Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (17 page)

He clenched his jaw, pulled the throttle and revved the engine, reversing the boat at top speed. Water sprayed his face and splashed over the side of the boat.

Then the world exploded. A fireball engulfed the Saving Grace. Heat rushed his face, stealing his breath. Choppy waves tossed the worn out old boat making it dip and rock. He clutched the throttle and yanked the steering hard right. The boat spun a nice, tight 180, emitting an air-splitting shriek.

Hell. That wasn’t the boat; that was Grace.

The Enigma pitched to the side. He tasted blood in his mouth as he muscled the steering. Left. Right. Fight for it.

Don’t you dare capsize, you piece of crap!

He stole a glance at Grace. Smoke and intense orange flames reflected in her wide eyes. He jerked the steering wheel left once more and pressed the throttle to the max.

The Saving Grace was gone. Mark was gone. He smashed his fist against the unforgiving metal wheel. The boat jumped forward and leveled out, skipping across the water

They’d missed the bomb by seconds. His hands shook. He curled them tighter around the steering wheel. He’d had it under control. Until it went terribly wrong.

No, you let it go sour.

He’d let Grace sway him. All because...what? He wanted to show Grace he cared?

He hated that she thought him a selfish bastard. This wasn’t just about his agenda anymore. Ryker mattered to him.

She...

He ran his hand over his face. Oh, damn.

She mattered to him.

Chapter Ten

“How could we just leave him?”

It took the entire journey from Lake Powell back to Mark’s office at SecureStor for Grace to find her voice, but once she did, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling into the silence.

She trembled from head to toe as she stood in the middle of the room. Keith gripped the file cabinet against the wall. One muscle ticked in his tight jaw.

“I asked for your help,” she said, needing answers, needing absolution even though she recognized that Mark’s injuries would have been fatal—on or off the boat.

Grim determination creased Keith’s face. “I had to make a choice.”

“I know,” she whispered, throat tight.

She lifted her hands to wipe the wetness from her cheeks and froze at the blood that stained her palms.

Mark’s blood.

Mark was dead. Oh, God. And her baby was alone with mercenaries who were capable of torturing a grown man to death. What would they do to Ryker if she couldn’t find the drive in time? How did she even know he was safe as promised?

Where had they taken him? Was he cold? In the dark? What if his asthma was bad?

He had special anti-allergy sheets at home to keep away the dust. And how would he sleep without his stuffed dolphin?

Her stomach lurched and her vision swam. She hung her head and locked her shaky knees. Her gaze snagged on the crimson staining her clothing.

A whimper sneaked past her lips. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She scrubbed at the smears of blood on her skin and inhaled deeply through her nose. She couldn’t fall apart. Ryker needed her now more than ever. She fixed her gaze on the concrete wall of the storage building.

Keith chest suddenly filled her vision. He covered her hands, stopping her from rubbing them raw. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

She met his eyes. “What have I done? Ryker’s not some bargaining chip. He’s my son.” Panic crept from the pit of her stomach and squeezed her throat. She clutched Keith’s shirt. “We’re running out of time.”

Keith’s arms slid around her and pulled her close. His lips brushed her hair. “We’ll find the drive.”

She clutched at Keith and buried her face in his shoulder, gaining strength from his solid presence. “What did Mark mean by in his office and Washington Monument? Did he have yet another office at the Capital? We’ll never make it to Washington D.C. and back in time by taking a commercial flight.”

“It makes no sense for Mark to take the drive all the way to D.C. when he had a perfect hiding place here.”

She pulled back. “But if we’re wrong—”

Keith dropped his arms and stepped away. “I’m calling in reinforcements.”

Hope fluttered in her chest. “Mark’s superiors at Defense Intelligence?”

He sighed. “No. They’re out of it.”

“Why?”

“To go after Mark’s killers the DIA would have to admit the Gray Army exists. If they do that, they jeopardize everything the Gray Army stands for.”

“So all Mark’s work, his death, means nothing? The government just ignores Ryker? They don’t care if my baby...dies?”

“It’s not that simple, Grace.”

“I don’t care how complex it is! This is my son we’re talking about. Ryker is everything to me.”

“We’re on our own. Which is why I’m calling in someone I know I can trust.”

“Who?”

“Cameron Scott. He’s a former Special Forces officer, and a friend.”

He rolled his shoulders, giving Grace the impression that he was somehow uncomfortable with the admission that Cameron Scott was more than an associate.

“But, we need to try to find the drive as soon as possible. It’s bound to be encrypted. Cam will need time to sort out the garbage so we can find out what’s on the damn thing before we willingly pass it off to some traitorous asshole.”

“I don’t care what’s on it. They’re getting whatever they want.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Grace, we’re talking about national security, here.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well the government’s gonna care.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “I need that drive. It’s the only evidence I have to save my reputation with my men and get the bastard responsible for their deaths.”

Her heart plummeted to her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the sudden uneasy feeling at bay. She’d thought Keith was beginning to care about her and Ryker, but by the way he made it sound, his agenda was much more important. “How do I know you’re not planning on taking the drive and leaving me to face these assholes on my own?”

After all, years ago he’d proven himself out for his own gain when he’d left her and her sister’s reputation in tatters. The rumors hadn’t been true—not any of them. And Becca was the one who suffered a far worse fate than the hundreds of lies slung their way.

“Grace.”

She blinked the memories aside. Keith crouched in front of her, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“What?” she said, hating the waver in her voice.

