by Ana Barrons
It was a huge stretch for her back, and she felt bad for all the scraping she was doing on Jeremy’s tender cheek, but finally she pulled the tape off. He shrieked at the pain.
“That hurt,” Jeremy said. Tears streaked his cheeks, which were flaming red from the tape.
“I’m sorry. Now you can hurt me.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I’m going to bend my torso forward like a pretzel so you can bite at the tape on my wrists. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” he said. “Can we escape?”
“We’re going to do our darnedest.”
Jeremy went to work on her tape with his teeth while Kate coached him through it, her eye on the clock. Only half an hour had gone by. Every minute that nothing happened the more likely they were to make it out alive.
Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.
* * *
Archer was wound tighter than a spring. He knew they had a big fat target painted on the bottom and sides of the bird. He only hoped for all their sakes, including Kate’s and Jeremy’s, that no one got stupid and tried to take them down.
“You got the tickets?” Tyrell asked for the twentieth time.
“Yes, damn it,” Archer said. “I have the tickets. Relax and fly this thing.”
“Lemme see them.”
“There’s no point in that.”
“Yes, there’s a point,” Tyrell said. “I want to see my ticket.”
How to finesse this? There was a plane waiting for Archer in San Juan to take him—singular—into the mountains of Brazil, where he would hide out until he could get safe passage to Argentina. Or New Zealand. He didn’t really care. He had a lot of money even without the rest of it, and as long as he eluded the authorities he could change his identity and his looks, and live a good life. He’d earned it, goddamn it. The government had used him and cast him aside like he hadn’t saved their asses more times than he could count. He was only sorry it was Kate’s money.
“I want to see it now,” Tyrell said. “Or I’m gonna put this bird down in that field over there.
That might not be a bad idea, Archer thought. He couldn’t very well overpower Tyrell in a moving helicopter, and so far nobody was shooting at them. Or... “It’s in my bag,” Archer said. “I don’t feel like getting it.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Look, I’m wound up, you’re wound up. Let me fly this thing for a while and you can go through my bag, grab a Coke or something—”
Tyrell’s hand struck him so hard his head hit the windshield. “You didn’t get a ticket for me, did you, motherfucker?”
Blood welled on Archer’s lip. “Watch what the fuck you’re doing, Tyrell, or we’re both going down in this thing. Holy shit, I didn’t know you were so emotional or I would never have—” Whop! Archer’s head exploded with pain.
“You show me the goddamn ticket or I’m gonna throw your ass out the side door, you cocksucking piece of shit.”
“You’re...you’re going to crash!” Archer shrieked as the bird began to plunge downward. “I’ll give you my ticket. Just pull this thing up!”
“You lying piece of shit,” Tyrell said, but he pulled the bird higher. “You were gonna leave me in San Juan. After all I did.”
“I could only get one ticket,” Archer said. “I’m going to get the other one in San Juan, I promise you. You have to trust me on this.”
“Yeah, right. Trust a queer?”
* * *
“Shit,” Parker said into his cellphone.
Gabe didn’t like the sound of that. The house was surrounded by members of several law enforcement agencies—including a couple of fully suited bomb specialists, pointing and gesturing to various points in the house. Their attempts to hold back the media had been futile, and local cops were pushing people away from the perimeter they had set up. Talk about a clusterfuck.
He walked over to where Parker stood talking on his cell. “What’s happening?”
Parker pulled the phone off his ear. “The helicopter is behaving erratically. Looks like they’re arguing in there. King has struck Archer twice and it looks like he’s holding a gun on him.”
“Fuck,” Gabe growled. “Archer can fly that thing. Get a sniper to take out King before he shoots.”
“That’s the plan,” Parker said and returned to his call.
Gabe’s heart jumped around so hard it felt as though he would blow apart any second. It was a gamble to take out King, but at least Archer would see that the government was on his side. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a blonde trying to push her way inside the barrier, and recognized Lindsay’s shrill cry. He stalked in her direction. As if things couldn’t get any worse.
