Into the Fire (51 page)

“Murph,” Dave said quietly. “We’re going to get them out.”

“I’d do it,” Murphy told him through gritted teeth, just as softly. “What they want me to do. I’d gladly die. If I knew for sure that Hannah and the others would be okay…”

Dear God.

Meanwhile, Gillman was focused on his sister. “Great, Zanella. That’s perfect,” he was scoffing. “Bring Eden to their attention. They’ll think she’s special and they’ll kill her first.” He threw up his hands. “Why am I arguing? These people are monsters. She’s probably already dead.”

Izzy turned, anger radiating off of him—aimed at his new brother-in-law. “Don’t fucking say that!”

“What we do know for sure,” Dave tried to convince Murphy, as Jenkins moved between the two SEALs, “is that we’re going in there. We’re going to get them out, and they’re going to be okay.”

“Guys.” Jenkins was adamant as he kept Izzy from Gillman. “This isn’t helping.”

“It’s
really
not helping,” Izzy said, “when he fucking
says
shit like that!”

“Look at me, Murph,” Dave said. “And nod your head. We’re gonna be okay.
All
of us.”

Murphy met his eyes only briefly, but nodded, as Gillman spat, “This is your fault. Eden would’ve been safe in Las Vegas—”

“With your nutjob of a stepfather locking her in the bathroom and trying to sell her baby to the highest bidder?” Izzy was beside himself. “If this is anyone’s fault it’s yours, fuckwad, for leaving her behind and not looking back. And it’s déjà vu all over again with your little brother—”

“I send money,” Gillman shouted.

“And if you think he sees
any
of it, you’re a fucking idiot!”

“Stop it. Right now. I could hear your shouting half a mile down the trail.”

Dave turned—they all did—to see Decker standing just inside the flap of the tent.

Lawrence Decker was average height, average build. Heck, Dave himself was taller. But the former SEAL chief had the ability to silence much larger men with a single look—let alone a harsh sentence of reprimand like the one he’d just delivered.

It was definitely silent now in the tent.

As Dave watched, Decker looked at Murphy, met his gaze and nodded.

That was it.

Years without contact, and Deck gave the man four seconds of eye contact and a single head nod before refocusing his glare on Izzy and Gillman.

And Dave knew in that instant that walking into this tent and coming face-to-face with Murphy had to be one of the hardest things Deck—who blamed himself for Angelina’s death—had ever done. Although, if Nash didn’t awaken from surgery, there were a lot of hardest-ever things rushing toward Decker at warp speed.

Dave alone put voice to what they were all thinking: “Thank God you’re here, sir.”

But Decker shook his head. “I’m not here,” he said. “I’m on a separate assignment and I only stopped in to coordinate, because I don’t want to fuck up what you’ve got planned.”

Dave couldn’t believe it. He pulled Decker aside, lowered his voice. “You’re on a
separate
—”

“Excuse us.” Decker pulled Dave even farther from the others, outside of the tent, and a good distance from the still-cooking FBI moms, for that matter.

“I’m going in to find Tim Ebersole,” Decker informed Dave.

“That can wait. Sophia’s in there,” Dave reminded him.

Deck nodded curtly. “And Tess and Hannah and Eden. I’m counting on you to get them out.”

“Sir,” Dave started.

But Decker cut him off. “There’s something else you need to know. Nash didn’t make it.”

Dave heard the words that Decker had said. He recognized each of them. Knew their meaning. But they just didn’t make sense. “He didn’t…”

So Deck said it far more brutally. “Jimmy’s dead.”

“Shit,” Dave breathed. He forced himself to stand tall—there was a reason Decker had given him this news privately—but inside, he was on his knees, screaming. He clenched his teeth. “Oh,
shit.
”

“Don’t tell Murphy,” Decker ordered. “Or Tess. Let’s get everyone to safety first. But if I don’t come back out…”

“Don’t even
think
that!” God damn it, Dave never asked to be team leader, and now he was going to have to tell Tess that the man she loved was
dead
?

