Chapter Eleven
T he trilling of a cell phone stopped all of them in their tracks. Clay looked down at the display on his phone. It was an unfamiliar number, but he'd bet it was Ivy. Or Hamilton. He nodded at Dev and accepted the call and put it on speaker.
“Ivy, are you all right?”
“She’s fine, asshole,” Hamilton’s voice boomed. “And she’ll stay that way as long as you bring Katie to me.”
Dev was working on tracing the call, so Clay drew it out, forcing himself to sound flustered even as fury pulsed through him. “Don’t hurt her,” he said. “I need to know she’s okay before I agree to anything.”
“Fucking flyboy whiners,” Hamilton muttered, and a second later Ivy came on the line.
“Clay,” she said, her voice just a bit thready before she firmed it up. “I’m fine, but whatever you do, do not trade me for Katie—” her voice broke off and the sound of flesh hitting flesh slapped over the line.
Everything in Clay went icy cold.
“Bitch,” Hamilton said. “Butting into a man’s business. Bring Katie to this address in one hour. Come alone, no fucking cops. I’ll know if they’re there.” He rattled off an address. Dev nodded and motioned for Clay to wrap it up.
“We’ll be there,” Clay said, not even bothering to mask the menace in his tone. Hamilton had laid hands on Ivy. He was a dead man.
He disconnected and fixed his attention on Dev, who’d combined the multiple panels into one big one, displaying a map.
“He’s already there, left the tagging on the phone on long enough for me to get him, but now it’s off.”
With a few taps of his fingers, the screen split in two, showing the map on the left and a series of photos on the other.
“This is the Boss Mine, about thirty miles out of Vegas. Riddled with mine shafts and a great big pain in the ass. Lots of hobbyists roll around in those ruins, as you can see by the photos here. We don’t have time for on-the-ground intel, so this is the best we can do. His coordinates are at the base of the mountain, but he could be anywhere.” He turned his head to Clay. “What do you think?”
Clay scrutinized each of the photos, the map, well aware that the clock was ticking. He walked to the screen.
“Deploy Tate here,” he pointed to an unassuming hillock half a mile to the south. “That’s inside your range, correct?”
Tate nodded, and Clay was never so thankful that his friend had honed his expert marksman skills on the battlefield all those years ago.
“Cali and I come in from the ground. He’s expecting me, knows who I am,” he said when Dev would have protested. “Jordan and LVMPD on the ground five minutes behind us, staged here.” He pointed to a rock outcropping not visible from anywhere at the base of the mountain, or higher up, where the mine shafts pocked the mountain.
At the table, Jordan was frantically texting, probably her boss. She'd volunteered to go in Cali's place. As a cop, it made more sense, but she was also an active officer in the LVMPD, and while she could moonlight all she wanted doing PI-type stuff, this was a whole different ballgame with the potential for massive conflicts of interest. Cali was so close to the end of her storied career that she could do pretty much anything she wanted and get away with it.
“Back it up, please,” Clay asked.
Dev complied, zooming the map out.
“There,” Clay pointed. “We’ll put Warren and Katie in Jean, at the world’s largest Chevron. Gives them plenty of people around if Hamilton decides to do an end run around us, and we know truckers will support a damsel in distress.” He looked at Katie. “If push comes to shove, you need to own that part. Get other people involved.”
She nodded, gulped.
“Listen, you know this guy better than any of us. We need to roll out in the next five minutes, but is there anything else we need to know?”
He realized they should have asked that question a lot sooner and allowed himself a moment to be pissed before she spoke.
“He’s a misogynistic asshole who thinks he’s a much better cop than he actually is.” She sighed. “I ended it with him when he started getting super possessive. Then he got obsessed, laid hands on me, so I bolted. I should have done a better job of hiding, but I was new to all of it.” She shook her head. “I obviously got better at it as the years went on.”
Clay digested her words. Looked at the team who, for the first time, truly, were counting on him to lead. “He’ll be rash. Emotional. If we can, we’ll use that. Tate, be ready for the shot if he looks sideways at Ivy. I’d prefer him alive, but pretty sure we can work around a fatality.” He looked to Jordan, who nodded, and he got his confirmation that LVMPD would back them up.
“Mount up,” he said, and walked to the armory for his own weapon.
~
Ivy didn’t hate many people, but she would have hated Greg Hamilton the second she met him, if it had been under other circumstances. He was just such a dick weasel. She had no idea why Katie had even given him the time of day.
