Chapter 45
…I wasn’t dead.
The surface under me was too hard and cold to be heaven, and I wasn’t in enough pain for hell.
But maybe hell wasn’t physical pain. Emotional pain?
Yes, surely this was hell.
Somebody was whimpering, thin helpless cries like a dying child.
Maybe it was me.
I should check. Feel my mouth and throat.
My arms felt too heavy to move and I didn’t care enough to try.
At last I dragged my eyelids open. The ceiling circled slowly above me, white spattered with red.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then reopened them. The ceiling stabilized.
I might be in danger. I should get up. Grab my gun.
But why? To save my own life so I could suffer longer?
After a few long moments the whimpering got annoying.
I hauled up an uncoordinated arm to paw my face, but I actually wasn’t the one making that sound.
I let my arm fall back to the floor. I was beyond whimpering. Far beyond any expression of the monstrous grief that smothered my soul.
When nothing happened after a few more moments I sat up, bracing myself against waves of vertigo.
Blood everywhere. Labelle’s body lay on its back a few feet away, a messy hole in its head and a matching one in its chest. Kane’s body was mercifully facedown. The weapon and suitcase full of money were gone, and so was Holt.
He had double-crossed us all.
The thought felt like a hammer striking an anaesthetized thumb. No pain, just a dull impact that would be excruciating later.
I should crawl over to Kane’s body.
And do what? He had betrayed me in the end, too.
I squeezed my eyes closed.
It didn’t help.
After a while I opened them again and staggered to my feet to collect my weapons from sheer force of habit. Trank pistol at my waist; Glock at my-
“So you’re finally up.” Holt’s voice was obnoxiously cheerful, and I turned slowly to see him regarding me from just inside the doorway. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “That was a fucking stupid rookie move, letting Labelle get the drop on you like that.”
As if guided by someone else, my Glock swung up in a smooth arc and my finger squeezed the trigger once, twice; my hands rock-steady.
No hesitation.
No second chances.
Holt hit the floor with a yell, rolling and twisting to come up in a shooter’s crouch with his gun pointing at the sprawled corpse that lay where he had stood only seconds before.
He eyed the wicked-looking knife clenched in the corpse’s hand and swallowed hard before bellowing, “JONES! WHAT THE FUCK, YOU SAID THE PLACE WAS CLEAR!”
“Sorry, sir, there was a concealed room,” a faint voice replied. “We’re double-checking now.”
“YOU’D FUCKING BETTER TRIPLE-CHECK!” Holt roared. “FUCKING IDIOT!” He lowered his voice. “Thanks, Kelly.”
I nodded. The Glock felt good in my hand. Safe and normal and right. Not like the rest of my world.
A man clad in black fatigues escorted the two servers out and the whimpering ceased at last. I stood staring at Holt in the silence.
“Oh,” he said as though suddenly enlightened. “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” He nudged Kane’s body with a toe. “I shot him with the ballistic trank. The mist knocked you out, too. He should wake up in a few minutes.”
“He… wha…?”
Holt’s words registered and I dropped to my knees beside Kane, mostly because my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. My fingers trembled to his throat, finding the strong steady pulse that should have sent a surge of joy through me.
“Oh. That’s good,” I said stupidly, and sat on the floor with a thud.
“Fuck, Kelly.” Holt crouched to study me with concern. “Did you hit your head or something?” He waved a hand at the scattered bodies. “It’s all good. When you didn’t respond to your ‘call home’ text and the bug picked up Labelle’s and Kane’s conversation, I brought in the cavalry.” He nodded at Riel’s body. “That didn’t quite end according to plan; but whatever. At least nobody important died.”
My heart shattered.
“The terrorist attack at Battalion Park,” I whispered. “How many…?”
I couldn’t say the word ‘dead’.
Holt’s eyes widened. “What terrorist attack?”
“It was on TV. Live news feed. That’s how Labelle got my weapons. I couldn’t…”
Words failed me again.
