Deadly Contact (19 page)

Caleb appeared to consider his offer, but his gaze snagged on the gun and his eyes narrowed. “You’d put the gun down?”

“Naturally.”

The other man nodded. “Do it.”

James opened his hand to turn the gun to the side, then slowly bent down to place it on the floor. He stayed in a crouch, his right hand loose by his ankle and the pistol concealed by his pant leg.

Caleb smiled. “Thank you,” he said courteously.

“Now you let Kelly go.”

“You know what, Special Agent? I’ve changed my mind.” Keeping the knife at Kelly’s throat, he reached into a pocket and drew out a remote. Before James could draw his gun and stand, Caleb pressed a button and the ground shook as a concussion rocked the building. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, and the glass doors of the large display cases lining the wall shattered, sending sharp splinters everywhere. James threw his arms over his head and hunched his shoulders, drawing into himself for protection as debris rained down.

Muted screams sounded in the museum while the lights flickered in the hallway. He fleetingly wondered what had exploded, but before he could gather his thoughts, a second blast rocked the building. This one brought him to the ground and he landed hard in the piles of glass; pain shot from his knees as the shards dug into his skin.

After a beat, he raised his head. A lone fluorescent light shone midway down the hall, casting a weak glow over the aftermath. Cracks ran along the walls, and fine particles hung suspended in the air, shaken free from the walls and ceiling. He coughed violently to clear the dust from his throat, but his mouth and nose still felt coated with the chalky, foul substance.

He gingerly got to his feet, bracing himself for another explosion. As he squinted down the hallway, his heart skipped a beat with fear that had nothing to do with the destruction surrounding him.

Kelly was gone.

Chapter 11

“G
et in.”

Caleb roughly shoved Kelly into the car, pushing her across the passenger seat to the driver’s side. He kept the knife pressed against her ribs, and she briefly considered throwing herself out the driver’s side door. How badly could he hurt her if she was moving away from him? She might get cut, but his reach wouldn’t extend out of the car. He would have to get out to chase her, and that would give her time to make a break for it. Only a few seconds, but it might be long enough to draw attention to them....

As if he’d read her mind, Caleb lifted a brow. “Don’t even think about it.” He reached into the glove compartment as he spoke, drawing out a small, lethal-looking black gun. So much for plan A.

Sirens screamed down the street, wailing past them as police cars and fire trucks converged on the museum. The scene was utter chaos as pedestrians ran in multiple directions, some darting out into traffic in an effort to get away from the museum. There were a few car wrecks on Constitution Avenue, effectively stopping traffic and keeping the emergency-responder vehicles from getting too close. Kelly watched in a kind of detached fascination as one of the ambulances hopped the curb and drove right up to the museum steps.

“Drive.”

A poke in the ribs brought her back to reality. Caleb leaned over and started the car. “Just pull out and drive slowly. Don’t try to draw attention to us, or I’ll blow the car up.”

She stared at him in horror. He patted his jacket pocket with a small smile that had goose bumps popping up on her arms. He was serious—the car was rigged, and he’d have no problem pressing the button, even if it meant his own death. He was truly crazy.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered as she put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, heading away from the museum.

“I have no other choice.”

She shook her head, not understanding. There was always a choice.

“You think I’m worried about dying?” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Trust me, dying in a car bomb would be preferable to what they’ll do to me if I don’t fix this.” He scanned the road ahead, his voice dropping until she had to strain to hear him. “But I did fix it. I fixed it, and I deserve a reward.”

“Who are you talking about?” She drove carefully, keeping an eye on the throngs of people running along the sidewalks. More emergency vehicles flashed by, giving her hope that the police would try to pull them over. She couldn’t stop for fear that Caleb would blow up the car, but if the police gave chase, Caleb would be forced to change his plans and she might make it out alive. With that in mind, she slowed a bit, knowing that the faster they got away from the scene, the slimmer the chance of getting help.

“I know what you’re doing,” Caleb said. “It won’t work. Drive faster.” He poked her in the ribs with the muzzle of the gun.

“If you shoot me, we won’t get anywhere,” she gritted out from between clenched teeth. “And since you seem to need me for something, it’s in your best interests to keep me alive.”

“Alive? Yes,” he agreed, his tone conversational. “Whole? Not so much.”

He was so calm, so utterly composed and resolute. She knew without a doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to injure her to ensure her cooperation, and she shuddered to think what he’d do. She stepped on the gas, and the car punched forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caleb lean back into the passenger seat, a small smile playing at his lips.
Bastard.

