Forged in Fire (27 page)

If he was looking for her, he could turn that corner any minute. She needed to get Russ talking. Zane would recognize his voice and have some advance warning.

“Whatever you have planned isn’t going to work.” She bit back a hiss of pain as his fingers tightened with brutal strength around her elbow. “There’s no way you can hijack the plane now. Not even with Agent Chastain’s family as hostages. Surely, you realize that? There are too many other agencies involved. Your guns have been discovered. Your crew taken into custody.”

He didn’t slow, just propelled her forward. “This was never about that damn plane.”

They reached an intersection between corridors and he took the narrower hall to the right. Beth glanced behind her. No sign of Zane. If only she could send him a warning. The thought had barely registered when the memory of what he’d told her in the closet raced through her mind. He’d claimed the bond connecting them allowed them to share thoughts.

Something had passed between them while they were making love. His thoughts had been in her head. So, going out on a limb and assuming the exchange actually had taken place, that it hadn’t been a product of her oversexed imagination, that she had picked up on his thoughts, and he’d picked up on hers—well… how, exactly, had they done it?

Could she access this link again? Enough to warn him? Enough to feed him hints on where Russ was taking her?

* * *

Zane was almost back to the waiting room when a thick wave of unease rolled through him. He slowed, recognizing the emotional signature. Beth.

He swore, halted in the hallway, and raked tense fingers through his hair. Beth only broadcasted during moments of intense emotion. He knew what had happened between them had sent her into a full-blown panic, but why? What the hell was she reacting to? If he didn’t figure out what was going on, he was going to lose her.

Suddenly, a hazy image flashed through his mind. The figure was male. Distorted. Walking down a long, white hall. Periwinkle scrubs flashed beneath the overhead lights.

Frowning, Zane plucked the blue fabric away from his chest as another ripple of emotion rolled through him. Only this time the wave surfed on a flood of fear. He swore again, only not so softly. She had to be thinking of him, and since the mere thought of him was scaring the shit out of her… yeah, that didn’t bode well for them working out their differences, now did it?

The image flashed through his mind again. Sharpened. Coalesced into arms, legs, broad shoulders. Unquestionably male. He waited for the face to come into focus, certain he’d find his own features staring back… except, something about the proportions of the frame were off.

He frowned harder, straining to place the image. The figure’s build was familiar—the length of arms, to torso and legs. The breadth of shoulder. He flashed back to another corridor. An airport corridor. And another man. Only this asshole had been walking away.

He froze as the sense of familiarity snapped into place.

Fuck. This asshole’s build was identical to Branson’s. He moved like Branson too. What were the odds of that? A face crystallized in his mind. Narrow and long. A beak of a nose. Brown eyes. He was lacking the glasses, and had parted his hair differently, but there was no doubt who that face belonged to.

Russ. Fucking. Branson
. Here, in the hospital, headed toward Beth.

On the plus side, at least he wasn’t the one scaring the shit out of her. On the negative side, there was no good reason why Russ Branson would show up at the hospital. Something Beth must have recognized instinctively, hence the unease, which had escalated to fear.

Adrenaline crested, demanded he take action. Zane spun on his heels, shook the image from his mind and stared down the corridor unraveling behind him. A white, tiled hallway, with no distinguishing landmarks. A corridor identical to the one Beth had been transmitting from, which was identical to every other fucking hallway in the hospital.

He had absolutely no idea where she’d been standing.

* * *

Russ propelled her down the hall. At first Beth had hoped they’d run into someone, until it occurred to her that Russ would eliminate anyone who tried to interfere. He had no compunction about killing, as evidenced by Todd and the hijacker at the airport. Which brought to mind his comments about killing Zane.

She needed to get him talking again. At least she could alert Zane with their voices.

“If this was never about the plane, why are you doing this? Nobody knows you were involved. You haven’t been implicated, which means you still have time to escape.”

He snorted and amusement kicked up the corners of his mouth. “You mean other than kidnapping you?”

