Into the Fire (54 page)

“Open the door,” one of them shouted again—and Hannah could see from his face, from the wildness of his eyes, that he was moments from squeezing the trigger of his gun.

So she kicked the door open, because there was no choice, but now the guard’s eyes were even more wild, and Hannah knew that he’d seen her rifle and he screamed, “Drop your weapon,” but she couldn’t drop it—it was wedged in, the barrel caught by the frame of the door, and she finally just let go of it and held out her empty hands, but the guards couldn’t see who or what was behind her, and she knew from the way he pulled his own weapon more tightly to his shoulder that he was going to fire, and, God, they were dead. She threw herself over, in front of Eden and her baby, as she felt the percussive shock of gunfire.

But the bullets didn’t rip into her and through her, her world didn’t instantly crash to black, and Hannah turned her head to see the guards discharging their weapons into the sky as they fell back, crumpled onto the ground.

And then—holy God—Dave Malkoff was there, dressed in commando gear, his eyes fierce, holding out his hand to help Hannah and then Sophia up and out of the shed.

“Where’s Murphy?” Hannah asked, even though there was no time to watch for his response as she immediately turned to help Sophia pull Tess free, too.

Dave wasn’t alone, but he wasn’t with Murph. He was with a very tall, very broad man who had to be Izzy Zanella.

“Let’s go, let’s move it,” Hannah said, reaching for Eden. The gunshots fired were going to draw more guards—they had to move fast.

As a dark-haired woman who had to be Hannah helped Eden out of the shed, Izzy’s entire world tilted onto its side.

Eden’s skirt was drenched with blood.

“Oh, God, no,” he said as he scooped her into his arms. “Eden, baby, talk to me—where are you hit?”

“She wasn’t shot, she’s in labor,” Sophia told him as both she and Hannah armed themselves with weapons from the floor of the shed.

“I’ve got Tess,” Dave announced. “Let’s go!”

Hannah and Sophia both took point, as Izzy carried Eden. He moved automatically, those endless hours of training kicking in as his brain tried and failed to process the information he’d been given. Eden wasn’t shot. She was in
labor
?

This
wasn’t labor. Labor sucked, but it wasn’t supposed to be this gory, blood-soaked reenactment of
Saw II.

Was it?

Something had to be seriously wrong.

“Izzy,” Eden said as her entire body tensed, as she clung to him. “Can’t make noise…Help me…”

God damn, the reality of what Sophia had told him finally penetrated. Eden was in
labor,
which meant she was having painful contractions—while she was hiding from men who wanted to kill her. And
that
meant she couldn’t cry out, no matter how much it hurt.

She pressed her face against Izzy’s chest, which was good because that way he didn’t have to look into her eyes and let her see just how helpless and frightened he felt. Lunatics with guns he could handle, but this was an enemy he didn’t know how to help her fight.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to do, short of turning into a helo and flying her to a hospital himself—and last time he’d checked, he hadn’t yet become Inspector Gadget. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you and Pinkie out of here.”

She was breathing hard, exhaling in short bursts through clenched teeth, but other than that, she didn’t make a sound.

But, shit, there was a patrol—five men—directly ahead of them, who opened fire. Sophia and Hannah responded, and the patrol pancaked, which was good because it was hard to aim and shoot when you were flat on the ground, ducking for cover. But there was nowhere to run—another patrol approached from the right. They were penned in and there was nothing to do but head for the safety of the nearest building.

Which was one of the Freedom Network’s guest cottages, a nifty little Hansel and Gretl affair, complete with adorable Thomas Kinkade-esque gingerbread trim. The only thing missing was the heavenly light shining from the windows. This place was dark—which didn’t mean no one was inside.

But there was no time to play nice and knock—all Izzy could do was pray that if someone were inside they didn’t own a shotgun.

He was first up the steps to the tiny porch, his weapon held in one hand as he cradled Eden to him in the other. He kicked the door open and at first glance the place
was
empty—light from the outside spots dimly streaming in through the small windows—two in the front, two in the back.

He stepped inside, and then to the side, because Grumpy Dave, Hannah, and Sophia were right behind him.

The old-fashioned, quirky charm hadn’t made its way past the door. The single square-shaped room was decked out like a low-budget motel—two double beds covered with ass-ugly bedspreads, a small table between them, indoor-outdoor carpeting on the floor, a teeny, afterthought of a bathroom with a slanted ceiling hanging out the back, as if it had been a lean-to addition.

G.D. deposited Tess on one of the beds as Hannah and Sophia moved like a team who’d been working together for years, quickly verifying that the place was indeed sans inhabitants. They closed the door as best they could given the damage Izzy’d done to it, pulled the curtains on the back windows, tried the phone on the bedside table—smart one, Sophia, but the line was dead—as Izzy, as gently as he could, put Eden on that second bed.

Her contraction had ended, thank God, and she looked up at him through eyes that were glazed. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“What,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face, “you think I’d miss Pinkie’s first public appearance?”

Eden clutched at Izzy’s hand with fingers that were clammy and cold. “It’s too soon.”

He nodded, trying to keep his fear for her off his face. “He’s probably going to be one of those kids who wants to learn to drive when he’s six. Smoking and drinking when he’s ten—”

That got him a laugh that was more than half protest. “He better not…”

“Nah,” Izzy said. “We’ll keep him in line.”

He could see her disbelief. “We?”

“Sure,” he said. “I mean, I figure even if you don’t want me around in ten years, I’m still going to be part of Pinkie’s life, right?”

“If
I
don’t want
you
around…?” Tears spilled from her eyes. “Didn’t you watch that horrible video?”

