She lifted her head slowly, blinked past the dizziness. Gingerly probing the back of her head, she found a goose egg the size of a golf ball. She didn’t feel concussed, though.
She tried to focus on her surroundings, but there wasn't much to see. She was lying on her back on a cold cement floor in total darkness. Forcing herself up into a sitting position, she closed her eyes against the new waves of dizziness washing over the beaches of her mind, carrying things like balance and depth perception away in their brutal undertow.
Okay, just take your time. Get your bearings.
Right. She had to stay calm and stay sharp. She was thinking clearly now.
She'd gotten to know Connor Romano very well in the past few days. Probably better than she'd ever known anyone in her life. He was too sharp not to figure out the truth. He’d have to figure it out. Maybe he’d want to check in on her, or maybe when White never showed up to Connor’s planned ambush, it would dawn on him to find out why.
And once he realized his boss had been working for White all along, he’d know who had her, and he wouldn’t give up until he got her back.
But she was afraid he'd get himself killed trying to rescue her. Dammit, she couldn't let that happen. She had to do everything she could to save herself before he did something desperate.
Rising, a little unsteadily at first, she moved forward until she felt a cool, rough wall against her palm. Then she ran her hands along the wall and explored the space. She was in an eight-by-eight square concrete pit. No windows. No doors. No stairs or any possible way out, other than the way she'd come in. She walked every inch of it, in search of anything she could use. Her shins banged against a wooden crate that almost tripped her. Her heart gave a rimshot, ba-dump-bump, then settled.
Not now, heart.
She sat down slowly and tried calming herself with mental reassurances, focused on taking deep, slow breaths, and willed her heart not to flip into tachycardia. If she could control her fear, she might be able to control the attack.
And eventually she did.
And then something furry brushed against her leg, and the SVT hit her full force.
*****
There was something in Stryker’s eyes when he sidled up close to Romano, something that told him things were going seriously wrong. He walked as he talked, meandered in a way that appeared aimless, but actually edged them further from the others.
Lexi’s half sisters were watching like hawks.
“The formula’s a higher priority than the life of one woman,” Stryker said, glancing around to be sure it was safe to talk. “They think they’ve pinpointed the location—they’re gonna take it out.”
“No.”
“Drone strike. ETA is about an hour. I owe you, so…” Then he slammed his palm to Romano’s chest, shoved a piece of paper and a set of keys into his pocket, and yelled, “That’s it, Romano! I want you and these other civilians out of here! Now!”
“Fine, but this isn’t over!” Romano shouted back. Then he mouthed “thanks” and, turning, stomped away.
Every cop was looking at him as he went, so he kept up the infuriated routine. When he got close enough to Lexi’s family members, he spoke softly. “Get in your cars and follow me. Say nothing.”
Kira said, “The hell I’ll say nothing. Follow you where?”
“He’s taking us to Lexi,” Joey whispered. “And I think there’s a reason to hurry.”
Romano frowned, wondering how the hell she knew that. She couldn’t have overheard.
Kira said, “Michael and I will ride with you.”
They piled into two cars and took off. As he drove, he pulled the paper from his pocket. “This is the address. We have less than an hour to get her out of there.”
Kira took the paper from his hand, since she was closest, then took out her phone and started tapping. “Let’s see what we can learn from Google Earth.”
Romano knew he had to get Lexi out of this alive, no matter what it took. Even if it meant letting White walk away.
“I have two weapons,” he said. “There might be more in the car. It’s Stryker’s.”
Kira opened the glove compartment. “Make that four guns, and this.” She held up a small silver-trimmed crystal flask. Opening it, she sniffed. “Whiskey.”
“Yeah, I can modify that just a bit. Shame to pour out the whiskey but—”
“No problem there.” Kira unscrewed the cap and took a gulp, then she passed it around.
*****
It took more than thirty minutes for Lexi’s heart to convert back to a normal rhythm. She’d tried every trick in the book from carotid massage to holding her breath. None of it worked. She was on the verge of passing out when she felt as if her heart was flipping like a pancake. The painful BA-DUMP-BUMP sensation that hurt like a heart attack, but wasn’t. It was just her ticker converting back to its normal rhythm.
Finally, exhausted, she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, pressing her fingers to her neck to feel her pulse, just to assure herself she was okay.
She was, but she was also weak, dizzy, exhausted, shaky, and her head hurt. Typical aftermath of a major episode.