His amusement quickly vanished. An ugly rawness darkened his eyes. “I was hired to acquire several people on that plane. My employers don’t tolerate failure. If I can’t provide these passengers through the hijacking, then I’ll have to acquire them through other means.”

Chastain had mentioned a list of names. So this was Russ’s new plan? To use her to get hold of Amy Chastain and use Amy to force John to hand over the names on his list?

She needed to figure out how to contact Zane fast, because she wouldn’t survive long once Russ dragged her out of the hospital.

How, exactly, did one go about sending a message with their mind? Did you just think that person’s name? Focus on it extra hard? Feeling foolish, she concentrated on Zane’s name. Reciting it over and over in her mind.

Nothing happened. Big surprise. Mentally, she shrugged. It wasn’t like she had many options, there was nothing in the hallway to grab and use as a weapon. If she tried to snatch the gun, he’d shoot her. If she wrenched loose and ran, he’d shoot her.

Calming herself, she focused her mind, and visualized Zane’s face while reciting his name over and over in her head.

Again. Nothing happened.

But then, what good did saying his name do? She should be sending him clues, visualizing where Russ was taking her and sending him those images. She visualized the entry to the corridor Russ had steered her into, painted it in her mind, adding details until it was crystal clear. Then she expelled it from her subconscious as though she were expelling air from her lungs.

This time something stirred in her head. Something alien. Something other than her own consciousness. She was so shocked, she instinctively flinched, her entire body clenching.

The stirring vanished.

“What’s wrong?” Russ’s grip tightened on her elbow and jerked her to a stop. He glanced behind them and turned his head to frown down at her.

Pain shrieked through her arm as he ground her elbow into the socket. “You’re hurting me.”

He frowned and released her elbow, moving his hand higher up her arm. “Better?”

Yeah, like she was going to buy solicitousness from him, considering what he’d already done. Considering what he still planned to do. “Not really. If you let go of my arm, I promise to be a good girl and walk beside you.”

He didn’t bother replying, just jerked her forward and started walking again.

She focused on a drinking fountain. Visualized it to crystal clarity and pushed it from her thoughts, then waited with anticipation to see if anything stirred in her mind.

Nothing.

“Tell me something.” Russ pulled her to a stop in front of an elevator and punched the down button.

Beth focused on the elevator, visualized the green arrow pointing down.

“How did HQ1 know about the hijacking? Who tipped them off?”

She shrugged. If telling him would keep him talking, why not? “I did.”

He glanced down, raised an eyebrow, but there was no surprise on his face. “How’d you find out? From Clancy? Why go to HQ1?”

Rage stirred at the thought of Todd, followed by a burst of raw loss. The image of the elevator she’d been so carefully visualizing wavered, and collapsed into fragmented wisps. Swearing beneath her breath, she forced the anger and pain aside. She needed to focus on the visualization. If Zane was picking up on what she was trying to send him, she needed to make sure she was feeding him useful information, not empty emotion.

“Todd didn’t tell me anything.” She focused on the glowing elevator button again and rebuilt the image in her mind. “I dreamed about the hijacking last night. Watched your men slaughter everyone in coach.”

Once the image of the elevator with its lit panel was sharp and focused in her mind, she pushed it out, as she had before. This time, when that alien stirring whispered through the depths of her mind, she caught herself before tensing.

“Bullshit.” The elevator chimed and the door whooshed open. Russ yanked her inside and punched the basement button. “You’re psychic?”

There were equal measures of curiosity and disbelief on his angular face.

“No.” She stared at the glowing basement button. The elevator doors whooshed shut again. With a jerk, the car dropped. “I’ve never had a dream like that before.”

“Too bad,” he said after a minute, dry amusement rounding his vowels. “If you were psychic, you could have avoided this.”

He didn’t believe her. Not that it mattered. In fact, it might even work to her advantage. If he didn’t believe in ESP or psychic phenomena, it wouldn’t occur to him she could communicate with Zane through their minds.

