Beck & Call (31 page)

The fact that Ms. DeWinter had enough humanity to flinch didn’t make her feel better.

~

Jake didn’t have many buddies, but he’d kept one from his training days at The Farm. Sawyer Hayes ran a security firm loosely headquartered in New Jersey. He did “tricky” private jobs, including for Uncle Sam if and when requested. Jake had barely finished explaining their situation when Sawyer volunteered himself and an employee to rescue Mia.

He arrived in a dusty off-road pickup with enough equipment stowed in the cargo bed compartment to wage war on an army of corrupt moguls.

Because Sawyer wasn’t the type to let another man take the wheel, Jake squeezed into the crew cab with the others as a passenger. The drive to the location Damien obtained from Zoe felt like it was multiplied by ten. Jake knew he was annoying his seat companions, but his nerves weren’t in a state that allowed him to sit still. If anything happened to Mia …

He didn’t want to finish that statement. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Mia
meant
things to him no one had before.

Ironically, what kept him from disintegrating was Damien’s outward calm. Though the CEO had to be nervous, he had sufficient ice in his veins—or maybe sufficient emotional distance—to keep from fidgeting.

If he could keep it together, Jake would too.

They stopped short of their destination to pull off the two-lane and under cover of the pines. Damien took out the little spy plane and laptop controller he’d obligingly brought along.

“Give me fifteen,” he said to Sawyer with his not so playful toy underneath one arm. “I’ll pinpoint the target and you can decide the best way for us approach.”

Sawyer pulled a face that told Jake he didn’t like Damien’s use of the word
us.
Jake understood his reluctance to involve a civilian in an op but wasn’t inclined to intervene. Regarding the drone at least, Damien knew what he was doing.

If they could take Raeburn by surprise, they ought to.

Fortunately, Damien’s reconnoitering took ten minutes and not fifteen. From the drone’s bird’s eye perspective, the paper plant was easily identifiable.

Adding to the evidence that they had the right place, the florist van that abducted Mia hadn’t been concealed. The camera confirmed its presence, also sending back footage of the terrain around the derelict factory. Though they didn’t know how many hostiles were inside, the single guard they spotted on patrol shouldn’t be hard to disable.

Despite how useful this all was, Sawyer remained grumpy.

“I’m not staying with the truck,” Damien informed him, his gaze rock steady as he stared down the scowling man. “The smart choice is to keep the drone up until the last minute, so you know if circumstances change. You need me to operate it. Plus, I’ll carry the screen.”

He lifted the laptop to demonstrate.

Sawyer refused to look grateful. “I’m not arming you. And no arguments about vesting up.”

“Agreed.” Damien’s sculpted lips twitched the tiniest bit. “I should probably inform you I brought my own pistol.”

“Jesus H,” was Sawyer’s response to that.

Jake guessed his old friend decided to let the debate go. He returned to Jake to gear up.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered as he shrugged an M16 over his hard-as-granite shoulder. “You I trust. Curtis I’ve drunk and gone hunting with. This yahoo is a complete stranger.”

The
yahoo
was wrestling with the straps of a black flak jacket. Since Damien had probably never worn a ballistic vest, his awkwardness was understandable. Sawyer jerked his head impatiently toward his employee, whose name he hadn’t seen fit to share. The silent, fit-looking man went to help Damien.

“He’s not a complete stranger,” Jake pointed out. “You know who he is.”

“And that’s another thing,” Sawyer griped. “Since when do you hang with billionaires?”

Since they’re so freaking kinky hot,
was the thought that rolled through mind.

“Mia matters to him,” he said aloud. “And he can take orders.”

“Oh can he?” Sawyer snickered, knowing a bit about Jake’s side interest.

“Order him toward the back,” Jake suggested. “I know you’d rather hogtie him to the bumper, but if you let him come, he’ll owe you. Just think how many more toys he’s invented or can dream up.”

Sawyer’s eyes took on a speculative gleam. “If Damien Call gets killed, two zillion people will shit their pants. You’re gonna have to explain it.”

“Agreed,” Jake said as lightly as he could.

His sudden and intense discomfort at the thought of Damien dying told him something he hadn’t admitted to himself. For no reason he could explain, the realization that he had
more
at risk than just Mia calmed his nerves. He was ready to do this.

