Chapter 12 #2
“Is this thing on?” He tapped the microphone, getting the desired cackle from the crowd. “Good evening and welcome. First off, please join me in thanking my favorite executive assistant, Noreen Masterson, for putting together such a wonderful event. Take a bow, Noreen.”
Hoots and hollers rang out among the thunderous claps. Not surprisingly, it seemed the older woman had earned the respect of everyone in the room. She waved her hand through the air a few times, then tipped her head to Finn. He picked up on her cue, continuing where he left off.
“The real reason we’re all here tonight though, is all of you.
I may be the face of Lachlan Industries, but you all are its heart and soul.
Twenty-three years ago, when I started this company in the basement of my father’s home, I had one goal; to make it on my own.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that my goal was flawed, or rather my thinking was.
It wasn’t about what I could accomplish on my own, it was about what we could accomplish together. ”
Finn was passionate about his company and the work they did.
I could’ve listened to him talk for hours, but after a few minutes, I tuned him out to concentrate on the crowd.
The waitstaff was milling around, going in between tables to collect dishes and refill drinks.
Could one of them be the stalker? Could it be the woman at the very back table who seemed to be hanging on Finn's every word? Or what about the gentleman with the wire-rimmed glasses, who kept taking them off to wipe them on his shirt every few minutes. Was it a nervous habit, or was he planning something? For all we knew, the stalker wasn’t even here. It was so damn frustrating.
“The foundation of any good business is built on trust. That trust has allowed Lachlan Industries to soar above the competition. We’re not only a leader in the world of technology, we’re about to do something that’s never been done before, and it’s all because of the men and women in this room.
So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your dedication, your loyalty, and your desire to make the world better. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
The roar of applause and screech of chairs sliding across the floor was near deafening as Finn received a standing ovation from his employees.
It was so loud; it could easily drown out the sound of a gunshot.
With that thought in mind, I sprinted up the set of steps on the side of the stage, grabbed Finn’s hand, and tugged him down the other side.
Duncan and Keaton were there in an instant, flanking us.
“What happened?” Duncan barked.
Before I could answer, the world around us erupted into a massive ball of heat and flames.
Finn
My brain hadn’t registered what was happening when Waverly threw herself at me, taking us both to the ground.
I took the brunt of the fall, then rolled to cover her body with mine.
The initial explosion lasted seconds, yet the aftermath would live rent-free in my nightmares forever.
Even over the ringing in my ears, I heard the wail of the fire alarm mixed with the terrified screams of my employees.
The fire suppression system kicked in almost immediately, showering the room with enough water to put out the fire, but the damage was done.
She wiggled underneath me. “Finn, are you hurt?”
“No. You?” I got to my feet, holding out a hand to help her up.
“I’m fine, but I’ve got to check on everyone else.”
“We’re good, Way.”
Duncan’s hazy form appeared through a wall of smoke and ash.
Behind him, the rest of her team was scattered about.
Some were assessing the injured while others were helping Shayne herd those who could walk toward the back exit of the basement.
Everywhere I turned, there was devastation.
Then I saw it. A large hole in the south wall, directly behind the stage I’d been standing on. If Waverly hadn’t…
“Don’t go there, Finn.” Duncan clasped my shoulder. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“People could’ve died tonight because of me.”
“No.” His grip tightened. “People could’ve died because some monster set off a motherfucking bomb in a room full of people.”
“None of this is on you, Finn.” Waverly curled a hand around my elbow. “Do you hear me? None of it. We’ll get the person responsible; I can promise you that. But right now, we need to concentrate on getting everyone out of this building before the rest of the ceiling comes down on our heads.”
“Wait! What about the guys in the security booth? Have you heard from them?”
“Yes, Nelson called 911 after the explosion, then forwarded the feed from the cameras to his laptop. He’s keeping an eye on the building from the outside.”
“Sir.” Wes shoved his way through the crowd. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good. Have you seen Joel and Noreen?”
“I got them outside. Neither of them was injured.”
“Thank God.” My shoulders slumped, a heavy weight easing from them. Everyone I loved was safe, at least for now. I was even more grateful Sloane didn’t usually come to these dinners. If she’d been here, I don’t know what I would have done.
“Way, you need to get Finn out of here. He’s even more of a priority after what just happened.”
I thought for sure I was about to see a different kind of explosion. But, she surprised me by saying, “I’m taking him to a safe house. Find this guy, Duncan, and don’t you dare get dead in the process.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He nodded to Wes. “Get them outta here.”
Waverly took my hand as we followed my bodyguard through a maze of people and rubble.
It could have been worse, I reminded myself each time I caught a glimpse of a tear-streaked face or one of my employees with blood staining their clothes.
It could’ve been so much worse. Buildings could be rebuilt; lives couldn’t.