“This is all your fault!” she screamed when she spotted Gabe. “You go get him out of that house right now!”
“It’s the boy’s mother,” he explained to the cop holding her back. To Lindsay he said, “I’m going to get him out if it’s the last thing I do.” His voice cracked on the words. “I promise you, Linds, we’re doing everything we can—”
“Why aren’t you in there?” she shouted.
“Because we can’t do it that way,” he said. “If we could I’d be the first one in. You know that.”
“Well I hope she was worth it,” Lindsay spat. “She’ll be the death of everyone you love. Oh, God, Jeremy!”
Gabe caught her before her legs gave out, and held her while she sobbed. After a few moments he handed her over to the uniform. “I’ve got to get back, Linds. I’ll let you know—” Spittle hit him in the face, and he wiped it off with his sleeve.
“If he dies it’ll be on your head,” Lindsay said, her eyes wild. “You and that bitch you love so much.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Tyrell had pulled a gun from somewhere and was pointing it at Archer. “You gonna die, faggot. And I’m going to watch you bleed.”
Archer drew back, heart pounding, and held his hands up in front of him. “Don’t do this, Tyrell,” he shouted over the roar of the rotors. God almighty, was it really going to end like this? “I know you’re upset, but I’ve got a ton of money in a bank in San Juan, and I’m going to split it with you.”
“What money?”
“Twenty-five million dollars.”
“Yeah? How do I get it?”
Archer took in a long breath and let it out. “I have to go to the bank personally to get it. You come with me and—”
“Bullshit!” Tyrell spat. He leaned sideways and stuck his gun into Archer’s neck. “You’re a fucking liar. You had no intention of ever giving me nothin’.”
“Watch what you’re doing!” Archer shouted. A radio tower loomed ahead and Tyrell wasn’t looking where he was going. He had to do something or they were going to crash and die. He pointed to a spot over Tyrell’s shoulder and said, “Shit! Look at that!”
Tyrell turned his head and Archer wrenched the hand holding the gun upward. Tyrell pulled the trigger and launched himself at Archer. “Motherfucker!” he shrieked.
A meaty fist smashed into Archer’s teeth and the helicopter wobbled drunkenly.
It was over—he was going to die. As his bowels went liquid he thought of Kate and hoped she could cheat death in the five minutes he’d given her.
He screamed as they crashed into the radio tower and burst into flames.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy sobbed. He’d tipped over again and was back on his side.
“It’s okay, honey, don’t cry. Please.” It didn’t feel as though he’d made a lot of progress on the tape binding her wrists. Time to try something different. “Stay put, okay? I’m going to try tipping my chair instead, and then I can gnaw on your tape.”
“But what if you blow up?”
“I’ll be careful not to bump it.” Good God, what if she did bump it and exploded? What if she got both of them killed unnecessarily? What was she supposed to do?
“Wait, Aunt Kate,” Jeremy s
aid, echoing her own thoughts. “I’ll try to get back up again.
“Okay, we’ll try that first.” Sounds from the street wafted up. It must be a circus out there. Where was Gabe? Did her mother know what had happened? And Lindsay, oh, God, she had to be going nuts.
“Got it,” Jeremy said. “Put your hands out.”
Kate twisted her arms back to where his teeth could reach the tape. “What would I do without you around? Mr. Smarty Pants.”
A few minutes later she heard a rip. “You’re getting it, Jeremy. Oh, my God.” After another minute her hands were free. “You did it!”
She leaned down and hugged Jeremy to her. “Okay, let’s get you free.” She worked at the tape on his wrists and finally got it off. Together they tipped his chair upright and he bent over to work the tape off his ankles. He stood up immediately and nearly fell down.
“My legs feel funny,” he said. “I gotta pee.”
“Go pee,” she said, feeling the tears spilling down her cheeks. Jeremy was free! “Pee for me too, while you’re at it.”
“Okay,” he said.
There was shouting down below, unlike what she’d been hearing. Had something happened? “Jeremy, hurry up and look out this window.”
