Her Enemy Protector (29 page)

She checked her mounting fury. She didn’t have time to be angry at her father right now. First things first. She had to rescue Joe, and then she’d strangle her father.

She hit the Recent Calls button and redialed Colonel Folly. He answered on the first ring.

“You were right. Thank you so much. I’m sorry I believed the worst.”

“It’s all right. I’m glad we got it straightened out. But we’ve got more pressing matters to deal with. We’ve got to get you out of there. Now. Let me speak to Joe.”

“Uh, my father has Joe. He knows he’s in Charlie Squad. I…I let that slip when I thought Charlie Squad murdered Julia. I’m so sorry—”

Folly cut off her apology. “No time for that. You say Ferrare’s got Joe?”

“Yes. He’s probably in the basement.” Gunter nodded beside her. “Yes, he’s definitely in the basement. My father’s got a—a torture chamber…down there. He’ll do terrible things to Joe before he kills him.”

“We don’t have anywhere near enough firepower to storm your father’s house,” Folly replied. “Is there anyone inside who can help you? We need to get you out. Now.”

“Yes, there’s someone who’ll help me. But I’m not leaving without Joe!”

“This is no time for heroics, Miss Ferrare. My job will be easier if you’re not running around in the line of fire. When we come in, I don’t need to be worrying about pulling you out, too.”

“I won’t go,” she said stubbornly. “Besides, I can help you. How close are you?”

“I’m looking at your father’s house, as we speak.”

“I can probably drop some of the perimeter security systems and let you in. I’ll call you back when I’ve done it.” She disconnected the line before Folly could argue with her anymore.

Gunter’s brow furrowed. His betrayal of her father might extend to passing her Joe’s cell phone, but it might not extend to letting the enemy in the front door.

“We’ve got to save him, Gunter,” she said earnestly. “It’s my fault that he’s in trouble. We can’t let him die. I
love
him!”

Chapter 18

G
unter sighed heavily. “I took a vow once that I would never betray or harm your father. He saved my life and, in turn, I swore I would never turn on him.”

“I’m not asking you to kill Eduardo,” Cari pleaded. “I’m begging you to help me save Joe. Please. If you’ve ever cared for me, do this now.”

Gunter stared at her for a long time. Then he said heavily, “I’ll do what I can.”

They left the bathroom and headed for the hallway door. And stopped short when the knob wouldn’t turn under Cari’s hand. Gunter tried the door. Shook his head. It was locked.

She called through the panel, “Grace? Let me out.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Ferrare,” a male voice said outside. “I can’t do that. I’m under orders to keep you in your room until further notice.”

Gunter called out, “Guillermo, it’s Gunter. Let me out.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Eduardo was explicit. No one comes into or goes out of Miss Cari’s room until he says otherwise.”

Cari blinked. And stared at Gunter in dismay. Had Eduardo figured out what Gunter was up to? Had the German just thrown his own life away in the name of rescuing Cari from her grief?

The German shrugged, his face set in grim lines.

“I’m so sorry, Gunter,” she choked out.

“I knew something like this might happen. It was my decision. I accept my fate.”

Her eyes narrowed. One thing she’d learned from Joe was never to say never. She wasn’t going to roll over and play dead yet. There had to be a way to get out of here and help Joe.

“The ladder,” she whispered to Gunter, acutely aware of the bugs in her room.

A grin broke across his face. He nodded and the two of them sprinted across the room toward her balcony. Gunter grabbed her arm and stopped her from bursting outside. He stood to one side of the French doors and peered out from behind the curtains.

She whispered in his ear, “Joe says that the cameras all line up facing away from the balcony every few minutes. We can slip out then.”

Gunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that how you two got out for that skinny-dip?”

She smiled briefly and nodded.

“How long is the coverage gap?” he muttered.

“About fifteen seconds,” she replied.

“We’ll have to be fast, then.” He glanced down at the high-heeled sandals on her feet. “Go put on tennis shoes while I watch for the cameras to line up.”

She raced to her closet and threw on the black slacks and turtleneck from the night before, along with the tennis shoes. She was just tying the last shoe when Gunter gestured for her to come to the door.

