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Typical, she thought with a burst of self-directed anger. Just typical. Whenever she had things running smoothly in her life, that same little destructive part of her had to step out and mix things up by goading her into doing things she knew she shouldn’t.
“I know this situation really, really stinks,” Ty said. “But I need your help. Hell, it may sound corny, but your country needs your help. This guy is serious, Gabby. If I don’t follow his instructions to the letter, he could kill the vice president. He’s made that clear before, with my partners. Are you willing to risk Grant Davis’s life?”
She sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair.” His flat tone warned her that there was more to the story than he was letting on. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I need you to come with me.” His voice dropped, turning persuasive. “Come on, take my hand. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”
She could hear the lie in his voice. He was afraid for her, maybe a tiny bit afraid of her, afraid that she’d turn the tables on him. But he was also a Secret Service agent sworn to protect the vice president. Just how far would he go to follow that oath?
Close the door, said the logical, practical self she’d worked so hard to cultivate, even as the rebellious, frustrated part of her said, Go with him, he needs your help.
A sinking pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach as she made the decision. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” She could feel him shift toward her, as though he was going to touch her, then he hesitated and drew away. “We’re going to need to move fast and keep out of sight,” he warned. “Curfew started at dusk, and I don’t want to attract any more attention than necessary. Stay close to me and be ready to move if I say to.”
Again his words held an undercurrent that made her long to see his face, so she could tell what was real and what was a lie.
She thought about changing her mind. Instead she grabbed her cane, stepped outside and closed and locked the door to her ransacked apartment. “Let’s go.” When he moved to take her hand, she shook him off. “I’m fine.”
It wasn’t until he’d stumbled for the third time that she realized his flashlight batteries must be dying or already dead. Without a word she reached over, took his hand and led him into the darkness.
Chapter Three
Gabby:
I’m sorry if I was being too pushy the other night on Instant Messenger. I’m not the jealous sort, honest. I wasn’t asking about other guys to go all Fatal Attraction on you, either. It’s just that I know there’s got to be a reason you’re home alone every night, and I want you to know that I’m here if you want to talk about whoever hurt you. If you want to talk about anything, really, I’m here for you.
[Sent by TyJ; April 15, 1:30:00 a.m.]
11:50 p.m., August 25 Hours and 48 Minutes until Dawn
The streets and buildings were ghosts, the blackness nearly absolute, broken here and there by kerosene and propane lanterns, along with the occasional battery-powered fluorescent lamp, though Ty had noticed the latter growing increasingly scarce as the blackout moved into its second full night.
The overall effect was one of being transported back in time. He could’ve been walking the cobblestone streets back when Paul Revere had ridden to warn the militias that the British were coming, and the Colonies had teetered on the brink of war. Now, as Ty followed Gabby down the street, he felt as though he were back in a war zone himself. Not in the messy conflicts of the Middle East where he’d first met Liam, but in a far more private war among soldiers.
“Revenge,” Ethan had said. Liam wanted revenge on the men who’d been part of the hostage rescue op that had cost him his career and reputation.
But it didn’t play quite right for Ty; kidnapping and wholesale slaughter seemed out of character for the man he remembered.
Back then, Liam had been an electrical expert, an officer who’d risen quickly through the ranks due to his intelligence and skills, along with the undeniable benefit of coming from a wealthy family of Irish immigrants turned military men and politicians. He’d been the golden boy, the one who’d seemed inevitably destined for greatness. Instead he’d fallen to dishonor.
He’d spent ten years in a military prison, but Ty still found it difficult to reconcile the man he’d known with the kidnapping and the bomb threat. More personally, he couldn’t square it with the things Liam and his sons had done to the other members of their Special Forces team. Liam’s sons hadn’t just attacked Frederick, Shane, Chase and Ethan; they’d attacked their families and the people they loved.
