the heavier coat she’d put on. Fire flowed through her forearm. She desperately wanted to adjust her hold, but didn’t dare. She wasn’t comfortable with pretty sure. Come on, come on, guys.

  Linc backed up while Blake continued to stare down her mother. “Blake—”

  “She has no authority over me. I’m staying.”

  Chloe winced.

  “Clear!”

  The call came. Mitch came around the side of the building. “You can let go now.”

  Chloe tried to.

  And couldn’t.

  “Chloe?” Blake stepped forward and placed his hand on hers. “You can let go.”

  She caught his eye. “You’re sure?” Her gaze slid to Mitch. “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “Yes.” He’d pulled his head gear off and his compassionate green eyes held hers. “I’m one hundred percent sure.”

  Chloe slowly let go of the knob.

  When the plunger settled back into place, the explosion knocked her to her knees.

  Blake yelled, something slammed into her, and Chloe found herself facedown on the wooden porch with a heavy body on top of hers. Stunned, unable to move for a brief second, she finally gathered her wits and her breath. “Blake,” she managed to gasp, “are you all right?”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer. Smoke swirled around them.

  “Blake?”

  “Yeah.” He coughed. “I’m okay. Ears are ringing, but okay.”

  “Good, then get off of me, please.”

  He rolled and she helped him with a shove to his shoulders. When he landed beside her, he dragged in a long breath and stayed still. “You’re okay? You’re sure?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  Chloe looked to see her mother rising to her feet. One of the officers had tackled her too. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just reacted. I’m really sorry. I—”

  She patted his arm and raked a hand through her now mussed hair. “You’re forg
iven. As long as you’re not hurt.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She locked her eyes on Chloe’s. “You’re okay?”

  Chloe pulled herself to her feet. “I’m fine, I think.” Mitch lay on the other end of the porch. Chloe went to him, Blake on her heels. She dropped to her knees beside him. “Mitch?”

  He groaned and sat up rubbing his ears. “What happened?”

  “You said it was clear.”

  “It was clear.” He stood, blinking. Grabbed the rail. “I’ll find out what happened. Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”

  “Not on our end. Not sure about your guy if he’s still in the building.”

  Mitch went to the door. “Not a very big blast. Door is still there.”

  “Felt big enough to me,” Chloe muttered.

  Mitch examined the area that had been blown out by the explosion. He tried the door, then shook his head. “Deadbolts are still holding. The door is solid. That blow was meant to scare someone off and keep the door still in one piece. Kind of like a flash bang. Really masterful, if you ask me.”

  “Masterful,” Chloe muttered. “Nice.”

  Brad rounded the corner, looking dusty, but still in one piece. “Sorry about that. He had the inside rigged as well. Just that small part where the plunger fits. When the plunger slid back into its resting place, it triggered the small blast. It wasn’t meant to maim or kill, just to scare someone off. Just so you know, I ran the X-ray over the area. It didn’t look like bomb material.” He dropped his gaze. “It was so small, I never saw it.”

  “Not your fault,” Chloe said. “Like you said, it was small. Big enough to scare, but not enough to do much damage.”

  Her mother approached once again and hugged Chloe. “Who’s responsible for this?” she asked when she pulled away.

  “A guy by the name of Ethan Wright.”

  She nodded. “Where is he?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  She turned to Linc. “Get a warrant and search this place from top to bottom. Then find this joker and charge him with attempted murder.”

  Chloe realized the incident had shaken her mother. Badly.

  “We’ll find him, Mom,” she said. “We need him found for more than one reason.”

  From the corner of her eye she spotted Brad talking to Linc. He nodded and approached. “Get away from the building. One of the other dogs alerted to the back.”

  They moved fast, heading toward the road where the other emergency vehicles were pulling back to a safe distance. Linc stopped Mitch. “Tell us what you find.”

  “Will do. Stay near your radio.”

  Sitting in the back of one of the ambulances, Blake massaged Chloe’s arm while they waited.

  Minutes crept past and Chloe closed her eyes while his fingers soothed her sore muscles.

  Linc straightened and listened.

  “What is it?” Blake asked.

  “They managed to get some eyes inside,” he said. “Brad just said the building is loaded with explosives. And drugs. There’s enough street dope in there to fund a small city. My guess is he’s holding it for someone.”

  “Drugs, human trafficking, probably weapons,” Chloe said. She shook her head. “It never ends. No matter how hard we try, they just keep coming.”

  “Yeah,” Blake said, “but this is going to put a hurt on someone.”

  “Probably Ethan Wright if he isn’t already dead,” Linc said. “When the owners of these drugs find out they’ve been confiscated, Ethan might just wind up a dead man.”

  Blake drew in a deep breath. “Then we need to find him first. Rachel’s life may depend on it.”

  Rachel ate the apple slowly, savoring the sweetness on her tongue even as her gaze swept the small room she had yet to leave. When the man she could identify only by his voice had left, she’d sat up, used the restroom that was attached to the bedroom, and tried the door.

  Locked.

  Of course.

