Dark Deceptions Page 13

  “Drake?” he whispered, his back pressed against rotting wood. “Are you there?” Static cracked in his ear, followed by a clicking noise and then silence. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but stopped short, instinct keeping him quiet.

  Drawing his gun, he headed back toward the corner of the house, staying low, still using the bushes for cover. He slowed as he reached the rhododendron, pushing the leaves back so that he could see. From this vantage point, he couldn’t verify Drake’s position beneath the towering oak. But he was relieved to find the side yard quiet. No sign of intruders or danger of any kind.

  But there was no sign of Drake either.

  Staying within the protection of the rhododendron, Nash carefully made his way back toward the oak tree. And then, only after waiting a full five minutes in silence, did he dare to step from the bush’s sheltering confines.

  One minute he was moving toward the safety of the oak tree, and the next something struck him hard on the back of the head. White-hot light exploded in his brain as he stumbled to his knees, trying to hang on to consciousness. Using sheer power of will, he grabbed his gun and pivoted, his effort rewarded with the shadowy outline of his attacker.

  He lifted his hand and fired. But there was only a quiet click as the gun jammed. Nash tried to push to his feet, but his attacker was faster, knocking the Sig away, his own weapon pointed directly at Nash’s head.

  CHAPTER 12

  Annie gripped the field glasses, her heart beating double time. The man holding Nash and Drake at gunpoint was gesturing toward the house, which meant that for the moment at least they were safe. Still, with the communications blackout, she wasn’t about to take a chance. The handgun Nash had given her was of little value, unless she could fly. She needed something more powerful. And she needed it now.

  Running over to the Land Rover, she yanked open the back and felt along the front seam of the carpet covering the floor for the notched indentation that opened the weapons cabinet.

  Standard issue even in her day.

  She selected a rifle and fitted the scope, feeling a hell of a lot more secure, in her element. She’d already checked out the farm, if you could call it that. Looking like something out of a Thomas Cole painting, the graying old house set against the yellow-pink of the sunrise had looked almost peaceful. The Hudson River School at its very best. But this wasn’t a painting. Hell, it wasn’t even a real farm. At least not anymore.

  Now it was nothing more than a prison. A place to hold her son. And it had taken every ounce of self-restraint Annie possessed to keep from running down the hill to try to free Adam. But now all bets were off. Nash was in trouble.

  Grabbing some extra ammo, she stuffed it into a small backpack, adding a couple of grenades and a Sig Sauer for good measure. Better to be overprepared. She closed the hatch and moved back toward the farmhouse. Although it was daylight, clouds had moved in to cover the sun, the overcast day giving her an unexpected advantage when it came to stealth.

  At the top of a small rise, she dropped to the ground, using the rifle’s scope to reevaluate the situation. The group had moved about fifteen feet, Drake and Nash both with their hands in the air. It wouldn’t be long before the man called for reinforcements or forced them out of sight. Either way, she didn’t have much time.

  She lowered the scope and sat back on her heels, considering her options. The first thing to do was remove the immediate threat—the man with the machine gun. She could take him out from here. But the shot was long, even by her standards. She’d move closer and then take the bastard out.

  Gauging the distance between their position and the rise, she decided on a point halfway down the slope, a large pine tree huddled against an outcropping of rock providing the perfect place to conceal herself. The only trick was to make the distance between here and there in one piece, but considering the kidnappers probably weren’t expecting reinforcements, she figured the odds were on her side.

  Moving at almost a crawl, she skittered down the hill, stopping once behind a boulder, relieved to see that her movement had gone unnoticed. Another ten yards or so and she was sheltered by the pine. Reattaching the rifle’s scope and silencer, she knelt, taking aim, as the man waved his machine gun again in the direction of the house. The three of them moved forward, stepping into the shadow of a stand of trees, Drake blocking the angle of her shot.

  “Move, damn it,” she whispered, heart thudding as she waited.

  As if he’d heard her, Drake bent down, and Annie closed an eye as she gently squeezed the trigger, the motion at once intimate and deadly, everything coming back to her with one fluid motion. She was a trained killer and nothing—not her life in Creede, not her absence from the Company, not even her love for her son—could change that fact.

  Using the scope, she ascertained that the man was indeed down. Nash and Drake had already pulled his body deeper into the shadows. She struggled for breath, the past and present coming together in nightmarish fashion. Angrily, she pushed away her rioting emotions. There was no time for introspection. Her son’s life and quite possibly Nash and Drake’s depended on her ability to keep a cool head.

  Keeping the rifle at the ready, she swung the pack back onto her shoulder and cautiously worked her way around the perimeter of the farmyard to the copse of trees where she’d last seen Nash and Drake.

  Whistling softly, she prayed Nash would remember their old signal. It had been eight years, after all. She didn’t relish the idea of coming up on them blind, but she didn’t have much choice. Fortunately, the breeze carried his answering call.

  Keeping low, careful to keep watch on the house, she moved into the shelter of the trees. “Nash?” she called softly.

