The Spy Who Saved Christmas (16 page)

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Authors: Dana Marton

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: The Spy Who Saved Christmas
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When he heard the sounds of a car pulling up, they inched up to the front again and watched from around the corner, hidden behind the bushes. After a brief knock, three more men walked into the slaughterhouse through one of the side doors. They’d left the car running.

“Jimmy Sparks,” Lara whispered behind him.

Oh, he’d recognized the bastard—same shaved head and red goatee he’d worn back in Hopeville. Reid’s muscles drew tight. He could feel the burn on his skin all over again. The thought that the thug would come anywhere near his children made him want to tear Sparks apart with his bare hands, from limb to limb.

He considered his options. He could call in the FBI. They would grab him first and take him out of the operation and off the scene. Adams was mad as hell at him. They would come with force. There’d be negotiations, which Sparks could resist. He’d proven over and over that he would do anything not to get caught. A shoot-out was a distinct possibility.

Reid shifted to ease the pain that seemed now to be pulsating through his whole body. He thought about calling the colonel instead of the FBI. Except that would get the SDDU in trouble. Not to mention that few SDDU soldiers were stateside at any given time. Mostly they were deployed, deep undercover overseas. They were only brought back to the States for debriefings in between missions or, if they were injured, to recuperate.

He looked at the building again. There could be a number of surprises waiting in there. Risks he would have taken as a lone-wolf commando soldier—hell, he would have enjoyed the challenge. But with Lara and the boys…

He didn’t like it.

There were too many people inside, and he’d have to go in blind, prepared for every possibility. Such as the chance that this was a trap, and Zak and Nate weren’t in there, after all. Kenny could have set him up.

This sure didn’t look like what he’d pictured as the endgame. He’d figured the twins had been passed off to the wife of somebody in the group. Some woman who already had other children and had the necessary stuff in her house. He’d planned on making sure she was alone, then going in. She wouldn’t do anything foolish. She would hand the twins over without trouble, to protect her own kids.

But this place…

The more he looked at it, the surer he was that Kenny had to be either up to no good or mistaken.

The sound of a baby crying came from inside the building.

Reid swore under his breath, a wave of emotion slammed through his chest, as Lara whispered, “That’s Zak.”

He was on the phone already, giving Cade the go-ahead to take the Briggs brothers in.

Instinct pushed him to bust through the nearest door. Experience held him back. Since Sparks and his men had left the car running, it probably meant they didn’t plan to be there long. The smartest move would be to wait until they left, even the odds a little.

For a second, he wondered again if he should have called in the troops so Sparks could be picked up. But he was within feet of the twins. No way he would let anyone sweep in now and take over the op, pull him off. If they made some blundering mistake…

He punched Sparks’s license plate number into his cell phone and sent it off to his handler as a compromise. It was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Half an hour passed before Sparks and his entourage exited the building, with one extra guy joining them. The man walked the others to the car, but didn’t get in. They talked another minute before Sparks and his men left. Then the guy walked back to the side door they’d used and pulled out his cell.

The door was open.

Reid signaled Lara to stay back, leaving his bag of weapons with her as he inched closer. But he couldn’t get close enough to take a look inside. If he went too close to the edge of the boxwood bushes that were his cover, the goon on the phone would see him. And he couldn’t grab the guy either. The others inside would see through the open door.

“No, your mother can’t take the kids to get their picture taken with Santa,” the guy was saying. “Because I said so, dammit. She can have her own damn picture if she wants.” He began to pace. “End of conversation.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Yeah, I know it’s still snowing. No, I ain’t coming home. Grab the shovel and get out in the driveway.”

One more foot.
Reid watched, ready to lunge.

Then froze in place.

Kenny’s phone was buzzing in Reid’s pocket. He’d set both phones to vibrate.

He held his breath, but the guy pacing in front of him was too busy with his own conversation to hear anything else.

Reid stayed still. His hip burned with such pain he could barely stand, but he compartmentalized it. He didn’t care what damage he was doing to himself, as long as he could complete this one mission successfully. Nothing mattered beyond his boys.