  Instead of panicking, she’d sat on the bed, thinking. Planning. Praying. Wondering where Lindsey was and how she was faring. She prayed her friend was still alive.

  When the lock had nicked open, she’d immediately lain back down on the bed and shut her eyes.

  When she opened them—after being sure the person was gone—she’d seen the lunch tray. A chicken salad sandwich, two apples, a bag of chips—and a blood sugar monitor. She sighed and used the monitor. Her blood sugar was a little high, but she figured it was about right with all the stress running through her right now.

  Starving, she’d polished off the sandwich, then the chips, and finally the apple. The second apple she decided to save for later. Halfway through the apple, the thought occurred to her that the food could be drugged, but she felt no effects so far, so she was going to assume she was fine.

  The door opened midbite.

  Rachel left the bite and lowered the apple.

  Dark eyes glittered at her from behind the ski mask. “Looks like we’re going to need you to move after all,” he said.

  “Move?”

  “Back to the cages for now.”

  The food churned in her belly, but protest would be fruitless. They would just drug her or beat her into submission. Rachel reached for the other apple and slid it into the pocket of her jacket. She had no idea how she came to be wearing it, but it was warm, so she left it on.

  She stood. “Okay.”

  Surprise flickered in the eyes. “If you’re not going to give me any trouble, I’ll let you walk.”

  “I won’t give you any trouble.” Yet.

  “Good. Then walk.”

  Rachel walked. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she let him, proud of herself for not flinching away from him, as was her first inclination.

  Out of the room, they walked down a hallway, through a kitchen, and down a set of stairs leading off from that kitchen.

  A cement-walled basement. Probably soundproof.

  Cages lined the far wall. Just like in the other house. Only these were smaller and held more girls. Eyes reflecting various emotions, the most prominent ones anger and fear, followed her progress across the floor.

  He stopped at one cage. Hesitated, then directed her to the one at the end instead. “You can stay with your friend since you didn’t give me any grief.”

  When he opened the door, Rachel’s fear clawed at her. She sucked it down and stepped inside. The door banged shut and she couldn’t help the flinch that shook her. She turned and met her captor’s gaze.

  He looked away. “Don’t worry, you won’t be in here long. It’ll be time to load up in a bit.”

  “Load up to go where?”

  His eyes reconnected with hers. “The auction.”

  When the lock clicked, he paused as though wanting to say something else—or waiting for her to respond. After several seconds ticked past, he shrugged and headed back toward the stairs.

  Rachel knelt beside a shivering Lindsey. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Her friend’s voice held no life. Just a resigned dullness that shook Rachel to the core, but at least she was speaking.

  “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

  “No and no.”

  Rachel slid down the wire wall of the cage to the cement floor. “My dad’s looking for us.”

  “What do you mean? Where’d you go? Why are you back? No one else has come back. I didn’t think you were coming back. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I want my mom.” The last word ended on a sob and Rachel wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders and pulled her close. Lindsey rested her head against Rachel’s.

  “I got away, but they caught me,” she whispered. Why go into the details? Just thinking about her near escape and recapture brought tears to the surface. She should never have followed Carson from the hospital. All of her efforts to help had failed. But that didn’t mean she was giving up. “We’ll find a way to get out, Linds. We will.”

  Lindsey’s tears soaked Rachel
’s shirt and Rachel couldn’t find it in her to encourage her friend to stop crying, to have hope.

  Because she didn’t have it either.

  19

  SUNDAY EVENING

  After a dinner worthy of a gourmet chef, Blake now sat at the kitchen table of Chloe’s parents’ house, clicking through the latest information on Alessandro Russo. The man had grown up on the streets of Atlanta. Had gotten involved with the Leonardo Basico family who, at the time, had been the most feared Sicilian mafia family in the area. At the age of twenty-four, he’d married Veru Gallo, the only child of his boss, and had taken to crime like he’d invented it.

  When Leonardo had died, Alessandro had stepped into the leadership role of the family. Since that time, he’d taken his involvement in crime to a new level. Gun running, extortion, murder, gambling, drugs, black market art, black market babies, and human trafficking. Just to name a few. The crime family had expanded from Georgia to South Carolina, North Carolina, and on into Virginia.

  Busts had led to the arrest of a number of Alessandro’s minions, those on the lower rungs of the crime ladder. But not once had anyone come close to capturing Alessandro Russo himself.

  Blake wanted to be the one to do so.

  His phone buzzed.

  Frank

  Dad’s fading pretty fast. It won’t be long now. You need to come see him soon.

  With a sigh, Blake texted back.

  He was dead to me long ago. Quit asking me to come. He wouldn’t know me anyway.

  But you still know him. I’m not asking for his sake. I’m asking for yours.

  Why?

  You need to face him and then let him go.

  Like you have?

  Actually, yes.

  Blake stared at the screen, then rubbed his eyes.

  I’ll think about it. I have more to worry about than him.

  It was a harsh response and he almost apologized for it, but couldn’t force himself to type the words. If his brother felt the need to be with their father in his last days, that was his choice, his decision. Blake felt no such compunction.