Working frantically, he picked the other locked cuff and stuffed it into the pocket of his slacks. In the semidarkness, he searched the floor for anything that might have been left behind—a gun or phone—but he found nothing.
He needed a plan. He needed a weapon. A mode of communication with the outside world. The two gunmen could very well already have Lily in custody. There was no way he could rush in unarmed and get both of them out alive.
In his years with the military and with Eclipse, he’d found himself in worse situations. Still, this was different. This was personal. He’d never had to save the life of a woman he’d once loved, a woman he still cared for deeply. The woman who carried his child.
Chase took the steps two at a time to the top. Checking the small window in the door that led to the main hall, he slowly pushed it open and stepped out. Here the light was better. He started down the hall, trying each door he passed.
The first two doors were locked. The third read Security. Chase didn’t hesitate. Taking a deep breath, he shoved open the door.
An older man in a blue uniform sat at a desk. Four darkened monitors lined the wall ahead. He gave Chase a cop look when he walked in. “Can I help you?” he asked in a strong Boston accent.
“I want to report a crime.” Putting his face in his hands, Chase moved closer to the desk.
“Calm down,” the security guard said. “Tell me what happened.”
With his face still in his hands, Chase collapsed into the chair and scooted closer. “They took my girlfriend. At gunpoint.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” He inched closer. Almost there…
“They kidnapped her? At gunpoint?” The man reached for the radio. “Where did this happen?”
The instant the man turned away, Chase lunged and went for the gun. Eyes wide, gripping the radio like a weapon, the security officer tried to scramble back. “What the—”
A jab to the solar plexus silenced him. When the man doubled over, Chase followed up with a chop to the base of his skull. The man sprawled on the floor.
“Sorry, old man.” Glancing around, feeling the seconds tick by, Chase stuffed the gun into his waistband. He lifted an expandable baton from the man’s belt, along with a flashlight and a cell phone. Pulling the cuffs from his own pocket, he snapped them onto the man’s wrists. He found masking tape on the desk and peeled off enough to cover the man’s mouth. Spotting a small supply closet at the back of the room, he dragged the man into it and locked the door.
Chase spent another minute searching the small office for anything he might be able to use. A locked cabinet snagged his attention. Safety-conscious law-enforcement types always kept the good stuff under lock and key. He quickly picked the lock, yanked open the cabinet. The cache of small arms and various riot gear didn’t amount to much, but they would do in a pinch.
Armed with the .38 revolver, a concussion grenade, a canister of tear gas, and the resolve of a man facing his worst nightmare, he went in search of Lily.
Chapter Six
They were going to kill her.
That terrible fact jammed Lily’s brain as the two men ushered her down the dark and narrow corridor. She was walking to her death. It was only a matter of time. The thought terrified her. But what really horrified her was the thought of her unborn child dying.
She wasn’t above begging. She would do anything—anything—if she thought it would spare her baby’s life. “I’ll do whatever you want,” she blurted out, her voice breathless with fear and adrenaline. “Please…just don’t hurt my baby.”
On either side of her, the men ignored her plea. They led her down the hall a few more feet, then stopped.
The man gripping her right bicep tightened his grip. “Elevator’s out. Frickin’ blackout. We gotta take the stairs.”
The other man looked at Lily. “Where’s Vickers?”
She stared into cold blue eyes that were as lifeless and cold as a Boston winter. “I don’t know.”
His gaze skimmed down the front of her. “If you want to save that kid, you’d better start talking, bitch.”
He was a thickly built man with large facial features that made his head look too big for his body. “I swear to you,” she said. “I honestly don’t know. I was sleeping when he left. Probably to make a call.”
“Who did he call?”
“I don’t know.”
The second man made a sound of frustration. He glared at Lily, and she saw cruelty in the depth of his gray eyes. “Lying bitch.” He sneered at the other man. “She’s yankin’ your chain.”
“I’m not,” she choked.
Where are you, Chase? Please come.
They reached the door leading to the stairs. The second man drew his weapon and shoved the door open. He looked up and down the stairwell, then motioned them in. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”
The man with the blue eyes pushed her into the stairwell corridor, then addressed the other man. “Get on the horn and tell Eddie to meet us at the south exit.”
The second man slid a sleek phone from his coat, punched numbers with a fat thumb. “We got the chick,” he said. “No sign of Vickers. Yeah. Meet us at the south exit. Two minutes.”
Frowning, he snapped the phone closed. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” Lips pulling back, he shoved Lily. “Time’s a wastin’, bitch. Hurry up and get up those stairs.”
Numb with dread, Lily followed orders. Her heart beat so fast the rush of blood made her dizzy. She couldn’t believe the situation had boiled down to this. That these two violent men would kill her and her child, and she would become just another Boston statistic.
She was midway to the landing when she heard a noise, as if something had fallen from above. An instant later an explosion rocked her brain. The man grasping her arm reeled backward, cursing. Lily fell to her hands and knees. Something metallic clanged behind her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see smoke swirl from some type of steel canister.
“Gas!” shouted one of the men.
“Get the bitch!” said the other.