Then the guy did take that extra step, turned his back to pace the other way. Reid hooked one hand over his mouth, the other over his neck and hauled him into the bushes. He broke his neck before Lara came up to them, was answering the call on Kenny’s phone the next second.

“Be at the Easton train station in an hour. Have everything with you and ready.” The line went dead.

He had no intention of following those directions when he was this close to his children.

Lara was looking at the dead guy at his feet, her face the color of the white-gray sky above. The gun trembled in her hand. “What did they say?”

“Playing more of their games. Doesn’t matter.”
She shouldn’t be here.

But, as if she could hear his thoughts, she pulled her shoulders straight. Her hands steadied. “I can handle this.”

“I couldn’t just tie him up and risk him making noise, or knocking him out and risk him coming out of it and somehow attacking us from behind.”

“You don’t have to explain. We’re here to do whatever it takes.” Her gaze hardened.

She had stood up to the test at every turn. Admiration for her indomitable spirit rose in him, even as he regretted that she had to be tested. He’d never given much thought to having children, hadn’t thought that would ever be an issue. But now that he had Zak and Nate, he couldn’t imagine a better mother to raise them. He was a lucky man in that regard, for sure.

Somehow he’d ended up with a fine family. And for a moment, he wished he could keep them. Then he shook off that selfish thought.

He grabbed the guy’s black baseball cap and shoved it onto his own head. Their jackets already matched for the most part—camouflage. Reid moved back toward the door. Lara followed closely behind, for as long as he let her, leaving her in the cover of the bushes.

He moved forward alone, bracing himself for anything, stepping into view, moving into the open doorway. He held one hand to his ear as if talking on a phone, keeping the other near his gun, presenting his back to the door, only turning his head a fraction to catch glimpses in his peripheral vision.

Hoses snaked on the floor around rows of drains. Giant meat hooks hung from the ceiling. Stainless steel processing stations stood in rows a little further in, stainless steel tubs in between them. Here and there in stacks of various sizes, what looked like emergency food rations were piled up in apple crates. Bags of flour, potatoes, bottled water and other supplies. Looked like the place was the cell’s pantry for a prolonged emergency.

Reid kept his head down and turned. Spotted a rickety crib by a space heater. A middle-aged woman sat next to it, smoking and reading a tabloid magazine. She wore a quilted jacket, her greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail, bangs teased up within an inch of their lives. He ran the pictures of all known female members of the cell through his mind, but didn’t come up with a match. Of course, the FBI’s list of the cell’s members was more than sketchy.

He made some noises as if agreeing to something over the phone. He couldn’t say anything or the four guys strategizing over a card table would know that the voice was wrong. They were in a shadowy corner, so he had to strain to see their faces. One looked familiar from the FBI files. None of them had been there at the bridge, as far as he could tell.

“Shut the damn door,” another, lying on a cot in the corner, yelled over.

He stepped back out, pretending to still be on the phone, and shut the door behind him.

“Zak and Nate?” Lara held her breath, her gaze begging when he returned to her.

“They looked unharmed.”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “How many men?”

“Five guys. Plus a babysitter.”

“Now we call for backup?”

He shook his head. “No time for that. Sparks and his goons could come back at any time.”

“Cade?”

“Can’t afford to wait for him.”

“But the odds…” Worry was fixed in her eyes.

He knew she didn’t fear for herself. She was anguished about the babies. “These odds we can live with.” He squatted and drew the outline of the building in the snow. “I’ll shoot my way through the door and go in here.” He pointed at the door that was closest to the men where he’d last seen them. “That will surprise them. They’ll be confused for a second. When you hear the shots, count to five, then come through this door.” He pointed to the unlocked door behind him.

She nodded. “By the time they recover from the surprise, I’ll divide their attention.”

“Right.”