He raced out of the bathroom and ran to the window. “People are running away and stuff. There are guys down there in big puffy suits.”
“What are they doing?”
“They’re like pushing their arms out, telling people to run.” He turned to her. “Does this mean the house is going to explode?”
Five minutes, Archer had said. From when to when? She couldn’t remember, but the situation had just gone from bad to worse. “Listen to me,” she said to Jeremy, who was starting to breathe heavily. “I want you to go down to the kitchen and see if the basement door is locked. Do it right now, Jeremy.”
“Why?”
“Because if it’s locked then Archer probably didn’t go down there and you may be able to get out through one of the windows.”
“What about you?” he said as tears began running down his cheeks.
“I’ll be fine. Please, honey, do this for me. Run down and see. Quick!”
Jeremy raced down the steps. Kate glanced at the clock. When had the countdown begun? The shouting had grown louder. Oh, God. Jeremy had to get out.
“It’s locked!” he called up to her.
Thank God. “Get on a chair and reach above the doorframe. The key’s up there. Do it now!”
She heard him drag a chair, heard the key hit the floor, heard Jeremy sobbing. “Run, Jeremy!” she shouted. “Stand up on something and smash open one of the windows. Hurry!”
“Aunt Kate!” he wailed.
“I love you, Jeremy. You have to get out of the house now. Do this for me, and for your mom and dad. Please!”
A moment later his footsteps rang on the wood steps leading to the basement. And, God willing, to freedom.
If she was lucky she had about another minute to live.
She twisted her body until she had walked the chair close enough to open the bathroom door, and then she held on and walked it into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and, using all her strength, pulled herself and the chair over the edge and into the tub.
Chapter Forty-Four
Gabe stood frozen in the front yard, unwilling to believe this was really happening. Archer’s helicopter had crashed into a radio tower and burst into flames. Now it was only a matter of time until they learned whether the house would really explode. If it did, he was going to have a ringside seat. He wouldn’t let Jeremy and Kate die alone.
The sound of smashing glass drew his attention and he ran to the side of the house. “Over here!” he shouted to whoever would listen. Then he saw the most beautiful sight of his life.
“Dad!” Jeremy shrieked. “Hurry up!”
Gabe bent down, ignoring the shards of glass, and reached inside for his son. “Jeremy,” he managed through the lump in his throat. When he finally had his son through the window and in his arms he let the tears fall.
“Run, Dad,” Jeremy shouted. He squirmed out of his father’s arms. “It’s going to blow. Run!”
He grabbed Jeremy’s arm and pulled him, running away from the house. “Where’s Kate?” he shouted.
“Upstairs. She’s taped to the chair and the—”
The front door exploded outward. “No!” Gabe shouted.
Tears streamed down Jeremy’s cheeks but he tugged at Gabe’s arm, forcing him to keep running. “She doesn’t want us to die, Dad.”
Windows blew out as though synchronized. The fire companies that were already in place leaped into action, dragging hoses from every direction toward the tragedy that was unfolding before their eyes. A news helicopter beat loudly overhead. People shouted through bullhorns. Lindsay shoved her way through the crowd and grabbed Jeremy, crying and repeating his name and God’s name over and over between sobs.
“Dad!” he called, but Gabe was running toward the house. “Dad! He told us to hide in the bathroom!”
The bathroom. “There’s a woman on the second floor!” Gabe shouted to the firefighters. “Please. You have to get her out.”
Hoses were trained on the house, beating back the flames that engulfed it. “The second floor collapsed, pal,” one of the firefighters shouted back to him. “Sorry.”
He ran around the side of the house, jumping over hoses, drawing angry shouts from some of the firefighters. She had to be alive. She had to. He’d know it if she wasn’t, wouldn’t he?
“Kate!” he shouted into the roar of flames and water. “Kate!”
The agonizing fear that he would never see her again racked his body, stealing his breath, twisting his gut so fiercely it took every bit of reserve strength he had to stay on his feet.
“Get back!” A firefighter shouted at him. “It’s burning too hot to get this close.”
