Guarding Him

by Kori David

  Whatever else she might have said was muffled. Cody’s bell was rung, but he stayed down, listening and still. He couldn’t do a goddamn thing while he couldn’t see or breathe, except get himself killed faster. Cody had no doubt who was in this house with them. They wouldn’t leave him alive, and he was a fucking sitting duck just waiting to die. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to clear away the powder. He only succeeded in making it worse. The burn in his eyes matched the one in his throat, making it harder to get air into his lungs.

  “Take her to the car,” the voice said.

  “You said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Isobel screamed for a moment before it was cut off.

  “Take her to the goddamn car, Eugene. I’ll take care of this and put out the fire.”

  Cody heard a muffled response, and then heavy footsteps headed away from him. He managed to get his eyes open long enough to see that no one had bothered to turn on the lights. Since he was still alive, he guessed that the assailants hadn’t been able to see the gun he’d carried by his side when they attacked him.

  He had to rely on his hearing alone, and he only had a moment to make his move when he heard a sigh and a footstep near him. He rolled over as quickly as he could and whipped the gun out from under his body as he got to his knees. Cody knew Isobel was out of the house because he’d heard a door in the distance, so he started firing. He wasn’t going out quietly, and if he managed to hit the guy in front of him, so much the better, but he was trying to stay alive by making as much noise as possible.

  The pain that hit him next was nothing like he’d ever felt before. It sliced through his chest like molten lava, sucking his breath from his body and tacking him to the floor as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer. His arm went numb, and the gun fell from his hand as he lay there. He’d never been shot before, and after the initial burning pain, he didn’t even feel it. It was the shock—and adrenaline. That would wear off.

  “Fuck you,” the voice growled, and then one last shot was fired.

  Cody’s world dimmed into nothing as he lost consciousness, the slicing pain ramming into his body once again.

  * * *

  Courtney rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She couldn’t sleep and was a night owl anyway, and with so many of their agents out on assignments, she was a worried owl. Her bank of computers glowed around her, the overhead lights were dim, and she had on one of her favorite Rom-Com movies playing for background noise. There was a moderately comfortable cot in her office in case she needed a power nap, an espresso machine, and a fully packed mini-fridge.

  She had the place to herself and was in full lockdown. It would take a tank or a bomb to get into their building, and a dire emergency to get her out. Courtney was fine being an introverted computer nerd who liked most people—from a distance. All ten of her computers were doing something different. One was devoted to the Dark Web and various lures she had there. One was continually roving through video footage, narrowed down to a three-block radius, thanks to Nic’s eagle eye and help going thru hours and hours of video.

  But the one that caught her attention was a black screen with what looked like little radios covering the screen. She had them all on low, except for one. Nic had her listening for Chief Cody Sander’s code-four checks. He was watching Isobel Jamison’s home and had a police radio with him for dispatch to make sure he was okay periodically.

  Currently, a female voice was asking for a code-four check, and he was not answering. When he didn’t answer after three tries, Courtney could hear her dispatching two units to the address he was checked off on. Picking up the phone, she dialed Nic’s number.

  “Hey, Courtney,” she said on the first ring.

  “Cody hasn’t answered his code-four check.” She didn’t waste words or worry. Nic knew what the implications were.

  “Got it. I’m close and will head over.”

  “Okay. Kei’s in the air again and headed back home.”

  It was quiet for a moment, and she could hear Nic’s sigh. “That wasn’t an easy conversation, I’m sure.”

  “No.”

  “I’m on my way. Thanks, Courtney.”

  “Of course.”

  The line disconnected as one of her computers pinged. It was the computer that trolled the Dark Web. A line of text appeared. It was an address. That was it. Courtney wanted to dig into it to find out who it might be, but Kei had advised her not to. This was from someone, probably someone bad, who owed Kei a favor. But this was what she’d been waiting for. With a keystroke, she showed the sender that she’d read it. The text disappeared from her screen as quickly as it had turned up.

  Turning to her main system, she put the address into her search bar, and a red pin appeared—right in the center of the zone they figured the serial killers were operating within. She immediately started searching for blueprints and intel on the building. This was something she could sink her teeth into.

  She texted the address to Kei’s cell, so she’d have it when she hit the ground. Holding off on texting it to Nic, Courtney wanted to see if there was a need to involve her yet or not. The nondescript card holding Drake Page’s number seemed to glare at her from where she’d propped it against her old-school Rolodex. She’d hold off on calling him as well, at least until she had further information. Courtney bit her lip and reached out to pull his card closer. She’d call him as soon as she was sure, no sense sending him on a wild goose chase yet.

  * * *

  Nic was dressed in black and armed with everything she’d brought with her. Courtney’s call set off every alarm bell in her internal warning system. This was the move—the play the killers had made to get the plans from Ian.

  “I have her keys; let’s go,” Ian said as he came back down the stairs.

  He was dressed like she was, in black. Ian didn’t own a gun, not that he was opposed to one, he’d said, he’d just never bothered to get one. They were out of the house and in his car in a matter of minutes. The way Ian was driving, they’d arrive only a couple minutes before the two officers that were dispatched to do the welfare check on their chief.