“We need to go,” Curtis interrupted, his face ten years older from the hardness that had gripped it. “Mia’s plucky but she’s no G.I. Jane. If Raeburn tortures her to get what he wants, she’ll never be the same.”

“All right,” Sawyer said, relinquishing his irritation over Damien. “Let’s put this fat cat down.”

He didn’t mean
down
as in
in the ground
. He meant out of commission. In that moment, the fact that Jake was okay with either didn’t cause him much concern.

~

Mia dragged out her designated task as long as Raeburn let her get away with it. She asked for water and was given it. Ditto for pauses to shake out her cramping hand. The blueprint was large and complicated, which helped somewhat. The simple physical act of recreating it took time. Finally, though, she was done.

She slid the completed drawing reluctantly across the table to Genbolt’s CEO, who turned the sheet around to study it right side up. He’d brought the half he’d shown her earlier for comparison. He stood up to pour over them side by side.

Mia fought not to squirm. The longer this took, the better.

The silence allowed her to inventory her assorted aches and pains. Her head was throbbing and her feet had fallen asleep due to the tightness of the duct tape. Thanks to her periodic “encouragements” from the bearded flunkies, one of her eyes had puffed shut. She didn’t think the man had meant to strike her there. She’d needed both eyes to work. She’d simply cringed in the wrong direction at just the right moment. The blows to her cheek, on the other hand, had been intentional. Where the skin had split, blood trickled slowly down her skin. The warm syrup sensation was peculiar.

She wondered if she looked like a horror movie set at IHOP.

Her desire to laugh warned her she was in shock—literally punch drunk, she guessed.

Keep it together
, she thought. Her brain was the best defense she had.

Raeburn appeared to have finished comparing her drawing with his half version. He squinted at the new bits.

“What’s this?” he demanded, pointing at a formula.

Mia met his suspicious eyes and shrugged. She prayed he couldn’t see how fast her heart was beating. “I’m not a scientist. I just redrew what I saw.”

“Don’t play games with me. I’ve already proved I’ll do what it takes to get this out of you.”

“Maybe Damien’s ideas are too advanced for you to understand.”

Her scorn for him had crept into her voice. Raeburn pinned her with a cold stare.

Mia shifted on her hard chair. “If you don’t believe me, call one of your experts.”

Raeburn’s grimace said maybe he couldn’t loop in his employees. They might not know about his more questionable business practices. Mia hoped this was the case, but then he snapped his fingers at one of his associates. “Take a picture of this with your burner phone. Send it to Kozlov for an opinion.”

When he turned back to her, Mia put on her calmest face, praying she’d gotten better at acting in the last few days. She didn’t know what Raeburn’s tech would say. Damien was an honest-to-God genius. His plan
might
be too advanced for the scientists at Genbolt to decipher.

Raeburn continued to stare at her while his associate made the call. She didn’t like the attention, but chances were the blood and the swelling of her eye made it hard to read her thoughts. Where were Curtis and Jake anyway? She’d like to be rescued now, thank you.

“Boss,” said the bearded guy. “Reception in here is crap. I need to try from outside.”

“Go,” Raeburn said. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the channel of Mia’s spine. Her right arm had been cut loose to make the drawing. She’d drawn it back from the table, and her free hand rested on her thigh. When it curled into an anxious fist, she realized she still held a pencil. Was it sharp enough to attack Raeburn? Could she lure him close enough to her chair to try? No doubt Jake knew a dozen ways to kill a man with a writing implement.

Next chance she got, Mia would ask him to teach her one.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she began to say.

“I hear something,” Ms. DeWinter interrupted—for which helpfulness Mia could happily have used the pencil on her.

Raeburn pulled a gun from where he’d tucked it beneath the back of his flannel shirt. He pointed it at the door the guy with the phone had left from.

“Don’t shoot,” that same fellow said.

He had his hands up. A man Mia didn’t know was marching him back into the building. He’d jabbed a semiautomatic pistol tight to the flunky’s neck, effectively turning his prisoner into his shield. This seemed a good development to Mia, except the second bearded guy had drawn his gun now too. He and Raeburn aimed determinedly at the man in the flak jacket.

“Drop it,” the newcomer ordered. “If you fire, I’ll make you shoot him and then I’ll shoot you.”