A scream tore from Lily’s throat when he lunged at her. Acting on instinct, she slapped off his hand and scrambled on all fours up the remaining stairs.
At the top of the landing, Lily sucked in a breath, but it was like breathing in fire. Choking smoke filled the stairwell. The acrid gas entered her bronchial tubes like shards of molten glass. Her lungs seized. Clutching her belly, she doubled over and began to cough.
She screamed when strong arms gripped her from behind. All she could think was that she couldn’t let the men take her back. Fighting for her life, she spun and tried to knee him. But her attacker danced aside.
“Get away from me!” she choked.
“Lily. Whoa. It’s me, Chase. Settle down.”
In the semidarkness and swirling smoke, she couldn’t see his face. But she knew his voice. His touch. Relief washed over her with such power that her legs went weak. Her knees would have buckled if he hadn’t caught her arms. “Chase. My God…”
“Easy. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
She wasn’t okay. She tried to tell him about the two men, but her throat closed up. Tears from the gas and smoke, and from relief, welled in her eyes.
“Hang on to me,” he said.
The next thing she knew she was being swept off her feet and into his arms, solid as stone. She hung on for dear life as he took her up the stairwell at breakneck speed. She could feel his muscles bunching beneath her, could hear him grunting with the effort.
An instant later, he slammed his palm against a door and they entered a dimly lit hall. The air was clear, but Lily couldn’t stop coughing. Her throat felt as if it were on fire. Gently, Chase lowered her to her feet, but her knees turned to mush.
“Easy.” He steadied her. “Slow, shallow breaths. That’s it.”
Lily looked at him through gas-induced tears and struggled to get oxygen into lungs that seemed to be locked down tight.
&nb
sp; Chase was breathing hard and coughing, too. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and soaked his shirt beneath his arms and on his back.
“You got your feet under you?” he asked after a moment.
Lily wasn’t yet sure, but she nodded.
“Good girl.” He released her. “I’m sorry about the gas, but there was no other way.”
“They were going to kill me. Kill the baby.”
But he was already looking over his shoulder. “Honey, we’ve got to run. Can you do it?”
The hall seemed to tilt, then her balance leveled. Lily’s knees wobbled, but held. As if reluctant to let her go, Chase glanced toward the door from which they’d emerged. “We’ve got to go,” he said. “Those sons of bitches will be here any second.”
“I can do it,” she heard herself say.
He didn’t look convinced. Snarling something beneath his breath, he darted to a fire emergency box, broke the glass and jammed the large hose nozzle between the door and the handle.
“That’s not going to keep them out,” she said.
“Might buy us a minute or two.”
“Chase, damn it, there’s nowhere to run.”
“Let me worry about that.” He took her hand and squeezed it hard. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You got that?”
She nodded.
Giving her a half smile, he took her down the hall at a controlled sprint. Lily held her protruding abdomen with one hand and struggled to keep up. Behind her, she heard pounding on the door. Fear sent her pulse back into the red zone.
The hall turned and then widened. Beyond, against the dim light of a battery-powered light, Lily saw people milling about in the main hall. Chase led her toward a rear exit door. Without pausing, he hit the push bar with both hands and sent the door flying.
Daylight encompassed her; the air eased the burning in her throat. She had no idea what time it was, only knew she was grateful for the light.
They cut through throngs of people who’d gathered on the sidewalk. Several people protested as Chase shoved them out of the way, but no one tried to stop them.
They hit the sidewalk along Summer Street and headed east toward the Summer Street Bridge. More than anything, Lily wanted this terrible ordeal to end. She desperately needed to stop and rest. She needed to know what was happening and why. But she knew if she stopped now, the men would catch up with them.
The air turned humid and smelled of the harbor as they stepped onto the bridge over the Fort Point Channel. At the apex, Chase finally pulled her to a stop.
For several seconds the only sound came from their labored breathing and the hard thrum of her own heart.
“You okay?” Chase asked.
“That’s a damn silly question at this point,” Lily snapped.
He glanced down where she gripped her belly with her left hand and he grimaced.
“I can’t run anymore,” she said.
He reached out as if to touch her abdomen, but dropped his hand. Lily saw the strain in his face, the worry in his eyes. She knew him well enough to know that worry had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her and the baby.
She followed his gaze as he looked up and down the channel. Twenty yards away, a small boat chugged toward the bridge.
Chase glanced back toward South Station, and a chill ran down Lily’s spine. “Do you think you can make it across the bridge?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I want you to go to the other side. There’s a small pier there with a dock on the left side and a sidewalk in front of the office building. Go to the waterfront sidewalk and wait for me.”
“We’re splitting up?” She hated the alarm in her voice, but she was not equipped to handle this kind of situation alone.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Go.”
The sound of gunfire erupted from the general vicinity of South Station. Chase glanced that way, then turned back to Lily. “That’s your cue, honey. I want you to run as fast as you can to the other side of the bridge. Can you do that?”
Without waiting for an answer, he stepped away from her and gave her a gentle shove in the direction he wanted her to go.
