Oren!” Tara hit the floor. “Don’t let him be here. Please. Not him.”
Another bullet zipped through the wall above her head, and she rolled to the side. She had to get out of there, but she couldn’t exit by the door Agent Riggins locked. Not that she’d take that exit anyway. Oren would expect that.
She scooted to the far corner, pulled open the bottom drawer of built-in shelving, and tugged out the same backpack from last night.
Crack. A bullet whizzed through the wall, then another, sending splinters of wood pelting her body. She rolled to her side and used her feet to push a cabinet off a hidden trapdoor before prying the heavy wood open.
Fresh air rushed through the hatch, and hope for escape blew in with it, allowing her to breathe again. She opened a container holding the emergency stairs that resembled a fire escape ladder made for two-story homes. She dropped the ladder down.
Yes! Perfect, just as she planned. As was the thick cardboard she’d attached to an outside post to hide her escape ladder in the event of an attack. Oren couldn’t possibly see her movements until she ran for brush surrounding the clearing. Even then, depending on his location, he wouldn’t catch sight of her.
She scrambled down the ladder and hit the ground hard, creating a mini dust storm. She paused for a moment to get her bearings. She counted to five and ran. Straight ahead. Hard. Fast. Over the packed dirt. Across clumps of crabgrass and past a thicket of wild raspberry bushes.
Her bare arm caught on a bramble, ripping her skin, but she didn’t stop. Getting to her truck was the only thing on her mind. She’d run this route every day to keep the crabgrass flattened down and the path free, so she made good time. She plunged down the final incline to her truck and spotted an SUV parked next to it.
She came up short and stood panting, evaluating.
Agent Riggins’s or Oren’s car? It could belong to either one.
She dropped into a squat behind high grasses and slithered to the side of the SUV. She popped up, took a quick look. Agent Riggins’s pricey suit hung in the back. Sighing, she dropped down to catch her breath and listen.
Birds had resumed their chatter, and a soft breeze stirred the grasses, swaying them in a gentle rhythm. No footsteps pounding her way or twigs snapping or leaves crunching—no sounds that Oren would make if he was coming after her. Cal was another story. He’d be silent and quick. Something she wouldn’t mind right now.
Digging her keys from her pocket, she bolted for her truck. Trembling hands fumbled to fit the key in the lock, but she soon jerked open the rusty hinged door and slid onto cracked vinyl seats. She inserted the key and cranked.
No response. Nothing. Zilch.
She tried again. Just a click.
Agent Riggins. He must have disabled it. She pounded her hand on the wheel. She knew nothing about engines and couldn’t possibly fix it, but owning an ancient truck, she’d prepared for this possibility. Only one thing to do.
“Hoof it.” She reached for her secondary escape bag but came up empty-handed. Agent Riggins again, she supposed. Too bad for him. He didn’t realize the lengths she’d go to. She had another identity in her backpack. She’d felt dirty when she’d met with the forger in Atlanta, but she’d obtained several IDs and now she'd used them all.
She slipped out of the truck, squatted behind the door for safety, and peeked around the edge. Leaves swished in the breeze, the sun shone warm on her face, but somewhere in the idyllic setting a killer waited with a bullet for her. Still, there had been no additional gunfire, and she’d moved well out of rifle range from where the shots had originated at the gate.
She couldn’t underestimate Oren, though. They’d learned to hunt together. She was a better shot, but he was more willing to kill anything in sight, so he wouldn’t easily give up. Perhaps he crept through the scrub, heading her way, or maybe Agent Riggins had stopped him.
She couldn’t hang around to find out. She searched the area one more time, focusing in on the surrounding forest, but saw no suspicious activity.
In one sure move, she got up and bolted for the other side of the road, where she dove into the ditch. She landed with an oomph. Her knees and hands razored across rocks and gravel. She gasped for air, filling her lungs with dust and grit. She lay still, waiting for gunfire, for a bullet in the back.
Nothing happened. She counted to thirty. Poked her head up to look around.
A gunshot cracked through the air, the sound coming from across the road. She ducked her head, but the bullet didn’t land anywhere near her.
Odd.
Her truck suddenly erupted in a deafening explosion.
She clamped her hands over her ears and curled up as a ball of orange-and-yellow fire whooshed across the road and debris pummeled her body.
* * *
Cal spun, the ground reverberating under his location just shy of the tower. A fireball rose into the sky. It had to be Tara’s truck. Had she somehow gotten out of the tower? Was she sitting inside, cranking the engine he’d sabotaged, and the twist of the ignition had set off a bomb? Or worse, had Keeler climbed the tower and dragged her to the truck where he’d put a necklace bomb around her neck?
God, no, please, Cal pled silently, though his experience said God wasn’t listening.
