A Perfect Darkness (28 page)

She traced the scar on his abdomen. “You could have gotten killed.”

He shrugged as though it was no big deal. “I didn't think about that. I just wanted you safe.”

“My own guardian angel.” Gratitude and love swelled inside her as she hugged him. “You could have come forward. The cops wanted to know who my hero was. So did I.”

He shook his head. “How could I explain why I was there? And I didn't want you in my mess of a life. Then I saw your name on Gladstone's computer.” He looked past her, recrimination in his eyes. “I pulled you into an even bigger mess.”

She took his hands in hers and forced him to look at her. “I was already in the mess. You tried to save me. You're my hero.”

Surprisingly, those words made the shadow in his eyes even darker. “No, I'm not. Don't say that.”

“You're my hero,” she whispered, leaning close to kiss him. She wanted to chase all those shadows from him.

The groan she heard did not come from Lucas. She turned to find Eric standing at the entrance to the hallway, looking away. “You have a bedroom, you know. And it's time to get rolling.”

Petra was right behind him, not looking too happy herself.

Amy blinked at the sight of Eric. His hair was now a dark brown and combed straight down.

He ran his hand over it. “Time for a change.”

Petra gave him a friendly shove. “See, you need change, too.”

“For a disguise,” he said.

Amy kissed Lucas, a much more chaste kiss than she preferred, and climbed off him. “I'll throw some breakfast together.”

Eric grimaced. “Not Pop-Tarts and yogurt, I hope.”

“No, we need something heartier than that.”

Lucas got up, a bit, ah, stiffly, making Amy grin. “I'll load the gear. We'll call the fencing company at seven, cancel the work order.”

Eric said, “I remote-viewed the local garages and found the truck. We've got to move out in the next twenty minutes if we want to snag it before they open.”

Amy took a deep breath as she gathered eggs, bacon, and toast. Petra joined her, looking as worried as Amy felt. What concerned her most was that Eric might break with their plan and go looking for the files. Which might put him in danger. Which would send Lucas into danger going after him. She couldn't lose him again. No way in hell would she lose him again.

A
my and Petra waited in the Camry while Eric and Lucas scaled the garage fence in the predawn light.

The world outside the tomb seemed different—colors more vivid, the air fuller, the sunlight painfully bright. Amy inhaled deeply. “Do I even want to know where Eric learned to hotwire cars?”

“When he realized he was being watched by Gladstone, he went into survival mode. He got two untraceable guns, the cell phones, and went off the grid.” She kept her gaze on the men as she spoke. “He learned hotwiring from a friend. Eric was the boy who played with toy soldiers, then those video games about war, and then it was paintball. This is natural for him.” Her forehead creased. “It's what worries me the most about him.”

Eric worked in the cab of the truck while Lucas opened the gate.

“And he has the most powerful weapon I've ever known,” Amy added. “Even scarier, he likes using it. When he burned that guy at Quiet Waters Park, he enjoyed it. I don't know if it was the power or the actual
killing, but he had a smile on his face while he watched the man burn to death.”

“He's always been…on the edge. He jumped off roofs, climbed up on those bulletin boards you see by the side of the road…and set fires.”

Eric started the truck and pulled up to the gate.

“What was Lucas like as a kid?” Amy asked.

“He was quiet, seemed to live inside himself more than in the world.” Petra smiled. “But he jumped off the roof right along with Eric. No peer pressure necessary.”

Eric drove through the open gate. Lucas closed it and hopped into the truck. They paused by the car and Petra transferred the gas masks and canister to the truck bed. Amy followed as they left the lot. Lucas was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. The same gel that Petra had used on her hair made his waves straight. He was going to play the silent partner, keeping in the background while Eric talked to the guard in case they recognized him.

Amy and Petra hung back while the truck drove down the road to the asylum twenty minutes later. Lucas would ring the phone once when they had the guards at gunpoint. Petra would get into the truck and be ready when they emerged with Rand.

That was the plan.

“I have a bad feeling,” Petra said, cracking her knuckles.

Amy didn't want to voice her agreement and add to it. “You know, you'll get arthritis doing that.”

“That's just a myth. And it's better than chewing my fingernails.” She spread her fingers, showing red-painted nails. “Hey, where's your pep talk?”

“It's going to be fine,” Amy said without much conviction.

“You're thinking of that sketch Lucas drew, aren't you? Or that he saw you get shot.”

“I'm trying not to think of either, thank you.”

Petra settled back in her seat. “It'll be fine. Lucas said it was an easy rescue. We have tear gas. And the element of surprise. You won't get shot because you're not leaving this car. It'll be fine.”