  “Over here,” came the reply.

  Nash was crouched over the body, Drake next to him keeping watch, the dead man’s machine gun trained on the house.

  “Nice shot,” Drake said as she dropped down beside them. Everything was still almost eerily quiet.

  “I’m a little rusty,” she said, shrugging, “but once a shooter always a shooter, I guess. Any sign of company?”

  “Nothing so far,” Nash said as he finished searching the body. “The man wasn’t carrying a radio. So that’s a break in our favor.”

  Drake winced as he shifted his position, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, the guy just clubbed me upside the head. But it’s nothing.”

  “So what the hell happened?” Annie asked. “I assumed that even though Jason and Hannah bugged out, the two of you were still in communication.”

  “We were,” Drake said. “But the guy caught me unaware. Knocked me cold from behind.”

  “And then went after Nash.” She nodded, turning back to Nash, who was camouflaging the body with rocks and leaves. “I saw that much. But I thought you had him.”

  “Gun jammed,” he replied, his mouth tightening with anger. “I hope to hell you’ve got another one in the bag?”

  “I do,” she said, reaching in to toss him the gun. “Also some extra ammo and some grenades. I kinda hate going into a situation unprepared.”

  “Grenades could be useful,” Drake said. “And at least for the moment we seem to have the upper hand. We’re still alone.”

  “Yeah, but sooner or later someone’s bound to come looking for our friend over there.”

  “Which means we need to move fast,” Drake said, the machine gun still trained on the farmhouse.

  “What about Adam?” Annie asked, her heart in her throat.

  “He’s here,” Nash said. “I saw him.”

  “And?” she asked, fear shimmering in her voice.

  “There wasn’t time to see much, but he’s definitely alive.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered, her heart slipping back into place again. “What about the others? Do you think the man from the phone call is here?”

  “No way to tell. There was a man with Adam, but there was nothing to signi
fy who he was.”

  “And we don’t have time to sit here and debate. Once they figure out they’re a man short, we’ll have lost advantage,” Drake said. “We need to make our move now.”

  “I’m ready,” Annie said, and nodded, sliding a clip into her gun. “So what are we facing?”

  “According to Jason’s intel, we’ve got five hostiles including Rivon,” Nash said.

  “So that means we’re down to four,” Annie said. “Jason placed two up front. Which I’m assuming includes the guy I took out. And two midhouse.”

  “Which is probably Rivon and maybe the guy in charge,” Nash added.

  “And then there’s one in back with your son,” Drake concluded. She noticed he didn’t call Adam by name. That was protocol. It made it less personal when working on a retrieval, but the thought made her gut churn.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked, remembering that Nash had said that Drake was an expert in extractions.

  “I’m thinking a two-pronged attack,” Drake replied. “I’ll create some kind of diversion. Something that will pull Rivon and company to the front of the house or, even better, outside. Then once we’ve managed to grab their attention, you guys can sneak in the back and grab the kid. From what I could see, there were two rooms at the front of the house. A living room on the west side and a bedroom on the east. The living room opens onto a dining room.”

  “Which leads to the kitchen,” Nash said, sketching a crude diagram of the house with his finger in the dirt. “Adam is in a room on the back. Here.” Nash pointed to the northeastern corner of the house.

  “And according to the plans Jason showed us, there should be a door near the opposite corner.”

  “So all we’ve got to do,” Annie said, studying the diagram, “is get in the back door and through here to Adam.” She drew a line to indicate what seemed to be the shortest route.

  “While Rivon and his cronies are outside chasing after me.” Drake nodded.

  “It’s still risky,” Nash said with a frown. “Maybe it would be better if I handled the retrieval on my own. After all, Avery told Annie to stay in the background.”

  “If I’d stayed in the background, you’d both be dead.”

  “Point well taken,” Drake said. “Besides, we need all the personnel we can get. If everything goes well, I’ll be able to take out the four remaining hostiles. And your job will be easy. But if I fail, or if someone stays behind with the kid, you could run into trouble. And an extra gun could be just the ticket.” He waited a moment for dissension, and when there was none, nodded. “All right, so we’re agreed. I’ll attack the front while you and Annie hit from the back and free the kid.”

  “Adam,” Annie said through gritted teeth. “His name is Adam.”

  “Right.” Drake nodded.

  “Annie,” Nash said, his fingers closing around hers. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “I know.” She nodded, forcing herself to sequester her fear. She could fall apart later, after Adam was safe. “It’s just that he’s my son.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Nash asked, his eyes dark with worry.

  “Yeah,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “I have to be. For Adam. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t done this before.” She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. “So what do you say we get this show on the road?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Drake said. “Give me a couple of minutes’ lead time to get into place. Then assuming everything’s still quiet, you guys head for the back door and hold your position until you hear the fireworks.”

  “Fireworks?” Annie asked, stealing a surreptitious look in Nash’s direction.

  “Call it creative grenade work.” Drake shrugged, holding up the backpack.