She concentrated on the elevator panel again. Visualized it. Pushed it out. And tried not to dwell on the fact she was pinning all her hopes on a psychic connection she’d scoffed at a mere fifteen minutes earlier.

Chapter Twenty-One

Frozen in the hospital corridor, Zane ran battle scenarios.

The ER was down the hall and around the corner, less than twenty feet away. Beth wasn’t in view, and if she’d been broadcasting from just outside the waiting room, Rawls would have noticed Branson headed toward them.

She’d probably turned in the opposite direction once she’d fled the closet. Upset and emotional, she’d want to avoid the waiting room, which meant she’d take the hall to the right.

Turning, Zane broke into a light, soundless jog. He couldn’t assume the bastard had come alone, and if he pulled Rawls off the waiting room, Marion and the kids would be vulnerable.

Mac was out of commission.

While Hollister, Trammell and Russo—the leadership from Delta and Echo platoons—were on their way up, they had an ETA of a couple of hours.

He’d have to handle Branson on his own.

As he headed back toward the closet, another image flickered through his mind.
Another corridor, white tile again, but slightly narrower. An impression of movement. A dull, throbbing pain and a band of pressure around his right elbow
. He glanced at his arm, but knew the sensations were coming from Beth. His pulse accelerated.

Branson looked down, brown eyes flat and hard. “Go ahead. Scream. The bastard deserves a couple of rounds for all the trouble he’s caused me
.”

That bastard had her. Fear reared up and seized him by the throat. He forced it aside. Forced himself to concentrate. To think. The son of a bitch was dragging Beth somewhere. But where? He passed the closet. Fifty feet later a smaller, narrower corridor branched off to the right. He took it.

Light shimmered across a stainless steel drinking fountain
. The image vanished as quickly as it bloomed.

There was no drinking fountain anchored to either of the walls on this corridor, nor was there a couple walking side by side in the distance. Maybe he’d taken a wrong turn, but the passage also curved to the right. Maybe the fountain was further down. Maybe Beth was just past that bend. He increased his stride and kept going.

An elevator. Panel lit. A bright green arrow pointing down. “Tell me something,”Russ said. “How did HQ1 know about the hijacking? Who tipped them off?
”

His blood pressure skyrocketed. The bastard was forcing her into a fucking elevator. If he managed to get her out of the hospital before Zane could stop him….

Ignoring the tight clench of his heart, Zane warped around the bend. Twenty feet up, a stainless steel drinking fountain was affixed to the white wall, but neither Beth nor Branson were in sight. Neither was an elevator. What were the chances this was the same drinking fountain? He could still be wasting his time on the wrong hallway.

Just ahead was another curve in the passage. The elevator could be up there. He sure as hell couldn’t turn back without finding out.

As he headed for the next bend, he strained to catch even a whisper of voices. Anything to assure him he was headed in the right direction.

The square steel box of the elevator pressing in on him. A control panel. A round button with a ‘B’ painted on glowing white
.

Branson was taking her to the basement.

He took the corner at a dead run. An elevator came into view, but the green arrow pointing down was unlit. Either this was a different elevator, or they were several minutes ahead of him. Either way, he needed to access the basement level. He blew through the stairway door and took the steps four at a time.

As the stainless steel rails flew past, it occurred to him the images flickering through his mind were too steady and too detailed to be a fluke. It was almost like Beth was sending them to him, feeding him a map to find her.

Wishful thinking? Or had she actually opened herself to the connection linking them?

* * *

When the elevator doors whooshed open, Russ jerked Beth back and eased over to the entrance, using his shoulder to prop open the doors. A quick glance to the right, then left, and he stepped out, dragging Beth with him.

A huge, fat
B
framed by a circle announced they’d arrived at the basement. She concentrated on the image. Focused. Pushed it out. A few feet down from the elevator was a fire extinguisher encased in a glass shell; she visualized that as well.

Russ noticed her interest in the canister as they passed, and shook his head with a chuckle. “It’s not as easy to grab those things as the movies make it look. You’d be dead before you managed to pull it loose from the wall.”