The fact he’d terrorized her best friend and given her what she suspected was one hell of a shiner only compounded her complete and utter hatred.
He’d dragged her up half a damn mountainside, the heat of the dying day baking them like overdone cookies. They stood in the mouth of a mine shaft, a hundred feet above the dry, brown valley floor. In the distance she could see the distinctive lines of the casino in Jean, the snaking blacktop of the I-15. And closer, a rising line of dust from a white SUV as it arrowed directly toward them. Clay.
She blew out a breath, growled at Hamilton when he yanked at the cuffs that bound her hands behind her back. “Looks like your flyboy came through, bitch,” he said, his hot breath on the nape of her neck. “I’m almost sad. I was looking forward to sampling you.”
Gooseflesh spread across her body, even in the heat, and he laughed at her shiver of disgust.
Fucker. He thrived on the power much more than sex, just like a typical rapist.
The SUV was pulling to a stop, two figures exiting. Oh God, Clay had actually found Katie. Was going through with this insane swap. They began the climb and Hamilton pulled out his cell and called Clay.
“Stop right there, flyboy,” he jeered. “Send Katie up on her own.”
Clay laughed. Actually laughed and something inside Ivy lightened. He had a plan. She didn’t know everything about Clay Andrews, not yet. But she knew he’d never goad a lunatic like Hamilton without a plan.
“Good try, asshole. I’ll send Katie up if you send Ivy down.”
Hamilton fisted a hand in her hair. As if the cuffs weren’t enough.
“Looks like we’re at a stalemate then, because I’m not sending down my leverage.”
Clay sighed. “Listen, man. Katie wants this to be over, she’s tired of running and hiding and actually seems to like the idea of you coming all this way to find her. I don’t get it, but I never claimed to understand women. Ivy is a client, one I’ve sworn to protect. So how about we send them up and down at the same time?”
Ivy knew it was all a ploy. Maybe to get the other SMS members in place? But she’d bet her life on Clay.
She could feel Hamilton considering Clay’s words.
“Come further up, I want to see her,” he said, then disconnected, fisting Ivy’s hair even tighter.
She refused to whimper because she knew it’d feed into his machismo. So instead she stiffened her spine and waited for the moment. Because she knew there would be one.
She watched as Clay and Katie ascended the rocky trail to the mouth of the mine, narrowed her eyes as she realized that Katie was far too surefooted to be the woman she’d grown up with. Prayed that Clay knew what he was doing.
They got within ten yards of her and Hamilton before he figured it out. He slid behind her body, angling his handgun against her temple, using her as a human shield as Clay and the woman drew their own weapons.
“It’s over, Hamilton,” Clay said. “There’s no way out.”
Hamilton laughed, a maniacal tinge to the sound. “There’s always a way out, flyboy. When did you grow a set of balls?”
“Two years ago, when I was shot down over Syria,” Clay said, almost companionably. “Thought I was going to die at the hands of a particularly nasty cell of insurgents. Obviously didn’t happen.”
Hamilton went still and Ivy knew he’d just realized how vastly he’d underestimated Clay.
“Who the fuck did you hire, bitch?” he growled in her ear.
She laughed, just laughed. Because the man looking at her over his weapon thirty feet away was her future, and from the look in his eyes, he’d finally figured it out.
Hamilton moved his hand from her hair and to the cuffs, dragging her backward, into the mine shaft.
It went dark quickly, as they moved deeper into the tunnels, and she stumbled, going to her knees. He yanked her up with a curse and pulled them further into the deep.
~
Fuck, fuck, fuck , Clay thought as he and Cali sprinted the thirty feet to the mine entrance. The fact Harrison had moved up to the mine shaft from the valley floor had been strategically sound, basically putting Tate out of commission. But he was still in place, and LVMPD and their backup was roaring in right now.
He looked at Cali and she nodded, reaching into the slimline backpacks they’d donned that hadn’t been visible to Hamilton, and withdrew night vision goggles. He did the same and slipped them on. They moved into the mine shaft as the light began to fade behind them. Now they’d have the advantage. Thank God for Tate and his toys.
They followed Hamilton and Ivy into the stygian darkness based on the sound of their movements. Every second Hamilton held her hostage was a second too long. Anxiety cramped his gut for a quick second before he pushed it down. None of them were trained for this sort of operation, none of them had been special forces except Warren. They’d been the best of the best at their respective fields, but damn, this was such new territory, and Ivy’s life was at risk.