  “They went after my sister to get to me, didn’t they?” Ian’s voice was soft in the quiet, but the agony of guilt was there. “I didn’t—not even once—take any of those threats seriously.”

  “Now isn’t the time. Later, you can wallow in guilt if you have to, but right now, we need to see what happened.” Nic knew she was being harsh when she heard his quick intake of air, but she did it on purpose. Guilt led to inaction, and if her gut feelings were right, they had very little time to act. The not knowing was the worst part. Was Cody dead? Was Isobel taken or dead? What was going to happen next? All these questions and potential answers chased themselves around her head on the short trip.

  The street where Isobel lived was quiet. No one moved, and nothing looked out of place. Not even the officers had arrived yet. Ian parked, and they were out of the car and at the front door before he paused. Nic had her gun out and ready; she nodded to Ian as he unlocked the door.

  “Stay behind me,” she whispered.

  The muscle in his jaw jumped, but he moved to stand behind her as the door swung open. The acrid smell of smoke wafted through the open door, stinging Nic’s nose. The smell wasn’t fresh; no smoke lingered in the air. Making the trip down the entryway, Nic didn’t bother with the lights. She felt Ian’s presence behind her, but he was as careful as she about making noise.

  Making a slow entry into the main room, she saw Cody on the floor, blood pooling next to him. Keeping her gun steady, she moved toward his body. Kneeling just enough to put her fingers against his neck, she held her breath as she felt the pulse there. She stood again, looking over her shoulder at Ian, “Stay with him,” she whispered.

  Once Ian moved into place, she continued her sweep of the home. It took two minutes to do both floors, and all she found was empty rooms. A quick glance into the master bedroom confirmed her suspicions as to why Isobel was gone and Cody lay dying on th
e floor. She reined in her anger until Cody was strong enough to take it—if he made it. And she made a point to include herself in that anger. How could she condemn Cody when she’d done that same damn thing?

  On the way back downstairs, Nic dialed 9-1-1. Giving her name and address, she used the code every dispatcher dreads hearing—Officer-Involved Shooting. Nic described what she wore and also advised that she had a firearm. When she heard the sirens only a block away, she knew the officers headed her way were aware of the situation and had stepped it up. Their chief was down.

  Nic switched on the lights and got a good look at Cody on the floor. Ian knelt by his side, holding pressure. Cody’s gun lay on the floor out of reach, and a crushed cell phone lay further down the hall toward the back door.

  “He’s losing a lot of blood,” Ian said.

  Looking into his eyes, Nic saw the unspoken question. Shaking her head, she said, “She’s not here.”

  “They took her,” Cody grunted.

  Nic was on her knees by his side in a flash. “How many?”

  He coughed, “Two. The bigger one was called Eugene. Both blond, huge.” He stopped as he sucked in a breath, his face a mask of pain.

  “Was Isobel hurt?” Ian asked.

  Cody shook his head. He opened his eyes when Nic laid a hand on his forehead. “You better live through this,” she said.

  “Because you’re going to kill me?”

  “I’m definitely going to kick your ass.”

  All hell erupted as the officers arrived. They came in with guns drawn, so Nic put her hands up where they could be seen, telling Ian to keep his where they were, holding pressure. She started talking after the initial yelling by the officers. It took a couple of moments before they felt safe enough to holster their weapons and really listen to her. By that time, a sergeant arrived with most of the graveyard shift. There were more cops in Isobel’s townhome than patrolling the streets, but with no suspect to chase, they were milling around. The ambulance arrived and started work on Cody, who’d passed out again. Ian excused himself to the kitchen to wash the blood off his hands.

  Lieutenant Dan Kalinsky had known Nic for a few years. He was pushing fifty, a little hefty through the middle, and his prematurely gray hair was beginning to thin. “How did you know to come over?” he asked.

  “You know Courtney listens to the police scanners, Dan. She called me the moment Cody didn’t answer up for his code-four check.”

  “He’d taken some time off but put in for a code-four check.” Dan looked her up and down. “The FBI is sniffing around a couple of really nasty homicides, and we can’t seem to locate Isobel Jamison. What are you involved in, kid?”

  “I wished to hell I knew,” Nic shrugged. “Isobel was taken by two men, according to Cody. I couldn’t get more because he lost consciousness again.”

  Dan didn’t look convinced, but let it go. “I’m going to need you and Ian Jamison to come to the station for a report.”

  “Of course,” she said. “What time do you need us there?”

  The lieutenant sighed, looking around. “We’ll be here for several more hours. How about I call you later, and have you come down?”

  “Sure,” Nic said. She rattled off the number to the agency, knowing that Courtney would field the call for her and stall. She didn’t have time to waste at the station going over and over what happened when she arrived tonight.

  Ian came over to stand by her. “I’m going to take my client home,” she said. “He’s been through an ordeal.”

  “Oh, sure, Nic. I’ll call you when I’m done here.”

  Nic nodded and ushered Ian out the front door, feeling a bit like a salmon going upstream against all the officers standing around. Once they were in the car, Nic opened her phone and called Courtney.

  “Is Cody dead?” she asked in lieu of hello.

