Vigilante Mine

by Cera Daniels

  Red numbers ticked into the 30 minute range, steadily toward zero. "Give me the good news first."

  Ryan's sigh reached her ears. "They're on scattered timers. Most of them have several hours left."

  "Jackson gave the 16th less time." She nodded to herself. "Okay. The bad news."

  "The bomb guys haven't figured out how to shut them off yet."

  Oh, goody.

  Detective Williams dropped to a knee between her and the copy machine.

  "We're out of badge-carrying experts, but Dale said he was willing to outsource, so I might have your guy." Hunter stuck his thumb over his shoulder and Amanda swiveled a look up to see a huge, tattooed man in hand and ankle cuffs. "Junior's got a background in explosives, and he's not looking to die today."

  "That's a start." Amanda locked eyes with the inmate, who gave a slow nod.

  "Shaw was gonna take out our rivals in the department, that's all. Blowing everyone up together is nuts. I'm not going down in here." At Hunter's nod, the big man crouched beside their copy machine and looked over the mechanism.

  "General holding?" Amanda asked.

  "Overflow from a bust we made the other night," Hunter said.

  Amanda stifled a smile. Klepto.

  "'Grats on the gun, by the way."

  "Thanks." Amanda pursed her lips. With a Sig back in her hands, the first thing she'd done was help kill a man.

  She'd taken a necessary shot to save lives. Jackson hadn't blown the bomb early. She'd bought the precinct time. But this death struck deeper than any other time she'd had that split second to choose in the face of deadly force.

  Her fingers shook when they weren't contained in tight, immovable fists. Worry pulsed in her head and fear quickened her steps. Worse, though, was the burning. Emotions tore at her, emotions still raw from the night he'd attacked her and left her to drown. Anger and grief circled each other like foes. Grief over taking a life. Anger over what Jackson Price had allowed himself to become.

  "This is art," the thug said from the floor.

  "I didn't bring you up here to admire it," Hunter said.

  "Well, I sure as shit can't stop it." He poked at a few glass containers connected to the main device. "Receiver. This thing picks up a signal, vibrates the liquid in this casing until it shatters." He spread his fingers wide and made a soft explosion sound. "That weakens this one," he pointed to another tube. "And the chemicals make contact. Instant boom juice."

  "Wait," Ryan said. "Ask him to repeat that."

  The thug repeated his assessment.

  "We can stop this." A sudden charge of certainty shot into Amanda's mind.

  Ryan had a plan.

  "What can we do?" Amanda asked.

  Confusion filled the thug's face and he began to repeat himself for the third time. Amanda held up her hand.

  "There's a signal," Ryan said. "We interrupt it, the bomb stops. Jackson left signal jamming devices all over town, and Zach thinks he can use one."

  Amanda eyed the inmate. "Have you seen this kind of trigger before?"

  "Close." His shoulders rolled back. "Usually there's a transmitter involved."

  She frowned. "What happens if it receives the wrong signal? An interruption?"

  "Blunt interference, static, you're shootin' dice. It's still a signal, even at a different frequency. Counter it tight-range, you got a chance. Too strong," he jerked a thumb at the bomb, "vibrates this thing anyway. Could go up on the spot." The thug's expression turned wary. "I'm not stayin' in here with those odds."

  "The transmitter has to be in there, close to the bomb, otherwise Jackson's signal jammers would knock it out," Ryan said.

  Amanda thanked the inmate and nodded to Hunter, who helped the man to his feet. She stepped away to the tune of Ryan's assurances. "I'm not a fan of those odds either. What do the pros have to say?"

  "Other buildings might have time to sweep. We do not. Focus on the lockdown. I'm coming in."

  "What? How?" Her back collided with the nearest wall and she shoved her hands into her hair. "No, Ryan."

  "Zach's toning down the strength on the jammer he found so we can use it up close and personal. That means I have to get it inside, past the electrical charge on those windows."

  Her chest constricted. "You heard the thug. Setting it at the wrong frequency could—"

  "I'm bringing it close to the transmitter, not the bomb. Once I'm in, I'll be able to pinpoint a safe radius with my ability, and the jammer will keep it inert." He had the gall to chuckle. "If you're not out by then, your convict buddy can help us dig a tunnel."