Cali swung around him, took point. Just in case his ankle gave out. Which burned, but she was, simply, more agile than he was. If Hamilton started blindly shooting, they were both going to take lead anyway, regardless of their body armor.
Even with the NVG’s the darkness around them seemed absolute, stifling.
Cali reached back, tapped his arm twice. Up ahead, Hamilton had stopped, was lying in wait.
Clay ranged up beside Cali, noted the slight bend in the shaft to their left, the absolute blackness of a descending shaft to their right.
Hamilton wasn’t an idiot. If they hadn’t had the NVGs, would they have blindly stepped into an abyss? And how did Hamilton even know about it?
Which meant he was likely wearing NVGs, or something like them.
“You flyboys are smarter than I thought you’d be,” Hamilton said, his voice reasonable now, where it’d been hysterical with rage before. Everything in Clay went on alert. Damn. Hamilton had just realized he had absolutely nothing to lose.
“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options here,” Hamilton continued, still as agreeable as spring sunshine. “I shoot all three of you and take my chances with who you left on the outside. But that’d be dumb, because the locals are out there. Maybe even the FBI. So that’s a big fat no to option one unless it’s a last resort. Option two, you call your contact down there and get me a hostage negotiator.”
Clay cocked his head. Did Hamilton actually think he warranted this much attention? Taking Ivy had been dumb, probably one of the stupidest things he could have done.
“All right,” Clay said. “But I want to know that Ivy is okay. For all we know, you gagged her and threw her down a mine shaft.”
Even as he said the words his stomach soured, but he wasn’t wrong.
Hamilton barked out a laugh. “Nice visual, ace.”
They heard a rustling sound and Ivy’s voice echoed a bit against the rock walls. “I’m fine, though you got the gag part right,” she said with enough disgust in her tone that even Clay felt it this far away.
“Keep your trap shut and I’ll leave it out,” Hamilton replied. “Now get me a negotiator, flyboy.”
Clay wondered if that was the only derogatory term the man had ever heard for someone in the Air Force. With the amount of disdain attached to it, he certainly didn’t have the best opinion of their service.
He did as Hamilton asked, putting his phone on speaker. Dev picked up. “Hostage negotiator is inbound,” he said, his voice clipped. “Best we can do is the phone while she’s enroute.”
Hamilton had no reason to know they’d already put the pieces in place, that the negotiator was actually sitting at the bottom of the mountain with Jordan and LVMPD, waiting for just this instance.
“Color me impressed,” Hamilton said. “How did you find these guys?” he asked, obviously addressing Ivy.
“Ladies room stall,” she replied, her tone full of snark.
Clay heard her cry out as Hamilton struck her. He surged forward, held back by Cali’s restraining arm.
“He’s baiting you,” she hissed in his ear, seconds before Dev said the same thing via their earpieces.
Hamilton’s phone rang, and he answered. “I want a chopper. There’s enough room for it to land near the top of the mountain, where some heavy equipment used to be. I’m taking this bitch with me until we cross into Mexico, then I’ll let her go. You have twenty minutes.”
Clay imagined him disconnecting, heard them begin to move through the darkness again, heard Hamilton say, “Come get your bitch before she takes a dive.”
Cali leapt forward as she saw something Clay hadn’t. When he saw Ivy teetering on the edge of yet another bottomless shaft, his heart simply stopped.
She was poised on the edge, her hands still bound behind her, the gag cutting into her mouth again. Her eyes were wide with terror. She knew that she stood at the rim of the shaft but had no idea what movements she could make to get to safety. She was starting to sway, just the slightest bit, as fatigue and disorientation and terror surged through her body in a potent hormonal cocktail. Clay knew what it felt like to look death in the face. He’d been there himself.
He could hear Hamilton moving away, not even bothering to hide his movements anymore. He tapped Cali three times on the shoulder, indicating that she should pull right, go after Hamilton.
She nodded and began to move after their prey, her feet silent against the grit of the floor.
“I’m coming for you, Ivy,” he said quietly, oh-so-quietly, not wanting to give Hamilton a target to shoot at. “I can see you, you’re going to be just fine, but I need you to hold very, very still.”
He saw her nod, saw the moment when that tiniest of motions changed her balance, began to tip her toward the abyss.
“No,” he shouted and lunged. Felt his foot drop into an unseen hole, went lightheaded as he almost face-planted in the dirt, pain screeching through his body as the screws holding his ankle together ripped loose from their moorings in bone.