Lucky for Ty, he didn’t have a loved one anywhere near the Boston area. The colonel and his mother were safely entrenched in the Maryland town where Ty grew up, and love hadn’t been on his radar screen for quite some time.
As they passed a house that glowed with more lights than the others, he glanced over at Gabby, weathering the punch of lust that had hit him the moment she’d stepped out of the shadows and faced him down, and hadn’t died yet.
Whether or not she was an innocent—and the jury hadn’t come back on that one—she was lovely. Her porcelain skin held a hint of color over her cheekbones, and the soft waves of her hair framed her oval face in a style that was simultaneously classic and modern. A style that made him want to reach out and touch.
She must have heard him turn his head, or maybe she’d sensed the weight of his stare, because she glanced over. Their eyes met, and though he knew she couldn’t see him, there was an almost palpable connection.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” he said before he thought to guard his speech.
Her lips twitched, but there was no humor in her faint smile. “At least we’ve got that much in common.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, I liked the guy you pretended to be.”
“He liked you, too,” Ty said. But he didn’t bother to pretend he was that guy.
When he saw a shadow darken her pale eyes, he was tempted to apologize, to explain, to let her know that some of it had been real for him, too.
Instead he looked away. What was the point? Even if they’d met under other circumstances, he never would have followed through.
“Come on,” he urged. “It’s nearly midnight.”
Five more minutes of walking brought them to a towering church made of brick and trimmed in white wood. High above them a white steeple rose up and was lost in the darkness. Windows were set at regular intervals, glowing with faint light.
His watch chimed midnight.
He guided her up the steps to the arching main door and pulled his weapon as he followed close behind. “Please tell me it isn’t locked.”
She shook her head and said quietly, “It’s one of the few buildings in the neighborhood with a generator. The reverend said he’d leave it open until the lights come back on, though with the curfew I doubt there’s anyone here. The National Guard came through earlier this evening, moving people to temporary camps if they didn’t have anywhere else to go. I guess they were afraid the looting might spread up to this area before long.”
Twenty-seven hours into the blackout, Ty thought, and Boston’s turning into a war zone.
The heavy door swung inward to reveal a spacious lobby with several sets of glass-paned doors beyond. Ty led the way through and swept the area beyond with his weapon.
Part of him took in the neat double row of wooden pews and the gloriously soaring columns on each side, leading to balconies that faded into the darkness. The emergency lights glinted on an ornate double chandelier and on the cloth-draped altar and pulpit. But even as he noted the dimly lit details, another part of him searched the shadows.
The church seemed deserted.
“Stay close,” he said quietly. He took Gabby’s hand and hooked her fingers into his waistband, leaving his own hands free. He started down the aisle with her in tow, and he tried like hell to block the memories of the last time he’d been in an actual church, the last time he’d walked down an aisle.
His damned wedding.
Focus. He scanned each row of seats but saw nothing out of place. He strained to detect the sounds of an ambush but heard no footsteps, no quiet breathing. They had just about reached the end of the aisle when his flashlight quit for good. He muttered a curse and tucked it in his pocket in case he found more batteries or needed something to throw.
Without warning, lightning lit the scene, a triple flash that came strobe-bright. Ten seconds later thunder rumbled, deep-throated and loud, though still some distance away.
“That’s going to complicate things,” he muttered under his breath, knowing that an electrical storm would only make things tougher for the National Guard, and for the teams struggling to fix the power plants Liam had sabotaged in order to trigger the blackout.
Lightning flickered again, closer this time, and electricity danced along Ty’s skin, seeming ironic in the powerless city.
He glanced at his watch. Five past midnight. Where the hell was Liam? He was the one who’d arranged the meet in the first place.
Unless he never intended to show up, Ty thought on a jolt of adrenaline.
He spun and yelled, “It’s a trap! Get the hell out of here!”
Lightning flashed again, showing him Gabby’s quick comprehension, her panicked bolt. She took two steps toward the door before the thunder clapped and the building shook around them.