“Help Tess with the funeral arrangements,” Decker instructed. “And rein Murphy in. I’m afraid he’s going to take this hard. If I’m not here when the dust settles, sit on him if you have to, and make sure he understands that this wasn’t his fault. Make sure he goes to see Jules Cassidy. He’s got some information on a Freedom Network plan to use the insurance money on a series of attacks on government buildings across the country. This evidence that Ebersole’s death was fraud will allow the FBI to seize the group’s assets—and keep them from getting that insurance payout. This is going to shut them down for good. Cassidy’ll help Murph understand the stakes involved. And you can also help him understand that both Nash and I knew exactly what the risks were when we went to work for Troubleshooters.”

“Decker,” Dave started, but again the other man cut him off.

“You’ve been a good friend,” Decker said. “To both Nash and me.” It was then, to Dave’s total surprise, that Decker put his arms around him in an awkward embrace. “I’m counting on you, Malkoff. Do me proud.”

Jim Nash was dead.

Sophia had heard their captors say it. They’d left him behind because he was no longer a threat.

Oh, God.

Hannah’s stomach twisted and the room spun and she had to lean back against the wall. But even then, her legs gave out, and she slid down so that she was sitting on the linoleum floor. Nash was
dead.
And Murphy would not, could not survive. He would be as lost to her as Nash was to Tess, sent hurtling back into the darkness…

Only this time? Hannah wouldn’t sit idly by. She’d go in after him, if she had to, and drag him back out. Because Murphy wasn’t dead, not the way Nash was. He was still alive.

And yes, this was a hard blow, but not even half as hard as what Tess was facing. Dear God, the woman was lying there, unconscious and blissfully unaware…

Sophia tapped her leg, and Hannah looked up.

“Where’s Eden?”

“Oh, my God…” She hadn’t realized it, hadn’t noticed, but the young woman who’d broken into Hannah’s cabin for solitude’s sake was not with them either.

Had their captors left her behind because she, like Nash, was also dead?

Sophia tapped on the walls, on both sides of the room, but shook her head at Hannah. Apparently there were no answering taps. “Maybe she’s still unconscious.”

“Why wouldn’t they put her in here with us?” Hannah pushed herself back up, onto her feet. “I need you to talk to them,” she told Sophia.

Sophia didn’t understand. “Talk to…Who?”

“Whoever’s on the other side of this door.” Hannah examined it again, and again it was just as impenetrable, with its hinges on the outside and a very secure looking knob and bolt lock. But she banged on it, rapping as hard as she could with her knuckles. “Hey!
Hey!
Open up! Where’s our friend? What have you done with her?”

She looked back at Sophia, who came closer to listen, but shook her head.

Hannah kept knocking.
“Hey!”

Although, really, what was she going to do, even if the door magically opened? Even if there was only one easily overpowered guard on the other side? Even if she gained possession of his automatic weapon, she’d be in the middle of a locked-down compound, surrounded by an electric fence weighed down by an unconscious, badly wounded woman. She herself could barely walk on her bum ankle—and, oh yeah. She was deaf.

As for Sophia…She probably wouldn’t weigh in at a hundred pounds unless she was carrying a ten-pound bag of potatoes. Unless she had a superhero cape tucked under her shirt, escape from this hellhole would be next to impossible. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the fact that they’d first have to locate and free Eden…

Although maybe…

“If I drew you a map of the compound,” Hannah told Sophia, “and showed you how to get to a part of the fence that isn’t electrified, we could create a diversion and
you
could—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Sophia told her. “Besides, they’re going to come for us. Dave will. Murphy and Decker, too. You
do
know that, right?”

“But that’s what they want,” Hannah said, as the walls of the small room seemed to close in around her. “The men who killed Nash. They want Murphy to come, so that they can kill him, too. We can’t just sit and wait.”

But Sophia didn’t answer. She turned away, sharply, and Hannah realized that someone was opening their prison cell door.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FOUR

T
he first thing Sophia saw when the door opened was Eden.

The second thing she saw was that Eden was in tears.

“What did you do to her?” Hannah demanded, but no one deigned to answer.

The girl was, however, pushed into the room. Sophia caught her, kept her from falling onto the floor. “Are you hurt?” she asked, pushing Eden’s hair back so she could see her face.

Eden shook her head. “They said Pinkie’s heart’s not beating.”

