HotTango (12 page)

Again, she uploaded it and texted Cole to let him know.

“Hey, hey!”

Tanya’s chin snapped up to where one of the gunmen grabbed a
young man by the shoulder and shook him. He yanked his cell phone out of his
hand and threw it on the ground, shattering it into little pieces. He pushed
the man into the crowd where he landed on his friends.

Trigger Happy lifted the muzzle of his weapon toward the
ceiling. People whimpered and at least one person screamed. “No more phones. I
see a phone, I shoot you. Do you understand? You have been warned.”

What’s going on in there, babe?

Picture uploading. They say no more phs.

Can they see the side door? Looks like the bleachers
might block their view.

That was brilliant!

Aaliyah snatched the phone from Tanya’s hands and shoved it
into her pocket. She stuck her finger under Tanya’s nose, a wild, fearful look
in her gaze. “You will not put us in danger.”

Tanya wanted to pull the woman’s hair out. Didn’t she know
that if they sat there doing nothing they were all going to die?

But Aaliyah wasn’t born in America. It took Tanya a moment
to remember she was from an African country and had fled with her sisters.
Because of the violence in her home country.

Tanya scooted closer. “We need to try to get people out
while we can.”

Aaliyah shook her head. “No. No, we sit here until they get
what they want and let us go.”

The girls nearest them tried to shush her, but Tanya wasn’t
having it. Their position was dire, and there wasn’t time to sit back and do
nothing.

“It doesn’t work that way. My husband is a police officer
and they’ve been searching for these men for a week. They have bombs and their
goal is to hurt people. That’s all they want, Aaliyah.”

“What do you know? You’ve lived a comfortable life here, in
America—”

“But my job has taken me all over the world. Into some of
the worst parts. They don’t want money. They want to kill people.”

“I said no—more—phones.”

Tanya turned back to the situation unfolding. A large, built
man shoved up to his feet and lunged for Trigger Happy, who was holding what
she assumed was the man’s phone. Tanya’s heart leapt into her throat.

No. No. No!

Trigger Happy backpedaled and brought his rifle up—and fired
a shot into the man’s stomach. The hostage stumbled forward before crumpling.
The two other gunmen grabbed their comrade and seemed to be as alarmed and as
shocked as the rest of them. They hauled him back, putting room between them
and the fallen man, as if they could escape the whole situation.

All around her people shrank back, screaming and crying.

“Oh my god.” Aaliyah gasped.

The side door to The Warehouse banged open and people began
rushing out, jumping to their feet and fleeing. Someone hit her from the side,
another person kicked her. She got to her feet just to avoid being trampled.

The derby girls were all on skates and at a disadvantage in
the crush of bodies.

There was so much yelling and screaming. Through it all she
thought she could hear the gunmen yell, but couldn’t make out what was being
said.

More gunshots rang out and the screaming went higher.
Suddenly people were running in the opposite direction.

Tanya stumbled forward and tripped over something. She
couldn’t get her foot free and pitched forward. Months of roller derby training
kicked in and she rolled as she fell, hitting the ground with a grunt.

And stared into the vacant, empty gaze of someone she’d
never met before.

* * * * *

Cole stared at his text messaging application.

No new messages.

“Westling?” O’Neil called out over the din in the command
center.

Cole shook his head and his stomach sank. The taste of bile
coated his mouth and it was becoming hard to breathe.

He could feel the gaze of the officers closest him hit and
skitter away. They were busy filtering through the many 9-1-1 calls coming from
people inside The Warehouse, but they all knew Cole’s point of contact was
different. It was an officer’s worst nightmare.

What was going on in there?

Why wasn’t Tanya replying?

A single blast stilled all motion inside the trailer. Radios
and phones chattered in the physical silence before erupting.

“Single shot fired,” the radio control officer sent out over
the channel. It echoed back from every officer’s unit.

The brass leapt into motion, gesticulating and calling
orders, putting officers into motion. Cole whirled around and charged through
the door. He needed to be closer to Tanya. Muted screams tapered off from
inside the building. He broke into a jog and stopped only because of the
barricade line. He stared at the metal front of the building as if it would
open its maw and spit out his wife.

