Along Came a Husband (22 page)

Running back down the hill, he found the police station closed. After breaking the window, he climbed inside and quickly, methodically searched for their weapons stock. A false door hidden in the back of a closet in the chief’s office seemed the most likely option. He busted it down to find a locked cabinet. After shooting off the lock, he yanked open the doors.

The handguns here, too, were worthless to him in this situation. He was happy to see a semiautomatic, and snapped it up along with several clips, some tear gas and a couple of sets of cuffs.

“Going somewhere?” A man’s voice came from behind him.

Jonas spun around to find the police chief, Garrett Taylor, his weapon drawn and pointing right at Jonas’s head. “This isn’t what it looks like,” Jonas said.

“Looks pretty straightforward to me. A man I don’t know from Adam is stealing weapons.”

“I’m an FBI agent. Special Agent Jonas Abel.”

“Badge?”

“It’s at Missy’s. We don’t have time for this. They’ve got her.”

“Who?”

“Missy.” He sucked in a breath. “My wife!” Neither time, distance, nor divorce papers would ever change that. She would always be his wife. Always. And he would always, always be her husband.

Keeping his gun trained on him, Taylor backed up to the phone on his desk. “All I’ve heard is rumors. Give me a minute to verify your story and then we’ll go.”

Seconds ticked by. The reality of the situation bore down on Jonas and his hands shook. “Missy doesn’t have time for this.” He started toward the door.

“Take another step and I’ll shoot.”

Jonas held the cop’s gaze. “Then you better make damned sure you kill me.” He walked straight past Taylor, knowing every step might be his last.

“Wait.”

Jonas stopped.

“You’re going to need some help.”

“No offense,” Jonas said, turning. “These are FBI agents gone bad. They’re heavily trained, move very fast and have nothing to lose.”

“Well, I got a lot to lose.” Taylor scooped up another semiautomatic and headed toward him. “So I guess I’ll just have to move faster.”

As they ran out of the station and climbed the hill toward Missy’s house, Jonas filled Taylor in on what he knew of the situation. “One man will be inside, one out. It’ll be a trap and they’ll use Missy for bait. It’s me they want. You got a choice between saving me or Missy—”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“But it might. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

“Like I said before. You, I don’t know from Adam. Missy is a good friend of mine.”

“Good. That’s good.”

On silent agreement, they approached Missy’s yard from the neighbor’s. Every shade, blind or curtain in Missy’s house had been drawn, and every light was on. Whoever was inside was ready to receive anything that hit him.

“You cover the woods out back,” Jonas ordered. “I’m going in. I could use a diversion.” Without a radio, they had no way to silently communicate.

“How long do you need to get in position?”

Jonas glanced into the trees. “Three minutes from when I hit the roof.”

“That should be enough time for me to locate the man guarding the perimeter. When I do, I’ll make some noise.”

He glanced at Taylor. The man looked and acted capable, but this was life or death. Possibly Missy’s. “You sure you can handle—”

“Fifteen years on the Chicago P.D. oughta be good for something,” Taylor said, interrupting. “I chose Mirabelle. She didn’t choose me.”

“All right, then.” Jonas strapped his gun over his neck and climbed the oak tree in the yard bordering Missy’s. Thirty feet up he traversed a branch that looked sturdy enough to carry him to the massive elm in Missy’s yard.

Channeling featherlight weight he went as far out on the oak limb as he dared and then jumped. On catching the targeted elm branch, he heard it crack with his weight. Quickly, as the branch dipped lower and lower, threatening to give way, he made it toward the center of the tree. Lowering himself to the roof of Missy’s house, he quietly moved to the dormer of her guest bedroom, carefully knocked out a pane of glass and slipped inside. So far so good.

He marked the time, moved down the hall and glanced downstairs. It was as he’d expected, but the sight of Missy gagged and bound to a chair in the middle of the living room still sent a rush of rage through him like nothing he’d ever felt. Missy spotted him at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened for an instant, but she covered her reaction well.

Good girl. Now where are they?

As if reading his thoughts, she signaled with her eyes toward the kitchen. That meant he’d have cover for only a few feet in his descent to the first floor. Carefully, he eased his weight onto the first step, then the second and down as far as he could go without making a sound or becoming visible to Stein.

Glancing around the corner, he found Stein, gun in hand, pacing in the kitchen, close enough to the steps that Jonas could get to him. The man might be management, but he was still in tip-top shape. Not wanting to risk Missy getting caught in the cross fire, Jonas would have to take Stein without his weapon.

“Webster, you clear?” Stein whispered into his earpiece and waited for the response. “Good.”

Webster—ex-Special Agent Webster—had gotten fired some years back after a federal witness under his protection had managed to get killed a little too easily. Taylor was going to have his hands full outside.

Jonas glanced at his watch. Thirty more seconds. He waited. Waited, some more. He glanced into Missy’s eyes and every second felt like a lifetime. She was crying. Tears streamed across her cheek as she watched him. A short shake of her head.

Don’t come down here. Don’t do this.

“It’ll be okay,” he mouthed. “Shh.”

God, how he wanted to hold her. Reassure her. Make this all go away. If he could, he would simply walk away from everything, including his job and the Bureau, and disappear with Missy. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to see it, that it’d taken her being tied up and gagged for the truth to sink into his thick skull and even thicker-skinned heart. She was the only thing that mattered anymore in his life. He loved her, had always loved her. Without Missy life meant nothing, and
that
was the real reason he’d taken that undercover job years ago.

“I love you,” he mouthed, causing an answering flood of tears in her eyes.
I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it.

