“Tina was idealistic and naive.” The venom was bitter on her tongue. When the shock registered on Mick’s face, Kazi glanced down, ashamed for speaking ill of her only friend. “Sorry.” She gulped more stout, pushed several euros into the tip jar, then patted Tina’s brother on the shoulder. “Good-bye, Mick.”
She spun on her boots and stalked toward the door with the stained-glass panes. Out in the cool evening, Kazi stalked down the hedgerow-lined path, bound by guilt and pushed by remorse. But even as she crossed the street clogged with small whining cars and strode up the slight hill toward the future, she heard steps behind her.
“Kacie, please. Wait.”
“Forget me, Mick.” Forget that Kacie Whitcomb exists, because she doesn’t—not really. But she couldn’t say that to him without giving things away. “Go back to your girl, profess your love to her, and live happily ever after.” Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she continued. Puffs of icy air swirled before her nose. The bitter weather matched the condition of her heart.
He hooked her arm and swung her around.
As he did, she swept her hand up and broke his hold. “You know better than to do that.”
“Come back to the pub, sit and talk. Let’s get things sorted.”
The way he said that, the pleading in a voice that had always been strong and confident, tugged at the wrong strings on her heart. Kazi lowered her head. “Mick…please.”
Surprisingly warm fingers traced her cheek, chapped by the cold. “Kacie.”
Her eyes slid closed. Then she popped them open and stared him in the eye. “You know I can’t do this.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.
She let him kiss her again. And again. Then she leaned into the kiss and returned it. But only because she knew this could never happen again. She jerked and took a step back, gaze on her boots.
“Kacie, stay here. With me. He won’t find you.”
“You’re talking without a brain now, Mick Kelley.” That kind of stupidity put everyone’s life in danger. “He’s already found me, or have you forgotten who’s lying up in Shanganagh now?”
“Her death was an accident.” He reached out to touch her again. “Please—“
She slapped his hand away. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you believe that.”
“I don’t want to be losing me sister and me lady in the same week.” Mick’s voice rose on the cold, bitter wind. “You’re butchering me here, Kacie.”
Irony plied a sad smile from her unwilling face. “No Mick. I’m saving you.” She tiptoed up and kissed him again. “Good-bye, Mick.”
Forever.
Somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains
The explosion shoved Sydney back into the house. Not good. Trapped within the house, they wouldn’t survive if the chopper sent a missile through the roof. Shrieks from the children shuddered through her.
“What’s that noise?” Danielle shouted over the children.
Sydney stared at her. What did she mean? The thunder of the chopper? The wails of the children? The roar of the fire? “I—“
“Feel it!” Danielle said, nodding to the ground.
Sydney hesitated, trying to train her mind past the wild, frenetic screams of Dakota. But then…then she realized what Danielle meant. It felt like a mini earthquake rumbled beneath her feet. Was that from the raging fire and bullets?
“Look!” Rel pointed out the rear window.
Two massive helicopters streaked through the sky, their rotor wash like a drumroll, signifying a grand finale. Our finale. Sydney tugged Dillon into her arms, fearing the end had come. And yet the only thing she could think was that she pitied whoever took her life, pitied them going up against her husband, who would be bent on revenge.
“Downstairs,” she said, her brain and voice reengaging. “Everyone down into the basement.” It was made of cement and would shield them. As long as smoke inhalation didn’t kill them, they might survive.
As she glanced back to the window, to the two new choppers, her heart skipped a beat as a trail of fire and smoke burst from the chopper on the left. Then another…and another. Her eyes widened as the missiles streaked toward them.
She held her breath. Watching. Waiting.
Closer…closer…
She cringed and hugged her sons close, huddled on the floor, waiting for the final hurrah.
Boom! Boooom.
BOOOOM!