“Next pass of that camera to the right,” he murmured.

She nodded her understanding.

There. It was swinging away from them. They slipped outside silently and threw the ladder over the side railing. Gunter looked twenty years younger as he disappeared over the edge of the balcony. But she didn’t have time to stop and wonder why as she swung her legs over the edge and raced after him.

I’m coming for you, Joe. Hang on just a little longer.

They tag-teamed pounding on him. When one thug got tired, the next one would step in. Thankfully, the pain from his bruised kidney made Joe pass out quickly enough that he didn’t suffer through much of it.

He came to when a bucket of cold water was thrown on him. Eduardo was standing in the corner, grinning like a damned shark. He didn’t bother telling the bastard what he thought of him. Ferrare wasn’t worth wasting his breath on.

“Now that we’ve got him tenderized a bit, what say we move on to something a little more interesting?” Eduardo gloated.

Several of the men left the room, no doubt to fetch some lovely toys like car batteries and filleting knives.

The door opened and another guard stuck his head into the room. “Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but there’s something going on down in security that you need to take a look at. We’re picking up a transmission out of the house.”

Eduardo turned in irritation. “What
sort
of transmission?”

“We’re not exactly sure. It’s sort of like a phone signal. You need to come see it.”

Eduardo cursed and headed for the door, followed by two more of his flunkies. That left Joe alone with just two guys. He felt like hamburger, but it was probably the best and only chance he’d get to try something. He spoke up derisively. “Can’t you sissies do any better than this? It feels like I’ve had a nice massage, but that’s about it.”

On cue, both thugs advanced on him. His arms might be tied to the chair, but his legs weren’t. He held his feet still until both men were well within his reach, then lashed out viciously, kicking the nearest man in the face. As the guy went down, shouting in pain, Joe flung the chair onto its side, rolled and came up, bent over but on his feet. He charged forward, ramming the top right corner of the chair into the second guy’s groin. The thug went down, gasping like a dying fish.

Joe slammed himself into the table, praying the chair would give way before the table. It did. Damn, that hurt his kidney! The back partially tore free of the seat. Struggling to stay conscious as waves of pain poured over him, he worked the ropes binding his wrists free enough for him to turn around partway in the chair.

The first guy was back on his feet. Joe raised the chair overhead and smashed it down on the thug. The guy dropped like a rock, but even better, the chair busted the rest of the way. He shook his hands free of the wreckage, looped both ends of the rope around his hands and choked the first guy until he turned an ugly purple color and was well and truly unconscious.

He spun around and kicked as hard as he could, nailing the second guy, who was still down on the ground, in the groin again. The guy screamed. He wouldn’t be standing—or fathering children—anytime soon. The guy appeared to pass out.

Thankfully, the padded walls had absorbed the sound of the fight, and nobody would think twice about screams coming out of this room right now. Joe cracked open the door. Two thugs were moving quickly away from him toward the stairs. He could hear Eduardo talking excitedly in the security office, barking orders, but Joe couldn’t make out the words. Nor did he have the time to try.

He slipped outside into the hall and tried to run for the freezer. But the best he could manage was an old-lady limp. They’d busted him up good, all right. He hobbled down the hall, ducked inside the meat locker, closed the door and turned on the light. Got to keep moving. He grabbed a mop from the corner and wedged it into the big stainless-steel handle so the door couldn’t be opened from the outside.

He headed for his stash of tools. He grabbed the crowbar and tore the lid off one of the crates marked C-4. He stuffed a couple dozen blocks of the heavy gray putty into plastic grocery bags he grabbed off the shelves. Into another bag he threw the pliers, wire cutters and wire he’d stashed earlier.

And now for a weapon. He hoped. He applied the crowbar to the large, coffinlike crate. One of the padlocks popped off and he pried open the lid, peering inside.

He recoiled and let the lid slam down. Those weren’t guns in the box. They were an expensive pair of leather men’s shoes. An
occupied
pair of shoes. Eduardo actually had a dead man stored down here beside his food! How twisted was that? Joe examined the other boxes quickly and found none marked as weapons. Quickly, he tore the lids off all the C-4 boxes and dumped their contents on the floor. When it blew, it should set off all the remaining ammunition in here, and hopefully it would take a good chunk of the house overhead with it.

