Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (67 page)

But it was a lost opportunity.

Another moment they never had.

Wes turned on his phone, writing a quick note to Carey. He attached the recording of Mack’s pained confession. He hoped the man would do the right thing tomorrow morning, but if he didn’t, Carey would step up. Wes was certain of it. And that would free him to leave…

Maybe he would go to Paris. See the Louvre after all.

Wes’s pensiveness was broken by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall some distance away. He stood very still at the end of the gallery, listening. Then he saw a flash of red as Sam swept pass.

Wes began moving toward the entrance, thinking he’d just see her one more time. It would hurt, but he wanted to look into her eyes. He wanted to say goodbye… the right way. The way he should have all those years ago.

Suddenly, the museum’s alarm system went off, the sound jarring. Rolling metal flaps immediately descended over the walls, shielding the artwork. Wes paused, listening to the message over the loudspeaker, calling for evacuation.

Was it a fire?

Some kind of theft?

Just then, Wes saw a tall, gaunt man walking quickly in the same direction as Samantha. The man looked like a waiter, but at that distance, he couldn’t tell.

Frowning, Wes followed.

*

April—Evening

Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Texas

J A C K

As soon as
the alarm system went off, it was organized mayhem. Sluggish to start, people were soon heading for the exits like they’d let a lion loose in the main gallery, herded by a combination of MFAH guards and Sam’s security team.

Jack pushed against the tidal procession of people, craning his neck as he searched for Sam.

“We have to go,” Anand told him, gripping his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Jack shook him off. “No—where’s Sam? I’m not leaving without her.”

Anand shook his head, a warning look flashing in his dark eyes as he gripped Jack’s arm firmly. “I’m following her orders, Mr. Roman. She asked that we take you to safety.”

“No,
goddammit!”
he shouted over the din. He tried to shove Anand back, but the man blocked him smoothly, spinning and twisting Jack’s arm behind his back.

“Sir, please calm yourself. I’m trying to protect you. I’m following her orders.”

“Where the hell is she?” Jack gritted out, breathing heavily, fear, anxiety, and anger coursing through him, making him break into a cold sweat.

Rox appeared in front of him, wearing a wig and glasses. She clasped his shoulders, squeezing. “Calm. Down.”

“Fuck off!
You
calm down!” Jack shouted back, straining against Anand’s hold as he glared at her. “Where’s Sam?”

She ignored his outburst. “Sam told me to give you a message. She told me to tell you:
trust her
.”

Jack struggled anew but it was no use. For his diminutive stature, the bastard had Jack in a vise grip he wasn’t likely to let go of. His arm was aching now from the exertion.

“Where is she?” he spat out again, winded as he glared her down.

“Trust her, Jack,” Rox repeated. “You have to go. Anand will escort you out. We’ll have you in the Wyatt chopper in a few minutes.”

“I’m not leaving without her!” he insisted, anger and fear blooming through his veins.

“Yes, you are.”

The commotion increased as the place was swarming with the FBI and the Houston PD. Rox touched her ear piece, all business. “Get bomb squad to the kitchen. Rush found the warhead. It’s not on a timer—he needs to disable the detonator.”

Jack listened with wide eyes. Then in a last, desperate attempt, he stepped back and shoved Anand hard against the wall, body slamming the man in a mighty, backward heave. Anand’s grip loosened but not all the way. Jack was still trying to shake him off when Rox stepped forward, wound her right arm up and spiked a vicious hook that he had no time to jerk away from, even though he saw it coming.

Rox landed the punch right on his chin.

Lights out.

*

April—Evening

Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Texas

S A M A N T H A

It was a
warm night, soft with just a touch of humidity, like slipping into bath water. The air was scented with the sweet, sultry tangle of honeysuckle vines and plumeria, planted around the walls of the modern sculpture garden. The space was spare and contemporary, centered around a long, rectangular reflection pool that glowed in the moonlight. She heard the sounds of sirens coupled with raised voices in the distance, saw the red and blue flash of police lights glancing off the smooth marble like a moving watercolor come to life.

“Blue team leader status—the bomb’s manual trigger is hooked to a command mechanism that’s syncing to a three-digit code,” Rush reported.

“What does that mean?” Rox responded over the comms.

“It requires constant authentication or it detonates,” Rush answered grimly.

Sam walked straight ahead, not turning even when she heard the door open behind her, trying to get some distance between her and the building so Talon and Henri could get a clean shot. She stopped only when she reached the edge of the garden at a wall of tall, topiary bushes sculpted to look like towering obelisks. The space was dimly lit by cleverly hidden sconces and the eerie glow of a full moon. She hoped he couldn’t see the goosebumps on her arms.

“Red is your color,” Lightner said behind her, his crisp British accent cutting through the humid air like a stiletto.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” she answered, relieved her voice was at least steady as she stared him down.

The surgeon he’d blinded had done a good job of remaking him. Lucien Lightner’s previously leonine good looks were now more indistinct. The kind of face that was difficult to place and easy to forget.

“I must say, I’m not loving the new look,” she told him, looking him over. “You were a rather handsome man before—maybe even a little devilish. Women like that,” she remarked dryly. “But now you’ve been reduced to…” her smile was slow and insolent as she gestured toward his waiter’s uniform. “—The
help
. It’s not a good look, Lightner,” she goaded. “Pitiful, really, how far you’ve fallen.”

