Chapter Thirty
Cade
I glance at my watch–4:00 a.m. One hour after Lola left with Randall and Patricia. The video evidence confirmed that she departed with them. Not that I would have questioned who it was after her message.
Of course, there’s no evidence of a gun, so it appears she left with them willingly. There’s no way she left on her own accord.
We’re posted a quarter mile from Randall’s house. God willing, there’s someone to rescue. Tears sting my eyes. Don’t think that way. She’s still alive, and you know it.
Eddie looks up from the heat sensor in his hand. “Three heat signals from what appears to be the study.”
Thank God.I close my eyes for a second and slowly exhale.
“You need to get in there. Now,” Edward barks.
I open my eyes. “I realize you want to get her, and so do I, but we can’t rush in without a solid plan. That will get her killed.” I run a hand through my hair. “Right now, we’re going to assume she’s one of the people in that room and that she’s alive. Give us a little time to make a plan to get in there and get out safely.”
“Fine.” He twists on his heel and marches to Derrick, who’s standing at the backend of a black Escalade.
“How do you want to do this?” Ripley leans against the hood of his 4x4 pickup.
“The closest door to the study is this one.” I point to the schematics on my cell phone. “If we cut the power to the security system, we should go in through that door and get to her in under sixty seconds.”
Sloane taps her finger over the tablet in her hand. “The security system is down.”
“Perfect.” Ripley grins.
“We’re going in, too.” Eddie Jr.’s hands are in fists at his side.
“You can’t. There’s no FBI jurisdiction. There’s no evidence he’s committed a crime. You have to leave it to us.”
“That’s bullshit.” He stalks toward me like he’s going to knock me out. Try it, fucker. Ripley grabs my forearm.
Derrick steps between us. “They’re right. We can’t go in. Unless we see someone getting fired on. The DIA and FBI have no jurisdiction here. Cade and Ripley are experts at rescue missions. Let them do their thing.”
“We should wait for the police.” Edward paces, causing the gravel under his shoes to make grinding sounds.
Everyone turns to stare at him. “Fine.” Several seconds later, he shakes his head. I’m not familiar with the police in the area, but it’s a small town on the outskirts of New York City; I’m doubtful they’ve hired top-quality candidates.
We’ve studied every aspect of the building’s layout and the surrounding landscape. We don’t have enough people to surround the area if he would happen to escape. I should care if Maitland gets caught, but right now, my only concern is Lola.
If I don’t kill him, someone else can worry about getting the son of a bitch later. I’ve got to get my eyes on her and make sure she’s okay. That’s the only thing that matters. There will be time enough to watch him drown later; kidnapping a congressman’s daughter will bring the wrath down on him.
“Ready?” Ripley pats me on the back and adjusts the bill of his black baseball cap. His face is covered in black face paint, leaving only his eyes showing.
“Yeah.” I nod. I’d changed into dark cargo pants and a T-shirt to blend in with the middle of the night darkness. No one will see us slinking across the yard.
“Let’s roll.” Ripley nods his head.
We switch on our microphone packs so we can hear each other, and Lola’s family can keep track of what’s going on. My gut churns at the enormity of our mission. I haven’t been in the field since my injury, and I’m trying to save the woman I love from a complete amateur idiot. There’s no way he’s a skilled marksman, which makes him dangerous. He’ll be impulsive and unpredictable.
Edward grabs my shoulder. “Bring my daughter back to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” I give him a curt nod.
Seconds later, Ripley and I enter the edge of Maitland’s estate. The grass is cut short and makes a rustling sound under our feet. If we had hours to traverse the 400 yards, no one would hear a sound, but we don’t have the luxury of time. The blood whooshes in my ears as I inhale the scent of grass. One. Two. Three. I count the seconds it takes to cut through the yard. 240 seconds. Right on time.
When we reach the backdoor, I rest my hand on the knob and slow my breathing. It’s erratic and sounds loud to my ears. During a mission, every sense is amplified. Calm down. I can’t afford for him to hear me sounding like an overweight pug after climbing a set of stairs to the front porch.
“She’s going to be fine.” Ripley’s voice is reassuring in my earpiece.
“I know.”
From behind the house, a dog barks. Shit. Damn it. The dogs are going to give us away. It’s just like last time–a loud commotion and our locations were discovered. I’m going to screw this up.
Listen, fucker. You don’t have time for this. Get your head out of your ass.
We stop, and the dogs go silent. “Dart gun.” Derrick’s voice breaks into my ear.
“You aren’t supposed to be out here.”
“Fuck you. This is our sister. We’ll beg for forgiveness later.”
“Point taken.” My shoulders relax a fraction as we inch along the cement patio. I’m more than a little relieved to have backup. “I’m going in. The dog’s barking had to have made him suspicious.” I grasp the knob, and my hand slips off. Locked.
“I’ve got it.” Ripley pulls out a battery-operated screwdriver, and zips the screws out that hold the doorknob to the door. “Got it.”