Amy wasn't going to point out that the quiver in Petra's voice undermined her sentiment. She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and waited for the call.

“We're so going to get caught,” Petra said, her eyes wide. “And we'll be guinea pigs for the enemy Offspring. He'll practice—I don't know—setting us on fire or something.”

Amy put her hand on Petra's shoulder. “It'll be fine. Really.”

Petra opened the phone for the umpteenth time. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She held up the phone with its blank screen. “The battery's dead.”

“But we made sure to plug it in so it would charge all night. It worked this morning.”

Petra slapped her hand over her mouth. “We plugged it into one of the hot outlets, I bet. The switch has to be on, and it wasn't. The phone must have still had a little power left. I didn't check the bars because I assumed it had charged.”

Amy stared at the long road going in. “Now what?”

 

Lucas got out of the truck and went to the bed to ostensibly pull out fencing poles while Eric made small talk with the guard.

“What is this place, anyway?” he asked, nodding toward the building, an agreeably curious expression on his face.

“How long is this going to take?” the guard asked, ignoring his question.

“What, maybe an hour?” he asked Lucas.

“About,” Lucas mumbled, laying out the poles, which were obviously not tall enough for the job. Fortunately he was on the back side of the truck and mostly out of view. He pulled out the roll of fencing, grabbing the shotgun, masks, and canister as he did.

“Well, we'll get to it,” Eric said, and headed around the back to help Lucas.

They set the roll several feet from the truck so it wouldn't impede their escape. A flash of movement directed Lucas's eye to the road leading in. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the Camry backing up. What the hell were they doing?

When the guard began to follow his gaze, Lucas started coughing and choking. Eric slapped him on the back while Lucas made sure the guard's attention had been snagged enough for the car to get out of sight.

Just in time, too. The other guard came around the back of the east wing. That would save time if he were in the vicinity. Once they had the gun on the near guard, they were to have him call the other guard and then walk the two of them into the side exit where Eric had gone in for Lucas. Then they'd set off the tear gas and lay them out, along with anyone who happened to be in the area. They'd brought an extra mask for Rand.

The guard remained close. Eric pulled the roll as he scooted backward, ending up next to the guard, and then pressed the gun into his waist. To the second guard, he said, “You, come over here.”

The man weighed his options until he saw Lucas with the shotgun aimed at him. He walked over.

“Nice and slow, hand over your guns,” Eric said. “At this angle if I pull the trigger, I'll get both of you with one bullet.”

Both men complied. Eric stuffed their guns into his waistband as Lucas walked over with the gas masks and canister.

Eric nodded toward the side door, and, with a nudge, the two men headed over. “Open that door.”

Eric and Lucas kept their movements casual and the guns hidden in case anyone was looking out the windows. Lucas pressed the Send button on his phone and rang Petra's phone to set her into action. The guard unlocked the door, and Lucas edged it open while peering inside. “It's clear.”

The smell of old linoleum hit his nose, bringing back those horrible days of captivity. He pushed the thought away and walked in, the other three following him. He passed the showers and an empty room, to a locked door. Through the window he saw Rand, pacing back and forth; at least he wasn't strapped down.

Lucas turned to the guard. “Give me the key to this room.”

“We don't have any interior keys. We're only assigned to the perimeter.”

He was probably telling the truth. “Set off the tear gas. I'll shoot the lock.” The possibility that they might
need to do that was why they'd brought the shotgun. Less chance of a ricochet.

Eric pulled out the canister. It slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. One of the guards kicked it down the hallway. The other turned and pulled the fire alarm lever. Bells clanged, shattering the silence. A second later a guard appeared at the far end of the hallway, weapon drawn. Eric shot, dropping him, then turned and shot the guard who had pulled the lever. Lucas had the other guard held at gunpoint. His heart was hammering. It was supposed to be in and out with minimal violence. Dammit. The injured guard writhed on the floor, blood gushing from his shoulder.

“Eric—” Lucas looked up to see him tearing down the hallway toward the middle section of the building. “Son of a bitch.” He turned back to the guard who was still standing. “Move.” He indicated the empty room next to Rand's, pushing him in and locking the door. The other guard had stopped moving. This wasn't good.

 

Gerard Darkwell was in the session room with his star Offspring when the alarm pealed. Trouble. He opened the door and spotted Olivia paused near the reception desk. “Lock yourself in the resident's hall,” he ordered. “Keep the girl in there, too. Go!”