His heart constricting, he spun, and not caring for his own life, he plunged into the bushes. He found a well-worn path that Tara must have groomed for an escape that he’d foiled any chance of happening.
He ran hard, his gut cramping for the danger he’d put her in. Knowing she’d parked the truck just over the rise, he kicked harder and barreled down the incline. The heat hit his face before he caught sight of the fire.
Red-hot flames engulfed Tara’s truck and his SUV. He tried to ease closer. Held his hands up against the heat, but the searing temperature forced him to back away.
“Tara.” The anguished cry escaped his lips.
Was she in that fiery inferno? Had another person died on his watch? How could he have let that happen—how could God have allowed it to happen?
He shifted to his right, skirted the blaze, and searched for a better angle to attempt a rescue.
Movement in the ditch across the road caught his eye, and he came to a skidding stop to take cover behind a tree. An arm, a hand, small and graceful, reached up to the shoulder of the road.
Tara? Could she be alive?
Cal found a path to the road, scanned the area, and bolted toward her.
A gunshot rang out.
He dove for the ditch, the bullet whizzing overhead. He rolled to his side, lifted his handgun, and aimed at the tree where the shot had originated. He fired off a few rounds to lay down cover, allowing him to move forward. He crawled ahead—frantic, quick movements. He saw hiking boots, and Tara’s yellow cat socks, but she lay motionless as in death.
He scrambled forward. “Tara?”
No answer.
He continued clawing at the ground and moving on his elbows. All of the drills he’d learned as a SEAL became more important than he’d ever known. He reached ahead and shook her foot.
No response.
Please, God. Let her be alive.
He shimmied up next to her and took her wrist to check her pulse.
She stirred. Turned to look at him. “Agent Riggins, thank goodness! I think there was a bomb. In the truck.”
A rifle shot split the air, the bullet piercing the ground inches from her head. She recoiled. He pushed to his arms and covered her body, shifting to access his microphone.
Tara struggled to get out from under him.
Right. She didn’t trust him. Even here. She considered him the enemy when he only wanted to keep her safe. His anger boiled up.
“Don’t move, for Pete’s sake,” he snapped. “My team is nearly in place, and we need to wait for them before we can get out of here. And for the last time, call me Cal.”
She didn’t respond. It could be because her ears were ringing from the explosion or she didn’t want to speak. Right now it didn’t matter.
Static played over his earbud, and he pressed his finger over it until it quieted. He activated his mic. “Alpha Two, report.”
“We have you on GPS.” Brynn’s voice came in loud and clear, and Cal detected a note of relief in her voice. “We’re a mile due south and exiting the vehicles now. I’ve got County holding the perimeter.”
Perfect. The last thing he needed was an inexperienced deputy racing in and trying to be a hero. “Bring my vest and long gun, and you better make this the fastest mile you’ve ever covered in full gear.”
“I thought you were wearing a vest,” Tara cried out. “You need to move to safety. Without a vest he could kill you.”
He ignored her panic and settled in to wait for his team. “If it keeps you safe, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
* * *
A high, tinny wail sounded through Tara’s head, and she couldn’t breathe. Terror raced along her nerves, and she didn’t feel safe. Not even with the heavy weight of Agent Riggins’s body protecting her from gunfire. No, not Agent Riggins any longer. She’d call him Cal from now on as he’d asked. If a man would take a bullet for her, they should certainly be on a first-name basis.
The shooting stopped, and she became more aware of him. He felt like a big old security blanket gently cradling her body, his back exposed to a bullet if the shooter started firing again. His life was on the line. A man who sacrificed himself for her, no matter her arguments, which had been many. He’d even brought in his team to help. Or did he have other motives?
A bad feeling settled in her stomach. She wiggled around and craned her neck to look up at him. To read his eyes. “Did you plan this? Set me up as bait to bring Oren out here so your team could arrest him?”
“No, of course, not,” he said, and she struggled to hear him through the ringing. “The team is here because I wanted to be prepared in case Keeler followed you again. As it stands, I’m glad I did.”
Eyes the color of dark coffee riveted to her with an intensity that gave her a glimpse into his world. A world where he’d been a Navy SEAL. The focus and strength he had, the change of his suit to tactical gear, and the corded muscles of his forearm as he clutched his gun all said he was fierce and dangerous. A guy with combat skills she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
He pressed his finger against his chest.
“Roger that.” He gave her a terse smile. “We’re cleared for exfil.”
His military lingo only added to her impression of his incredible skills, leaving her uneasy and in awe at the same time as she waited for direction.
“Be ready,” he said. “Once the team lays down cover from secure locations we’ll move behind their line. When you hear me say go, I’ll roll off, and you come to your feet. Ignore the gunfire, grab on to my side, and cling to me. Got that?”