No time to rest, though. She had to get herself out of this mess. Like an answered prayer, lights came on from above and streamed through the slats in the wooden hatch over her head. It wasn't nearly as distant as it had seemed when she'd been falling through darkness. Which was a good thing, because it was also the only way out.
She got up, grabbed hold of the crate she'd found earlier and placed it in the center of the room. Standing on it, stretching her arms overhead, she could just reach the hatch door. She pushed it upward, testing.
To her surprise, it gave. No locks?
She had to jump and shove at the hatch at the same time to make it flip all the way open. It banged, her crate cracked, and she cringed at both sounds. But the crate didn’t break and no one from above reacted to the noise the hatch made. More light streamed in now that it was open, making her blink like a mole. Was it morning, or had they rigged up some lighting up there?
She heard their voices again, though not as close. She wasn't up high enough to climb out, but she could hop enough to catch glimpses over the edge. She saw two pairs of booted feet moving through a square doorway big enough to drive a truck through. She hopped a few more times, but she saw no one else.
The last time she hopped, the crate cracked a little more. Swallowing hard she got off it and stood it up on its narrow end, making it taller than before. It wobbled dangerously as she climbed onto it, first on her knees, then slowly straightening to her full height. This time, her head poked halfway out. The voices were more distant now. Too far away to understand. She could no longer see them. Good.
The crate cracked, all the way through this time. She felt herself falling, and quickly pressed her hands to either side of the hole to hold herself up. No more crate for help. She pushed herself up and out. It was a struggle, but she did it. Then she lowered the door carefully and ran to the nearest shadowy corner. Hiding there, she listened, watched. The only sound was the rapid beating of her own heart and no killers were in sight.
The building was big and empty, metal walls reached up high. Over her head, steel grid-like structures supported the roof. Here and there, long fluorescent tube lights gave the place a dull, artificial glow. Some flickered, obviously worn out. The result was eerie and surreal.
There was a normal sized door in the wall that bisected the building. With a quick glance to her left and right, she tiptoed across the spider web of cracks in the cement floor, gripped the doorknob, pressed her ear to the door. No sounds came from inside. She twisted her hand, and the knob turned.
Her heart in her throat, she stepped into pitch darkness and closed the door behind her.
Her foot hit something soft. Startled, she reached behind her for the door again, pushing it open the merest crack.
Dim light spilled in, and she wished it hadn't. Darren Wade lay on the floor, a neat round hole in the center of his forehead. Dark red streams had painted a bloody headband across his brow. And the whites of his open eyes gleamed in the light. For a second it seemed he was staring right at her.
She was about to lunge right back out of the little room, but she heard White’s voice and footsteps. He was coming this way. She spotted another door on the opposite side of the room.
Her decision was made. Silently, she closed the door behind her, then moved forward in the darkness, forced to feel for Darren’s body so she could step over it rather than trip and give herself away.
The footsteps came closer. She lifted her hands, palms out, and found the door on the opposite side, located the knob, tried to turn it.
Nothing. It must be locked.
Her heart sank when she heard the approaching steps stop just outside the door she'd entered. White was talking about moving Darren’s body. They were coming in here. Desperately she closed both hands around the little round doorknob... and then she felt the protrusion at its center, poking her palm. The lock was on the inside! Deftly she turned it, twisted the knob again. It turned this time, and she slipped through with no idea where she'd emerge, and no time to think about it. The other door was opening as she stepped out. At the last second, she flicked the lock again and closed her escape door behind her.
She'd emerged into another huge section of the building, the front, she thought, separated from the back by a wall and that little office. There were lights on in this side too, but they were flickering and dim. Three men stood in a huddle about a yard inside the big white door, which was mostly closed, and suspended by rollers and a track at its top. None of the men looked her way, but if they did, they would see her. She stood in the open, the door to the small office at her back, and the wide room in front of her. Less than fifty feet of space stood between her and those thugs. Spotting a stack of boxes to her left, she quickly sidestepped and ducked behind them. No one shouted at her. No one seemed to notice.
She crouched there for some time. Behind her, a ladder was mounted to the wall, and she wondered briefly why. Then she forgot all about it, when she heard White's voice. She peered out, saw him coming out of the office and ducked lower behind the boxes. He walked right past her. Everything in her trembled, but he didn’t see her. He rejoined the others, the notebook in his hands.