For all his training, for all the missions and people he’d
rescued, this time he was helpless. Forcing his way into the building would do
no good. Not yet. Not until they knew more, and with so many people inside with
phones, cameras and video, they had a wealth of information. And some of the
best was from his wife.

Tanya.

Cole paced the length of the perimeter around the front of
the building, back and forth. Officers who’d served alongside him for years,
some for more than a decade, glanced at him with brows drawn low, a look of
pity on their faces.

So they knew.

He clenched his fists and found a spot at the corner of the
building behind a SWAT SUV much like his. The scenery didn’t change, the sounds
died down and the speculation began.

Cole knew this routine. Their attempt to find a direct line
in and get the gunmen on the phone had failed. One of the B.E.A.R. armored
trucks slowly moved into position across from the main entrance to The
Warehouse. A cluster of brass and a negotiator Cole had worked with a few times
were making their way from the staging area where the command center was
located. It was time to roll out the loudspeakers and start broadcasting their
negotiations for the whole district to hear, but that couldn’t be helped.

Overhead helicopters were circling, and not all of them were
police department issue. News agencies would be foaming at the mouth for a
piece of the action. Cole just hoped things remained boring enough that the
only story they had to tell was about a bunch of people going home late for
dinner.

Round after round of gunfire pierced the relative quiet.
Screams blossomed. Officers hunkered down, searching for the source. The
screams grew louder.

“SWAT, Alpha Team, prepare for entry,” dispatch blared in
Cole’s ear.

Except he was off the entry team.

The side door banged open and people ran out, some
sprinting, others limping. Cole grabbed a shield left at the back of the SUV
and bolted for the civilians. Other officers were jumping to provide cover and
direct the scared people to safety. They poured out, one after the other. He
saw one woman shoved to the ground, and at least three people behind her kicked
or stepped on her.

Cole shoved through the stream of people and helped the
woman to her feet. He used the shield to break the press of people around them
and led her behind the perimeter line.

More gunfire.

Cole hefted the shield and moved back into position. Some of
the people being rushed past now had blood and gunshot wounds.

It was now or never. A hostage situation with this many
people and possible explosives was not going to get better. They had to get in
there and take the gunmen down before more people got hurt.

The tide of people stopped as suddenly has it had begun.

The side door to The Warehouse slammed shut, but not before
a metal cylinder landed on the pavement.

“Bomb!”

“Take cover!”

“Bomb!”

Cole whirled around and dove for the nearest vehicle. He
vaulted over the hood of a car. He held his breath along with every other
officer up and down the perimeter.

And nothing happened.

Shouting and crying from the direction the civilians had
been herded was the only noise. The radio chatter was that Teda was back on her
way, and Officer Jameson was suiting up in a bombproof suit.

Cole itched to search through the civilians and see if Tanya
was among them. Hell, he wasn’t active duty on scene. He stashed the shield
near the SUV he’d borrowed it from and jogged toward the shopping center. Sure
enough, behind the line of stores and across the street was a makeshift triage
center and the hostages corralled between two lines of officers. They’d comb
them for leads, gather information and formulate a new plan.

Fewer than Cole would have expected had survived.

He checked his phone, but there were still no new messages.

Something had to be wrong.

The screen lit up, but the name was a fellow officer.

“Hello?”

“Sergeant Westling, I’m at the staging area. There’s a woman
here who has your wife’s cell phone.”

Cole’s blood turned to ice. “I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and changed course. The staging area was abuzz
with new activity, but right now he cared about only one thing.

Tanya, and why she no longer had her cell phone.

Cole recognized Aaliyah immediately. Tanya and the general
manager of the Derby Dames had never seen eye to eye. He approached her slowly,
giving her a once-over. She was dressed in jeans and a Dames t-shirt, black
with the league logo on the front.

He nodded at the officer but directed his gaze toward
Aaliyah. “Where’s my wife?”

“Last I saw her she was still inside.” She offered Tanya’s
smart phone to him.

Cole snatched the phone from her. “Why the fuck do you have
this?”

Aaliyah’s hands balled into fists and she leaned forward as
she spoke. “She was taking pictures. Those men said not to use phones. That’s
why they started shooting. She was going to get us all killed.”