The emergency lights went out, plunging the church into Stygian blackness.
“Keep going!” he shouted as he stumbled and nearly fell. “I’ll be right behind you!”
He heard a crash up ahead, a woman’s scream, and his heart jolted in his chest.
“Gabby!” he shouted, but there was no response.
A heartbeat later, the emergency lights flickered back to life.
She was gone.
GABBY STRUGGLED, but her attacker—big and solid and male—held her pinned by her throat and one arm, helpless. She tried to scream, but he kept a hand across her mouth, muffling her cries as he dragged her up a flight of stairs. Knowing she had to make some sort of noise to attract attention and let Ty know where she was, she kicked out, slamming her sandal-clad feet into the wall so hard pain sang up her legs.
Over the pounding of her heart, she heard Ty’s shout. “Gabby!”
She yanked in his direction and managed to wrench away from her captor’s muffling hand. “Ty! I’m up here!”
She wrenched the rest of the way free and bolted back toward the stairs, toward Ty’s voice, but without the help of her cane she tripped and went down on her hands and knees. Sobbing, she scrambled back to her feet and turned to run.
For the second time that night, the click of a revolver froze her in place.
“You don’t want to do that.” The stranger’s voice was cool and distant and held a faint New England accent overlaid with something hard and harsh. “Over there. Sit down.” When she didn’t move, he cursed under his breath, grabbed her arm and shoved her onto a hard wooden pew.
Then he raised his voice and called, “I’ve got your vice president and your woman now, Ty. I’d say the score’s two-nothing in my favor.”
“This is no game, Liam.” Ty’s voice seemed closer now, though it still came from down below, on the first floor. “Give it up before anyone else gets hurt.” His tone dropped, became cajoling. “You don’t want to do this. Think about it.”
Gabby’s captor gave a bark of laughter. “Stuff it, Ty. I’ve done nothing but think about this for the past ten years. What else does a man do in prison except make plans for when he gets out?”
Prison. Gabby’s breath escaped from between her lips on a moan and her head spun. She jammed her fist in her mouth and bit down, both to stop another cry and to keep herself from fainting.
“Let the woman go,” Ty answered. “She’s done nothing to you.”
“She apparently means something to you, though, and that’s enough,” Liam answered. Cloth rustled as he shifted his stance, mere feet away from Gabby.
Moaning, she slumped back in the pew, then let herself fall until she was lying on her side with her face pressed into the polished wood of the hard bench. When the tears tried to come, she let them fall, feeling the wetness course down her face.
Liam cursed under his breath and nudged her with the gun. The cool metal poked her in the ribs as thunder clapped in the near distance. Electricity danced in the air, raising the hairs on her arms and making her want to shiver.
“I’ve taken care of the others,” Liam said. “Shane, Chase, Ethan…they’ve gotten what’s coming to them. Now it’s your turn.”
Gabby’s stomach fisted. She didn’t know the men, but if he’d already killed so many, he might not hesitate to add two more to the tally.
“If I’m the one you want, then take me,” Ty said. “Let the vice president and the woman go.”
“You know better than that.” Liam’s voice dimmed slightly, as though he’d turned away. “I’ve had years to plan this, years spent in prison for something I didn’t do. To balance the scales, I’m aiming to hit each of you where it hurts—except Bradley. Our commander,” he said the word with disdain, “is already dead. But I’ll get the rest of you. Shane loses his reputation as a security expert. LeBron loses his precious sapphire. Chase loses his girlfriend and their baby, Ethan his wife and son. But you? You’ve already lost your wife, haven’t you, Tyler? What can I do to hurt you besides make you responsible for the death of the man you’ve idolized for nearly half your life?”
“If you kill Grant Davis…” Ty began, his voice nearly a growl.