But the heat of the fire was nothing compared to the anguish that blazed inside him. If the fire was close to searing his skin out here and she was in there somewhere, helpless to move...
What if he stopped searching for her and she was still alive and in pain? Even now she could be shouting, but would they hear her?
No. He wouldn’t give up until he found her. Even if it killed him.
It took almost two hours to beat back the worst of the flames, and Gabe continued to shout her name the whole time. He was streaked with grime and ash, coughing from the smoke, but if someone dared to touch him he pushed them away with such force that the firefighters gave up and let the lunatic be.
About a hundred yards away he spotted Bruno sniffing and whining around a particular pile of debris in the midst of the rubble. Had some instinct drawn Kate’s old Lab toward the spot? The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he moved toward Bruno, picking his way around barrier after barrier until he saw it—a claw-foot bathtub, the same one he’d pulled Kate out of days earlier, lying on its side.
He wanted to run to it, wanted all of this smoking, busted material out of his way. He was desperate to know if Kate was there—and terrified of what he would find. As he drew closer he could see huge chunks of drywall nearly covering what appeared to be piece of wood furniture inside the tub.
She’s taped to the chair.
“Kate!” His shouts were hoarse as he slogged across the yard, his entire being focused on getting to that bathtub. Be alive, Kate. Please, God, be alive.
From several yards away he saw the arm slung over the edge of the tub. Kate’s arm. “Oh, God,” he moaned and rushed over to her, his heart in his throat. Her skin was warm. “Over here!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Get a stretcher! Hurry!” He felt for a pulse. It was thready, but it was there.
“Kate,” he said, lifting and tossing chunks of drywall onto the ground. He was well aware of the risks of moving her without knowing the extent of her injuries. “Kate,” he repeated. “Honey, answer me if you can.”
Her hair and clothes were covered with
ash and plaster. Archer’s words came back to him. “At the slightest disturbance the charge taped to Kate’s ankles will explode.”
So far it hadn’t, but what if it could? “Get a bomb specialist over here!” he shouted. “She’s got a charge on her ankles.”
He couldn’t see the front of her body. Her beautiful face. What if she’d been burned? Her bones crushed? He stroked her arm. “Whatever happens, Kate, I’m going to be here for you. I love you. If you can hear me, honey, I want you to know that no matter what happens, all that matters is that you’re alive.” His voice cracked. “Oh, baby, I was so afraid. I thought you were dead.”
The hand on his shoulder was gentle but firm. “Move aside, Detective, and let me take a look at her. And take this damn dog with you.”
Gabe grabbed Bruno by the collar, rose and stepped back to let the bomb specialist near the tub. “Keep everyone back,” the man told him. There were medics standing by about twenty feet away from them. Gabe didn’t want to move aside, but it was clear that the bomb specialist wasn’t going to begin until he got out of there.
The next few minutes were some of the longest and most torturous of his life. Finally, the suited man rose to his feet, pulled off his helmet and said, “We have to move her before I can get in there.” He pointed to the medics. “Go get one of my team over here.” To Gabe he said, “Tell the cops to clear the damn street.”
They did as they were told, and within minutes another man in a blast-resistant suit approached the bathtub. Gabe followed.
“Get back, damn it,” the lead guy said.
“I want to see her.”
“Then go stand by the ambulance. If she makes it out in one piece you’ll see her there.”
Gabe’s gut twisted painfully. If the bomb exploded when they tried to remove the charge...
“Be real careful with her,” he rasped, then picked his way through the wreckage to the ambulance and watched the two bomb specialists lift Kate, still attached to the chair, out of the tub, and lay her on her side on the stretcher. Gabe held his breath as they cut the tape and carefully, oh so gently, lifted the charge away from her body. Holding the charge out in front of him, one bomb specialist walked slowly, slowly over and around the debris to a waiting van and placed it carefully inside. Then the two medics ran back to the stretcher. They spent some time checking Kate over, then lifted her and headed for the waiting ambulance.