If the comment vexed him, he didn’t show it, stepping closer toward her until he was about halfway between her and the door they’d come out of. He had a gun with a silencer in his hand, his other hand tucked casually in his pocket.

“Well, I must admit it was a bit tedious to have to do all this,” he replied with a sigh. “But I had to find a way to get you over a barrel, didn’t I, Samantha?”

“And what barrel would that be?”

Lightner held up a fob, dangling it neatly from a car key chain before swinging it back into his hand. He pressed the button, making a small red light glow briefly. “It’s very simple really. I’ve activated a dead man’s switch on a bomb I’ve placed in the building.”

“The code is changing constantly,” Rush said into her ear. “He must be triggering it somehow—like a radio frequency. Is he holding anything?”

“A key fob?” she scoffed, more for Rush’s benefit than to rile Lightner.

“Yes!” Rush exclaimed. “He’s using radio frequency from that fob to send a new authentication code to the bomb every few seconds!”

Fear skittered through her. If they took a shot at him and he didn’t trigger the fob, they’d all be dead in less than a second.

“Well, one has to make do with what one can get ahold of in a pinch.” Lightner shrugged, sliding the fob back in his pocket. “Ingenious really, what you can get at a hobby shop and a car rental counter these days.”

“Lightner, you will never get out of here alive,” she told him frankly, careful not to show the tremors in her hands. “Surely you know that.”

“Oh, I’m going to walk out of here, Samantha—right after I kill you,” he answered confidently. “Then I’m going to find Jack Roman and slit his throat from ear to ear,” he added, running the silencer from one end of his throat to the other. “I might even keep him awake a few days while I dismember him. Really make the moment last.” He smiled like a maniac.

“Sam—we
need
that fob,” Rush told her urgently. “You have to get close enough to him to get it. He misses one click and we’re done for.”

“I can take him,” Talon murmured.

“So can I,” Michaelson echoed from somewhere behind her.

“No,” she ordered, keeping her voice low, barely moving her mouth so Lightner wouldn’t hear or see her reaction in the dimly-lit garden.

She stepped toward him. “Don’t you want all your money back, Lightner?”

Lightner cocked his head, surprised at her approach, though his gun remained steady.

Danger pressed up against her from all sides.

If any of the men surrounding them tried to take Lightner, she could die.

If she didn’t get to him fast enough to press that damn button, everyone on the museum campus and in the surrounding area would die.

Sam thought of her family. Her team. Jack and Wes. The hundreds of people fleeing with no idea how close they stood to peril. The best way out of this was to sacrifice herself. To make Lightner believe he could take what he wanted. She continued to close the space between them, though she knew she was putting herself at tremendous risk, getting too close to a coiled snake.

“I could give it all back to you, you know, many times over. I’d be willing to buy my life,” she offered, getting to within six feet of him.

“I could shoot you right now.” His icy blue eyes narrowed. “In fact, it’s been a pleasure I’ve been imaging for some time.”

“Where’s the satisfaction in that?” Samantha taunted. “I took everything from you. Now you can make me heel.”

Five feet.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, Ms. Wyatt,” Lightner’s smile was almost lacerating. “I’ll make you suffer in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“So why not prolong it?” she suggested calmly. “After all, you’ve got me right where you want me. Don’t you?”

His pale eyes trailed down her daring red dress as she stepped forward.

Four feet.

“Not yet, love,” he murmured, leering at her, lecherous blood lust in his eyes. “Not yet.”

Goosebumps of revulsion ran up her arms. Lightner delighted in seeing them, mistaking her reaction for fear. Still, she moved closer.

Three feet.

His gun didn’t waver.

“I’ll give you everything I took from you and more,” she promised, her voice low and beguiling.

Two feet.

“What’s it worth to you, Lightner?” Sam stepped close enough that the barrel of his gun touched her chest.

They stared at one another. She watched the battle in his cold, calculating eyes. He wanted the win. But what was Lightner willing to risk in order to get it?

Suddenly, Wes burst through the doors. “Get the fuck away from her!” he shouted.

Lightner jerked around in surprise.

“
No
—
Wes!”
she screamed.

Lightner got one shot off, and Samantha reacted. She grabbed his shoulder in a vise grip, yanking him backward just enough to throw him off balance as he fired a second shot into the air. Lightner spun toward her like a top, gun extended. Sam locked onto his wrist before he could fire again, snapping forward from the waist in a tight, vicious blow. She head butt Lightner full in the face, breaking his nose with a crack she felt down to her toes. Blood burst from his broken nose as he cried out in shock. Then anger. Then
delirium
as he struggled to remain upright.

But she wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

Sam wrenched the gun out of his hand, twisting his hand backward so hard and fast she felt his wrist snap like a twig. He cried out again, a hoarse howl.

You’re going to die here, Lightner
.

He tried to swing at her, but Sam blocked the blow with her forearm. She used the upward momentum to throw her elbow hard into the side of his head, coming down onto his temple like a scythe. The moment her elbow connected, Lightner crashed to the ground in a heap, looking up at her with dazed eyes as she stood over him.

She felt unhinged. She felt savage.

“The fob, Sammy!” Talon shouted urgently from the Bluetooth. “Get the fob!”