Page 62 of Wild Devil

“I’ll jam the systems and allow her to broadcast,” he says. “She’ll be doing the talking, but your job? Clear the way for us to get on air, preferably without getting shot in the process.”

“Deal.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jamie asks. “It’s showtime.”

TWENTY-FIVE

FREY

We make it into the building itself with no trouble, and it’s a surprisingly uneventful climb to the third floor. In fact, with its open floor plan and modern design, it’s a rather refreshing change of scenery from the small cabin by the lake. It’s only when we emerge from the stairwell that the first sign of trouble rears its head.

Namely, in the form of an armed guard standing near a doorway.

“We need to get into that room,” Jamie explains. “The longer we can keep from drawing notice of the backup outside, the easier it will be. If I can get access to the security mainframe, I can at least lock the doors and trigger a shutdown. That will slow them down for an hour at least.”

“What about getting these people out?” I ask.

Daze smiles in a beautifully dangerous way. “Leave it to me.”

I feel my stomach twist, fearing that he intends to do so through violent means. Then I shake myself and remember that Daze isn’t like Silas. A fact that he proves in one fell swoop by reaching for a fire alarm button that I didn’t even notice.

Just like that, the building erupts into motion as everyone starts to file outside, grumbling in annoyance.

“That was almost too easy,” Jamie remarks from our position in a maintenance closet. “But it looks like our friend might need some convincing to play along.”

The guard hasn’t budged, and he speaks into a walkie-talkie as if coordinating with the officers outside.

“I’ll handle this,” Daze says. “You two, go do what you need to broadcast.”

“This way.” Jamie takes my arm and leads me from the room while Daze heads directly toward the guard. All I hear is the sound of flesh connecting with flesh and a startled grunt.

When I look back, Daze is dragging the unconscious guard to a corner of the hallway.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, meeting my gaze. “Now get in there and make your father’s fantasy come crashing down.”

Inside the room is a set that dominates most of the open space. Beyond it is a room filled with computers. Jamie races toward one and unloads several items from his bag.

“I can access the security from here, but it will take a while. Maybe you should think about what you want to say?”

It’s a question that is surprisingly more complex than I realized before now. I could go on an emotional tirade about my father and what he did to Hale, or the poor people who came to our program for help. I could go on and on about the violence he subjected me to, and how his deceit led to Colton’s death. I could even name Silas as his accomplice and go into gory detail about their long reign of terror.

I could tell the horrible truth.

But as Jamie rushes to secure the room and ready the cameras, a new line of conversation comes to mind. I want to talk about this city and why, ridden with crime or not, it doesn’t deserve to be destroyed.

It is possible to find beauty even in the most sinful, corrupted things.

TWENTY-SIX

DAZE

I feel like I’m running blind as I guard the door and wait for the broadcast to start. Judging from the state of the place, most of the reporters were already out, covering Heywood’s speech from the sidelines. Lucky them.

At least they can look forward to one hell of a spike in ratings—no matter the outcome of the next few hours. Either Heywood gets his due or…

I don’t want to think about it. Even with her in the next room, I feel like Frey might as well be on another planet. I’m the only person saving her from any enemies who might barge in—and that’s ignoring the fact that this entire room could blow. Somehow, I manage to grab my cell phone and fumble through my contacts list. When I get Damien on the line, the first question out of my mouth is, “Did you find the detonator?”

“Not yet,” he replies, sounding as cool as ever. “Three spots down, one more to go.”

---