  Her fingers clenched at the back of her scalp. "I am not leaving you in here while I get clear."

  "Jay's coming with a bomb squad. When they get here, they can handle containment."

  "Ryan, stop. This is not a plan. This is suicide."

  "Sweetheart, I'm not sticking around to zero to see if it works. I'll get in, get out, and so will you."

  The main power went out, and with it, the failsafe alarms and the manic, flashing lights.

  "See?" A smug, rhetorical question.

  Amanda's temples throbbed with the need to strangle someone. No, not someone. Ryan, when the longest night of her life was over and they came out the other side alive.

  "Hey, I'm trying to help here," he said in a pained voice. "No need to get violent."

  Amanda shook her head. Their link grew stronger by the hour.

  "Backup generator is still on," she said. The bars remained locked in place, the windows still charged to shock. "You don't have a way in, and we don't have a way out."

  "Charlie says I do."

  Her jaw went slack. "Charlie?"

  "He's safe. Amanda, I'm trying the elevator service shaft."

  Ancient and unreliable as the elevator itself, and deemed a pointless expense to bring up to code for the backup grid. It would be clear. But Charlie had to know it would never hold a human's weight.

  "Send Romeo." A desperate edge crept into her tone and she let him hear every ounce of her fear. "You can Listen from outside." Please, Ryan. It's too risky.

  "He can't open doors," Ryan said, and comfort, security, love—God, this crazy, sexy man with two lives and that all-charm-and-no-more-regrets grin had truly fallen in love with her—flooded the telepathic bond between them. "It has to be me. Now help Dale get that generator down and those people out while I get my ears to work stopping this bomb."

  Ryan cradled the signal jammer to his chest, shoved the second hatch open, and leapt for the top of the old elevator. Part of the shaft floor dropped several feet.

  "Thanks, pal," Ryan muttered. Amanda's physical therapist had mentioned the rust and rough transit, but forgotten the whole "might collapse behind you" bit.

  Shut off the transmitter, then worry about another way out. The lockdown alarms no longer rattled between his ears and with these thicker walls to buffer everything else, Ryan could find absolute focus.

  He couldn't find anything less.

  He had to protect Amanda.

  Ryan pocketed his flashlight, gripped the cables, and closed his eyes.

  He let his ability swell through the brick and mortar of the 16th precinct. He knew what he wasn't listening for. Breathing. Voices. With the main power out, he didn't have to worry about the heat or the high-pitched whine of the ceiling-embedded lights. The transmitter would emit a signal, but in order to sync to the clock, it had to be running. It would have a sound as it counted down. A clicking, or maybe a steady, faint hum. It would be mechanical, but small. Barely there. Ryan pushed to the edge of his limits and shuffled sounds through his mind, tugging on one thread of electrical noise at a time. The clunking disrepair of the backup generator, battery-operated radios, cell phones. Whining, buzzing, humming. Tiny, tiny vibrations the naked human ear would never notice.

  There. Fifth floor. Near the bomb. Above the bomb. In the ceiling?

  Gotcha.

  He turned the flashlight on the elevator shaft again. Taking hold of th
e emergency ladder, he hopped up the rungs. In the back of his mind, metal creaked and groaned, and a discarded thread of sound stopped clunking.

  Generator. Off.

  Yes.

  His pulse danced, but he didn't dare reach for Amanda. Even reminding his brothers to make sure she got out wasn't an option. The entrances throughout the precinct were open. She'd get out. Sliding metallic sounds rifled across his filters. He clamped down on focus and the thin strand of his target.

  Get close, cut it on, get out . . .

  Ryan reached the fifth floor access and set the modified jammer on the rung at his chest. One more step up the ladder, and he had decent access to the doors. It took a minute to work them open, but he soon had a space wide enough to slide the device forward.

  He cut the jammer on. Then, blasting his ability well past safe limits, he listened for the signal intervention.

  Amanda suppressed the urge to send the mental thrill of victory Ryan's way as she manhandled a flashlight and guided officers, personnel, and staff-escorted prisoners out the wide double doors of the precinct's ground floor.

  The technician who'd been working on Dale's generator shutdown came running to her side. "Problem, Detective."