That was Tanya, but she was smart enough not to get herself
killed.

Cole wanted to shake the woman, but it would do no good.

What he needed was Tanya, safe and in his arms.

Stay safe.

Tanya held her hands up.

This was the second time today she’d found herself staring
down the barrel of a gun. It was a bad habit she wanted to break.

“Back against the wall! Move. Now,” Mr. Reasonable shouted.

Tanya hadn’t made it more than thirty yards to the door
before she got cut off. The shooter advanced on the door, shaking what looked
like a pipe bomb at the crowd. Most people shrank back, some made a final, mad
dash for the door. The shooter tossed the bomb out the door and slammed it
shut. He put his back against it and directed his gun at the crowd.

Tanya backed up slowly, glancing around for anyone she
recognized.

There were several people motionless on the ground, pools of
blood around them and red footprints tracking toward the door. Tanya tasted
bile and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight, except the image was
burned into her retinas.

“Against the wall now!” Mr. Reasonable in front of her
yelled again. He seemed to be the more reasonable voice between the two vocal
terrorists, while the third had yet to say anything or move far from his post
at the front of the building.

“Tango,” someone whispered.

Tanya glanced over her shoulder and saw Goldie and Lotta
clustered around Mallory. Tanya headed straight for the three girls. Her heart
sank at the sight of blood staining Mallory’s arm and the white pallor of her
face.

“Ohmygod, Mallory.”

Lotta held what looked to be a t-shirt against Mallory’s
arm, but the fabric was soaked.

“Keep moving back,” Mr. Reasonable called out, the sounds of
desperation easing from his voice.

Their group shuffled back farther, and yet no matter how far
they went, they seemed to remain on the very edge of the group.

Tanya glanced around. “I need a shirt or something,” she
said loud enough for those strangers nearest to hear.

“Here.” A large man she recognized as a derby husband
shouldered through and handed her a plaid overshirt.

“Thanks.” Tanya accepted the offering and peeled back
Mallory’s soaked t-shirt. The wound was jagged, seeping blood and tissue. There
was no exit wound, which meant the round was still in Mallory’s arm. Tanya
wasn’t a field medic. The best she could do was a few stitches. She shook her
head and rebandaged the arm. “We need to get you out of here.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the trio of gunmen with
their heads together.

What can I do?

Tanya lifted her arms high and began walking toward the
track. “Excuse me. Excuse me.”

Three heads swiveled toward her and Tanya nearly wet
herself.

“Stay right there,” Trigger Happy yelled, leveling his gun
at her.

Yup, just wet myself a little.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interfere, but there are injured
people.” She nodded toward the nearest unmoving body. The person was gravely
hurt or worse, dead. “Everyone is very scared. We’ve been here for a long time
and you haven’t even spoken to the police. Please, just tell us what’s going
on. Maybe we can find a solution.”

“Come here.” Trigger Happy tipped the muzzle of his gun
toward the ceiling and hooked his finger at her.

“Tango, what are you doing?” Mallory whispered.

“I don’t know,” Tanya muttered.

She kept her hands high and crossed The Warehouse floor,
complete silence behind her.

Trigger Happy tapped his foot. Her progress wasn’t fast
enough for him it seemed. He stalked toward her, pulled his arm back and
backhanded her across the face.

Tanya spun, clenching her cheek and going to a knee. Her
vision swam and she tasted blood in her mouth.

“You’ll shut the fuck up,” Trigger Happy yelled, bent over
her so that his breath stirred her hair.

I’m going to die.

He’s going to shoot me.

A hand dug into her hair, pulling it lose from the pigtails
she’d struggled to get exactly even. Pain blossomed from her roots as he pulled
her to her feet.

“This is the Metro City Police. We’d like to talk to you,”
blared over a loudspeaker outside.

Trigger Happy let go of her, whirling to meet this new
challenge.

Tanya rushed back to her friends, tail between her legs.

“We’d like to talk to whoever is in charge. Can you pick up
a phone and talk to us?” the female voice continued.

Tanya recognized the voice. It was the strange reality of
her life. All the people trying desperately to save her and the other hostages,
they were her friends.