Her hands were slick on the steering wheel. She wiped her palms on her pants, one at a time, her mind whirring as she struggled to process the situation. How had Caleb planted bombs without being caught? Security was so tight around the Mall, it was a wonder he hadn’t been seen. How had this happened?

And how many people had he just killed or injured? Was James one of them? She sucked in a breath as a wave of nausea hit her at the thought of James lying in that concrete corridor, alone. He’d been on the floor when she’d last seen him, curled into a ball with debris raining down. She’d heard glass breaking as Caleb pulled her down the hall, and God knew what else had fallen or crumbled onto James. He could be hurt, passed out from a blow to the head or even dead. Would anyone know to look for him? In all the chaos, it would be easy to overlook one FBI agent who wasn’t even supposed to be there.

She had to find a way to save him. He had come to her rescue before, when Caleb had shot her outside her apartment. Now it was time for her to return the favor. No matter what happened between them, she loved him. Besides, she realized with cold clarity, she was probably going to die today anyway. Caleb was all too willing to hurt her, and he seemed to be on his own suicide mission. If he was going to take her with him, she might as well go out with a bang.

She fought to contain a hysterical giggle at the unintentional pun, then glanced over to find Caleb staring straight ahead, the gun in his hand pointing more at her legs than at her ribs. Good. If he stayed relaxed, maybe she could pull this off without getting shot again.

The Lincoln Memorial was coming up fast on the right. As quickly as she dared, she pressed on the gas, wanting to build up speed before they came to the wall of concrete barriers erected around the famous landmark. Caleb didn’t comment, so she pressed harder on the pedal, the engine vrooming as the car shifted gears to accommodate her demands.

“Watch your speed,” he snapped. “I don’t want you drawing attention to us.”

She nodded but ignored him, keeping her foot down as they approached the towering marble structure. She gripped the steering wheel hard, then took a deep breath.
I have to get to James.

She heard the
click
of the gun being cocked. “I said—”

She wrenched the steering wheel to the right, slamming the passenger side into the solid white barricades that lined the road. The force of the impact jerked her hands from the wheel and sent them flying. Her head slammed against the window, setting off fireworks behind her eyes. The car scraped along the concrete for an agonizing eternity before bouncing off. A split second later, she was slammed forward as they hit the curve of the barricade, and then the car rocked back as it stopped, pinned in on the passenger side and the front by white concrete.

Dizzy, her head pounding and her heart racing, Kelly shook her head and glanced over. Caleb had a hand to his forehead as blood streamed down his face. The gun was nowhere to be seen. She fumbled for the seat-belt buckle, letting out a small cry of triumph when her fingers connected with the button. Wriggling gracelessly out of the restraint, she yanked on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled again, desperation mounting as she heard Caleb’s awareness returning. If he pressed that button...

The lock!
It took her several attempts to get her fingers to cooperate, but she finally flipped the door lock over and yanked on the handle again. This time the door opened, and she half fell, half crawled out of the car. As she struggled to her feet, she risked a look back. Caleb’s door was blocked by the concrete fence, so he’d have to crawl over the seats to get out.

She limped forward, her entire body lit with pain. James. She had to help James.

Two police officers ran toward her, their guns drawn. She angled for them, holding her arm close to her body to keep from jarring her shoulder. “Please,” she sobbed. “He’s got a gun!”

“Stop right there!” The officer pointed his gun at her and she stopped, confused. Why was he pointing a gun at her? She wasn’t the danger—Caleb was!

“Show me your hands,” he instructed. Gingerly, she let go of her injured arm and held up her left hand. “Now the other one.”

She tried to lift her right arm, bringing a fresh wave of pain that nearly brought her to her knees. “I can’t,” she choked out. “I can’t raise my arm.”

The man nodded at his partner. While he kept his gun trained on her, the younger officer walked toward her, his expression grim.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she cried in frustration. “I’m not the dangerous one—he is!”

The younger officer looked back at his partner. “Who?” the man asked.

Just as Kelly opened her mouth to answer, a loud bang rang out behind her. A white-hot poker struck her side and she stumbled. The ground rushed up to meet her. Pebbles from the asphalt dug into her cheek and she felt a growing pool of wetness form underneath her body.

Popping sounds split the air, and she watched with a growing sense of detachment as feet raced by her head. “Don’t step on me,” she mumbled, lacking the energy to move out of the way.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over. She squinted up into the face of the young officer. His expression was now one of horror.
Poor kid.
Protecting the monuments had probably never been this much trouble before.