  "We don't have time for problems," she said.

  "Failsafe redundancy. Bastard's trying to come back online."

  Her flashlight drooped. "Lockdown's restarting?"

  The technician nodded. "Takes a few minutes."

  She slammed her hands over her ears as the lockdown sirens tripped, a hundred times louder than her home security system.

  Horror knotted her internal organs.

  If he'd been wide open to hear the device, Ryan's eardrums could have shattered.

  "Find Dale, tell him to speed this up." Amanda yelled, then dodged people in a rush, shoving her way toward the elevator doors. "Ryan? Ryan, you're out of time."

  She sent desperation through the link. Not a peep in return. Not even one of her new favorite mental hugs. He'd been listening for a sliver of sound. He would have geared his ability to its max. What if he'd pushed himself too hard?

  Romeo, can you get through to him?

  "No, Spirit-mate his." Then Romeo darted in front of her, cutting off her momentum with a snarl.

  Sharp, white teeth. Black, sleek fur. Big, mean dog.

  The scar on her cheek tingled, but this big, mean dog was one she trusted.

  Her hands shook. Out of the way, furball.

  "We must go. Danger."

  Is he bleeding? Unconscious? Romeo, let me pass.

  "There is no time."

  An arm circled her waist. Amanda lifted her foot to stomp on someone's instep when Jay said, "I promised him we'd get clear."

  "No!" She screamed aloud and inside her head, and Romeo flinched. "Help me get the doors."

  "I can't let us all get trapped in here. He said he'd have a different way out." Jay may not have had his brother's height, but he definitely had his strength. She fought him more with every step he forced her away from Ryan's side. "I don't like it either, Detective."

  They were among the last to get out of the building, with Romeo ducking under the bars as they snapped back down. Jay hauled her around the side of the building to a white service van and climbed into the back.

  Why wouldn't Romeo tell her how Ryan was? Amanda stared at the side of the building. Where had he gone in? Maybe she could get to him that way. She took a step toward the brick when Jay yelled Zach's name and followed it up with a sharp curse.

  "Detective, I need a hand," Jay said.

  Amanda poked her head around the door. Zach was sprawled, out cold, on the floor of the vehicle, a disarray of papers and equipment scattered around his body.

  She gasped. "Another seizure?"

  "No, but it's not good." Jay checked his pulse and gave her a bleak look. "Have to get him out of here."

  "What about your other brother?" she demanded.

  "He said he'd get out. He'll meet us at the car."

  She couldn't tell Ryan's status, but Zach and Jay would never clear the building without help. Taking Zach's feet while Jay took his shoulders, she shifted him partially out of the van, then Jay hefted him into a fireman's carry. She swung open the door on the sports car parked at the edge of the lot for Jay to lay his brother inside. Jay pressed a hand to Zach's forehead, then squeezed his eyes shut.

  "Ry, where the fuck are you?" he asked his earpiece, his voice hoarse.

  Amanda's feet sidled toward her precinct. "I'm going to try the service shaft he used."

  "You can't, Amanda. It's too late." Jay's hands clamped on her biceps. "It's going to explode."

  "No!" She surged forward, stumbled away from Ryan's brothers, but Romeo knocked into her legs. Pavement scratched her palms raw.

  Sparks ignited the night sky.

  Fireworks and shattered glass ripped across the parking lot.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  "Ryan!" Amanda screamed.

  Too much.

  She desperately blocked the sounds of disaster from her immediate attention, pushing the sirens out of her head and wishing she could do the same for the ears of the man she loved.

  Loved.

  She choked on a sob. He loved her, and she'd never gotten a chance to tell him—No!

  She reached through their link as if she could pull him to her side. He was always helping everyone else, always putting others first, always jumping in to fix things. She wanted to be the one to do the same for him. If she could just reach him, protect him, save him, hold him, shield him . . . she'd never, ever let him go.

  "Interesting," Romeo murmured in the back of her mind. "Yes, Spirit-mate his, keep doing that."

  The smoke was clearing. She registered Jay's hand on her shoulder. The building still stood. Jackson had used faulty explosives on McLelas Financial. Maybe this time, his design simply hadn't been as powerful as he'd believed.