“Goddammit, we were infiltrating the house then…” Holt lunged to his feet, snatching out a secured phone and jabbing at the speed dial button. “It’s Holt!” he barked. “Battalion Park! What happened! How many casualties?”
Face hard, he listened to the crackle of Stemp’s voice on the other end of the line.
Kane groaned and flopped over onto his back, his hand going to his forehead. “Didn’t have to take the head shot,” he mumbled grumpily. “Could’ve lost an eye…” His eyes opened and he squinted at his red-smeared hand. “Dammit…”
Reaching up to the table, I grabbed one of Labelle’s crisp white linen napkins and handed it to Kane.
“Thank you.” His gaze sharpened as though his vision had just come into focus. “Aydan, you’re all right. Thank God.” His hand closed around mine.
“Kelly, step away!” Holt’s hand hovered dangerously near his holster.
“What-” I began.
“Move it! Now! Opposite side of the room!” Holt raised his voice to a shout. “Jones!” One of the fatigue-clad men appeared in the doorway and Holt jerked his chin at us. “Take their weapons.”
My hand tightened reflexively on the Glock I still hadn’t holstered.
Holt’s gun was trained on me in an eyeblink. “Don’t do it, Kelly,” he warned.
“What the hell?” I protested.
“Put it down! Do it now!” His finger hovered over the trigger.
“Okay, okay. Jeez, take a pill.” I laid the Glock down carefully. “Trust me, if I was going to shoot you I would have done it days ago. Or a few seconds ago.”
Holt shrugged. “You’re a spook. I don’t trust you any farther than I could throw you.” As Jones pocketed my weapons and turned to frisk Kane, Holt directed a glare at Kane and added, “And I sure as hell don’t trust him. Now, get over to the other side of the room like I told you. Nice and slow.”
As I dragged myself to my feet to comply, Kane rose, too, holding his arms away from his body so Jones could complete his search.
“I’ll cooperate,” Kane said mildly. “But not unless I see my son first. I just have to make a call to arrange it, and I only want a few minutes with him. After that I’ll do whatever you want.” His gaze bored into Holt. “But that gun won’t do you any good at all if I decide not to cooperate.”
Holt’s jaw hardened as his weapon locked onto Kane. “Big words from a guy I tagged twice before he could even move.”
Kane dabbed the shallow bleeding gouge in his forehead where the dart had struck him, his movements slow and deliberate. “I didn’t move because I didn’t trust your aim. Taking the head shot was dangerous grandstanding. If you’d blinded me I would have killed you with my bare hands when I woke up.”
Holt’s eyes blazed, his knuckles whitening on the gun’s grip. “If you’d woken up, asshole. I could’ve used real bullets and shut your fucking mouth permanently. Maybe I still will.”
All my tension and fear detonated into a full-throated shout. “SHUT UP!”
Into the moment of shocked silence I barked, “Knock off the pissing contest, both of you! Holt, do what you have to do, but let Kane see his son for a few minutes. Dead civilians are a hell of a lot more important than your fucking ego. Let’s get back to Sirius and nail whoever did this.”
Holt’s nostrils flared, his jaw jutting; but after a few steady breaths he nodded tightly. “Fine. Jones, give him his phone back, then get a team of four and secure these prisoners.” He turned his glare back to Kane. “One call. Keep it short, and don’t try anything.”
“Dead civilians?” Sudden tension vibrated in Kane’s voice. “How? What happened?”
The terrible memory struck like a battering ram and my throat closed. With all my remaining strength I forced myself to speak. “There was… a terrorist attack… at Battalion Park.” The words came out in a rusty croak, as though I hadn’t spoken for decades. “Everybody died. Arnie…” My voice broke, my eyes filling.
“Arnie what?” Kane stiffened. “What are you talking about? What happened to Arnie?”
“He… he was there.”
“No.” Kane shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Yes. I saw him on TV. He…” My voice wavered at the memory of his proud posture and the stern beauty of his ugly face. “He was there… with Miss Lacey…”
I couldn’t say any more.