“I won’t kill him,” Liam said. “You will, if you don’t find him in time. You remember your part in our little op, don’t you? Think of it that way, only in reverse. This time instead of setting the bomb as a diversion so we can get the hostages out, you’re going to have to find and defuse the bomb before it blows your precious vice president all over Boston.” He chuckled. “Not to mention the part where it takes out a good chunk of the city in the process.”
The words chilled Gabby with their violence and the mad logic of his tone, but the timbre of his voice had grown muffled, indicating that, believing her unconscious, he’d swung his attention away from her in order to play to a crowd of one, grandstanding into the darkness.
Knowing this might be her only chance, she eased herself off the pew and crept along the row, away from Liam’s voice. Rather than cursing her blindness—the time for that was long past—she focused on the things she could perceive, like the smooth wooden pew edge on one side of her, the carved pew back of the next row over, the smell of candle wax and incense, and the echoes surrounding her. When Liam continued his taunts, she moved faster, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t turn and see her escaping.
“Of course, it won’t be as simple as that,” Liam continued, though Ty hadn’t said anything. “Remember those planning sessions with Commander Bradley? Remember how he said an op was like a treasure hunt, and it was up to us to track down all the clues necessary for success? Well, now it’s up to you to find all those clues.”
This time when Liam paused and Ty still didn’t respond, Gabby knew she had to move faster. Heart pounding in her ears, she stood and ran, keeping one hand on the line of pews for guidance.
Behind her, Liam cursed viciously, the sound sharpening as he turned to face her. “Hold it right there!”
Gabby ducked her head and ran, feet nearly skidding on the wooden floor. She reached the end of the pew line and hooked a left, letting her hand skim over the edges of the rows as she fled down the short aisle to where the stairs must be.
“Stop!” Liam shouted. Moments later gunfire cracked, echoing in the sacred halls of Christ Church.
Glass shattered next to Gabby’s head. She screamed, lunged forward—
And stepped into thin air.
Arms windmilling, she overbalanced and fell, slamming her hip into the stair railing as Liam fired a second shot. She caught a toe on the next stair tread and went down, tumbling headfirst into the warm, unyielding bulk of a man’s body.
Ty’s body. She knew him instantly, though she couldn’t have said how or why.
He grabbed her by the arms, steadying her on her feet. “Come on!” He pulled her down the stairs at a run, his grip both hurrying her and holding her up when she stumbled. Heart pounding, she hung onto his arm and followed his lead.
They hit the end of the stairs and headed for the lobby and the main doors beyond. She judged them halfway across the great hall when Liam’s voice boomed down from above. “Think about it, Ty. If you leave, you won’t know where to start looking for your precious vice president…or for the bomb.”
Cursing, Ty spun them and shoved Gabby behind a set of heavy doors that separated the great hall from the lobby.
“Stay there!” he hissed, and then his footsteps moved away a few paces.
He was trying to draw Liam’s fire, she realized. Trying to protect her while playing Liam’s game in order to find the vice president and the bomb.
She should have hated Ty for what he’d done to her, for how he’d played on her emotions and made her think he cared. Instead, in that moment, she felt an unexpected flicker of respect. An unwanted stir of excitement.
“Tell me where to start looking,” he said calmly. “This is your game, Liam. Your rules.”
A roll of thunder punctuated his words, and the air hung heavy with a sense of anticipation, as though the storm was crouched atop the city, waiting for some unknown signal.
“You’re damn right I make the rules, and rule number one is that nothing in life is free. You give me the woman and I’ll tell you where to find Davis.”
“Not an option,” Ty said flatly. “You want me to play your game? You want revenge for whatever I did or didn’t do eleven years ago? Then let the woman go free, and I’ll play.”
The only answer was a low, angry mutter of thunder.
Ty cursed, then called, “That’s my only offer. Take it or leave it.”
“I think not,” Liam answered from very nearby, making Gabby gasp in shock. Just as Ty had done earlier, Liam had used the storm to cover his movement as he shifted position. He was on the first floor now, somewhere opposite Ty just inside the great hall.
