Page 71 of Knight's Journey

“I’m sure as hell not going to be blackmailed into doing this. Drop to your knees, hands on your head. Tell me where you’re keeping the hostages.”

Singer stayed on his feet, his arrogant smirk returning. “So how did you know where to find me?”

Zane raised his head to peer over his rifle, his own mocking smile curving his lips. “You mean you don’t know? A thirteen-year-old girl outsmarted you. She figured out how to send me a location pin which brought me directly to your little house with the picket fence. Who did you trick to get the house to use as a hideout anyway?”

“The old lady could care less who’s using her house now. She was ancient, so you could say I did her a favor when I slit her throat and took her house.”

“You sure that’s wise? Confessing to murder in front of me?”

“You have no proof, so why not? It’s your word against mine. You don’t even have proof I’m holding anyone here against their will. That location pin which brought you here? You have no proof as to who sent it. It could have come from me. How do you know all of this wasn’t a trap?”

“Because you’re not smart enough to pull something like that off.” Zane was tired of the standoff with Singer. He needed an idea to force the man to tell where he was holding his mom and the kids, but all of his energy was focusing on not letting the guy get away.

“I was smart enough to figure out your undercover assignment. I was smart enough to follow you for months without you knowing. I was smart enough to get you away from your precious mother’s house. I was hoping the pretty nurse would be there, so I would have even more leverage to get you to do what I wanted. There’s no incentive like a good piece of ass. And I’ve watched her. A lot. She is a hot piece of ass. I may have to go back for her. I wouldn’t mind—”

“What makes you think you’re going anywhere but to prison, you sick son of a bitch?”

“Because if you don’t let me go, your mother and those brats are as good as dead. If you don’t kill Armando and Elian, they are dead. You’re only choice is to walk away from me with that gun and do what I told you too. The clock is ticking.”

Zane’s finger hovered over the trigger. He stared into Singer’s cold, dead eyes and knew the man told the truth. He saw no other way to save Maggie, Marlowe and Mathias except by doing what Singer wanted. He wanted to scream or hit something or do anything to change the situation. Instead, he lowered his weapon and took a step back.

“Big mistake, Black. Because only one of us is walking away from the clearing. And it ain’t gonna be you.”

Singer reached behind him and withdrew a Glock from his waistband. He gave a maniacal laugh as he aimed the muzzle at Zane’s head.

“Drop the gun! Drop it now!”

The shouts went up as the Alpha Team stepped into the clearing, rifles aimed at Singer. Startled by the commotion, Singer whirled around with his gun pointed right at Jay. The roar of rapid gunfire drowned out Zane’s scream of “No!” Taking multiple hits, Singer hit the ground, his gun landing beside him. His head rolled to the side, his wide dead eyes staring at Zane.

Zane fell to his knees, dropping his rifle and beating his fists against his thighs. His team had his back and prevented a target from killing him. But in the process, they succeeded in killing his mother and Bridget’s kids.

And he felt his world crumble around him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Acoppery taste filled Bridget’s mouth. She pulled her hand away to see she’d bitten her fingernail down to the quick, causing the spot to bleed. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and the back of her hand against her jeans. Her eyes burned from lack of rest, strands of dark hair falling from her messy bun to stick to her face. She could smell her own body odor from the sweat caused by the excruciating heat in the surveillance van.

She tried to talk to the guy watching the monitors into letting her step outside — what was his name? Digger? No, Rigger. He was adamant that she would blow their cover by stepping outside. But being inside was wreaking havoc on her peace of mind. Since Rigger was monitoring the activity going on at the house up the street, she heard every order given and every round of gunfire. But what made her heart stop in her chest were the words coming over the microphone after the gunfire died away.

“The hostages aren’t here.”

The tears fell unchecked, and fear seized her lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Tell me I can go outside now.”

Rigger barely glanced over his shoulder, obviously annoyed at the interruption. “What?”

“Tell me I can go outside now,” she said a little louder. When she went unanswered, her voice rose even higher, shouting at Rigger to listen to her. “Tell me I can go outside now! I need to go outside now!”

Rigger jumped, gaping at her outburst. After a few seconds, he collected himself enough to nod. She needed no other encouragement. She shoved the back doors of the van open and all but fell out onto the curb. The doors automatically slammed closed behind her, but she barely noticed. She gulped as much fresh air as she could, but her stomach turned queasy. She barely stumbled over to a nearby ditch before she retched until her stomach was completely empty. Then she collapsed on the ground, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rocked back and forth, trying not to wonder if her kids were still alive.

Why would Marlowe send them the location pin if they weren’t here? She knew the beacon came from her niece. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life, and yet nothing was making sense. They had to be here. They had to.

The longer she rocked, the more her mind traveled a path of its own making. Memories of Jennifer and Dean with the kids, of her and Jennifer as kids, of their parents going overboard at Christmas, of the rush of working the ER in Charleston.

She suddenly released her knees and sat up straighter as a realization occurred to her. She had two patients come through the Charleston ER one night, malnourished and severely abused. The cops were called to the house on a noise complaint, and one of them noticed the neighbor’s dog pawing at a black grate at the side. The cops told her they checked the grate and saw nothing. They speculated an animal had died under the house and attracted the attention of the dog. Instead, they found the children huddled in an underground bunker.

Could it be? They would have torn the house and garage to pieces searching for Maggie, Marlowe and Mathias. They wouldn’t have missed finding a basement or an attic or anything like that. The house was like something her parents would live in, so there was no way it would come with a hidden bunker. Would it?

She was up in a flash, pushing her legs to run faster than they ever had. She could hear Rigger yelling after her, but she never stopped or glanced behind her. Her eyes were on the house just a short distance away. She started shouting as she stepped onto the property, but before she could reach the house, a strong band of steel grabbed her around the waist and picked her up until she was running in mid-air.

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