“Whatever it is you’re wrestling with, don’t.” He touched her cheek, his warm fingers causing an unwanted flutter in her chest. “I gave my word we’d get Ryker back. You knew Mark better than me. What would he mean by Washington Monument?”

His word.
A few days ago she wouldn’t have trusted Keith’s word. But, as he said, they were on their own. She had to believe he’d do the right thing.

She drew in a breath. “Ryker did a project for his second grade history fair on the Washington Monument. We made a poster with pictures and stuff and then he and Mark made this mini monument. Ryker was so proud of it. He brought it home along with a blue ribbon and we tacked it to the bulletin board in his room. Could Mark have hidden the drive in Ryker’s model?”

She frowned. “It’s gone now, though. The fire...,” A quick pang slicing through her, “But, we took...”

Oh my God, that had to be it!
Her heart kicked up a notch, pounding painfully in her chest. She raced to the nearest wall. “Pictures.”

She yanked the shadowbox off the cement wall and glanced at the trio of photos. Her and Ryker on the end, Mark and Ryker on the other end, but in the middle—Ryker, huge grin, holding his poster in one hand and his paper mache replica of the monument in the other. “Washington Monument. In Mark’s office.”

“Bingo,” Keith said.

“Oh, God, let’s hope so.”

She turned the shadowbox over and together they worked to pry the backing off the middle section. It clattered against the metal desk and she stuck her hand inside the box’s opening. Her fingers slid across the slick material of Ryker’s photo.

Nothing.

Her heart sank. “It’s not here.”

Keith picked up the wooden backing and turned it over in his hands. “Don’t be so sure. Mark would never make it that easy.”

He reached into his boot and pulled out a wicked looking knife. She hadn’t even realized he’d carried the weapon. He poked and prodded at the wood then stuck the tip of the knife into one of the corner seams and pried the two pieces apart.

A shiny object fell out of the hollow frame and onto the table. She snatched up the flash drive. The ultra thin, lightweight material burned in the palm of her hand.

“Bingo,” Keith repeated, his mouth twisting into a small, satisfied grimace.

She wished she could feel the same, but now that she’d seen how small—how insignificant—this drive was compared to Ryker’s life, she was more nervous than ever.

Keith itched to uncover the drive’s secrets. But a sense of—what?—honor kept him from taking the drive and running like hell. He grunted low in his throat. He shot a glance at Grace planted on the other side of the small hotel room. Everything had gone to hell in a hand grenade when he let himself be swayed by her wide expressive eyes. He’d lost control of his objective—his focus—and allowed Grace to offer a valuable bargaining chip he could’ve used to lure the traitorous bastard out into the open. He suspected the drive held potentially lethal information that threatened National Security. Suspected? Why else would the bastard be so desperate for it?

He’d have to rely on his buddy’s computer genius to shed light on the contents come morning. Cameron was well known for his ability to ferret out sensitive information. He could break practically any code, except the most important one—the code of honor. Nope, Cam was as straight up as they came, so when he warned Keith this afternoon the Military Police were hot on his trail, he knew he hadn’t lost the loyalty of his best friend. It was humbling that one person still believed in him.

He pushed away from the wall, ready for a down and dirty heart-to-heart talk with Grace. She needed to know he wouldn’t make the mistake of letting her pull another stunt like the one on the boat again.

The glow from the hotel room’s single lamp cast a long dark shadow that skulked across the wall in time to Grace’s pacing.

“You’re exhausted.” Shit. What happened to his intended dressing down?

He couldn’t do it. Not when her shoulders slumped with defeat and raw despair colored her strides. “You need to sleep.”

She froze and snapped her head up. “I don’t think I can.”

“Try.”

She sent him a glare. Her mouth thinned. “I don’t want to.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I...” She swiped at her eyes. Her hard words were just a show of false bravado. The dim lighting concealed her tears, but the tremor in her voice gave them away. “What am I going to tell Ryker? About...his dad?”

He crossed to the nearest bed and dropped onto the corner. “The truth. But don’t you think he’ll know anyway?”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I should have been able to keep him out of this.” She fisted her hand and pressed it against her chest. “I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight. I was supposed to protect him.”

Is that what moms were supposed to do? “Why?”

Her lips twisted. “He’s my son.”

“Always will be.” Wasn’t that the luck of the draw? You either got good parents or shitty ones. In his case, he’d had one shitty one and one non-existent son of a bitch. “Through good, bad, ugly, whatever.”

She sat on the edge of the opposite bed. “He’s seen more ugly than an eight-year-old should.”

Pressure squeezed his chest. She was close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted. Just take her in his arms and—

“The world’s full of the uglies. You can’t change that, Grace.”

“But, what if that’s the last thing he sees?” She plucked at the bedspread. The lamp’s halo of light illuminated one lone tear as it tracked down her cheek and fell next to her hand. “I honestly thought he’d be okay. Scared, but safe. He...he was with Mark. We’d catch up with them and then I’d take Ryker home and Mark would handle the rest. But we’re just digging a hole. Deeper and deeper and deeper. And Ryker’s the one at the bottom, suffering. Who knew it would come down to a damn drive in exchange for my son’s life? My baby’s with professional killers. I...might never see him again.” Her voice crumbled to a whisper. “And I’m going out of my mind.”

“Don’t.” He shot to his feet, a surge of blood rushing through his veins.

Damn her, she carried the weight of this entire ordeal on her shoulders. And it was crushing her.

He’d never seen a woman give so much, fight with every fiber of her being for love.

Not duty. Not recognition. Not because, like him, it was his job.