“Myka?” Steven’s voice cracked with a demonic anger and terror filled her veins. Her heart slammed against her ribs in a painful rhythm, her hands beading with moisture as she held the door closed. “You will let me in.”
Calm. He was way too calm. A chill as cold as the Artic raced for her toes as she struggled not to remembered the blade-thin line of his lips, those lifeless eyes and the painful blows that always followed. There was always so much pain.
Her world was about to turn into a living hell. But he was in for a big surprise. She had no intentions of cowering or obeying. Not this time. Not ever again.
For a few seconds, an eerie silence filled the room on the other side of the door. He was still there though. She could hear his breathing. Low, deep, labored.
“I just want to talk to you.” Steven softened his voice a degree. “This is crazy. I came back for you. Don’t you see? Even though you betrayed me, I still love you. Why are you doing this?”
She didn’t answer. This man was delusional. Laying her head against the door, she prayed for a miracle.
“Myka? Are you listening?” He’d stopped trying to force the door open, but she could hear him working with the lock.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
Love. She choked out a soft cry. He didn’t know the first thing about love. He wanted to own her, to control her, to squeeze every ounce of life from her tired, abused body.
“Leave us alone.” Dead silence followed her words and she swallowed back the knot at the base of her throat.
“Not on your life, my pet. You have something I want.”
Fear clamped down on her windpipe like a vice. It was close to impossible to breathe. Everything was perfectly clear now. He wanted Nicholas. Not her. Something clicked inside her brain. All this time it was Nicholas. He might have come back for her, but somewhere down the line, he’d changed his mind. Decided that Nicholas would make a fine son. His son.
“Open this door now!”
Fear erupted within her lungs and burned her throat and chest. She couldn’t let him in. Couldn’t let him win. He’d kill her, take her son, raise him as his own and punish him for her betrayal.
The door jerked. The wood cracked.
A few more hits and he’d be inside. She didn’t have much time.
“Nicholas! Please, find the phone!” She twisted at the waist. With her entire weight against the door, she met her son’s smiling eyes as he pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.
“Nicholas?”
“There it is!” Michael’s entire body jerked in recognition at the sight of the six-foot stoned security wall passing outside his window like a fast moving train. “I remember this. It goes on forever.”
Ryan checked his GPS directions. Sure enough. Michael’s memory was right on target. This was the estate they were looking for. Ten miles later, the truck cleared a small hill and the entrance finally emerged.
The black iron-gate was lit up like Fort Knox.
Damn
. There was bound to be one hell of a security system with a high tech video camera and God only knew what else. So much for a surprise attack.
He slowed the truck to a crawl, surveying the area for any signs of life. But even with the huge lights and all their power, the darkness swallowed up the winding road not ten feet inside the walls. How far was it to the house?
With uncertainties eating away at his resolve, Ryan parked in the shadows and shut off the engine. There he relayed their location to Agent Harrington, who was a few miles behind them, checking out a lead given by one of the local authorities. A dead end. No surprise to Ryan. He’d bet the lead had been a diversion, given by someone on Steven’s payroll. Money made people do crazy things, even when lives were at stake.
“We’re at the front entrance. Michael’s memory proved correct and that’s good enough for me. No signs of trouble yet, but we need a code, or something to cut through the gate. This isn’t your ordinary run of the mill fortress.”
“Give me a second and I’ll text you the code,” Agent Harrington said.
“Okay. We’ll be waiting.” Easing the phone down onto the seat, Ryan wondered how the FBI managed to obtain the entrance code so quickly, especially after their informant demonstrated his unreliability. Not that the “how” mattered. He just hoped the code worked and wasn’t some kind of trap. All he wanted was to get in and get his family out safely.
Then he’d deal with Steven.
Just as the sun started coming up over the horizon, Agent Harrington arrived with the reinforcements. From local, to FBI, to DEA it appeared several branches of the government wanted to get their hands on Steven first. A chopper had spotted the limo parked in front of the mansion, but no signs of life could be confirmed.
Ryan’s gut churned violently at the news.
Throw in the fact the code they received didn’t open the gate, but actually sent another one crashing closed inside it, and things were not looking good. So much for trusting the FBI’s informant. Now Steven and his men knew they were there.
Ryan covered Michael’s head as the explosion rang through the air sending dust, metal shavings and debris flying in all directions. The metal gate creaked under the pressure and with a reluctant groan glided open.
“Let’s go!” Ryan thought about leaving Michael behind, but Michael might remember the layout of the estate. With his photographic memory, Ryan was willing to bet his own life on it. And time wasn’t on their side. A proper sweep of the property wasn’t an option. Besides, he didn’t want to risk Michael sneaking in alone and getting himself into trouble. Keeping him by his side during the rescue seemed the best plan.
This was a rescue, not a recovery mission.
“Harrington, is your team ready?” Agent Harrington was moving too slow. They had no time to coordinate an attack if Steven knew they were coming. He motioned to Michael and Eric McCoy to follow and they all jumped into his truck and took off through the gate.
“Stop! You don’t have clearance!” Harrington bellowed.
Ryan waved out the window, knowing he would answer for his actions later. Right now all he cared about was saving his family. He heard the helicopter follow after them, along with several other vehicles. Heard Harrington’s voice as he rounded up his team. But all he could think about was what they might find, making the drive the longest he’d ever traveled in his entire life.
“There!” Michael pointed to the limousine sitting alone in the driveway in front of a large stone fountain. “They’re still here!”