“Tanya, don’t do anything like that again,” Goldie
admonished, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the fold as though she were
an errant lamb. She pulled Tanya’s hand aside and examined the growing lump on
her cheek. “That’s going to be a spectacular black eye.”

“I figured,” Tanya muttered. She glanced over her shoulder
at the three men, still with their heads together. “They aren’t talking to the
negotiators. This isn’t good.”

“What do you mean, this isn’t good?” Mallory asked.

Tanya met her gaze, feeling grim about their future. “If
they want something, they’ll tell the negotiator or the police so they can get
it. If they aren’t talking, it’s not something they want, it’s the message they
want to send.”

“You don’t know that,” Goldie said.

“I hope I’m wrong.” Tanya glanced at a circle of large men
at the back of the building. They looked just as suspicious as their captors,
except there were more of them.

“How are you feeling?” Goldie asked Mallory, who was sitting
on the floor.

“Dizzy.”

Blood loss, adrenaline drop. If dizzy was all Mallory was
feeling, she was lucky.

“Keep her warm. Can we get anything to put on her? More
clothes? Any of you have a phone?” Tanya asked.

The three derby girls shook their heads.

“Figures. Where are we going to fit them?” She glanced
around, looking for someone who might be willing to part with their lifeline.

“What are you trying to do?” Goldie grabbed her hand and
pulled her down into a crouch next to Mallory.

“I want to get hold of my husband. If I can communicate with
him I might be able to give him information. Or something. I don’t know. I feel
like I need to do something.” Doing anything was likely to put her in direct
conflict with the spirit of Cole’s request to “stay safe”. Either she did
nothing, remained relatively safe and risked their captors doing something to
hurt or kill her. Or she did something, made her choices and took a risk that
could mean freedom.

Goldie shook her. “It’s not your call.”

It was true, but Tanya couldn’t accept it. There had to be
something she could do to get herself and others out of this situation.

“No, this is your fault,” Trigger Happy yelled.

Tanya jerked her head in their direction. The other she
thought of as Silence had a hand on Trigger Happy, while the negotiator
repeated her same message. Mr. Reasonable backed away and seemed taken aback by
the hostility aimed at him by his fellow gunman.

The energy in the room was a palpable mix of fear, nerves
and adrenaline. The hair on the back of Tanya’s neck prickled. She glanced back
to the cluster of men and froze. They were moving toward the center of the
track, and the three gunmen were distracted.

“Oh shit. Stay down,” Tanya said, hunching over.

It unfolded as if in slow motion. Two men rushed from the
right side while three came from the left. They charged the gunmen in silence,
the impending doom of the moment ready to blow them all sky high.

Silence and Mr. Reasonable caught sight of the danger
immediately. Silence acted first, thrusting his left hand out.

“Stop right there or I let go of the trigger. This is a dead
man’s switch. You make me lose my grip, we all die,” Silence yelled, his bass
voice booming in the confines of the warehouse.

The five would-be heroes skidded to a stop.

Trigger Happy lunged, but Mr. Reasonable had closed in
enough to jerk him back.

“Ohmygod, this has got to stop.” Tanya glanced around as if
a new exit would appear, one where Cole was on the other side of the door and
she could dive into his arms.

Goldie grasped Tanya’s arm and pulled her close enough
Goldie could whisper into her ear. “In the office there’s a lift that lowers
into a tunnel that goes under the street behind The Warehouse into the next
building. The owner showed Lotta and me ages ago when we first leased the
space. We could get some people over there and out.”

“What happened to the whole don’t-do-anything talk?”

“Yeah, that was five minutes ago. You’re right. They’re going
to kill us.” Goldie’s face was paler than usual.

Tanya’s heart stuttered to a halt. “Goldie, what about your
boys?” Goldie always brought her boys to the game. They often helped the
scorekeepers by flashing dry erase boards with each team’s score to the
audience. It wasn’t a necessary part of the game, they had an electronic
scoreboard, but it was cute.

“They’re at a birthday party, thank goodness,” Goldie
replied.

That was one thing to be relieved for.