“We need to go,” White said. “One of the sensors has been tripped. A vehicle is coming this way.”
“If it was the FBI, it would be more than one vehicle, boss.”
“Yeah,” said another henchman. “It could be anyone.”
“And it could be Romano,” White replied. “Go and get the girl. We might need her.” Then he sighed, gazing out through a broken window. “It’s going to be a shame to kill him. I’ve almost enjoyed our… relationship.”
A pattern of beeps came from the huddled group. White pulled out his phone, looked at it. “Too late. He’s already here. Get into position. When I give the signal, take him out. Go on.”
The men rushed off in different directions. Someone turned off the lights, but there was enough daylight outside now that she could see a little bit.
Two men were scrambling up a ladder just like the one behind her. They made their way up to a catwalk and then split up, moving until they flanked the big front door.
Lexi looked at the ladder on the wall behind her. That’s where it went. Up there, to the catwalk.
Connor was walking into a trap. She'd be damned if she'd sit here and watch as these animals killed the man she loved.
Moving silently to the ladder, she made her way up.
*****
Romano was good, Kira decided. He’d had them leave one car on the main road and pile into the one he was driving, before he turned onto the narrow dirt road that led to the building where Lexi was being held. He’d taken a minute during that transition to fill the empty whiskey flask with gasoline, stuff a rag into the top and lower it carefully into his pocket along with a lighter.
And suddenly the nickname made sense.
It had taken a hell of a lot of arguing to get Cait and Dylan to stay with the rental car at the turnoff. But eventually, they’d agreed. Romano argued that they couldn’t risk White escaping because he had a very dangerous weapon with him. He told them to hide the car and wait. If they saw an albino trying to flee, they should try their best to stop him and call Stryker immediately. The good guys should have time to cut White off before he got to the next turn-off. He left them a handgun and a rifle, and Dylan assured him he knew how to use them, and would show Cait while they waited.
Kira didn’t like it. She’d have preferred Caity and Dylan be holed up in a hotel somewhere. But she figured it was better than having them in the middle of what might become a shoot-out.
Romano stopped the car to let Toni and Nick out. They were to cut through the woods, and emerge on the left side of the warehouse. Joey and her husband Ash rode further and got out, their plan to circle the warehouse and come in from behind. Then he drove a little farther before stopping again. This time Kira and Mike got out, planning to do the same thing, only they’d emerge on the right. Everyone knew about the planned drone strike. They knew if they heard the buzz of their approach they needed to get clear of the warehouse fast.
And then he drove on, alone. The most dangerous part of his all-but-suicidal plan was about to unfold. Kira grabbed Michael by the hand, and they moved fast through the woods.
*****
A car rolled to a stop outside. Lexi bit her lip and moved faster. She got to the top of the ladder and pulled herself onto the catwalk. It stretched just above the light fixtures. The gray morning light didn’t reach up there. She was in shadow.
She could see the shape of the man who'd taken position farther along the narrow platform. It crossed the one she was on like the top of a small t. He crouched like a gargoyle, staring at the doorway as White pulled it wide open. It was still raining outside. The gargoyle’s back was toward her and he cradled a rifle in his arms. If he turned around, he'd see her.
She lay down on her belly and slid along, inch by inch, not making a sound, not sending a single vibration through the beams to alert him to her presence.
Seconds felt like minutes, inches like miles, but soon the man was within reach. The car she’d heard had stopped about a hundred feet from the front door. It caught her attention when its door opened, and then Connor got out. He had his hands up. He closed the car door with a foot and called out, “I want to make a deal, White. I’ve got intel.”
“I don’t think I need your intel, Romano. I’ve got your woman.”
“That’s why I’m here. I want her back. And trust me, you need to know what I’ve got to tell you.” Connor took a step closer.
The thug on the right tensed, lifting the rifle to his shoulder and peering through its scope.
Lexi’s body moved as if on auto-pilot. She rose and ran along the narrow I-beam, closing the final few feet so fast her target didn’t even have time to turn around all the way before she pushed him and fell in the process. Her chest hit the beam and reflexively, she snapped her arms and legs around it.
The gargoyle wasn’t so lucky. He hit the floor and she barely heard the sound of the impact. No one turned to look her way. No one saw the broken body lying below, in the shadows near the right wall.
She looked at the open doorway again.
“You’re not gonna make it out of here alive, White,” Connor said. “The Feds know your location. They’re coming for you. DEA too. I got here first. I can get you out of this. But only if you let her go.”