Shocked he would suggest they split up and frightened by the sound of gunfire, Lily turned back to him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get us some transportation.” Giving her a cavalier grin, he climbed onto the low rail at the edge of the bridge. “Run,” he said. “I’ll be there in two minutes. I promise.”
At that, he looked down at the water and jumped into space.
LILY RAN as she had never run before. Gripping her belly with her right hand, she sprinted toward the far end of the bridge. In the distance, she could see the Boston Convention Center and, beyond, the giant cranes of the waterfront district where container ships were loaded and unloaded.
Her uniform shoes pounded the sidewalk like pistons. Above her labored breaths she heard shouts and a volley of gunshots from behind her. But Lily didn’t slow down. There was no way she was going to let those men with guns get their hands on her again. She ran for her life.
Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest by the time she reached the other side of the bridge. Following Chase’s instructions, she veered right and took the crumbling steps to an old wooden pier. Exhausted, her back aching with renewed fervor, she dropped to her knees and gulped great lungfuls of air.
Vaguely, she was aware of the rumble of a boat’s engine as it pulled up to the dock. It crossed her mind that the men had once again found her. Fear gave her the strength to raise her head. A quiver of uncertainty went through her when she saw a man tie off the boat and approach her.
A little voice inside her head warned her to run. But she was too damn tired and in too much pain to move. She didn’t have much fight left in her. Heart pounding, she watched the man approach, realizing belatedly his form was familiar. One she would know anywhere, even in the dark of night.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Chase’s voice washed over her with the comfort of warm waves lapping sun-washed sand. Setting his strong hands beneath her arms, he lifted her to her feet. “Easy. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
“Where did you get the boat?” she asked, getting her legs beneath her.
“Let’s just say I borrowed it and leave it at that, shall we?”
But Lily knew that wasn’t the case. He’d stolen it. He’d jumped from the bridge onto the boat’s deck and commandeered it from some hapless boater. But she was too tired to argue with him about any of it. Chase might like living on the edge, but she knew him well enough to know that in the end he’d make things right.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Taking her arm, he started toward the boat.
For the first time, Lily got a good look at the vessel. It was a small Bertram Yacht about twenty-five feet long with an inboard engine and a flying bridge. The name painted on the fiberglass hull almost made her laugh.
The Sea Escape.
Chase helped her onto the boat and dashed to the helm. Reaching down, he flipped several switches then turned a key. The engine choked out a groan and rumbled to life.
Spinning the wheel, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Get below deck.”
Lily didn’t argue. She tugged open the door to the main cabin. Her back spasmed as she went down the steep steps, and pain gripped her midsection hard enough to make her double over, but it passed quickly.
Below deck, the air was warm and smelled pleasantly of eucalyptus. A tiny kitchen lined the port side. Aft, a small cubbyhole-like bedroom replete with fluffy pillows and several nautical blankets beckoned.
Weak with exhaustion, back pain and the aftereffects of adrenaline, Lily kicked off her uniform shoes and took the single step up to the sleeping quarters. Just for a little while, she assured herself and crawled onto the mattress.
Within minutes of closing her eyes, she drifted into darkness.
THE HAIRS ON CHASE’S NECK prickled
uncomfortably as he steered the small Bertram Yacht between the piers beneath the Summer Street Bridge. From above he could hear the two gunmen arguing. He couldn’t make out their words above the rumble of the engines and the wind that had kicked up off the ocean to the east, sending the dark clouds skidding across the sky, but he knew they were ticked off because their prey had gotten away.
Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades as he idled beneath the Congress Street Bridge, hopeful the jacket and hat he’d found on the boat shielded him from detection.
The water grew choppy as he steered the vessel beneath the Evelyn Moakley Bridge. Normally, the high-rise buildings of Boston’s financial district would be waking up shortly, the lights, computers and machines coming to life, the traffic snarled, the pedestrians harried. Today, the buildings would stand vacant. It was as if, despite the daylight, the entire world was still trapped in a never-ending blackout.
Keeping his eyes on the bridges and the sidewalks that ran across the channel at city-block-sized intervals, Chase took the Bertram past the John Joseph Moakley Courthouse and headed southeast toward the World Trade Center. More than anything, he wanted to find a safe place for Lily. A place where they could park the boat and he could make some calls and figure out what was going on.
Easier said than done with a blackout to contend with, armed gunmen shooting at them at every turn—and a very pregnant and exhausted woman in tow. But Chase admitted Lily Garrett was not just any pregnant woman. She was the woman he’d once loved more than his own life. The woman who carried his child. The only woman who’d ever gotten to him. The one woman capable of tying his gut into knots.
Spinning the wheel, he made a sharp left into a small marina where fishing boats, a popular Boston dinner cruise ship and a few sailboats bobbed in their slips. Flipping a switch on the control panel, he idled as quietly as possible into the marina.
All the slips were occupied, the boats tugging restlessly against their moorings. Chase was just about ready to give up on finding a slip when he spotted an empty one next to a good-size tug. Ever watchful for the harbormaster, Chase quickly parked the boat, cut the engine and then jumped onto the dock to tie the moorings to the cleats.
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