Beth ignored him. She had no intention of letting him victimize her, but she didn’t intend to get herself killed by acting foolishly either. She’d wait for an opportunity before acting.

And hope Zane was picking up on the images she was sending him.

Every once in a while, she caught a flash of alien thoughts—a flicker of a subconscious that didn’t feel like her own. But it was gone so quickly it could have been her imagination.

The corridor curved to the left, when it straightened again double steel and glass doors came into view.
MORGUE
was painted in bold, black letters above the entrance. Beth’s stomach tightened. Somewhere, in another hospital, Todd’s body was lying behind a pair of doors like those.

Russ noticed her sudden tension and glanced down with another chuckle. “Not to worry. Your continued good behavior will keep you out of there.”

Liar
.

Concentrating on the steel and glass doors, with the sign above, she built the image in her mind and pushed it out. A whisper of sensations flickered in the depth of her mind. This time she caught herself before tensing up, before shutting it out. Suddenly, an image exploded in her head.

Stairs. Rails flashing past in silver streaks of burnished light. The sensation of speed. The urgent pump of blood. Adrenaline, but caged by calm purpose. A steel door flying open. A huge B painted on a white wall
.

Zane!

Excitement crested as the images flashed through her mind. There was absolutely no doubt the images and sensations were coming from him. She could feel him inside her mind. The calm, cool focus of him. How his adrenaline spiked and surged, yet remained leashed by the strength of his control. By his coolness.

Holy Mother of God, she could sense him inside her head. See what he was seeing, feel what he was feeling. They really were connected.

When they reached the morgue’s entrance, Russ tugged her to the right, around the corner and down another long, white corridor. A new set of double doors glinted in the distance.

Worry mingled with the excitement as it occurred to her that Zane wasn’t far behind them. In fact, at the rate he was moving, he’d overtake them momentarily. And the instant he turned that corner in front of the morgue, he’d be exposed. Russ would use her body as a shield. Zane would be a sitting duck.

If Zane came around that corner too fast, he’d be on them before he knew it, before he had a chance to correct himself, or protect himself. She needed to slow him down.

And get Russ talking again. At least their voices would give Zane a reference point. She strained, but couldn’t hear footsteps behind them. Which wasn’t a surprise, SEALs were trained for stealth. He could be right behind them, and she wouldn’t know it.

Zane?
She formed his name in her mind. At the same time, she glanced up at Russ. Her kidnapper was staring straight ahead, fixed on the double set of steel doors in the distance. He hadn’t picked up Zane’s approach yet.

“Where are you taking me?”

Zane!
She thought his name again in her mind, enunciating it with crystal clarity and pushed it out.

That odd stirring flickered through the depths of her mind and she caught a flash of the morgue’s steel and glass doors. If he could see the morgue, he was very close. A burst of panic, swallowed the excitement.

She concentrated harder.
Zane. Slow down. Up ahead. No cover
.

“I’m taking you outside,” Russ said, a certain dryness to his voice.

She barely heard him; she was so intent on that alien stirring in her mind.
Zane
. The ripple swelled. Her subconscious brushed up against his, mingled with his cool intellect.

Coming
. It was his voice. Calm as a priest. Clear as glass. In her head.

Slow down,
she told him.
We’re just ahead. Gun. No cover
.

Nothing for an agonizingly long moment. Then, a single word.

Copy
.

The word was clear as a bell, and just like that she could feel him inside her again. His calm focus. His keen intelligence. She could sense his thoughts brushing against her mind.

The walls ceased flashing past. The impression of speed diminished.

Where is he taking you?

She marveled at how clearly she heard the words, as though he’d spoken them directly into her ear.

Outside
.

A ripple of masculine amusement undulated through her mind. Apparently, he’d already guessed they were headed outside.

A door, down the hall from the morgue. He’s headed there. Must have a car outside
. She concentrated on the double doors at the end of the hall, visualized them. But this time she didn’t need to push the image out. She could sense Zane studying the doors with that cool focus.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Russ clamped his hand around her arm and jerked her to a stop.