“Yes,” she replied, but she didn’t know if her shaky legs would allow her to move.
“You can do it, Tara,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I’ve seen how strong you are.”
She replied with a nod and stared up at his transformation into war hero. He’d sustained a large cut to his forehead with blood running down to his eyebrow.
“You’re bleeding.”
“No biggie. Let’s just focus on what we have to do.”
“Right, run through gunfire.”
“Don’t worry so much.” He gently rested his fingers on her cheek. “This jerk’s no match for our team. Most of us are old spec ops guys. Keeler may have done a stint in the army, but his skills at stalking in the bush don’t come anywhere close to ours.”
She didn’t mention that, so far, Oren had bested them.
Suddenly, a barrage of bullets started flying.
“Okay, we’re a go.” Cal rolled off.
She jumped up, and he clamped her tight to his side. Then suddenly they were running while bullets flew in all directions. Hitting the ground. Sending up puffs of dirt. His team firing way more bullets in the shooter’s direction.
He’d told her to ignore the gunfire, but she couldn’t think about anything else.
The sounds echoed through the trees, and she flinched at each one. She soon tired and lagged behind. Cal wrapped a strong arm around her waist and carried her the final distance to a secured area. He immediately released her, grabbed a vest from the back of an SUV, and strapped her into it before donning one for himself. He adjusted his radio before he inserted earbuds back into his ears and added a helmet.
“How can you hear me with earbuds?” she asked, suddenly wondering if he’d even been listening to her.
“The earbuds have microphones that pick up external sounds so we can hear the team and what’s going on in our surroundings at the same time.” He shifted the vest that fit him like a custom piece of clothing while hers hung like sagging laundry on the clothesline.
She was shaking and wished they were far away from this horrible scene or that he’d take a moment to reassure her. Maybe with another touch of his hand.
Instead, he picked up a submachine gun and pressed a hand to his chest. “Stand down. Package secure. Brynn, I need you here.”
Tara had no idea what package secure meant, but the shooting stopped, and a woman soon came out of the brush. Dressed like Cal, she held a matching gun in one hand. In the other, she clasped a large black shield with a clear window in the top. Audio cords dangled from her ears and disappeared into her vest matching Cal’s.
“This is Brynn,” he said.
Standing two inches taller than Tara, Brynn had grayish-blue eyes that were direct and held a guarded expression. She’d set her mouth in a grim line. Tara figured the woman possessed skills very similar to Cal’s, but Tara had no idea the role she played on the team.
Tara looked back at Cal.
“Stay with Brynn,” he said. “She’ll move you to the command post until I’m free.”
“Wait, what?” Tara cried out. “You’re leaving?”
“Keeler.” He gestured over his shoulder.
Brynn handed her shield to Cal, and the muscles in his arm bulged from exertion. Tara had no idea how Brynn could even hold something that strained his muscles.
“I have to go.” Cal met Tara’s gaze over the shield. He offered her an apologetic look, and after the beat of a few seconds, he bolted.
Really? Just like that, he’d gone. He’d promised to provide security for her and not leave her in anyone else’s hands, but they hadn’t even left town, and he’d walked away. Maybe worse, he could be walking into a hail of bullets.
“Don’t look at him like that.” Brynn gestured for Tara to join her in the SUV. When they were settled, Brynn peered at Tara. “Cal knows you’re safe with me, and after a grueling hunt for Keeler, there’s no way Cal’s not going to be in the fight to bring the creep in.”
“Trust me, I get it.” Tara swatted the big vest out of the way and buckled her seat belt. “He’s obsessed with catching him.”
“Obsessed? Maybe…but not in the sense that you know obsessed.”
“There’s a difference?”
“To me there is. Obsession for me denotes personal gain or satisfaction. Cal isn’t doing this for himself. He’s doing it to keep people alive.”
“Is he?” Tara asked. “I don’t know him at all, but it seems to me he’s got something to prove and something’s driving him beyond apprehending a killer.”
Brynn’s eyebrow lifted, but she didn’t respond as she wedged her gun between her knees and turned the key.
Right. Close down like Cal.
Try to get personal with either of them and they shut down. The whole team could be like that for all Tara knew.
Brynn shifted into drive and drew her handgun. She rested it on her lap before looking at Tara again. “Our drive is short, but you may find your adrenaline subsiding and fatigue settling in. I need you to stay alert and keep your focus. Eyes open and directed out the window as we roll. If you see anything out of the ordinary, tell me. If I tell you to hit the floorboards, you do so. Got it?”
“Yes,” Tara answered.
Brynn gave a firm nod and set the vehicle rolling down the road. Tara kept her focus out the window as instructed and watched the wooded property pass by. A property that for nearly a month had been the closest place to a refuge that she’d found since taking off from the hospital. Now, Oren sat in some tree, firing at this team—at the guy who’d offered his life for hers—and she didn’t know very much about any of them.