He grabbed a coil of detonator cord out of one of the crates and tossed it over his shoulder. He jammed one end of it into a block of C-4 and fed the cord off his shoulder as he headed back toward the door.

He pressed his ear against the thick steel and faintly heard a ruckus outside. His escape must have been discovered. He heard shouting and what sounded like pounding feet. After a few seconds, the noise died down. Very slowly, he cracked open the door of the freezer. The hallway was empty. Laying the detonator cord on the floor along the wall, he fed it down the hall as fast as his broken body would go. He stepped into the interrogation room, which was now empty. He wrapped the cord around a block of C-4, set it on the floor by the door and, after a quick check of the hall, slipped outside once more.

Next, he ducked into the big storage room. Lots of good flammables in here. He wired another block of C-4 and took the detonator cord over to the big generator in the back. He pulled out the wire cutters and pliers and connected the cord to the timer he’d wired up the night before. Then he started a second strand of detonator cord, leading away from the timer.

He set the alarm clock on top of the generator for twenty minutes from now. That ought to be enough time to head upstairs, find Cari and get the hell out of Dodge. If it wasn’t enough time, they were both screwed anyway and it wouldn’t matter if they were still in the house when it blew. He wound the old-fashioned clock and it started to tick. He checked his watch. Nineteen minutes and fifty-five seconds to go.

And now to create a more ideal working environment for himself. He shouldered the detonator cord, picked up his bags of C-4 and grabbed a pair of wood-handled garden loppers. He put his pocket flashlight between his teeth and stepped out into the hall.

It hurt like hell to reach up over his head with the loppers. Must have a couple of busted ribs. He gritted his teeth and reached for the first electrical bundle. He snipped through it. He snipped through two more bundles of wire before it suddenly went pitch-black around him. Bingo. He’d just hit the house lighting system. He heard shouts erupt upstairs and a couple of guys inside the security office next door started yelling back and forth in the dark.

Joe flipped on the flashlight and put it back between his teeth. Two more bundles to go. He snipped through the last one and turned off his light, just as the first man came charging out of the security office, flashlight in hand. Joe melted back against the wall.

That flashlight was a mistake. It was a beacon saying, Here I am, come get me. Joe jumped the guy from behind. He grabbed the guard’s head and gave it a vicious twist. He didn’t like using the move because it killed the recipient as often as not. But he was unarmed and didn’t have time to screw around with gentler tactics.

He patted the guy’s ribs down. Thank God. The guy was packing. Joe lifted the guard’s gun and identified it by feel. A Glock pistol. He took the safety off and chambered a round, then stuck the pistol in the back of his belt. The second guy came out of the security office and was as easy to drop and disarm as the first one. Not used to operating in the dark, apparently. Too bad. That was Charlie Squad’s native environment.

He grabbed the bags of C-4 and headed for the stairs, feeding out detonator cord as fast as he could. His joints seemed to be loosening up slightly, but he still felt like a dead man walking. He stepped out into the kitchen. Cari was up here somewhere. He ducked behind the center island as someone rushed past in the dark, shouting. While he was there, he laid down another block of C-4 wrapped with detonator cord, wedging it underneath the edge of the island.

He headed for the dining room, next. He planted another block of C-4 and moved on, this time into the TV room. He had to duck a couple of guys racing through.

The chaos was unbelievable. The guards had no plan whatsoever for dealing with a home invasion, which was dumb. No fortress was impenetrable. Joe planted several more blocks of C-4 as he made his way toward the stairs. He ran out of detonator cord before he got to the second floor. That was okay. He just dropped blocks of C-4 as he went. They’d make for an excellent secondary explosion once the first batch went up. He checked his watch. Twelve minutes to go. No sweat. In all this mayhem, he and Cari could stroll out the front door and nobody would notice them. He turned the corner into the hall leading to her room and was stunned to see an armed guard standing outside. Crap. Joe ducked back around the corner, thinking fast. He stood up and backed around the corner, arms out as if he held a guy, moving quickly and shouting in Spanish for the guard to get downstairs and help catch the American.