But he made it, latched onto the cuffs with his left hand as Ivy’s momentum pushed her forward. They hung like that for precious seconds.
He heard her screaming beneath the gag and realized she had no idea what was happening. “I’ve got you,” he grated, “but I’m stuck.” Pain lashed through him again, so intense he thought he might pass out. “I won’t let go, but you have to give me a second.”
He didn’t know how much she’d heard, only that her screaming stopped and full body tremors began. He wasn’t sure if they were hers or his, to be honest.
He pulled her back an inch, then two, then another until she fell backward, landing on her ass, dislodging his hand from the cuffs. The jolt made him grey out for precious seconds, and then she was beside him, making ungodly noises from behind the gag.
He reached up and pulled it down. “Shhh, Ivy. We’re fine.” He was, in fact, not fine at all. “I don’t know where Hamilton is. Cali’s gone after him, but we need to be quiet until he’s neutralized.”
She hiccupped and let out a watery, “Okay. What can I do to help?”
He smiled through the agony. “Stay right where you are,” he gritted out, “while I get my foot free.”
He awkwardly levered into a sitting position, stifling a shout as he pulled his leg out of the hole. In the grey-green light of the NVGs he could see the awkward angle of his foot and knew they were fucked. The only way he was getting out of here was on a backboard, just like before.
“Remember when you told me how limber you were?” he said, trying to interject a bit of humor into the situation when all he felt was despair. If Hamilton circled back, they were dead. Yeah, he had a weapon, but they were out in the open, sitting ducks.
“Really, that’s where you’re choosing to go right now?” she whispered back, but there was a smile in her voice.
“Do you think you can get your arms in front of you, rather than behind?”
“Oh,” she said, getting his point. He saw her tuck up her legs and scootch until her arms passed beneath her butt, then her legs. She was indeed limber.
“Okay, now what?”
Good question. He hissed out a breath, then gave it to her straight. “My ankle is screwed up pretty bad. There’s no way I can put weight on it, so right now we’re going to sit tight and let the rest of the team do their job. But first, we’re going to move up against the cave wall. It’s directly behind you by about five feet.”
They both moved backward, she hampered by the cuffs, while the pain radiating from his ankle had a cold sweat popping out on his face and raised his heart rate to levels he was positive were unsafe as hell. But they got there, the rough wall cold against their backs.
She snuggled against his side. “Don’t suppose you brought a key for these cuffs.”
“I wish one of us had thought of it. It’ll be in our go bags from now on,” he promised. The pain was beginning to subside, and he wondered if it was because he was becoming numb to it, if it had been so intense it had basically shorted him out. “Tell me a story, something even Katie doesn’t know.”
She hummed for a moment, then he could actually hear her smile as she began. “Well, I have been arrested before. I guess you should know that.” She’d made her tone carefree but kept her voice low. She knew they were still in danger.
“But we ran you,” he said. “You don’t have a record.” Her story was doing what he’d needed, shifting his attention away from his ankle.
“I said I’d been arrested. Never booked. I was working on a project near Fremont and there was this Karen who thought I was, and I quote, ‘a hooligan up to no good.’ She called the cops, saying I was defacing public property. I, understandably, was pissed as hell, and may or may not have appeared to be threatening her with a beat down when the cop rolled in. He cuffed me, which made her deliriously happy, then pulled the permit out of my backpack.”
Clay was so into the story he almost forgot about the fact he was going to be laid up for a long damned time after this. The secret seemed to be holding his leg completely still. And not think about it.
“What happened?” he whispered.
“He uncuffed me and ticketed her for filing a false police report. It was awesome.”
She chuckled and Clay joined her. He leaned his head back against the rock wall. What was happening further in the mine? Was Cali all right?
Then he stiffened, looked down at his foot. Something was happening. He could feel—movement?—beneath the skin, like a thousand ants crawling. And the pain was gone. Completely gone. Did it look straighter, more aligned than when he’d pulled it out of the hole? He must be hallucinating, or the NVG light was making him see things, because his ankle seemed to be repairing itself before his very eyes.
“What’s wrong? You got all quiet and tense,” she asked, concern in her voice.
“I don’t know, something’s going on with my foot and ankle,” he replied, then went still as he heard a scrape coming from further in the mine. Cali returning, or Hamilton circling back? Or another player altogether?
“Someone’s coming,” he said. “Get between me and the wall.”
She did so with minimal noise and no argument, and he trained his weapon on the darkness beyond.