Oh, no.

“But they’re lying!” Eden insisted. “They want to steal him. There was this lady and she had these freakish false teeth and—”

“Quiet!” A tall man with a beard stood in the doorway. “Get back.”

That last was aimed at Hannah, who looked as if she were weighing the odds of her survival if she rushed the door. But there were at least three guards behind the bearded man, all of whom were packing serious heat. So she grudgingly took a step back, and then another. But then, defiant, she held her ground, holding the man’s gaze.

Eden squeezed Sophia’s hand, and when Sophia glanced at her, she whispered an apology. “I’m sorry—my back…” She sharply drew in her breath.

Oh, no. No, no. Fate could not be so unkind as to have Eden go into labor right here and right now. Sophia helped her down, so she could sit on the floor.

Meanwhile, the bearded man was talking to Hannah. “Are you really deaf?” he asked. “Or was that just another of your lies?”

Sophia knew that Hannah had gone into the Freedom Network compound last spring, pretending to apply for a job as a guard, while in fact looking for Murphy, who’d gone missing.

Clearly this man—who was in a position of authority—remembered meeting her.

“Of course, you didn’t lie about your home address,” he said with a smile that held no warmth. “Thanks so much for providing that for us.”

“Let my friends go, Reed,” Hannah countered. “They have nothing to do with this.”

“They do now,” he said. “Besides, you’ll all be free to go, if Mr. Murphy does as he’s told.” He pointed to Tess. “Wake her.”

“She’s not sleeping, she’s unconscious,” Hannah retorted. “She’s badly injured—she needs a doctor.”

“Wake her anyway. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Sophia knew the difference between a false threat and a real one. So she went to Tess, touched her face, shook her shoulder. But Tess, perhaps mercifully, didn’t rouse. “I’m sorry,” she told Reed.

“Lucas,” Reed barked. “Matt!”

Two of the guards came into the room, one of them with his automatic weapon at his shoulder. “Into the corner!” he shouted, and there was nothing to do but move back from the waving barrel of that gun.

Sophia tried to take Tess back with her, too, and Hannah quickly came to help.

“Leave her!”

“Don’t do this!” Sophia said as Lucas or Matt, whichever he was, aimed his gun at her head and forced her and Hannah back.

The other guard handed his weapon to Reed and manhandled Tess up off the floor.

“Stop it!” Hannah was furious, and Sophia knew from the way she was eyeing the weapons that she was considering grabbing for one as the guard dragged Tess to the toilet and shoved her head into the water.

“No!”

“Oh, my God!”

“Stop!” All of them were shouting now and Eden was crying again, as Tess came up gasping and sputtering, as the guard tossed her back onto the floor, as she skidded toward them, as they moved to surround her, to pull her back with them to the illusion of safety, just a few feet farther from the business ends of those weapons.

“God damn you,” Hannah snarled at Reed, as one of the guards handed him a telephone receiver. It was a white handset for an old-fashioned landline, attached by a long, curly cord to a phone that must’ve been on the wall out in the hall.

He held it out to them, gave them another of those odious smiles. “Who wants to talk to Mr. Murphy first?”

There’d been no real doubt in Murphy’s mind that the Freedom Network had kidnapped Hannah, Sophia, Tess, and Eden, although one of the functions of a proof of life phone call was to verify that fact.

The hostages were, indeed, being held by the bad people who claimed to have them. Check.

Sophia took the phone first, her voice strong and clear through the telephone connection. “Murph?”

“Are you all right?” Murphy asked, his heart so securely lodged in his throat he could barely speak past it. “Is everyone all right?”

“I’m okay,” Sophia reported. “Hannah is, too. Tess is badly hurt—she’s been shot and they hit her in the head with a…a rifle butt, I think, and…” Her voice caught. “I’m afraid they haven’t been very gentle with any of us, but even less so with her.”

Dave Malkoff looked as if he were going to throw up, and across the tent, Decker was glaring down at his boots.