Olivia jerked into action, running toward the wide doors and punching in the security code to lock them down. The hospital had been set up for riots. He heard a gunshot. Another. They were under attack again!

He turned to the muscular young man who had
jumped from the recliner, body tensed for action. “What can I do, sir? I'm trained in multiple weapons. I want these bastards.”

Gerard recognized the sadistic hunger he'd seen in the mirror many times. He nodded toward the chair. “The weapon I'm most interested in is your mind. Find Petra, but don't get too close. We don't want her to sense you.”

A minute later the man said, “I see Petra with another woman. They're in a car, and…they're out front, on the road leading in.”

 

Petra was about to walk to the end of the road and see if Lucas and Eric had gone into the building when an alarm went off. “Something's gone wrong.”

Amy pulled up to the edge of the road. She could just barely peer through the trees at the corner and see the truck. “I don't see them. They went in.”

“Should I go to the truck?”

“No, let's wait. When we see them coming out, I'll tear over and you can jump in. This doesn't feel right.”

“See, I knew it didn't. They should be out by now. The next shift is going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

Amy's heartbeat spiked crazily.
Come on, come on.

They didn't come.

Petra screamed at someone outside the driver's window. Amy began to turn but the barrel of a gun against her temple stopped her movement.

“Out of the car, ladies,” a man said.

Amy saw his bandaged wrist. Oh, damn. Was he the one Eric shot? By the fierce snarl on his face, Amy guessed it was. She slowly got out.

He pointed the gun toward Petra, obviously adept at using either hand. “You, come out this way, too.” He opened the door and trained the gun on her as she climbed out.

“Walk toward the building. And
please
, give me a reason to shoot you.”

He wouldn't need much. Petra slid her hand into Amy's as they walked together.

L
ucas shouted, “Back away from the door! I'm going to shoot out the lock.” He aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger, angling himself away from the metal door to avoid a ricochet. The shot dented the lock. Two more rounds and it exploded, throwing the door open a few inches.

He pushed it farther open and found a bruised Rand eyeing him with suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm Lucas. I—”

Lightning crackled along the crevices in his brain.
No, not now!
Images flashed: Amy with a gun to her back! Amy falling. Shot. Blood.

Was it happening now or was he seeing the future? The images kept repeating in sequence. Fear was as strong as the pain. He couldn't get his thoughts together, couldn't get his body to move. He fell to the floor.

 

The guard opened his eyes. Red hot pain radiated from his shoulder. He didn't know what was happening to the once-escaped prisoner. He was on the floor, clutching his head and groaning. The door to the other
prisoner's room was open. He had to do something. The shotgun was only a few feet away. With a grunt he used the floor to pull himself over to it and secured the shotgun. Pain made stars fly, but he pushed past that and grabbed the guns in the prisoner's waistband, too. He pointed his gun at the other prisoner, who was poised to flee.

“Don't move.”

 

The alarm stopped, though the sound still throbbed in Eric's ears. He aimed the gun at the locked office door. He only needed two minutes to grab the laptop on the desk and get out.

“Drop it!”

He swung his gun around to aim at the voice—and stopped when he came face-to-face with Amy and Petra held at gunpoint by the man he'd shot the day before. By the hatred in his cold, blue eyes, the man remembered him well. His mind scrambled for options.

“Drop the gun
now
or the girls get it,” the man growled. “And what you have in your other hand.”

Eric set down the gun as his fingers blindly groped for the ring that would release the tear gas.

“Drop the canister,” the man barked.

Eric had been about to pull the pin when he realized he didn't have his mask anymore. He'd be incapacitated, too. He dropped the canister. He had only one backup weapon, but it was a hell of a backup. “Burn, you son of a bitch,” he muttered.

A tingling sensation crawled up Eric's spine. Petra had described something like it when she was being remote-viewed. He tried to shake it off and train his gaze on the man. It persisted.

You're going to die, Aruda.

What the hell? He heard the voice in his head, but it wasn't his thoughts.

It's over. Give it up. Give up and die!

He felt a strange pressure inside his head.
Someone was in his head. Hell, someone was in his head!
He couldn't focus his energy on anything but getting him out.

The shadow of fear had left the man's eyes. He lifted his gun.

 

Rand raised his arms as the guard pointed the gun at him. He nodded toward the guy on the floor. “Hey, man, are you trying to make me crazy in here? Alarms, gunshots, fire, and now some whacked dude barges in and then goes into a seizure.”

The guard grimaced in pain as he got to his feet. “This guy's psychotic. That's all I know.”

He heard someone banging on a door down the hall. The guard looked confused. Get help and leave Rand there? Take Rand with him but leave the crazy guy on the floor?