That was odd. Where were the rest of Steven’s men? The few left behind at the warehouse had been rounded up and now sat behind bars. But surely there were more. “Michael. Stay with me. If you don’t follow my orders, I’ll send you back to wait with the ambulance.”
Michael’s expression twisted into bewilderment. “You’re gonna let me go in with you?”
“You know the layout of the estate, right?”
Michael nodded.
“We need to find them. Fast.” Ryan’s heart lunged at the thought this young man had Steven’s genes running through him. How could he have any part in making such an amazing boy?
“I think I know where they’ll be.” Michael hung his head, his chest rising and falling. “It’s a horrible place.”
After a pat to Michael’s shoulder, Ryan parked his truck next to the empty limousine. There were no signs of life anywhere. Were they too late? He knew they should wait for backup, but he’d waited too long already.
“McCoy, you take the back. Michael and I will head through the front.”
“You sure you don’t want to wait for the others?” McCoy glanced around. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“There’s no time. They’re right behind us.” Ryan kept his eyes glued to the front door. It was quiet. Way too quiet.
“Very well, then. Meet you on the otherside.” McCoy took off around back, the adrenaline heavy in the air.
“Look. You okay?” Ryan studied Michael, letting out a breath as he pulled his weapon and checked it. “I’m not sure what we’ll find in there.”
“Please don’t make me stay behind. I need to go in.” His expression twisted Ryan’s gut in knots. Damn it. All he wanted was to make this all go away. For all of them.
“Let’s do this.” They took the steps two at a time, watching and waiting for danger. After reaching the top of the porch, they both stood breathless, hovering beside the heavy wooden door.
“On the count of three. You follow behind me.” Ryan locked eyes with Michael. He was white as a sheet, his brow sweating. But he nodded in agreement.
Mouthing each word Ryan began his count. “One, two, three!”
“FBI! Drop your weapons!” Ryan said, kicking in the door. With stealth like movement he crossed the entry and backed against the far wall, motioning for Michael to follow when he was sure the coast was clear.
The two stood, surveying the chaotic scene in front of them.
The floor was wet, towels scattered in a path toward the stairs. And just to the left of the first step Ryan found Ricky’s motionless body.
“Don’t move!” No movement. A jolt of something resembling doom smacked him in the chest. The large man, who’d been Steven’s right hand man for as long as Ryan had been on the case was clearly dead.
No sounds of anyone else in the house.
Michael shot him a look that could have downed a raging bull. Something had gone wrong here. Terribly wrong. Why would Steven kill his right hand man? Not have his army of men standing guard? And then the truth hit him.
“Oh, shit. We have to find them. Now.” His gut told him more than he wanted to know. Steven had been backed into a corner. His plans must have blown up in his face. The only option left? Leave no survivors. “Think hard, Michael. Which way?”
Michael looked upward as McCoy snuck into the room from the back shaking his head. “What the hell? There’s no sign of any of them.”
“Michael, stay close.” Ryan’s gaze went to the first few steps of the stairs. They were wet too. And tiny feet print could be seen among the puddling water.
Nicholas?
His soul ached.
Hazarding a quick glance at Michael’s distraught face, Ryan swallowed hard, his mouth dry as dirt as he pointed upward. The seconds passed as slow as death before McCoy joined them. With a nod, he inched further into the room to get into position.
“Show me the way, Michael.” Their backs now covered, he pulled Michael in behind him and they started their ascent. Each step took years off Ryan’s life. He would never recover a loss like his last one. The emotions cut too deep.
Men swarmed the lower floor as they reached the top step. Ryan’s eyes remained on the wet footprints. And he turned to follow them down a long darkened corridor, praying they weren’t too late.
There was a large door at the end. A door marked with abuse. As if someone were trying to knock it down.
Tiny hairs at the back of his neck pricked to attention, and he grasped his gun tighter. Then after surveying the area, he motioned for Michael to back into one of the cleared rooms.
Michael made no objection. He retreated out of sight and Ryan nodded his approval.
Within inches of moving past the next door, a small creaking sound just to the left of Ryan shot warning signals speeding through his brain. But it was too late. He only had time to turn, and fling himself into what ended up being a closet before an ear splitting shot rang out. The minute he hit the floor, his gun ejected like an Olympic shot put and went skittering down the hall in the opposite direction.
A sharp pinching pain registered somewhere in his brain.
Oh, shit
. He’d been hit in the left shoulder. Son-of-a-bitch it hurt. Another scar to add to his assortment.
He used his legs to scoot his body further inside against the back wall for cover. And then he heard the footsteps. The eerie laugh. His entire body raked with dread.
“So we finally meet, lawman. Or, are you a f..cking Fed?” Steven’s cold eyes sliced through him with great precision as his form filled the doorway. “I’ll enjoy this way too much,” he said raising the gun to Ryan’s head. “No one dares touch my Makayla.”
Ryan glared back at him unafraid to die. “I did.”
Steven’s next breath caught.
There was no way Steven would get out of this alive. And if Makayla and Nicholas were on the other side of the locked door, he knew they were safe. He could die peacefully. He could already hear backup flying up the stairs.
“Any last words, cop?” Steven racked a round into the chamber.
“Go to hell!” The air spilt with electricity and the strong smell of gunpowder.
But the pain Ryan expected to feel didn’t come. He watched as Steven’s eyes glazed over with confusion before he fell to the floor in the hallway on his knees.
Ryan pulled himself forward on his stomach and leaned to peer out the doorway. What he saw tore his heart to the quick. He needed to get Steven’s gun. Fast.
Michael stood, eyes filled with tears, Ryan’s gun raised with both hands. The deadly object looked so foreign in his young grip.