15. Elijah
Gun in hand, I creep down the stairs, bare feet silent on the steel staircase. Andie is behind me, despite my arguments that she remain in the room, though I’m thankful she doesn’t make a sound as we descend into the dark office.
Lance is monitoring remotely tonight, which means that the place is empty. It also means he likely knows what’s happening right now and is already on his way. Something I’m counting on depending on what just happened outside. The sheriff should already be on his way also, but with the weather outside, he’ll likely be delayed.
I turn on no lights, just head straight for my desk where I duck down and flip on the monitor. Andie crouches down behind me, her phone clutched in her hand.
The moment the monitor comes on and my exterior security cameras are on screen, I know we’re in trouble. Andie’s car is on fire, orange flames lighting up the dark night sky even as rain hammers down on top of it.
But that’s not even the worst of it.
Five men in matching skull masks stand just outside. They’re tall, bulky, and not at all rushed despite the fact that the explosion would have drawn immense attention. They stare up at the cameras, almost challenging me to come outside.
“What is happening?” Andie whispers. I look back at her. She’s terrified. Visibly shaking where she kneels. “Why is this happening?”
After reaching into the top drawer of my desk and withdrawing my knife, I tug her to her feet and rush over to the corner of the living area.
We have a minute before they breach the doors. Maybe two if we’re lucky. So I rip the rug back and open the hatch leading down to a basement not included on any building schematics.
“Get inside. Call the sheriff again. Tell them what’s happening.”
She stares back at me, emerald eyes wide with terror. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to buy us time.”
“Elijah—”
“Please, Andie.” Desperate to touch her, I reach up and run my hand over her cheek. “Get inside. Stay quiet. Do not come out until you hear me say it’s okay.”
I turn back to the camera as the one in front gives hand signals and three of the men break off from the group, likely flanking around the back while the other two rush toward the front door—mere feet away.
“Now, Andie. We’re out of time.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insist. Someone hits the door. “But I can’t do what I need to if I’m worried about you!”
After one final moment of hesitation, Andie climbs down the stairs and disappears into the dark. I close it then cover the entrance with the rug once more. I only need to keep them occupied long enough for help to arrive.
Then everything will be fine.
Lord, please let her survive. Take me if it’s my time, but let Andie walk out of this.
The world around me goes quiet, and I breathe in deeply, letting adrenaline fuel my muscles but not take over my mind. I play out the scenarios in my head within seconds, determining the best line of attack is to hit them before they see it coming.
Another hit against the door.
It’s reinforced, but it won’t hold for long.
My cell rings.
I answer and press it to my ear.
“We’re on our way,” Lance says, panic in his voice.
“Get her out safe,” I tell him. “Promise me. No matter what. You get her out.”
“We will get both of you out,” he says.
“Promise me, Lance.”
“I promise. Michael should be there in—” The door splinters, and an explosion rings my ears. I’m knocked off my feet and slammed into the wall behind me with such force I can hardly see straight.
Two men rush in, and I lunge to my feet, charging forward and slamming my shoulder into the nearest one. The impact has pain shooting through my side, but I shove it down. Years of fighting in alleyways, basements, and abandoned buildings have raised my pain tolerance. I’ve taken many hits in my life.
And this one will not be my last.
I raise my fist and slam it into his face then raise my gun and fire it at the man trying to sneak up behind me. He goes down, stumbling back and splintering my desk.
I jump to my feet as another attacker races down the hall, having gotten in through the back door. He fires his weapon, and I roll to the side then fire my own. He lets out a yell as the bullet tears through the meat of his leg, dropping him to the ground. I leap over the desk I’d taken shelter behind and knock the firearm from his hand.
“Stay down,” I growl, my foot on his throat, gun aimed at his head. I don’t want to kill him, but I won’t hesitate if he moves. The window breaks as a canister is thrown inside.
Adrenaline pulses as I dive to the side, seeking cover.
It goes off, and burning pain shoots through my side. I suck in a ragged breath and fight the urge to yell in agony. Shrapnel.
My mind reverts—the scene around me shifting from the lighthouse I call home to a blood-stained desert surrounded by the enemy. Pain eats up my side, the very oxygen around me feeling like a thousand needles being pressed into my injury.
“Stay down!”Lance orders.
I try to move. To get to my brothers as they lie dying. Please, let me get to them. I crawl, dirt ripping at my already torn flesh, but just as I reach Corporal Sandoval, another explosion rocks the ground.
A woman screams.
I cover my nose and mouth as best I can, but the smoke burns my eyes. Keeping low, I move along the floor, searching for the entrance to the basement. If they got her—I can’t fail her. Not like I failed them.
“Elijah!” Michael.
“Down here!” I choke out, lungs burning.
Hands go to my shoulders, and I don’t fight the help because I know it’s Michael. He pulls me from the room and out into the fresh air. I suck in my first, unhindered breath, my lungs burning from the thick smoke still billowing out of the lighthouse.
Sirens wail in the distance.
“I need to get Andie,” I choke out, hissing in pain as Michael rips the shirt from my body. “Basement.”
“Lance got her,” he replies. “You’re a mess. Could be worse,” he says then takes my torn shirt and presses it to the wounds in my side.
Seconds later, Andie stumbles out alongside Lance, Aggie in her arms. Relief floods me, the sight of her a salve to my broken soul.
“And it looks like they went up for the cat too,” he adds.
“Elijah!” She rushes over toward me and throws herself at my side. I stare up at her, vision blurry from smoke and probably blood loss, depending on how bad the shrapnel is. Her eyes go wide, and she turns to Michael. “What can I do?”
“Keep pressure here. I’ll stick Aggie in the car.” He takes the cat from her, and she presses my shirt against my side as Michael walks away.
“Don’t die, Elijah,” she says. “I’m not done disliking you yet.”
I laugh, but it’s agony. “I. Don’t. Plan. On. It.” I suck in a ragged breath. “Are you all right?”
“A couple scrapes, but I’m fine.”
Lance tosses an empty metal canister to the ground. “Crudely made,” he growls, pulling his gas mask off. “Nails and sharpened bolts. Along with some homemade tear gas. God is the only reason you’re not dead,” he says.
He’s right. The only place I’d managed to get to before it exploded was my already splintered desk. I’d shielded my face and neck, but if there were nails in there, the force of that explosion could have sent them straight through the wood.
I could be dead.
I should be dead.
Again.
Why does He keep saving me?
The sheriff pulls in first, followed by an ambulance and the fire department.
“These guys weren’t amateurs,” I wheeze. Every breath is like fire in my veins. “They knew what they were doing.”
“We’ll deal with them,” Lance says. “Right now, we need to make sure you survive.”