“Soph, you’ve got to tell Hannah something for me, okay?” Murphy spoke quickly. “You’ve got to tell her I was lying, okay? When I said I didn’t love her…”

“I will,” Sophia promised. “Oh, Murphy, I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“I can only imagine where her head’s at,” Murphy said, hoping Sophia was listening carefully. “I know I’m not going to get a chance to tell her this and…I’m tired of lying, too. Please tell Hannah I wish I’d, um, spent the night with her—that I’m sorry now that I didn’t, and that you should stay put and do whatever Reed tells you to do, all right? Will you remember all that?”

Sophia’s voice shook as again she said, “I will.”

Izzy got to his feet, as if he could no longer contain himself, and Murphy glanced at him, realizing that Sophia hadn’t mentioned Eden.

“Is Eden Zanella with you?” Murph asked.

“Yes, she is,” Sophia reported.

“Is she hurt?”

Sophia hesitated, during which time Izzy looked as if he’d been stabbed through the heart.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, which wasn’t what Izzy—or any of them—particularly wanted to hear. “She’s pregnant and
hey
—”

“Time’s up,” Reed came back on. “You’ve had your proof of life.”

“I want to speak to all of them,” Murphy demanded. “Put Eden on.”

“You’ve had enough—”

“How do I know you didn’t kill the other three and put a gun to Sophia’s head, telling her what to say?” Murphy was not going to take any of Reed’s shit. “Put. The girl. On.”

And there they stood—they were all on their feet by now, just standing in the tent, headphones on, holding their breath until…

“Hello?” The voice over the line was very small—Eden sounded impossibly young. She had to be scared to death.

Izzy pushed a piece of paper in front of Murphy, upon which he’d scribbled the words
Nickname for baby = Pinkie. Fav color = yellow. Fav band = Maroon 5. Inside jokes = Manbearpig, “Mr. Big.”

Inside jokes? Good, that was good. But please God, let Eden’s brain be functioning despite what had to be crippling fear…

“Eden,” Murphy said. “We’ve never spoken over the phone, so I’ve got to ask you a question to make sure it’s really you. Last time I saw your husband, Izzy told me you’ve got a nickname for your baby. Is it Manbearpig or Mr. Big?”

Message: Izzy was here with Murphy, providing him with that info.

Eden laughed—a staccato rush of air. “Neither. It’s Pinkie,” she said, and then burst into tears. “Oh God, please, I need you to tell Izzy—and Danny, too, please tell them that I’m so,
so
sorry…”

Message received? Murphy glanced at Izzy, who’d started to pace, clearly terribly upset, but who looked at him and nodded. Yes. She knew.

Across the tent, Dan Gillman had his head in his hands.

“Eden,” Murphy said. “Are you injured?”

“I don’t know,” Eden was clearly struggling to control her tears. “I think maybe something’s wrong with Pinkie. I think—”

Murphy closed his eyes, unable to look at Izzy or Dan as, on the other end of that phone line Eden shrieked, clearly manhandled away from the phone. He could hear Hannah and Sophia both shouting, their words in-discernible. Then Craig Reed. “Next.”

“You be more careful with them!” Murphy demanded.

“Or you’ll do what?” Reed said. “Go to the FBI? Do it and they’re dead—and then you’ll just kill yourself anyway—the way you always said you would in those pathetic e-mails you used to send.”

“You’ll be dead, too,” Murphy pointed out.

“Unlikely,” Reed said. “We’ve got enough supplies and ammunition in here to last for decades. We’re ready for anything anyone can throw at us. Here’s the deaf one.”

“Listen to me, Vinh.” Hannah had no doubt read Reed’s lips—
you’ll kill yourself anyway
—and her voice shook. “Whatever they want you to do? Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare.
Go
to the FBI, damnit—”

The sickening thud of Hannah being hit carried through the phone line, and now it was Murphy who had to keep his head down, his teeth clenched. “Don’t
hurt
them!”

“You’re the one who’s hurting them,” Reed said.

“I don’t need to talk to Tess,” Murphy quickly told him, afraid that if they’d slapped around a pregnant woman they’d have no qualms about doing the same to one who was seriously injured. “But you keep her alive. You keep all of them alive, because I’ll do what you want—I’m going to do what you want, but I’m not going to do it without seeing you let them go. You read me? So I’m coming to you. I’m coming right to your front gate, and you’re going to give them a car…”

Izzy had to go outside, because no fucking way was he going to cry in front of Danny Gillman.