She could do this, he told himself as he pulled a syringe from his pocket, ripped the sterile packaging off, drew the drug from the vial the doctor had given him. He pulled down the waist of his pants a few inches, then shoved the needle in. The area began to go numb almost immediately. Better get moving so he would have full use of his window of opportunity.

He capped the needle and shoved it back in his pocket then grabbed his bag of weapons, although he knew most of them would be useless. He couldn’t lob hand grenades with those babies in there. “I’ll get the men. You take care of the babysitter.”

She was vibrating with nerves. “Any last-minute advice?”

“Keep count of your bullets.”

S
HE KEPT ONE EYE
on the door, the other on the road, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t come back. Then shots sounded from the other end of the building. She walked from her cover to the door. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.” Opened door. Screamed, “Police!”

She had no idea why she’d said that. They hadn’t talked about it. Her nerves were shot, her mind following some blueprint of attack she’d only seen on TV. One man was on the ground, another shooting at Reid with one hand, clutching his knee with the other. Her mind registered all this in a split second, along with the crib. Then she remembered the plan and dove for cover, avoiding, at the last second, the bullets that flew her way.

They pelted the stainless steel workstation, cut through, but none of them hit her—a miracle. When a few seconds passed without more of them coming, she peeked out. Another man was on the ground. Everyone had taken cover. Only the crib stood out there in the open.

Someone had knocked over an old box behind the crib, rusty tools lay scattered on the floor. She would have to watch out for those when she ran. She couldn’t afford to trip.

She could see Reid making a move behind cover to get to the back of the remaining men. She drew a deep breath and ran for the next workstation, then the next, each bringing her closer to her crying babies. Each time she was in the open, she shot indiscriminately, making sure she wouldn’t hit Reid or the crib, but to cause enough ruckus that the enemy stayed down and wouldn’t give her any trouble.

Her heart beat out of control. Sweat rolled down her face. Her knees were knocking. She ignored all that and kept her focus locked on the twins. They were standing in the crib, nothing but their fuzzy heads showing, bawling their eyes out.
They’re not hurt, just scared. They’re not hurt, just scared.

A shout came from behind her. “Watch out.” Reid took aim at the man who was targeting her. But to do that, he had to pop up from cover. He shot the guy threatening her at the same time that the last remaining man shot Reid in the shoulder. The impact of the bullet knocked him over.

A woman came forward from somewhere with a cry and held her gun on Lara, moving toward her with grim determination.

No way.
Not when she was this close. Lara lifted her own weapon and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

In the chaos and sheer insanity of the attack, she’d forgotten to count her bullets. She stood there, stunned and not knowing what to do next. By the mercy of God, the other woman seemed to be in no better shape.

Her hands were shaking, tears streaking down her face. One of the injured men must have meant something to her. She kept coming closer on unsteady legs, probably wanting to make sure she wouldn’t miss her target.

Behind Lara, Reid was busy with his own duel. She threw her gun as hard as she could at the woman, knocking the attacker’s weapon aside for a second. It was enough for Lara to lunge and take her down hard. A shot did get squeezed off as they rolled, both grunting, but it only hit the ceiling.

Zak and Nate were screaming, scared to death. The woman fought to bring her gun down and take aim. Lara rolled her again, one of the rusty tools digging painfully into her back. Then the woman rolled, too, slamming Lara’s head against the wall. She was stunned just enough for her grip to weaken. The woman pulled away, lifted the gun. But Lara’s fingers closed around a cleaver on the floor. The next second it was buried in the woman’s chest, a surprised look on her face as she folded without ever firing her weapon.

Reid took out his guy, too, at last, blood running down his arm. But she only had eyes for her babies. Lara was at the crib in two steps, grabbing up the twins, looking them over. “Mommy is here. Mommy is here.” She kissed every available inch of those two precious little boys. “Shh. We’re okay now. Everything’s okay. I missed you so much.”

Then Reid was beside her, bleeding worse from the left shoulder than she’d thought at first glance, looking like his left leg wasn’t completely supporting him.

He was checking them over, touching her, running his hands over the babies. “Are you okay? The kids?”

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