  Ryan. Oh, Ryan.

  Damn it, don't be dead, you flirtatious bastard. Even her mental voice cracked. I love you.

  I love you too, Amanda.

  Ryan? Ryan!

  His telepathic embrace wrapped around her with weakened arms, but he was there. Alive. She threw her love, hope, and relief into the fully-formed telepathic connection.

  "Ryan!" she shouted, and Jay's grip squeezed.

  If you're not busy, I could use a hand with this door.

  Amanda almost laughed with relief. Door? What about the walls? The ceiling?

  Except the building hadn't collapsed.

  We're coming. We're coming.

  She heard his heartbeat, his breathing, and held him to her heart even tighter as Jay and Romeo pushed with her through law enforcement ranks and to the front of the building.

  Glass littered the sidewalk. The lockdown bars had lifted once more. Amanda led their rescue team to the elevator doors and began to pull.

  Romeo stopped her. "Let the little one open the door. Hold the Spiritwalker."

  The alarm was still sounding. Amanda blinked in surprise as she stepped aside to let Jay handle the elevator and she focused on Ryan.

  My earpiece is fried, sweetheart. You're—you're helping me filter. I don't know how, but it's working.

  The lockdown alarm should have knocked him out cold after the system had overloaded, but instead he only felt beaten to a pulp. He'd made it to the elevator. His eardrums were intact. They were still intact, and the alarm hadn't stopped. Somehow, his Spirit-mate's attempt to reach him buffered the piercing wail, shielding it from his ears like the piece of equipment Zach had designed for his protection. There was no white noise, just . . . less noise, period.

  The doors parted and Ryan tumbled out of the elevator. Amanda was there to catch him.

  "I love you," she sobbed into his chest, flooded their telepathic connection with the emotion.

  "Let's get out of here so you don't have to fight the building, huh?" Jay asked softly.

  He nodded against his Spirit-mate's shoulder an
d accepted his brother's hand up. They walked out the front door. Victory beat in his veins and Ryan rubbed his fingers over Amanda's spine in half-relief, half-incredulity.

  Jackson had failed.

  The bomb's still active? Amanda's mind brushed his.

  He nodded slowly, trying to grasp the incredible depth of their connection. The trigger is blocked. Our plan worked.

  "Well, something exploded," she said aloud, her detective mode clicking on even as she clung to him. "The windows blew out. Lots of smoke, lots of noise. Fireworks."

  Jay moved to take the lead.

  The protective bubble around his ears seemed to expand as bomb squad personnel ran past and he, Amanda, Jay, and Romeo waded through a sudden onslaught of reporters. Police officers held the nosy cameras and mics at bay, but didn't stop them from passing.

  Amanda snapped the fingers of her free hand. "Maybe lockdown? Our tech guy said it was rebooting. It closed us out again but maybe . . . maybe it overloaded."

  "It doesn't matter, sweetheart. We made it." He slid into the empty back seat of Jay's car.

  Amanda slipped in next to him. Or maybe he dragged her in after him. It seemed neither one of them was willing to let the other go.

  "I love you." Her face turned up and Ryan's lips homed in on hers.

  His. She was his, and she'd saved him.

  "There are other bombs," Jay was saying when they came up for air. "Comms are still down."

  Amanda's grip twisted in his shirt.

  He met a deep, blue gaze filled with resolve and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "I have to go in after the others."

  "I'm hoping they've had time to find the transmitters and can handle those on their own." She flashed a weary smile. "You don't need an entire city's worth of karmic balance."

  "You're right. I only need you." He winked and she chuckled as she laid her head against his chest.

  "Get a room." The passenger in Jay's front seat groaned like he'd taken the same punch to the guts Ryan had when the alarms had come on. Zach. Ryan gripped his brother's shoulder and Zach's hand squeezed his, then dropped away. "I'll live, bro."

  Jay had lifted another signal jammer from a cell tower on the way to the precinct, and Zach set to work en route to their next stop, re-configuring it for close-range interference. It took Amanda acting as buffer and filter for his ears for Ryan to stop the timer on the second bomb, and by then, law enforcement was up to speed. Hazardous Devices teams around the city worked to find transmitters and shut down bombs. Technical crews re-established communications.