The gloomy clouds still wept. Misty rain was falling on him. It made a gentle hiss on the roof. Lexi receded into the shadows, back the way she'd come without spending a second on regret. Then she turned at a right angle and crept over the narrow section of metal that spanned the room from side to side. There was another assassin stationed on the opposite catwalk. She didn’t have time to be sorry.
*****
Romano caught a glimpse of the catwalks on either side as he moved nearer. Dark up there. Probably snipers waiting.
“Tell me what you know, Romano," White said.
Two more thugs on the ground, besides White. How many up above? he wondered.
Aloud, he said, "Where is she?"
"Within reach," White said, grinning. “I’ve just sent someone for her. So you’ll have a chance to say goodbye.”
Romano was bleeding inside, damned distracted by his need to see Lexi, to hear her voice, to know she was still alive. And White knew it, the bastard. He'd drag this out until the drones showed up. Unless he'd already killed her.
“Disarm him,” White said.
The two thugs came closer, and he stood there with his hands up and let them take his guns. They found them all, leaving him pathetically under-armed—down to just the knife in his boot, and that little whiskey flask.
"There's not much time, White," he said, aiming a pointed glance behind him for good measure. "You need to move fast. Let Lexi walk out of here and make your escape. Use me as a shield. It’ll work."
Colorless eyebrows rose. White's pale tongue darted out to moisten flesh-toned lips. "I'll keep you both with me. Come in, your woman is waiting.
Romano moved a few steps closer, but he felt a tingle up his spine. Then there was a guttural cry from up high in that darkened building, followed immediately by a crash. White jerked his head that way, then nodded at the thugs who were back at his sides. “Go see what’s going on. And see what’s taking T so long with the girl.
The men moved into the building to investigate.
Great. Only one gun on him now. White’s gun. The bastard’s gaze was back on him, too. He wasn't even looking for the cause of the commotion. Romano was though, and what he saw made his blood freeze.
Lexi's unmistakable form was slipping silently down a ladder from the catwalk. The thug who'd gone to investigate had his rifle at the ready, but he was looking down, at a man lying on the floor. All he had to do was tip his head up an inch, maybe two, and she'd be dead. One shot. All over. All White had to do was shift his gaze, and he'd see her as well. In plain sight now, as she moved lower on the ladder. He willed her to reach the floor before anyone spotted her.
And then it happened. The thug looked up from the broken body of his dead comrade and he saw Lexi. He lifted his handgun. A shadow in leather rose up behind him. Kira. One of her hands snapped across his mouth while the other drew a knife blade across his throat.
Kira lowered him to the floor in silence, took his rifle and slipped deeper into the shadows. Lexi reached the floor, completely unaware of what had happened, and dashed to the opposite side of the open door, where another man lay, unmoving. She quickly took his rifle and backed into the shadows.
A soft buzzing started in the distance. Shit, the drones were coming. Seconds were all they had left. And if he so much as moved, White would shoot him. He was ten feet in front of him with a gun pointed right at his chest.
Didn’t matter. He had to do it.
“Everyone out of the building, now!” he shouted, and he dropped low, snatched the knife from his boot and whipped it end over end at the same instant White pulled the trigger.
It felt like a truck hit him square in the chest. He flew backward at the bullet’s impact, landed hard on the pavement, bleeding. But he had the pleasure of seeing his blade hit home. Blood bubbled from White’s neck. The knife blade had skewered him.
So fast. It had happened so fast. Where was Lexi?
White staggered toward him slowly, his gun hand shaking wildly as he fought to hold it steady, to aim it at down at him where he lay there on the ground. He tried to get up and couldn’t.
Off to the left, he saw Toni and Nick running out of the building, via some other entrance. To the right, Mike Waters had his kickass bride by the waist, and was racing out of the building as well.
Lexi was still inside, hefting that rifle and walking up behind. “Put the gun down, Mr. White. Don’t make me kill you.”
Those pink eyes met Romano’s, and the bastard smiled. Connor read the hate in his eyes and knew exactly what he would do next. White turned drunkenly, and lifted his gun at Lexi. He would take her with him into the grave. He would win, once and for all.
Romano only had one weapon left. He slid the flask from his pocket, flicked the lighter and hurled it.
It smashed into the center of White’s back and shattered. Flames spread over his back and shoulders. He spun in panic, cut loose a high-pitched, keening wail as he ran, stumbling. His howl was unearthly.