  “Just take the bastards out,” Nash said, holstering his gun.

  “Not a problem.” Drake gave them a jaunty salute, then shouldered the bag and picked up the rifle and machine gun. “Here’s to good hunting. And with a little luck, I’ll see you both on the flipside.”

  “With Adam,” Annie whispered.

  And then he was gone, disappearing into the undergrowth that bordered the edge of the property.

  “Annie,” Nash said, his brows drawn together in a fierce frown, “I want you to know that I’m going to get him out. And nothing is going to stop me.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, the gesture automatic. “I know he’s not the main objective. But he’s just a little boy.”

  “Your little boy.”

  The words hung between them and he leaned forward, his eyes still locked with hers, their breathing intertwined. She swallowed, frozen, pinned by his gaze, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, he turned, moving to the edge of the trees, his eyes on the house, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.

  There was a time when she’d have known just what he was thinking.

  But not anymore.

  They’d both moved on. Or at least he had. She was still tied to the past, every single day with her son a reminder of what she and Nash had once been to each other.

  “It’s time,” Nash said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “You ready?”

  Now there was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

  CHAPTER 13

  Let’s do it,” she said, her hand tightening on her gun as they stepped cautiously out of the shed, circling back to back as they searched for enemies, the familiar choreography coming naturally. The farmyard was quiet, the cars still parked in the drive, the dead man still safely hidden in his pile of leaves.

  Moving as quietly as possible, Nash and Annie continued to flank each other as they made their way to the back of the house. There was no sign of Drake. But that was to be expected. If everything was going as planned, he was on the opposite side of the building setting up his pyrotechnic display.

  As they neared the corner, the sound of a screen door opening broke through the stillness. Annie froze, back to the wall, finger on the trigger of her gun. But Nash shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips. She strained into the silence, then heard the familiar clanking of a garbage can lid, followed by the repeated screech of the door opening and closing.

  “Close call,” she whispered. “Didn’t figure Rivon for the environmentally conscious type.”

  Keeping her back to the wall, Annie slid forward until she could just see around the edge of the building. The small area that constituted the yard was empty, two trash cans leaning against the remains of a fence, the trees on the lake’s edge spreading upward to block the sky.

  “It’s all clear,” she said, sliding back into place next to Nash. “So what do you want to do?”

  “Wait for Drake’s signal and then storm the castle.”

  “Nature of the beast,” she said.

  “Some things never change.” His smile was almost lost in the shadows of the overgrowth.

  She fingered her gun, wondering how in the hell she’d managed to wind up right back where she’d started. Maybe there was no such thing as second chances. The sins of the mother revisited on the child. She shuddered, thinking of Adam. He needed her. Now more than ever. And she’d be damned if she was going to let some specter from her past take him away from her.

  Suddenly the crack of an explosion shattered the still air, the reverberations joined by a second, even louder blast. For a moment, the sky above the house turned orange and then black as plumes of smoke and fire shot up into the air.

  “That’s our cue,” Nash said, already on the move.

  Annie followed him around the corner, crouching low as they made their way through the undergrowth to the back door. There was shouting from the front of the house as well as gunfire. Hopefully, Drake had the upper hand. But either way, the diversion seemed to be working.

  The two of them held their position on either side of the door for a full minute and then on Nash’s count, they yanked it open and stepped inside the house, guns
at the ready. They were standing in what had probably been a pantry or mud room. The floorboards were buckled and the wallpaper peeling. Dusty crates and boxes were stacked against the left wall near a doorway, a rudimentary bathroom directly across from it on the right.

  Pointing toward the door, Nash started forward, Annie keeping watch from behind. Moving in tandem, they worked their way across the floor, Annie holding position as Nash pivoted into the adjoining room, leading with the Sig.

  “Clear,” he whispered as she followed him into an empty bedroom, her body still on high alert. “This is where I saw him.”

  The rumpled bed, a half-empty juice glass, and the laptop on the table were all familiar. Annie recognized the room from the photos and the video feed. But there was no sign of Adam now. Stifling her rising fear, Annie moved into the kitchen, Nash following behind her. Like the rest of the house, the room was dilapidated, the appliances covered in dust. Dirty dishes in the sink were the only real sign of life.

  But the deadly quiet coming from both inside and outside the house left Annie with a sick feeling rising in her gut.

  There were two additional doors leading out of the kitchen, one directly in front of them and another to the right, next to the refrigerator, opening onto what appeared to be a dining room. Nash signaled her to hold position as he moved to the wall flanking the dining room doorway. On a count of three, he swung into the room, the Sig catching the light as he moved.

  “Take another step and I’ll kill the boy.”

  From her angle, she couldn’t see Rivon, but she recognized his voice, fear chasing down her spine as the meaning of his words sank home.

  “I’m assuming that’s your man outside,” Rivon said. “The one responsible for the explosions. I told Lloyd things were too quiet.”

  Annie took a step forward and then froze. Rivon had no idea she was present, which meant that for the moment at least they had an advantage.