Tanya considered their options. They couldn’t take everyone
out through the tunnel without drawing a lot of attention. She hated playing
favorites or choosing who would get set free, but they had to make a move. If
one person could get out, it was worth it to Tanya. “Okay, get Mallory back
there and see what you can do. I’m going to try to get a phone.”

Tanya didn’t know how she was going to obtain a cell phone.
It was like asking for a pony at Christmas. She got to her feet and wandered
through the people, who were not all sitting anymore as requested by their
captors initially. Who were all these people? She didn’t know who they were,
which was a long way from where they’d begun. Once the bouts had comprised of
the derby girls, their family and friends. Now she didn’t see a single face she
recognized.

“Nicolas, this is the police. Please talk to us.” The
negotiator’s new line had everyone in The Warehouse pausing.

Nicolas?

Who was Nicolas?

Mr. Reasonable spun in a half-circle, one hand flying to his
forehead.

Hello, Nicolas.

“Nicolas, pick up the phone and talk to us,” the negotiator
continued. “We need to talk to someone. Please talk to us so we can help you.”

Trigger Happy and Silence clutched Nicolas’ arms, physically
holding him back.

Something was going to happen soon. They couldn’t stay in a
holding pattern like this. One side or the other would break.

Tanya spied a teenage kid trying to shield his phone from
view. She crossed to the teen and touched his shoulder. He glanced up at her,
eyes round, face pale.

“Excuse me, I need your phone. My husband is a SWAT officer
outside and I need to talk to him,” she said in a rush.

“Yeah, here.”

“Thank you. Are you here alone?”

“I came with my brother, but I think he got outside.”

“Have you contacted your family?” she asked, that motherly
switch flipping to high in her breast.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

She squeezed his shoulder again. “Keep your head down, do
what you’re told. We’re going to get out of here.”

He nodded in reply.

Tanya stood and walked back to the general area where she’d
hunkered down with the rest of the derby girls. As she walked she tapped out a
message and sent it to both her phone and Cole’s.

Borrowed phone. Things dicey in here.

She hit send and prayed that it got to her husband.

“You, give me that phone.”

Nicolas grabbed the phone from her hands.

Goodbye, lifeline.

“Come here.” Nicolas grabbed her arm and hauled her several
yards away from the line of hostages. “What the hell is the number?”

Um, what number? 9-1-1 wakeup call?

“Nick, do not do this,” Trigger Happy demanded. He glared at
Tanya, and what she wouldn’t give to be anywhere else.

“They know my name. They know who I am. They might go after
my wife. I have to talk to them.” Nick’s grasp on her wrist tightened. His palm
was slick with sweat and soft, like that of a man who never did hard labor. And
this guy built bombs? Doubtful.

“Think about your family,” Trigger Happy continued, leaning
in close enough that the sweat beading his brow dripped on her arm. “Do not
talk to the authorities.”

“How the hell do you call the police?” Nicolas shook the
phone.

“9-1-1 is always an option,” Tanya offered and hunched her
shoulders as both sets of eyes landed on her. If she had her own phone she
could call the particular negotiator directly, but that option was gone.

“No, you aren’t putting my family at risk just to save your
own.” Trigger Happy snatched the phone from Nicolas’ grasp and pocketed it.

Tanya stared at the pocket, her hands itching to take the
phone back.

Wait, what were they saying? And why was she here?

The negotiator’s voice grew louder, as if coming closer.
Chances were the B.E.A.R. truck was rolling up to the building. Those vehicles
had loudspeakers and even recorded messages in many different languages.
“Nicolas, your wife wants you to come home. Talk to us so we can make sure you
see her soon. She’s worried about you.”

“Oh shit,” Nicolas muttered. He was sweating profusely now.

“You are not talking to them,” Trigger Happy said and took a
step back.

Tanya opened her mouth to say something, but the throbbing
in the side of her face made her think better.

Silence approached with all the notice of his namesake. “You
two need to pull your heads out of your asses. They’re going to come in here if
we don’t start talking to them.” His gaze flicked over her. Tanya was struck by
the lack of emotion there. No sweat beaded his forehead, he seemed completely
at ease. “If you don’t want them to recognize our voices, have her talk for us.
She seems to be the helpful sort.”