“No, he couldn’t have been,” Kane repeated. “He’s guarding Daniel and Alicia. He said he’d guard them with his life.” His voice rose, his shoulders going taut as he punched the speed dial on his phone. “He wouldn’t have gone to Battalion Park,” he repeated as though his words could make it true.
Hoping against hope, I listened to the buzz of the phone at the other end. As the ringing continued, Kane’s knuckles whitened on the phone. “He wouldn’t have gone,” he said forcefully to me. “He couldn’t have been there.”
The crackle of a voice at the other end of the line made my pulse leap, but Kane’s expression went grim. “It’s Kane,” he said into the phone. “Call me as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent.”
He disconnected and we stared at each other, desperate hope and sickening fear reflected in each other’s eyes.
“Holt.” My voice came out in a dry whisper. “Were there… any survivors?”
Holt frowned. “Don’t know yet. There are crazy conflicting reports coming in…”
Kane’s phone rang.
Holt’s gun flicked up, drawing a bead on Kane’s chest. “Try anything and you’re dead,” he snapped.
Ignoring the weapon, Kane punched the Talk button and barked, “Kane!”
A second later his shoulders eased, his expression slackening into relief. “You’re all right?” he asked.
Wild hope blazed into my veins and I lunged at Kane, nearly bowling him over in my effort to shove my face close to the phone.
“Arnie? Arnie, is that you?” I cried.
“Yeah, what’s wrong, darlin’?” he rasped.
I collapsed against Kane. “Thank God!” My voice came out in a squeak, short-circuited by the selfish joy ballooning in my chest.
Hundreds might have died in the attack, but not Arnie.
Not my Arnie.
“Thank God,” I repeated, my tears overflowing into Kane’s shirt.
“No, it’s all right; she’s fine,” Kane reassured Hellhound. “And this whole mess is over. Take Alicia and Daniel home. I’ll meet you there in about half an hour-”
“That’s enough,” Holt interrupted. “Hang up. And you…” He jerked his chin in my direction. “Get off him. I told you, opposite sides of the room.”
“See you soon,” Kane said into the phone, his voice calm and level. Then he pressed the disconnect button and held out the phone, his movements smooth and unthreatening. “Do you want this, too?”
“Put it on the floor,” Holt snapped. “Kelly, move it!”
Jones had been muttering commands into his shoulder mike, and as I moved across the room four large fatigue-clad men with assault rifles arrived. In moments my hands were bound tightly behind my back and claustrophobia clutched my throat.
“B-But…” I quavered. “If Stemp trusted Kane enough to lend him the weapon, why are we prisoners?”
“Stemp didn’t give him the weapon.” Holt shot a hard glare at Kane. “He had another prototype.”
My stomach dropped and I gave Kane an imploring look.
“Where did you-” I began at the same time as he said, “It’s not-”
“No talking,” Holt snapped. “Jones, keep them separated. Let’s go.”
Kane and I were escorted out by two burly men each, our arms pinned in their grasp. Holt followed with his gun in ready position.
Outside, a large black van waited. Our guards bundled Kane and me into the back and chained us to opposite benches before taking seats on both sides of us.
Holt inspected our restraints and turned to our guards. “Don’t let them talk. Not one word, to you or to each other. If they try, trank them. In fact…” He reached into a locker at the rear of the van. “I don’t even want them looking at each other.” He yanked a black hood down over Kane’s head, and a moment later a matching hood blotted out my vision, too. “Stay sharp,” Holt admonished the guards. “Consider them extremely dangerous.”
The van door slammed.
The hood clung to my face, already warm and stuffy with my rapid breathing. The restraints bit into my wrists and terrifying memories flashed behind my eyes.
Panic flared. My heart rate spiked, my breath accelerating into shallow panting. With all my will I fought the compulsion to scream and struggle.
If they’d just lift the hood enough so I could breathe…
“Could you-” I began.
A jab in my thigh.
Then nothing.