  “He’s hanging on,” Nic replied. “They have Isobel, and I need to know everything you know.”

  “Shit. I just got an address from one of Kei’s less than savory sources. It’s directly in the middle of our killer’s home territory.” Courtney rattled off the address.

  “This has to be it then. How long until Kei is on the ground?”

  “Two hours.”

  “They’ll call Ian soon and demand the plans.” Nic looked at Ian as he drove. He’d been so quiet it worried her. The fact that he hadn’t spoken more than two words to her in the past hour wasn’t a good sign. He was a powder keg, and she couldn’t have him blowing up at the wrong time.

  “Should I call Drake?” Courtney asked.

  “Not yet. We need a head start. Send me what you have on the building. And run the name Eugene through the databases. Look specifically in the towns where other crimes were committed in that FBI file, and go back at least twenty years.”

  “It worries me that you know me so well,” she said.

  The call ended, and then the phone immediately pinged with the building plans. Courtney was one of the reasons Nic loved working with the agency. She was their eyes and ears, and she was ten steps ahead of them at any given moment.

  “Now, we wait for the ransom call.”

  Ian nodded and drove. His hands white-knuckled the steering wheel. Nic refused to give him lame platitudes. She had no way of knowing if Isobel was alive or dead. Likely, alive because Ian would demand proof of life, but how long would that last? Nic would die trying to get her back to Ian, but even that wasn’t a surety. These two men had been killing a long time, and they were good at it. Even the great Drake Page couldn’t nail their asses to any crime. Hell, he didn’t even know their names.

  “We have an address.”

  Ian nodded. “And I should stay positive?”

  Nic shook her head. “No, you should stay pissed off. But, not to the point that it blinds you.”

  He shot a quick look at her.

  “I don’t know how this is going to end, Ian. I can only tell you that I’ll die trying if that’s what it takes.”

  Ian flinched and stared at the road ahead. “What do we do now?”

  “We go back to your place and get what we need. Then get as close as we can without being seen, wait for the call, and make sure the cavalry is on the way.”

  “And hope no one dies.”

  “And hope the good guys don’t die. The bad guys are going down.”

  There was more she wanted to say—more that should be said, but none of it would help this situation. This wasn’t some sappy movie. There would be no declarations of undying love set to a musical score. This was real and ugly, and likely to be bloody, with no guarantee of success or a happily ever after. Her feelings didn’t matter, and neither did his.

  What mattered was getting out alive.

  Chapter 21

  When the FBI recruited Drake out of college, he hadn’t been sure he was a correct fit for the bureau. He was abrasive, bad-tempered, and generally a pain in the ass to his superiors. He was also a loner. But he had an uncanny knack for finding and catching killers. He was close, so close to nailing these two fuckers. He could feel it. Drake was a hunter, and he could smell his prey, the hairs on his body standing up in preparation for the confrontation.

  When Nic called and gave him an address to meet at, he knew this was it. One way or the other, this ended here and now. Drake knew he’d catch hell from his team, but he also knew it wouldn’t change his mind. He was going alone. Too many times, having a full team respond ended up causing more problems and deaths than needed. These two suspects were savvy and well-trained in their killing art. They weren’t likely to be taken unaware.

  Ian and Isobel Jamison were the main concern. Two private citizens with no training were always a problem. Nic, he didn’t worry about. He knew her dossier, and more than that, Kei wouldn’t have her on the team if she wasn’t cool under pressure and couldn’t handle herself. Drake also knew that Kei would be there, and while he didn’t trust many to watch his back, he trusted her. In all his years with the bureau, he’d never
met anyone quite like her in the civilian world.

  Checking his gun, he surveyed his room. If he didn’t come back, his team would remove any sensitive material. He had no feelings about it one way or the other. If he lived, he’d hunt again. If he didn’t—Drake shrugged to himself. No loss there either.

  * * *

  Kei was off the plane at a dead run. The call from Courtney had all her senses in overdrive. Ian would have no choice but to put himself in danger for his sister, which meant Nic would make sure she was there. Kei would be damned if she lost another agent. When she started the protection agency, she hired only the best and thought she could remain detached. But, over the years, those women had worked their way under her skin. They were a family.

  And the two bastards who’d killed Lindsay needed to die.

  The car waited where she’d left it before the trip to Iowa. She jumped in and fired up the engine, knowing a bag of weapons and clothing waited in the trunk for her. Courtney would have made sure. Her other agents were all in different states on assignments, and Courtney wasn’t a field agent. This would be on her and Nic to make it right. Drake Page would be involved, no doubt, and while he could be trusted not to shoot himself in the foot, he would attempt to take those two alive, if only to be studied. Kei wasn’t going to allow that.

  An eye for an eye, the Bible said. It was about the only thing she knew from that book, but that was something that made sense to her. Prison escapes happened; killers got away on technicalities in the courts—Kei wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Those men tortured and killed for pleasure and profit. They deserved to die.

  The sun would be up in a couple of hours, and she needed to be in place well before then. Nic had a half-assed plan that might work. It was the only one they had with so little time given to them, and a lot would depend on luck and Nic’s acting skills.