“Connor!” Lexi came running, skidding to him on her knees as a drone came into sight over the tree line.
They were too close to the building. “Lexi…run!”
She ignored him, tearing his shirt open, trying to see his wound. The drone went still as White fell writhing and burning alive, to the floor. A second drone appeared, and they were about to fire.
And then a pair of nearly simultaneous blasts out of nowhere blew them to bits right there in the sky. Their remains rained harmlessly down to the ground.
Cait, who was supposed to be safely hiding at the crossroads, had a rifle in her arms, still aimed at the spot where the drone had been. Her husband was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, also holding a gun.
And then Joey came walking out of the warehouse, holding a rifle, her husband at her side with a gun too.
"Dammit, Connor, be all right,” Lexi said, and it wasn’t a tearful request but a command.
He tore his gaze from the vehicles now speeding into the area around the warehouse. Federal agents and cops were spilling out of them, pulling their weapons. The sisters dropped their guns, raised their hands, but their eyes were on him.
"Lexi..."
"Just relax. Don't try to talk.” He was bleeding heavily. He could feel the warm stickiness coating his chest and his sides and his belly. Her hands worked feverishly, but he didn't know what she was doing. It didn't matter what she was doing, really. Not anymore. White had shot him in the chest at point-blank range. He was dying.
And it wouldn't be so bad, really. Hell, maybe he'd get to see Justin and little Jack again. God, it would be so good to hold those little angels in his arms, to hear them call him Daddy.
But not yet. Soon, but not yet. He had to tell Lexi...
“Lexi—”
"I said not to talk," she snapped, but there were tears in her voice.
"I want to talk," he told her with surprising force. Then he sucked air through his teeth, because speaking hurt. When he tried again, he kept it quieter. "I love you, Lexi."
Her hands stilled on his chest. She paused to gape at him, then shook her head and began working on him again. "Oh, sure. Now that you're all shot to hell, now you love me."
He tried to smile but wasn't sure of the results. Lexi shrugged her coat off and covered him with it. He heard sirens.
"I loved you all along. All that crap...about it not meaning anything…"
"Just trying to get rid of me, huh?"
"I thought... killing White was more... important," he managed to say, and his words were beginning to sound the way they did when he'd had too much to drink. "But I was wrong. I changed my mind almost as soon as you left. I was coming to tell you…."
She stared down into his eyes. "You were?"
He tried to nod but felt oddly paralyzed. His entire body had gone numb. "Yeah," he whispered.
He liked it when she ran her hands over his face. And he liked it better when she bent to kiss his lips. Hers were parted and wet and salty with her tears.
Men came running, guns drawn. There were sirens in the distance as well.
His eyes dropped closed. He was fading fast. He couldn't even feel the pain now. He could still hear, though. He could hear Lexi's smoky voice, shouting orders. And he could hear others scrambling to obey. And then there was someone else crouching beside him, and Lexi said, "Who are you? What are you doing?"
“Name’s Stryker,” he said.
Stryker muttered something else, but Romano couldn’t hear anymore. He’d receded to some far-away place where sound couldn’t reach. And then suddenly he felt the back of Stryker's hand connect with the side of his face, and he realized he could feel pain again.
"Stop!" Lexi yelled.
“I’ll stop when he’s heard what I have to say,” he barked. And then Stryker looked him right in the eyes and said, “Your boys are alive, Romano."
Lexi gasped.
"You hear me? Justin and Jackson were not killed in the explosion. They weren’t in the house when it happened.
"I don't know what you're doing," Lexi said, "but—"
"You were a suspect,” Stryker went on, ignoring her. “So was Darren, but I didn't have proof. I knew if it leaked that your kids were still alive, whoever tried to kill them would try again, because of what they’d seen that day, and I was half convinced it was you. So I put them into protective custody."
Romano lifted a hand, and the motion cost him more effort than he'd thought he had left in him. He closed it on the front of Stryker’s shirt. "If you're lying to me..."
"I'm not."
"You...kept me from my sons when…."
"I know. Look, it kept them alive, didn't it?”
His hand went limp and fell to the floor. His eyes closed again. He fought to cling to consciousness...to life...and he heard Lexi's voice, tear roughened. "Get out of the way so I can take care of him. We have to get him to a hospital, dammit.”
After that, he didn’t hear anything at all.