We’d recover, not just as a company, but as a community, because that’s what this tragedy made us; a community of survivors.
It took longer than I thought it would to make it outside.
Flashing lights from more fire trucks and ambulances than I could count lit up the front of the property.
Men and women in uniform raced around, some carrying large hoses while others knelt down to care for the injured. The scene sent chills down my spine.
“This way,” Wes called over his shoulder, leading us away from the rescue crews. “I had them wait by the limo.”
We rounded the back of the building, had the limo within sight when Waverly stopped dead in her tracks. I should’ve been paying closer attention to the fact Joel and Noreen were nowhere to be seen. Maybe then I would’ve noticed the handgun pointed straight at us.
“What are you doing, Wes?” Her voice was calm and unshaking; the complete opposite of what my insides were feeling.
“Finishing what I started.”
“You’re behind the threats? Why?”
None of it made sense. Before Wes was hired, Joel ran a thorough background check. Nothing came back suspicious; the opposite, in fact. He was a heavily decorated soldier who left the military after twelve years of service.
“Cain Lewis.”
“Who?”
The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Not until Waverly reminded me.
“He’s the leader of that group, the Sons of Adam.”
“And my father,” Wes announced with a wicked grin.
The pieces started to click into place. Lachlan Industries had a rigorous process for interviewing and choosing potential candidates for the new prosthetics.
After the meeting at the FBI office, I had Joel look into Cain Lewis’s file.
He’d been denied because the psychiatrist felt his mental health was too unstable.
Apparently, those traits ran in the family.
What I didn’t understand was how we never found Wes's connection to Lewis. That was a pretty huge thing to miss.
“I see you’re confused, Finn.” He chuckled. “Let me help you out. He’s not the man listed on my birth certificate. My mother kept me from him. It wasn’t until I’d been working for you for a few years that he finally found me.”
“There are other prosthetic companies out there. He could’ve easily gone to one of them.”
“You don’t get it. You have no idea what his life is like.” He became more agitated with each word he spoke. “Phantom limb pain is worse than anything you could ever imagine, but your technology could’ve changed everything.”
“We don’t even know yet whether the interface will be enough to trick the brain. It’s only speculation at this point. There’s a big possibility that the people in the study will still experience some form of phantom limb pain.”
“Anything would be better than the hell he’s living through now,” he yelled.
Waverly took a half a step closer to me, giving my hand a firm squeeze.
Her gesture was a not-so-subtle warning to quit pissing off the madman with the weapon.
I shut my mouth and listened while Wes continued to rant.
The longer he talked, the more of his deception was revealed.
He was the one who tried to steal the software with the design specs.
When that failed, he switched to scare tactics. Then everything changed.
“He took his own life last week because he couldn’t handle the pain anymore.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Wes,” I offered. “But that has nothing to do with me.”
He raised the gun higher. His finger twitched against the trigger as he aimed it directly at my chest. Waverly reacted immediately, trying to draw his attention to her.
“How about you put the gun down, Wes, so we can talk about all this.”
“I don’t think so, Agent Mitchell.” His gaze shifted, but the gun did not. “We do need to move this shindig to another location though. I didn’t anticipate having to dispose of two bodies. Let’s take a little walk down to the river.”
“FBI, drop the gun, Wes. Do it now.”
Duncan came around the far side of the building with his weapon drawn and raised. Behind him, the other four agents did the same. They spread out, each slowly approaching Wes from a slightly different angle.
“Don’t come any closer,” Wes hollered, becoming more agitated, shifting on his feet. His hand twitched and I zeroed in, watching to see if his finger started to squeeze the trigger. “I mean it. Stay where you are.”
They listened, stopping shy of their target by about twenty-five yards. There was too much distance between them to stop a bullet.
“Last warning,” Duncan boomed. “Drop your fucking weapon, asshole.”
“Go ahead and shoot, but I’ll take one of them down with me.”
“Shit. Suicide by cop,” Waverly muttered.
I saw the moment Wes made his choice. So did Waverly.
We both reacted, but I was quicker. I shoved her out of the way just as he pulled the trigger.
Between my momentum and the impact from the bullet, I hit the pavement hard, my head bouncing off the unforgiving surface.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion after that.
Four separate shots rang out, each one echoed around in my already pounding skull like a ping-pong ball. Breathing was a struggle and my chest felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t move; I didn’t dare.
“Finn!” Waverly screamed. Then she was on her hands and knees, leaning over me. “Where are you hit?”
I opened my mouth, but only a pain-filled groan came out.
“Get an ambulance.” She was near hysterics when she grabbed the middle of my shirt and ripped it straight down the middle. My vision blurred when I moved my head to look for the wound. Just before everything went black, I could’ve sworn I heard her say, “Thank fuck.”