She glanced at Brynn. “I wondered if—”
“No talking until we get to the command post.”
Tara wished Brynn had asked nicely, but there wasn’t anything nice about this situation. It was big and nasty and ugly, like a two-headed gargoyle, and Tara wanted it to be over.
She leaned forward and resumed her watch out the window. Before long they approached a large truck like the ones that delivered packages to her doorstep, but this one held the local sheriff’s office information and emblem on the side.
Brynn bumped the SUV onto the gravel shoulder and shifted into park. “Wait here.”
Her handgun outstretched and the submachine gun slung over her shoulder, she came around to open Tara’s door. “Stay by my side and climb into the back of the truck in front of me.”
Tara followed directions, and Brynn escorted her across the road, standing guard while Tara took the three stairs to the truck. She quickly looked over the space where cabinets lined both walls and cutout sections housed small desks. A deputy with wild red hair sat behind the wheel.
Brynn brushed past Tara and dropped into a seat behind a laptop. “I’ll have the team’s feed up in a few seconds.”
Brynn tapped a few keys on the computer and a barrage of gunshots sounded from the speakers. Tara turned her focus to the screen where she saw large maple trees and Douglas firs mixed with quaking aspens, their white trunks vivid in the shadowed forest.
“Take cover,” Cal called out as the video panned through the trees.
“Cal’s wearing the camera?” Tara asked Brynn, who nodded. “Is he the leader?”
Brynn shook her head. “He’s lead on this investigation, but Max White is our leader. He’s back in D.C. watching the same feed.”
Tara didn’t bother explaining that she’d read about Agent White on the Internet and only wondered about the group coming under fire. “Can they hear us?”
“I’ve muted our mic to prevent any distractions. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
Tara listened to the exchange of bullets, heard Cal’s deep breathing and the deafening report of his gun. Oren could kill Cal. Just like that, with one well-placed shot, which Oren had the skills to land.
Her mouth went dry as she kept her gaze glued to the action.
The camera panned to the other team members as if Cal had turned. “We’ve got him pinned down. Now it’s just a matter of bringing him in.”
“Just,” the man sitting next to Cal said, “all depends on his stockpile of ammo.”
“And on us keeping our heads down until it’s depleted,” a woman’s voice joined in.
“Don’t even think about going after him, Riggins.” A deeper authoritative voice came over the speaker. “I don’t need a dead hero. I need a living operator.”
“Max?” Tara asked Brynn.
She gave a clipped nod.
Tara stepped back until she could no longer see the screen. If the team leader didn’t want Cal to go after Oren, she didn’t want to see if Cal disobeyed and tried to apprehend Oren like she thought he would do. Gunfire sounded from the speakers again.
“Riggins!” Max yelled.
Even across the space she heard Cal’s heavy breathing and the continued gunshots. So he’d gone after Oren. A crazy thing to do, but not surprising in the least.
The monitor beckoned Tara, and yet she couldn’t make her feet move. She wanted to see the action but couldn’t bear to witness Cal being gunned down.
The gunfire escalated in quick bursts like a packet of firecrackers ignited at the same time. It could be the team laying down cover as Cal had described them doing earlier, or Oren firing at Cal. Above it all, she heard a rustle sounding like static.
“Stand down,” Cal called out, and the gunfire stopped.
The scratching sound grew louder, but she had no idea the origin of the noise. She couldn’t stand back any longer. She approached the monitor where a tree trunk, branches, and leaves holding the distinct shape of a maple leaf slipped past. Cal was climbing a tree. Likely headed for the shooter. For Oren.
Could the standoff be over? Yes! Her heart soared.
His movement stopped, and Tara’s breath caught. A gun that looked like the one Cal carried flashed past the camera and the focus of the lens moved up to a man’s feet in scraggly once-white sneakers perched on a branch.
“Freeze, Keeler,” Cal shouted.
“What the…” a male responded, the words muffled and barely recognizable.
“Hand down your rifle, butt first,” Cal commanded. “Nice and easy.”
A rifle stock slowly lowered in front of the camera.
“We’re secure,” Cal announced. “Keeler’s ours.”
A loud cheer went up.
Tara exhaled loudly, and she noted Brynn did the same thing.
“So,” Cal said. “You’re going to back yourself down the tree. You can manage that, right?”
“Yeah, I got myself up here.” The other man’s voice came through loud and clear now. “I can get down.”
“No, oh, no.” Tara took a step back, her gaze going to Brynn. “The voice. It’s wrong. You’ve got the wrong guy. Tell Cal. This man. The one he captured. It’s not Oren. So totally not Oren.”