She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling. He twisted her elbow and gave her a hard shake. Agony screamed up her arm and through her shoulder.

Zane’s calm vanished, swamped by molten ferocity. His rage rolled through her subconscious—a violent red mist.

I’m okay
, she hastened to assure him, startled by his instinctive, protective response to her pain.
He just surprised me
.

Liar
. The fury didn’t abate, simply hardened into cold, hard purpose.
He’s dead.

“I asked you a goddamn question.” Russ dragged her to a stop.

Luckily, this time he didn’t twist her arm, she doubted she could hold Zane back if Russ hurt her again.

See how well you already know me?
But there was grimness, rather than humor in his tone.

Beth held Russ’s suspicious gaze. “I was just thinking about how much I’m going to enjoy watching Zane tear you apart.”

He studied her face and laughed, loosening his grip on her arm. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Not really. If I was bloodthirsty, I’d say how much I’m going to enjoy watching Zane blow your head off.”

With another laugh, Russ started walking again. “I’m afraid I’ll have to rob you of that pleasure.”

Beth released a pent-up breath. They couldn’t afford to raise Russ’s guard. Zane needed every advantage they had. And their biggest advantage was that Russ didn’t have a clue how close he was, or that they could communicate without talking.

My biggest advantage is you.

Beth’s chest melted beneath an explosion of warmth. It wasn’t just the compliment. It was reading the absolute sincerity behind it and knowing he meant every word.

It should have been terrifying having Zane’s consciousness mingling with her own. Reading his thoughts, his feelings as clearly as her own. But for some odd reason, rather than feeling unbearably exposed, it felt comforting. Natural. As though they’d been blended like this since the beginning of time.

For the first time in her life, she felt connected to someone.

* * *

It felt odd processing information through Beth’s eyes and ears.

Gun in hand, Zane pressed his back against the wall in front of the morgue. A foot away, the corridor swung to the right. He glanced down at the 9 mm. He had a full cartridge, but the Glock was a bitch when it came to long-range targets. Russ had already dragged Beth far enough down the hallway to make a kill shot problematic, and if he didn’t drop the bastard immediately, the risk to Beth increased astronomically. He needed to get closer. Make sure his first round took the asshole down.

But therein lay the problem. Russ would hear him coming and use her as a shield.

He needed another approach. His gaze shifted to the morgue. What were the chances the morgue employees had their own entrance to the facility, one bypassing the interior corridors? It seemed likely.

If he could find another exit, he could beat Russ to the parking lot, set up an ambush and take the prick out.

He rolled forward and took a quick peek down the hall. Russ still faced forward, focused on the exit. Zane darted across the mouth of the corridor, eased open the door to the morgue, slipped through and eased it shut behind him.

A metallic snick sounded as the latch caught.

Zane froze, slipped deeper into Beth’s mind. But Russ hadn’t tensed, which meant he hadn’t heard the sound of the door catching.

A narrow white counter stuck out of the wall down the hall to the right. A sliding glass window was behind it, a door flanked it. Zane headed in that direction. That door probably led into the belly of the morgue, from there he could access the employee exit.

He should have paid closer attention to Branson. He’d known something was off about the bastard. If he’d listened to his instincts, instead of letting his emotions blindside him, he could have avoided this whole damn situation.

Not your fault. Couldn’t have known
. Beth whispered in his mind.

Yanking open the door, he bolted through it, trading stealth for speed.

He raced down another, narrower hall, burst through a second door and found himself in the morgue. The stink of death, body fluids, and the acidic bite of astringents swelled with each step. Stainless steel body tables and rolling carts shimmered beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. White sheets and toe tags brushed his scrubs as he cut through the narrow space between tables.

The rear right corner of the room didn’t boast equipment or walls. He raced in that direction, thankful that the place appeared empty. It took seconds to reach the back of the morgue, and the hallway that led into the bowels of the building. A line of lockers buzzed past, followed by a section of coat hooks. The rear entrance was steel. Thick. Not a goddamn window in sight.