He steps back, and I push the door open, slipping into the downstairs bedroom. The room is pitch black. I tap on the flashlight and scan the room. “Clear.”
Ripley follows behind me. “The next room is the study.”
“There’s no movement in the study. Two people are seated, and one person is pacing the floor.” Sloane reports from the safety of the road.
***
Lola
Cade.My heart skips a beat. How in the hell did Randall not hear the dog barking? Oh, right. Because he loves to hear himself talk. The man has a serious ego problem with a case of diarrhea of the mouth.
Over the last hour, he’s vacillated between killing me and taking me off for an exotic getaway while framing Patricia for everything. If she had a backbone, she’d be pissed that he’s tossed her out of his inner circle, but she’s been blubbering in the corner the entire time. I should feel sorry for her, but I don’t. She made her bed, and now she must lie in it.
I keep my eyes straight ahead as Randall brandishes the weapon and talks to himself. He stops in front of me. “Are you ready?”
“Am I ready for what?” Keep him talking. Cade must be near the house or even inside by now. I’ve got to keep him talking.
“God, that fucking mouth of yours makes me want to do so many dirty things.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cade crouching near the door. The whites of his eyes narrow into slits.
“So, now we’re back to you taking me to Micronesia with you? What time is the flight? I don’t want to miss it.” If I get killed in the fracas, I want his plans foiled.
“Five o’clock.” He stops. “Do you want to go with me?”
“Sure.” I shrug. To the fucking police station to watch you get booked. “I’d rather go with you than get killed.”
Randall steps forward. Shit. He’s going to move out of Patricia’s line of sight, and she’s going to blow the team’s cover. I swivel to her. “What about her?” I pop my bottom lip out. “I don’t like to share.”
“I’ll get rid of her.” He shifts to stand in front of Patricia. Cade and someone I assume is Ripley step into the room with guns trained at the back of Randall’s skull.
“Don’t.” Tears stream down her face.
“Randall, I want you all to myself.”
“As do I,” he says as if he seriously believes I’ve changed my mind. Is the guy that stupid? He leans toward Patricia, and I jump off the sofa.
“What?” He swivels toward me with wide eyes. The shock on his face is almost funny, but I’m not out of the woods yet. There’s no time to get cocky. “How did you get free?”
“Your girlfriend is shit at tying people up.” I lower my hips and wait for the attack. Patricia sucks down a gulp of air. Apparently, she’s finally noticed Cade and Ripley standing behind Randall. She snaps her mouth shut and stares at the floor. Good girl.
Randall lunges forward and grabs my arms. I fall into him and relax. The second he thinks he has the upper hand, I stomp on his foot and raise my knee, smashing into his balls while punching his nose with the heel of my palm. Blood splatters out of his nostrils in a stream that floods down his shirt–his white dress shirt–that he’s still wearing from the party. A spurt of it shoots out toward me and lands on my T-shirt.
“Fucking cunt.” He surges forward.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Cade levels the Glock at the back of Randall’s head. There are less than three inches between the gun and his head. “They say it’s hard as fuck to get brains out of the carpet, and the sofa will be ruined.”
“Asshole,” he barks and spins his head around to see who’s caught him.
“Don’t move, cocksucker.” Ripley stares down the barrel of his weapon from the other side of Randall. “You’re surrounded, so don’t try to run. I have no qualms about shooting you. I don’t care about the carpet or the sofa.”
“Nor do I.” Cade shifts to the side. His hand is steady as he holds the pistol inches from his temple. “Whoever buys the house will want new furniture anyway.” His head cocks backward. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Patricia jumps up off the sofa.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Cade sighs but continues to watch Randall.
“I’m fine.”
“Thank God. He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”
I shudder over all the things Randall said he wanted to do. Thank fuck he’s all talk and no action. “He slapped me once, but that’s it.”
Cade glances out of the corner of his eye as his jaw twitches. He jerks his attention back to Randall and steps into his space. “You better be glad there are witnesses.”
“Cade, that’s enough. We’ve got him.” Eddie and Derrick barge into the room with handcuffs dangling in their fingers. In the distance, sirens blare as the police near Randall’s estate.
“And her.” I tip my head toward Patricia. “She was his accomplice.”
“Lola, you know how vile he is. He threatened to fuck you up the ass and kill you.”
“Motherfucker.” Cade punches Randall in the mouth, and blood shoots across his fist.
“Asshole.” Randall lunges his head forward.
Eddie and Derrick jog forward, each one taking a different suspect. The second the handcuffs are on, Cade grabs me and hauls me into his arms. “Don’t ever–”
“I won’t.” I place my hands on his face as his entire body shudders. “I will never go off without telling you where I’m going. Unless it’s to the store or something.”
“Thank you.” He smiles weakly and kisses me.
Seconds later, he leans back and rests his forehead against mine. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
“I wasn’t. I knew you’d find me.” I snuggle against his chest as he shoves the weapon into the holster at the back of his pants while a stream of police officers floods the room.