A horrendous crack resounded through the house. Something dropped from above. Landed a dozen feet away. Sydney jerked that way, then up—a massive hole gaped in the roof. And in the north-facing wall. Enough plaster and wood had vanished to allow her to see into the yard. All the cars blazed. No…not the cars—the commercial helicopter.
Through the hole, a blur of black whooshed into the battered home.
Her heart hitched. Tactical. Military. Fast-roping.
Three appeared in the doorway. “Sydney Jacobs! Danielle Metcalfe. Piper Neeley.”
Sydney shifted around, terrified to be singled out by men she didn’t know. Men who’d just blown a helicopter out of the sky.
Another soldier slipped between the first two. He flipped up his face shield. “Mrs. Jacobs, we have orders from General Lambert to take you and the others into custody.”
On weak knees, Sydney rose. “I’m Sydney Jacobs.”
He took a step forward, his weapon straddling his chest. “We need to go, ma’am.”
Danielle joined them. “We’re not leaving with you till we have proof you’re who you say you are.”
The soldier looked irritated. “All I know is to get you out of here, ASAP. Now, you can come on your own, or…”
“What about our husbands?”
He waved them out. “Sorry. I don’t have intel on them. Let’s move, people. We have incoming.”
As they filed through the double row of men in tactical gear, Sydney heard a commotion behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, only to find two men holding Rel back. “What’re you doing?”
“She’s not on our list,” the leader said. “Three women, six children.”
“Well, she’s with us.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I have strict orders, only you and your children.”
“She’s my daughter.” She bit down on the lie, but she would not leave the girl.
The man frowned at her.
“I just adopted her.” It wasn’t a whole lie, and didn’t the Doctrine of Competing Harms cover this situation? After all, she’d adopted the girl as a part of the Nightshade family—just then. “Come on, Rel. We need to hurry.” She felt a war of giggles and fear as the soldiers hesitated, scowling between them. “Can you prove I didn’t adopt her?”
The man’s face darkened. So much like Max when she’d cornered him.
“None of us are leaving without her.” Dani put an arm around Rel.
“Sir, less than five.” The man to the right of the leader tapped his ear mic.
“Move, people!”
Outside, Sydney jogged toward one of two waiting helicopters. As she reached for a handle on the side to climb aboard, she noticed two more choppers, hovering over the Black Hawks. They looked fierce and fast.
Sydney climbed in and sat on the canvas strap seat, and immediately the skilled hands of a soldier strapped her in. As the last one in, she sat near the door and two soldiers sat on the edge, facing out, weapons ready. She wrapped an arm around Dillon, who buried his face in her leg.
As the bird lifted, her mind drifted to her husband. Oh Max. What’s going on? Where are you?
They veered to the right and came around. Movement to the side snagged her attention. The two soldiers snapped their weapons up and began firing. Only then did she see a truck on the side of the mountain. Sparks flying up.
No, not sparks. Shots.
The soldier near her left whipped back, then tilted forward. In that split second, several things came to Sydney: one, the soldier was shot and would fall to his d
eath if she didn’t help; two, she’d just released a grip on Dakota’s carrier; and three, she was exposed to the very same gunfire that had struck this soldier.
She grabbed the man’s vest and dug her fingers around the material. When she felt the carrier tip, she lifted her leg and tried to counterbalance.
“Taking fire! Taking fire!” someone shouted over the drone of the rotors.
“Man down. Man down.”
The helicopter veered right.
The baby carrier lifted from her legs. Sydney gasped and jerked—only to realize Rel held on to the seat with Dakota in it. “Help her,” she shouted.
Thank goodness someone had noticed she couldn’t hold on to the man any longer. Her arm ached and her fingers felt like they’d break off. Just when she couldn’t hold on anymore, two hands stretched into view and dragged the soldier onto the steel floor of the chopper.
Adrenaline pumping, Sydney swallowed. Lifted her trembling hand to the carrier, but as she did, she saw something on her hand. She frowned. What…?
“Sydney, are you okay? Sydney!”