“Don't leave me here with this guy,” Rand said, injecting panic into his voice. “I'll do whatever you want.”

The guard's eyes were hazy with pain as he tried to focus. He blinked, weaved on his feet. “Help me get him in this room.”

Rand reached down to pull up Lucas—and drove his elbow into the guard's face. Lucas rolled to the side and grabbed the gun that the guard dropped with a gasp of pain. Rand could see that whatever had happened to Lucas, he'd recovered.

“Help me get him in this room,” Lucas said.

For a second Rand stared at him. “I know you. Wait a minute. I
dreamed
you!”

“My friends and I came to bust you out of here, but things went to hell fast.”

Rand grabbed the guard's legs and the two of them carried him into the room, set him down, then Lucas locked the door and tossed the guard's gun to Rand. There wasn't time for Rand to ask questions, like why this stranger was rescuing him. Or why he'd dreamed about him. “What now?” he asked.

“We get the others.” Lucas ran down the hallway.

Rand followed. “How many are there of you?”

“Eric's in the building. We've got two women outside in the car ready to get us out of here.”

Another guard was lying on the floor, groaning in pain. Who the hell were these people? No matter, he'd rather be on their side. He already knew what the other side was like. Now that he had a gun, he'd take out the head bastard with a shot to the forehead…right after he nailed him in the balls.

They took a left and came to a security gate. Lucas ran back to the guard lying on the floor and took the keys off his belt. After trying four of them, he unlocked the gate and paused to listen.

Rand heard a man say, “Drop the gun
now
or the girls get it.”

Girls?

He saw Lucas blanch. Hell, they were probably the women in the getaway car.

He and Lucas went through the security gate. The hallway split both ways and continued around the corner to the center of the building. The voice had
come from the left. They pressed against the wall and inched their way in that direction.

Rand shot ahead ten seconds in his mind. It wasn't enough. They were still here. He had a bad feeling, though. This wasn't going to end pretty.

Lucas peered around the corner. Frustration and fear permeated his whispers. “He's got Petra and Amy. They were supposed to stay safe in the car. Why didn't they? Why isn't Eric using his firepower?”

Rand projected ahead again. This time he saw a man sneaking up behind them with a gun: Peterson, the guy who'd given him the meal with drugs in it. Rand turned in time to catch him come around the corner. He raised his gun and shot at him, heard a gasp of pain as Peterson's gun slid across the floor. Shit. He'd shot someone.

Another shot split the air. Both he and Lucas peered around the corner again. The shorter girl with the brown hair took advantage of the distraction his shot created and grabbed at the guard's gun. The tall blonde joined in, wrestling the big guy for control. The guy with the Mr. Universe body—Eric, he presumed—was twitching his head as if he were surrounded by invisible bees.

Rand projected again.
Oh, shit.
“The brunette's going to get shot in ten seconds! From the right.”

“Amy.
No
.” Not disbelief, but agony.

Lucas flew down the hallway toward the women. Three seconds left. He launched himself toward Amy. Two seconds left. Flew through the air, turning his body to the right, gun at the ready. He knocked Amy to the side, his body jerking when he pulled the trigger. Bizarrely, blood splattered from
his
chest. He fell to the floor. Lucas's run sent Eric into action toward them.

Rand ran to the other hallway in time to see one of the doors open. He shot at the door and it slammed shut. Lucas had hit his target; a man was sprawled on the floor. Rand returned to the front hallway and sprinted toward the open area. Eric was slamming the guy who'd had the women into the floor. “Get out of my head! Get out of my head!”

Amy and the blonde were screaming, Amy with her hands over Lucas's chest, his blood streaming through her fingers.

The front entrance was within easy reach. Rand's instincts said to haul ass.
Take care of yourself, dude. No one else will.

But these people had. Lucas had. So he said to Eric, who was still beating the man even though he was unconscious, “Let's get your friend out of here.”

Eric came out of his rage. “Petra, get the car.”

She ran out the door, her face pale.

He and Eric grabbed up Lucas. Amy's face was wet with tears as she pointed toward the rear entrance. “More of them are coming!”

Rand shot at the rear entrance and then sent another bullet toward the door he'd seen open before. Glass shattered, falling like rain on the yellowed linoleum.

Rand and Eric carried Lucas to the door, and Amy ran ahead to open it for them. He saw a sedan screech to a stop. “You've got to be shittin' me. No way are we all fitting in that.”

The glass on the front door shattered.

“Okay, maybe we will.”