“I can get him,” the second bearded guy murmured to Raeburn. He looked like he could. His arm muscles bunched as he sighted.

“He said drop it,” a new voice repeated behind them.

Mia’s head jerked around. For a second, all she could see was Jake. His shoulder braced a black military rifle, which he squinted down like he meant business. He wasn’t the person who’d spoken. That was another man she didn’t know. To her amazement, Damien stood behind both, pointing his own smaller gun two-handed. He was pale but determined.

Her heart jumped crazily. He’d come to save her too?

“Do you need to hear it a third time?” Curtis asked. “Drop. The fucking. Guns.”

Mia’s usually charming boss stepped out from the shadows between two giant paper machines, also armed and aiming his M16 like he’d held one before. Mia barely recognized him. He looked so hard and serious.

The bad guys must have thought he was serious too. Since they were surrounded, the second bearded guy put his hands up, crouching slowly to place his weapon on the floor. Mia
almost
had a chance to relax.

“No!” Ms. DeWinter cried, completely freaking Mia out by darting over to pick up the surrendered gun.

Mia guessed she
really
didn’t want to see Mia end up on top.

As the secretary grabbed the gun and turned, a rifle let out a single bark, taking the Ms. DeWinter in the shoulder. The feat of marksmanship came too late. The standoff was broken. Raeburn hadn’t put down his pistol yet. He twisted around to point it at the men behind Mia. His trigger finger tightened and her brain went white. She didn’t even think. She flung herself desperately forward, still taped within the chair. Her shoulder hit the steel table slightly beneath its edge. Her feet had just enough leverage to slam her weight upward and turn the thing over.

Raeburn’s gun exploded, but the upended table had already crashed into him. He stumbled, Ms. DeWinter screamed, and bearded guy number two flattened himself on the floor with his hands stacked behind his head.

“Go, go, go,” urged one of her rescuers.

The building’s cavernous acoustics made it sound like a hundred boots ran at once. Thirty seconds later, all the bad guys were controlled, their wrists and feet being trussed in zip ties by the men who’d wrangled them to the floor. Mia was pretty trussed up herself. She’d fallen on her side with the chair attached to her.

As she wriggled to get loose, she was a little disappointed she hadn’t got the chance to attack someone with her pencil.

“Hey, sweetie,” Curtis said, coming over to help her. He tipped her up and stroked her hair from her face. His first good look at her shocked him. “Holy shit. Mia.”

“I’m okay,” she said, irrationally embarrassed. “Nothing’s broken. He just gave me a black eye.”

“And a split cheek and a busted lip.”

“Stand back,” Jake said. “I want to cut that tape off her.”

His face was coldly angry. For no reason she could explain this opened the floodgates on her emotions.

“Jake,” she exclaimed, her tears spilling out. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Sheesh,” Curtis said, backing off to give Jake room.

“You too,” she added. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

Curtis laughed as Jake sliced through the tape with a box cutter. “I’ll check on the crazy chick in the evening gown, the one Sawyer’s employee winged.”

Right then, Ms. DeWinter wasn’t Mia’s main concern.

“Is Damien okay? Did Raeburn hit him?”

“He missed,” Jake assured her. “Your quick thinking spoiled his aim.” He’d crouched down to free her ankles but now he rose. “Can you stand?”

She shook her head. “My feet are asleep.”

He touched her cheek very gently, his eyes like intense blue flames. “You are some doll, all right. A real firecracker.”

“Would you help me up?”

He helped her, thankfully not commenting on her shakes but holding her tight against his side. His grip was so firm she barely needed her legs.

“Oh!” she said. “The guy with the phone! He went outside to send someone a picture of Damien’s plan.”

Jake patted her. “We caught him before he got a signal. His phone is already secured.”

One of the men she didn’t know came over.

“This is Sawyer Hayes,” Jake said without letting go of her. “He organized your rescue. Sawyer, this is Mia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the man said with military politeness. He was tall and wiry and had a sun-lined face. He must have had nerves of steel. The hand that shook hers was bone dry and callused from edge to edge. Even Jake wasn’t that steady. Sawyer’s light brown gaze shifted from her to him. “Raeburn is threatening us with his lawyers. And his friends in the government.”