A gunshot sounded outside, snapping Jonas back. The short burst of sound was enough to get Stein distracted and looking out the window. “Is he here?” he yelled into his mike. “Talk to me! Did you nail him?”

Jonas jumped the remaining steps and barreled full throttle into Stein, dislodging his earpiece and sending them both flying into the wall. Everything else happened in seconds. Jonas gripped Stein’s wrist and knocked the gun out of his hand. Stein twisted away and went on the offensive. Jonas took a couple jabs to his gut, and then turned and punched Stein a couple of times. He grabbed him and flipped him onto the ground. Kneed him and twisted his arms behind his back.

“You’re done!” he shouted, cuffing him. He would’ve loved nothing better in that moment than to put a bullet between Stein’s eyes. Not tonight. There was someone more important. Jonas quickly went to Missy and worked off the gag.

“Outside!” she said. “They’re outside, too.”

“I know.” Though he didn’t have the time to tell her everything that was going through his mind, he tried to tell her with his eyes, the touch of his hand. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. The moment he untied her from the chair, she flew into his arms. “Let’s finish this.” He gave his handgun to Missy. “Shoot the bastard if he moves.” Then he went to the window and cautiously glanced toward the tree line.

Taylor was walking toward the house, using a handcuffed and limping Webster as cover. Jonas flung open the back door, grabbed Webster and pushed him down next to Stein.

“Jonas, that’s not all,” Missy said, frantic. “There are three of them.”

“What?”

“Matthews is outside.”

“Missy, Brent Matthews is dead.”

“No,” Missy cried. “I saw him. I know it was him.”

“Drop it, Jonas,” came the sound of a man’s very familiar voice behind them.

Jonas spun around to find Matthews, his undercover partner, standing in the doorway, his gun drawn and pointing at Jonas’s head. “I saw you take two bullets,” Jonas said. “Back in Chicago.”

“Ain’t Kevlar amazing? You should know better than believing everything you see.”

Taylor made a slow, easy movement toward the kitchen counter.

“Don’t try anything stupid, cop,” Matthews said, “or Jonas is dead. You’ll be next.”

Taylor froze.

“Get over here by your friends.”

Garrett moved toward Jonas and Missy.

“Get these cuffs off!” Stein yelled.

“I don’t think so.” Matthews chuckled. “I got a couple million, yours and mine, in an offshore account that says you look mighty fine just the way you are.”

“You’re a dead man, Matthews,” Stein muttered.

“Promises, promises.” Matthews kicked Stein in the gut. “Now where’s that memory stick, Jonas?”

“It’s too late, Brent. Kensington’s got everything.”

“I figured as much.” He shrugged. “But Delgado doesn’t know that yet.”

Jonas had no illusions about this situation. The moment Matthews had what he wanted, they’d all be dead. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, stalling.
Think. Think. There’s got to be a way out.

“Isn’t it always about the money?”

“So that’s it? You took this assignment to finagle out some hush money?”

“Didn’t start out that way.” He shook his head. “Stein here was the one always looking for a bribe. But funny things happen when a man’s undercover for a long time. When he’s lost connection to the real world.”

Jonas understood, probably too well. If it hadn’t been for Missy, there was no telling what might’ve happened to him.

“I stopped giving a shit,” Matthews went on. “So when Stein realized he needed help to make this thing happen, I didn’t hesitate. We’d have brought you in, too, Jonas, if I’d have thought for a second you’d consider it, but you and I both know you’re a company man all the way.”

Not anymore. Now all Jonas wanted was out. Legitimately. While a life with Missy might be too much to ask, he couldn’t let anything happen to her. He had to stop this, right here. Right now. For Missy’s sake.

“All right,” Jonas said. “Let’s get this over and done with.” He glanced at Missy. One last look. If he was lucky he’d have time enough to put one shot in Matthews. “I love you,” he said.

A new rush of tears flowed down her cheeks as if she knew exactly what he had planned. “I know,” she whispered.

Jonas bolted for the gun on the kitchen counter, redirecting the weapons fire away from Taylor and Missy.

Matthews aimed.

“No!” Missy propelled herself into action and flew through the air as Matthews fired at Jonas.

Then everything was a blur.

Missy on the ground. Blood all over. Taylor kicked the gun out of Matthews’s hand. “You came to the wrong island, asshole!” he yelled before pummeling Matthews.

Jonas flew to Missy’s side. “Missy!” Matthews had hit an artery in her leg. She was bleeding out. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Please.” He couldn’t lose her. Could never, ever live without her again. “Don’t move, Miss. It’s going to be all right.”

Quickly grabbing the scarf Stein had used to gag her, Jonas wrapped it around her leg and tightened it as best he could. Then he picked her up. Already, she was pale.

“I got this!” Taylor called out as he cuffed Matthews. “Get her to the doc’s house down the street!” He relayed the house number. “I’ll send the ambulance there and call for the medical response helicopter from the mainland.”

Carrying Missy in his arms, Jonas raced outside, praying like hell Sean was home.

“The baby,” she whispered. “Our baby.”

“Shh. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I love you, Jonas,” she murmured before her eyes closed and her head lolled back lifelessly.

“You’re not going to die!” he called, running as fast as he could. “You can’t die!”

So tired.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” someone said. Sean?

Whispers. Distant. Quiet. Real? Imagined?

“She’s pregnant.”

“I know…possible…kind of trauma…can cause hemorrhagic shock.”

No. No, no, no.

Our baby,
she wanted to cry.
Save our baby, Jonas.

She was too tired to open her eyes, hadn’t the strength to make a sound. Then there was no sound at all, only the feeling of Jonas’s hand gripping hers as if he’d never let go.