Chapter 2 #3
More shots, closer. She flinched but kept moving.
They reached the extraction point, a couple cars waiting. He helped her in, and she collapsed against him.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and her fingers curled into his vest.
“I knew you’d come.”
The words lodged in his chest, took root. He wanted to tell her then that he’d always come for her.
But she was hurt, exhausted. And what could he offer her? A life of deployments and separation? Of worrying every time he went wheels up on a mission?
So he said nothing.
Ham and the others appeared, and of course, Ranger didn’t meet them at the chopper. That was another story.
But mostly, North just remembered the words that had formed inside, cemented in him. I’ll always come for you.
“Sir? Sir, I need you to return your seat to the upright position. We’re beginning our descent.”
North jerked awake, his neck stiff. The flight attendant smiled apologetically and moved on.
Outside, Seattle’s lights glittered below against the twilight, too bright after the darkness of memory. His watch read 7:47 p.m.
Too slow. Everything was moving too slow.
The plane banked, beginning its approach, and his hands fisted on his thighs. Somewhere out there in the falling darkness, Selah needed him again. And it didn’t matter what he’d said in a moment of stupid impulse on a hot Caribbean island.
His phone buzzed the moment they touched down. Ham.
“Talk to me.” North’s voice came out rough as he pressed the phone to his ear.
“Apparently, it’s chaos,” Ham said. “York called. A dump truck parked on the tracks—the train hit it and derailed. Cars uncoupled, others jackknifed—”
The plane taxied toward the terminal with maddening slowness. “Casualties?”
“They weren’t going very fast, but there are a handful.”
His gut tightened. Please, God—
“I’ve been on the phone with the team lead from Cascade Fire and Rescue, who is managing triage. Most of the injured have been transported to the hospital in Leavenworth.”
North’s fingers dug into his thigh. “Any sign of Selah?”
A pause stretched. Ham sighed. “Not yet. But, North—there’s something else. This wasn’t just a derailment. The guards from the DOD came under attack, and some of the cargo was stolen.”
“What cargo?”
“It’s obsidite. A mineral that’s used in creating AI applications. Once it’s refined, it’s stored under mineral oil in plastic containers. Those containers were damaged—and ignited when they came in contact with the air.”
“How were they damaged?” He unbuckled and stood up, grabbed his backpack from the overhead bin.
“Apparently, there was a gunfight between the guys guarding the transport, and…well, they think it was members of the Russian mob.”
The words tangled in North’s brain as the doors opened and he followed the first of the passengers out. “Russians?”
“Logan Thorne, head of the Caleb Group, says that the Russian Bratva has been trying to get their hands on this for a while.”
North walked out of the jet bridge into the airport. Despite the late hour, the place swarmed with passengers. Great. Hopefully the rental-car desks were still open.
“What does any of that have to do with Selah?”
“It doesn’t. But it goes to the idea that Alan Martin might have been on that train.”
“And?” He knew very little about the former CIA agent who’d been in on a plot to assassinate the president a few years ago, although North had been on the op that had saved the president’s life. So yeah, he had some beef with the guy. But not enough to care right now.
He made his way downstairs to car rental. “How coincidental is it that a known international terrorist is on the same train that Selah is?”
“Dunno. Still trying to unsnarl that, but just…keep your head on a swivel.”
“Roger.”
“By the way, watch yourself coming in. If this was deliberate…”
“Copy.”
“Call if you need anything.”
The rental-car counter gleamed, empty except for a clerk who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her professional smile flickered on as he approached. “Welcome to—”
“I need an SUV, something with four-wheel drive.”
She blinked. “Sir, I’m sorry, our SUVs and hybrids are all sold out. We have a couple compacts—”
He slapped his credit card on the counter. “Fine. Whatever you’ve got.”
Ten minutes later, he threw his bag into a silly little Chevy Sonic. He’d probably need to Fred Flintstone the thing over the mountains.
His phone lit up as he pulled out of the lot.
Chloe.
He turned it on speaker. “You hear from her?”
“No. And I’m heading into the bush. North—”
“I’ll find her, Chloe.”
“She loves you. You know that.”
He drew in a breath. “Yep.” Right now, it didn’t matter. “Be safe. I’ll text you when I find her.” North ended the call, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
The GPS announced his projected arrival time as 11:47 p.m. in that too-cheerful voice. He pressed the accelerator harder.
Seattle’s lights faded behind him as he headed east. The mountains rose ahead, lumbering shadows against the star-strewn sky. Somewhere in those shadows, Selah needed him.
The memory of her eyes on that Nigerian night burned through him again. The trust. The connection that had sparked between them in that desperate moment.
He’d saved her then.
He’d save her now.