Soph, tell Hannah I was lying, okay? When I said that I didn’t love her…

What the fuck was wrong with the male of the species that, unless they were being flushed down the crapper, they were flipping unable to pony up to the fact that they had feelings—deep chasms of one-fucking-hundred percent intensely emotional, gooey-gushy, heartfelt feelings.

I love you.
Why the fuck was it so hard to say those three little words?

Would it really have killed him to say something to Eden, before leaving for the Navy Base? At the time Izzy believed the senior’s phone call could well have been a wheels-up order. It was entirely possible that Izzy had been on the verge of being gone for months.

Would it really have been that impossibly hard to have said to Eden,
You know what? I didn’t count on this happening. I’m as surprised as I know you’re going to be, but somewhere down the line—and it wasn’t while you were giving me head but rather some other moment, when you said something, or you smiled, or you got that look of pure love in your eyes because you were thinking about Pinkie—something inside me was made whole. And I know it’s so fucking hokey—you complete me—can I be any more cliché? But I think I’m in love with you, Eed. And I believe you about Richie, so please don’t run away. Instead, trust me. Come to me when life flips you a shitburger, baby, and let me help…

Instead, he’d locked it all inside because he was a fucking coward, and now…

I think maybe something’s wrong with Pinkie…

Please God, don’t be the monster that we both know you can be. Don’t do that to this already-damaged girl…

“Izzy.”

He glanced back at the tent to see Lindsey standing in the rapidly fading light. “Here’s the iPod and headset I’m giving Grandpa Barker for his birthday. Want to give it a listen?”

The two-way radio that she was holding out, with its earpiece and mic,
was
about the size of a Nano. Izzy took it from her. Played along with their ridiculous cover. “You spent the big bucks on Gramps this year, huh?”

“Hey, you only turn eighty once.” She stepped closer. Lowered her voice. Transformed from a no-nonsense teammate into his best friend’s wife, concern for him on her pretty face. “You okay?”

Izzy nodded, suddenly so overcome that he couldn’t speak.

Lindsey, of course, used her super-estrogen powers to read him like a book. “You know, there’s a reason police officers are removed from a case when family members are involved. No one’s going to have a problem if you don’t—”

“No,” he managed. Cleared his throat. “I’m good.” And damn, that was a stupid expression and a poor choice of words. He was far from good. “I’m going. I want to. But…” He lowered his voice even more. “He wants there to be some kind of incident, doesn’t he—Reed? He actually
wants
a showdown with the FBI.”

Lindsey nodded. “That’s the consensus inside, too.”

“What does he think, he’s going to spark a revolution, that across the country all of the Timothy McVeigh-wannabe-bubba-terrorists are going to turn off Rush Limbaugh, leap off their sofas, and rise up to make Ebersole our new dictator?” He shook his head. “Never gonna happen.”

“That’s why they call it delusions of grandeur,” Lindsey told him. “Get in the tent and gear up. Dave wants to be ready to go any time.”

“Murphy wants us to get out of here,” Hannah said, after Reed closed the door behind him, locking them securely in, after Sophia gave her all of Murphy’s messages.

Tell Hannah I was lying…I’m tired of lying, too…

Eden shook her head. “But he said to stay put—”

“Murphy was lying when he said that. He was telling us to try to break free,” Hannah told the girl as they sat on the floor of the little room. Sophia had Tess’s head in her lap, trying to make her more comfortable as she drifted in and out of consciousness. “See, he lied when he said he wanted to sleep with me—”

Eden wasn’t convinced. “How do you know he was lying about that?”

“Because she’s
been
sleeping with him,” Sophia gently explained.

“Oh.” Eden actually blushed. “Duh. Sorry.”

“He knows Reed isn’t going to let us live. He doesn’t want us sitting here, waiting for them to kill us,” Hannah said again.

“I don’t want that either,” Eden said.

“He said,
I can only imagine where her head’s at,
” Sophia said. “I think he was telling us that he doesn’t know exactly where we are.”

“Unless that was another of his lies.”