“James,” she croaked.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. “You hang on, okay?” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “The ambulance is on the way.” His hand found her side, and pain knifed through her as he applied so much pressure it felt as if he was trying to push between her ribs.

Black spots danced before her eyes. “Help James,” she repeated, needing him to understand what she was telling him. “He’s in the museum. He needs help.”

He nodded, clearly humoring her. “All right, we’ll help him. You just worry about staying here. I’ll take care of James.”

She felt a flicker of annoyance at being dismissed but was too cold and too tired to snap at the young man. His partner would come back soon, and she could tell him.

She closed her eyes against the bright sunlight. She’d rest for a few minutes, wait for everyone to calm down, then explain why they had to get to the museum and help James.

Sirens joined the cacophony of voices and noise. Hands pulled at her shirt, lightly slapped her face. There was a great pressure on her side as a loud voice called out, “Wake up. C’mon, open your eyes.”

She moaned, moving her hands to try to cover her side, but they were pushed away and held down. Then she was rolled onto her side while fingers probed her back, poking painfully at the wetness there. Urgent voices spoke above her head, but she couldn’t make out the words. She felt as if she were underwater, hearing sounds that were fuzzy around the edges.

She tried to speak again but something came over her face, blocking her words. The world spun as she was raised into the air and moved; then a shadow blotted out the sun. It was cool in the shade, quieter, too. Maybe now she could rest.

An annoying tickle registered in her mind. There was something she had to do...something important....She grasped for the thought, but it drifted away, like water draining from a cupped hand.

The harder she fought to remember, the faster the idea slipped away. She chased after it, catching an elusive glimpse of dark brown eyes before surrendering with a sigh and slipping into the quiet depths.

* * *

Kelly.

Oh, God. Kelly.

His heart pounding, stomach twisted into knots, James picked his way through the debris in the corridor as he traced the route Caleb had taken. His eyes stung from the dust in the air, and he absently wiped his face with his palm, puzzled to see blood on his fingers when he drew his hand away.

He paused when he reached the door at the end of the hall. It was unlikely Caleb was hanging around on the other side, but he wouldn’t do Kelly any good if he walked into a bullet. Holding his gun with a firm grip, he kicked the push bar and stepped through the swinging door into another exhibit hall. Glancing around, he saw no sign of Kelly or Caleb in the eerily empty space.

Keeping the gun in his right hand, James reached to turn the volume up on his earpiece, wincing at Carmichael’s loud voice.

“—is Reynolds? Has anyone seen him?”

“I’m here,” James said, feeling guilty that he had waited to check in with the team. They were likely worried about him, thinking him injured or even dead.

“Where have you been?” Carmichael barked, his fury coming through loud and clear as he punctuated the question with a string of expletives. Oh, yes, there would be hell to pay for this. It might even cost him his career.

But with Kelly in danger, he just didn’t care.

“I intercepted Caleb. He’s taken Kelly as a hostage.”

“We know.” The older man’s voice was laced with frustration, but James knew he was just upset at losing Caleb again. He didn’t care that Kelly was in danger or that Caleb might have killed her by now.

After making his way through the museum, James headed for the exit. “I’m coming back in,” he reported. “Did we get Collins?”

“Yes. He’s being questioned now.”

That was something, at least. Maybe the professor would know where Caleb was taking Kelly. A small spark of hope flared to life in his chest as he pushed through the crowd milling around the museum. A police officer moved to intercept him, but he flashed his badge and kept walking. Legs pumping, he covered the blocks back to headquarters, his mind churning with possible scenarios and options. There had to be a way to find her before it was too late.

The thought of Kelly at Caleb’s mercy made his throat tighten with panic. As long as he thought she was useful, he’d likely keep her alive. If she refused to cooperate...

I’ll find her,
he thought fiercely, firmly pushing the alternative out of his mind. He didn’t want to consider his life without Kelly in it. His earlier fears of getting involved with her now seemed like flimsy excuses, the rationale of a man looking for any excuse to run away.

He’d spent his life running—working hard to distance himself from his father’s actions, walking away from Steve in his friend’s darkest hour. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life keeping people at arm’s length? Kelly had offered him a chance, one he had stupidly rejected. If—no,
when
—he found her, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Too keyed up to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time. He reached the top, panting but still feeling as if he had nervous energy to burn, and pushed into the office.