“I watched it,” he told her, and damn, it was hard as hell not to cry, too. “Well, as much as I could stand…”

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

“I am, too.” Izzy pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. Damnit, she was shaking. “Why didn’t you trust me, Eed? You should have
trusted
me.” And as the words left his mouth, he realized just how stupid he was. Trust. Like it was something you could get out of a vending machine if your dollar bills were new and crisp enough. Like this girl was going to assume that every life lesson that had been cruelly battered into her should be ignored and discarded now that she was with Izzy.

“We could use your help here, Zanella,” Dave called from the front window.

Izzy lowered Eden back onto the bed, taking her face in both of his hands. “I believe you,” he told her, willing her to believe him, trying to sear his words into her by looking into her eyes. “I still believe what I said in the car—that you were the victim of a crime. And when we’re out of here, when two hundred crazy motherfuckers aren’t trying to kill us, we’re going to talk more about that, okay?”

She was looking back at him as if he were speaking Chinese, her lips trembling as she strained both not to cry and to understand. “You believe me…?”

“Yeah,” he said, then fuck it, he just said it. “I’m kinda in love with you, Eed.”

He could tell she still didn’t get it, so he sang it to her.
“I don’t mind standing every day, out on the corner in the pouring rain…”

It was the romantic words to her favorite song, and now she started to cry all over again. But he knew that she understood, because she kissed him.

She tasted like fear and tears, but mostly she tasted like his sweet, sweet Eden.

“Come on, Zanella,” Dave barked, “I need your head in the game.”

“I’m going to get you and Pinkie out of here,” Izzy promised her as he pulled back.

Across the room, Dave and Hannah were arguing. Something about the fucking signal jammer that kept them from being able to call for a helo extraction.

“I know where it is,” Hannah was insisting, as she helped Tess out of the Freedom Network’s uniform jacket. “There’s a guard tower near the front gate. I could go and—”

“Nobody’s going anywhere.” Dave made it gospel. “Murphy’s still out there. And Jenk and Gillman. Let’s sit tight and give them a chance to take it out.”

“Danny’s here?” Eden asked, but then she grabbed for Izzy’s hands and she began panting again. She was having another contraction as—holy fuck!—the bedspread beneath her became soaked with her blood.

“Dave,” Izzy said. “I appreciate your faith in Murphy and the guys, but we need to get Eden to a hospital.
Now.
”

Sophia came over to check on Eden. He could tell that she, too, was worried by all the blood, but she smiled reassuringly when Eden opened her eyes. “You’re doing great with the breathing,” she said. “Keep it up.”

And a bullet smashed through the window and blasted into the wall, an inch above Izzy’s head.

Murphy crawled closer.

The gunfire from the other side of the compound had drawn him north, but he’d hunkered down in the shadows of this building when he saw Dave and the former hostages take cover in a small, free-standing cottage.

Hannah had led the firefight against the patrol that was shooting at them, and Murph had had to stomp—hard—on his instinct to run toward her, to make sure she was okay.

It was clear just from watching her that she
was
okay. She moved quickly, confidently, despite her heavy limp from her bad ankle. Sophia was right behind her.

It was Tess and Eden who were being carried by Dave and Izzy.

As they shut the door behind them, Murph cursed his useless radio for the twelve-thousandth time, even as he worked to convince himself that charging forward and getting trapped in that cottage with Hannah and the others would not help the situation.

It
absolutely
would not help.

Except those motherfuckers were
shooting
at her, and it would only take one bullet to end her life. The world spun, and he forced himself to breathe, to stay hidden in the shadows, to crush the fear that rose in him and tried to choke him.

Dave was with Hannah. Izzy was there, too.

They were safe. For now, they were safe.

But God, he ached to hold on to Hannah, to wrap his arms around her and make sure she really was all right.

Although,
shit,
now a sniper had moved into place and was taking out the cottage windows, one by one. Murph could also hear the sound of running feet, furtive commands given as the Freedom Network security chief made sure that the cottage was more completely surrounded.

It was then that Mark Jenkins materialized beside him.

Both as a Marine and as a Troubleshooters operative, Murphy had often worked with Navy SEALs—and had equally often rolled his eyes at what he thought of as the SEAL PITA factor.

Simply put, SEALs could be huge pains in the ass.

They were arrogant and smug, and most of them had superiority complexes. They were egotistical, conceited, rude, and often crude—which, okay, wasn’t all that different from most of the Marines Murph knew.

But to a SEAL, every other member of any other branch of the service was less-than in their disdainful eyes. It was an attitude that tended to piss off the Marines.

Of course, most SEALs also happened to be intelligent, creative, and tremendously skilled operators. And, to be honest, the training they went through to get their SEAL trident pin made boot camp look like a Daisy Scout retreat.

Which was why Murphy was extremely glad Mark Jenkins and Dan Gillman were here with him now.

They believed—completely—that the three of them, with no radio communication and no help from reinforcements that were waiting on the other side of the fence, could rescue their trapped people.

If
wasn’t part of their vocabulary. Only
when.

And, yeah, in the few short minutes since they’d slid under the fence, Jenk had conjured up Freedom Network security patrol jackets, hats, and gear for them all to wear, allowing them to move not quite freely throughout the compound, but certainly more easily.

Gillman had already found the location of both the generator and the radio jamming equipment—in a tower near the front gate. Both were heavily guarded, or he would have already done what Navy SEALs loved doing best—and used some of the C4 he carried in his vest pockets to blow the tower and its contents to Kingdom Come. He was currently searching for another way to get the job done.

But now Jenk was back from a quick surveillance of the south side of the compound—where the Freedom Network had shut off their lights, probably in order to send more power to the spots illuminating the hostage-held cottage.