Her hearing hollowed. The edges of her vision ghosted.
CHAPTER 5
Wallens Ridge Federal Penitentiary, Virginia
A loud buzz reverberated through the steel and cement block. Clanking somewhere in the correctional facility grated against Griffin’s nerves. Bars that served to contain the less decent of society only led to more captivity. Imprisonment. Outside, voices and laughter carried on the cold wind. Squeaks and grunts. Shouts and laughter. Hoops.
God, You have got to get me out of here. He would lose his good mind here for forty more years. He grunted.
With one hand behind his back and the other palm-down against the cold floor, Griffin ignored the painful, numbing iciness of January seeping through his bones and up his arm. Eyes on his multilegged friend, he lowered his chest and board-straight legs toward the floor in another rep. Two-thirty-nine.
Sixty-one to go. Three hundred reps.
What else was there to do for twenty-three hours in a six-by-eight trap?
The spider skittered over the drab floor, its dark body contrasting the gray. Dark gray. Light gray. Striped gray on the pillows. Wool gray blankets. Every shade of the dreary color.
As he continued, thudding echoed through the narrow hall outside the steel door. Boots. With short, staccato breaths, he advanced through the repetitions, listening to the movement beyond his dank cell. Boots sounded like Guard Acton. That didn’t make sense. What would he be doing this far down in the pit at this time of day?
Schink!
Griffin eyed the square of light that appeared on the floor to his right. The spider skittered back to his corner. Now why would Acton interrupt his private time? All 1,380 minutes of it.
“On your feet, Riddell, and get a shirt,” Acton called through the bars.
Lumbering to his feet, Griffin peered through the small window. The guards behind Acton had their battle gear on, padded from head to toe, their faces protected by visors. The scene rolled over him like a bad dream. Griffin shook it off.
“We having a party, Acton?” He brushed off his hands. “What’s the occasion? A birthday? Got some cake?” He snatched the shirt from his two-inch-thick mattress.
“Just do it, Riddell.”
Eyeing the guards, Griffin threaded his arms through the sleeves. As he assumed the position, hands behind his head, he pressed his focus to Dante and reminded himself that extracting his vengeance would serve no purpose but to disgrace his family. But humiliation had cost him the last semblance of honor and pride he possessed. They’d deemed him a flight risk, a high-security risk, and a lethal weapon because of his training and skills. Lambert did what he could, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.
The steel window clamped shut. Groaning echoed through the room as the door slid into the wall. “What’s up, Acton? Where we going?”
Who was here? Phee knew better than to come back so soon. Colton had missed last week though.
Rough hands pawed at him, clamping metal and chains onto his wrists one at a time as they secured his hands. The tendons and muscles in his shoulders strained as they jerked his arms behind his back. He stared straight ahead at the barrel of an M4 one of the guards held trained on him. Another guard held a fully automatic. Even by the way the men held the weapons, Griffin knew they didn’t feel confident. He scared them.
Good. At least they were smart enough to recognize the threat he posed. Of course he could take them. Take them all. He had the skills. The training. Get out of here, hide out…
And bring that humiliation down on Dante?
Griffin released the urge and let his shoulders relax. Chains jangled as his hands and feet were bound together to limit his range of motion.
Acton gave a hard pull, the tug stressing Griffin’s shoulders. He grimaced and flinched.
Feet shuffled. Weapons snapped up. Shields nudged forward as the guards hid themselves, weapons aimed at him as they readied for a fight.
Griffin shrugged one shoulder. “They’re cutting me.”
“Sorry.” Acton tried to play off the rough treatment, but Griffin knew it wasn’t an accident. “Don’t want you to wiggle out of those.”
It was okay. The guy could save face if he needed. Thing of it was, if Griffin decided to start something, these fools wouldn’t be able to stop it. It’d be too easy to take this midget out. Then again, Griffin wouldn’t do that. Yeah, he’d been screwed by the system, but he still had his honor.