Amy grabbed the gun from his hand, now that he was carrying Lucas, and sent a wild shot back into the building. Petra jumped out of the car and opened
the doors, whispering over and over, “Not again, not again.” They slid Lucas onto the backseat. Eric jumped into the driver's seat, Amy sat in the back with Lucas's head on her lap, and as for him…well, hell, he didn't have time to debate. He jumped into the passenger seat, and Petra climbed in the back.

Eric tore out of the lot. One car sped out from behind the building after them. Another car raced down the road toward them. The driver turned it to block them. Eric drove onto the shoulder and around it. The dude had a fierce look on his face; veins stuck out at his temples and neck, mouth in a snarl, right hand cut and bloody.

Rand said, “Amy, give me my gun back.”

God, she was wrecked, whispering Lucas's name over and over. She handed him the gun without taking her eyes off Lucas. Rand leaned to the side of the headrest and squeezed out two shots through the open window. The tire shredded, and the car swerved violently and spun out.

No time to pat myself on the back. Here comes another one.

But before he could get off another shot, their rear window shattered, crazing into pieces. Amy and Petra screamed and ducked. Rand shot again. He'd used a gun but had never shot at a human being before today. The pursuing car's windshield crazed. The driver stuck out his head. Rand shot again, hitting the metal just inches from him. The guy slammed on the brakes.

Rand said, “We got a lead. Lose 'em, dude.”

Eric took a two-lane road that seemed to go nowhere, but his resolute expression showed that he knew where he was going. He turned again ten minutes later,
cutting through an old neighborhood before getting onto a major highway. Rand kept his gaze trained behind them. Only when they'd gone for a while without anyone dogging them did he drop his gaze to the backseat.

Amy had taken off her shirt and was pressing the fabric against Lucas's chest. He'd lost a lot of blood already. Rand had a feeling taking him to the hospital wasn't an option. “Oh, man, he doesn't look good.”

Amy lifted her reddened, streaked face. “He's going to die because of you! He had to go back and get
you
!”

He lifted his hands. “Hey, I never asked him to. I don't even know him.” Except in his dreams, but that sounded hokey so he wasn't going to say it. “I also got him out of there.” Hell, he did feel bad. Being accused by a pretty, half-naked woman in distress wasn't helping.

She was looking at Lucas again, and Rand wasn't even sure she'd heard him. Man, love and grief poured out of her. It hurt just to look at her. Petra was nearly as torn, squeezed into an awkward position in the tight backseat, not taking her eyes off Lucas.

He sat back in the seat. Eric was staring ahead, his jaw still tight. “So,” Rand said to him. “You want to tell me who you people are?”

 

“What the hell just happened here?” Gerard thundered. His two subjects stared at the carnage. He ran to the residence's door and opened it with the code. Olivia stood there, her face pale.

“They're all gone,” Robbins said, coming down the hallway.

“Even Brandenburg?” Gerard asked. This couldn't have happened. It was a bad dream. A nightmare.

“Apparently he's what they were after. Our guys are on them.”

Olivia screamed when she saw the two men on the floor, but she gathered her wits and crouched beside Carl to check his pulse. His head was a bloody mess. Next she ran to the other guard. “They're alive. Has anyone called an ambulance?”

Robbins waited for an order. Gerard said, “Call Pope. Tell him we'll need medical assistance as well as a clean-up.” That was his only option, but he didn't like using it. He turned to the others. “We need to check on the other officers.”

The uninjured scrambled to help the injured. His protégé took in the two injured guards with anger and shock on his face. “We have to shut these traitors down.”

Gerard found a small bit of pleasure in the young man's fierce attitude. “Good job on derailing Aruda. You kept him from torching anyone.”

Gerard's phone rang. “We lost them, sir. They shot out our tire. They shot out Kaiser's windshield, and he lost them, too.”

“Get back here as soon as you can. We've got men down. Any injuries on your end?”

“No, sir. We're good.”

This was a battle, and the enemy had gotten the upper hand. It burned through him, the way losing always did.
You're nothing, Gerard. Always was, always will be.
He shook away his father's voice. This wasn't about proving himself to his father, the craggy son of a bitch. So much more was at stake here. He had a mess to clean up, literally and figuratively. He'd lost his prisoners. It was shameful.

Robbins returned, still looking pale. “Pope is on his way. He wasn't happy.”

“I'll bet. And that's nothing compared to how I feel.”

Robbins walked over to Carl and crouched down beside him. “Help's on the way. Hold on, buddy.” Carl wasn't responding. “What happened to him?”

“Aruda went nuts on him.”