Never shall I forget the principles I accepted to become a Recon Marine. Honor, Perseverance, Spirit, and Heart. Times like this, the Creed served him well. He was a Marine. They couldn’t take that from him.
Acton and the others hustled Griffin out of the cell. The head guard gave the signal, and another door opened.
“Who’s my visitor?” Griffin eyed the seemingly endless rows of one-window condos lining the corridor. How many others had been unjustly relegated to the steel coffins by the judicial system?
“Psychologist.”
A groan escaped. “Just take me back.” The thought of another brain-digger tempted him to resist. “I don’t need no shrink.”
Acton grinned. “Hey, orders are orders. Government wants a peek inside your brain, they get a peek. Maybe this psychologist will put you under hypnosis and find out how you knew where the congressman would be the night you killed him.”
Griffin glared down at the head guard. Did the fool really want to start something? Even with the wide glasses and droopy belly, he didn’t look that stupid.
“In you go.” Acton guided him into a room.
A massive one-way mirror lined the wall. Easy, Riddell. This ain’t war. Two chairs flanked a table that looked as if it’d been used for torture.
Then again…maybe it was war.
“Take a seat, boy.” Acton waited by a chair situated between two large loops set into the cement floor.
Griffin huffed. “Why you trying to make me mad?” Frustration always brought out his slang. Madyar would whoop him from here to the Mississippi and back if she heard him. “You won’t have a chance in life if you talk like that.”
“Just putting you in your place. Now sit nice for the psychologist.” As one guard kept a weapon trained on Griffin, Acton and another hooked the chains to the reinforced bars looped into the ground. He patted Griffin on the shoulder and motioned the others out of the room. Two in, four out. As if he would go anywhere.
Sitting in the chilled room, his body cooling from the workout, Griffin huffed. “Like a dog on a chain.”
Steel clanked the table as he set his head in his hands, elbows propped on the metal surface. Man, he didn’t want no shrink digging through his mind. What was there wouldn’t change anything that happened. Why bother? They’d convicted him of capital murder. Swiftest trial of the century. His attorney had been powerless against the evidence, and having a trial in Virginia with a black man who’d murdered the Republican party�
��s rising star white congressman—well, he didn’t have a prayer, even if he had sent up thousands to the Pearly Gates. Someone with a grudge must’ve had guard duty up there when his prayers floated in. He’d gotten locked up for the next forty years of his life. “A threat to society,” the judge had ruled.
Yeah, she got that right. Let him loose, and he’d show them how much a threat.
“Boy, you’re better than that.”
Madyar’s mental chiding slapped a smile into his face. He missed his grandmother. His sister had written, saying Madyar had spent two weeks in the hospital before passing through those Pearly Gates, greeted no doubt by Mama.
They killed Madyar. Came into his home, assaulted his family, and murdered his grandmother. All for a crime he didn’t commit.
“I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t make myself clear.”
The uniformed guard shifted. “Yes, ma’am, you did. It’s just that—“
“I want that room emptied.” She pointed to the steel door. “I will not speak to my patient with witnesses. Have you heard of privacy laws? Doctor-patient privilege?” She thumbed over her shoulder. “So clear out. You can stay here in the hall, but I’m going in, and I’m going in alone.”
The mealymouthed guard sniggered. “Dr. Whitcomb, that’s just not something I can do.”
She stomped back toward the viewing room. “Fine, I’ll call your supervisor and tell him you’re breaking the law.” She paused and glanced at him, throwing as much uncertainty into her face and voice as possible. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the one who just came off administrative leave?”
He paled.
Ah. “I’m sure you had a legitimate reason for all those images on your computer.” She had him right where she needed him, so she played nonchalant. “What could happen?”
A hissing breath escaped as he opened the door and motioned the two guards out. Smiling her appreciation, Kazi Faron stepped into the room. Pen in hand, she clicked it. The lock thudded into place.
Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) Page 6
