Seek and Destroy (49 page)

    "Charis! No!"

    Oh yes. With her feet bare and only a ripped teddy on, she crept, soundless, toward the door. Slowing, she silently cursed. Not only were they all locked, they all had dim lights above them. If she went to any of the doors, he'd see her. And then he'd tie her down and thrash on her until she stopped breathing.

    Sorry, Surreal. Not going to happen.

    "Charis? Sweetheart? Come out. You have a date with your destiny." He walked out of the shadows. She stared numbly at the gun in his hand. Where did that come from?

    She didn't want to wait around and see what he planned to do with it. Hurrying in the darkness, she ran her gaze over every inch of the walls. There had to be a way out.

    "I can't save you if you hide from me."

    When he cocked the gun, her body stiffened. He was going to shoot her, she had no doubt.
If
he found her.

    She tripped on something and went down. Luckily whatever tripped her broke her fall. Pushing herself up, she came nose to nose with a man. A
dead
man. Its lifeless eyes stared right through her.

    The scream rumbled in her throat and before she could stop it, flew right past her lips. In an instance Surreal had a hold of her hair. He dragged her back over to the chair.

    Hysterical, she stumbled along without a protest. That was the one thing she couldn't handle-the sight of a dead body. Having seen a few before, and each one landing her in therapy until she could finally close her eyes without seeing them staring at her, she had one more to add to her list.

    How many therapy sessions would she need to recover from this ordeal? How many years? Would she ever be able to sleep again?

    No. She'd only see David, see his lifeless eyes staring up at her. Her eyes burned with tears, horrified at the imaginary sight.

    Crying, knowing she'd just lost her one and only chance at escape, she let the tears fall. The sobs started small but soon grew to enormous convulsions ripping through her body.

    She was going to die. She'd never see David again. Never tell him she'd stay by his side whether or not he wanted to marry her. It didn't matter. She loved him. Married or not, she wanted to be with him forever.

    But that didn't matter now, did it? David was dead.

    He threw her down and held her arm on the chair's arm as he wrapped the duct tape around and around. After finishing wrapping tape from her wrists to her elbows, he wrapped the tape around her ankles, all the way up to her knees. Talk about overkill.

    "David," she sobbed. "D-D -"

    He brought the roll of duct tape up to her face. "Shut up or I will tape every one of your orifices closed."

    She choked and swallowed a straggling sob.

    Anger flashed in his eyes. "You are not the woman I thought you were. Everything I've done, I've done for you. The buildings. The people."

    "They were innocent, Thomas."

    "They were sacrifices," he retorted acidly. "The Charis I know would have understood that."

    "No. She wouldn't." She held his eyes, blinking the tears down. Her nose ran freely. Hiccoughing, she pulled in several breaths to stall and search for what she wanted to say. She'd only have one shot at this.

    Ignoring the tingling in her hands and feat from the tightness of the tape binding her to the chair, she continued. "
I
wouldn't."

    His eyes softened as he furrowed his brow. Her words seemed to confuse him. Either that or he pondered which orifice he planned to tape first.

    Digging deep for her most successful negotiating tactics, she decided the 'Fluffing the Big Ego' tactic would work just fine with this guy. "Thomas, I know how brilliant and talented you are. I know what you have the power to do."

    "You-You think I'm brilliant?"

    She wiggled her fingers and toes to try and keep the circulation flowing. "Not too many people can do what you do."

    "You can."

    "Not as well."

    He smiled. For one millisecond she had hope. He then tore off a piece of the duct tape and covered her mouth. She choked on a breath. After her panic-induced crying attack, her nose had stuffed up. Oh, God. If he didn't blow her up, she'd die from suffocation. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

    It helped.

    Until he brought the gun up to her temple. "Stop fucking with my head!"

    Her breath whistled in and out of her nose. She'd never had a gun pointed at her, let alone digging into her temple. This day was just full of new experiences. As he cocked it, she closed her eyes and said a prayer.

    At least she'd be with David again.

    

    

    Thanks to Surreal's haste to tap into their frequency, JT had a location on the source.

    "Can we get there from the birds?"

    "No," Weber replied into David's earpiece. "Switch to four."

    He did. Ever since Surreal tapped into their frequency, they'd been switching channels every sixty seconds. According to JT, there was no way Surreal, or anyone else for that matter, would be able to track and hack into a frequency in sixty seconds.

    He prayed she was right.

    "Trees are too thick. It's in the valley, about two miles to the south of your location. It would take longer for us to get them back there and pick you up than it would be for you to make it on foot."

    Two miles. Shit. He would welcome the run
if
he still had both lungs. Regardless, he headed up the hill. Of course, up a hill. It couldn't be down hill. Hell, he'd settle for a goddamn meadow at this point. Considering his recent physical drain due to the crash and trying to save Charis, not to mention the concussion that kept trying to rob him of consciousness, and he felt tapped.

    "Switch to ten."

    He switched. "Do you have a visual?"

    "Satellite image is downloading now," Weber answered. "Stay low, and watch for booby traps. You know how this guy operates."

    "Right." He did. And that scared the hell out of him. Surreal wasn't any different than the devices he planted. The guy was a ticking time bomb. And he had Charis.

    David picked up the pace.

    "Switch to six." Weber's voice droned. "Do you remember the hospital in Colombia? Your little pep talk?"

    He didn't give a shit about the pep talk or how it affected Weber's life. He cared about Charis' life. "Can we," he panted, "talk about,"
pant
, "this later?"

    "There may not be a later."

    Well, shit and goddamn. Why not say it like it is? "So talk."

    "I let her go, Snyder. I was too much of a pig-headed ass to admit how much I needed her, to admit how much I loved her."

    Jesus Christ, Weber. Not quite the kind of pep talk he had in mind. He knew his life would never be the same if he lost her. He knew if they were separated for all eternity, he would shrivel up and die inside.

    He couldn't imagine his life without her, couldn't imagine his future without her in it.

    
Thanks for the fucking pep talk.

    "Switch to two." Pause. "Don't let her go, my friend. Don’t make the same mistake I nearly made. It almost cost me my entire existence."

    "I don't,"
pant
, "plan to." He clenched his teeth. How did Weber do it? In a matter of a minute, he'd successfully talked David into doing whatever it took to ensure him and Charis had a future together.

    Even marriage.

    A warmth enveloped him. He wanted to, damn it. Hell, yeah. He wanted to call her his wife, wanted to be her husband. He wanted a dozen kids. The house on the hill. The little picket fence.

    He wanted it all. A new strength entered his body. He could do this.

    "Switch to thirteen."

    He couldn't wait to find her, to tell her he wanted the same thing she did. How ironic it took Weber, the king of tight lips, to talk him into what he knew all along.

    Love meant pulling your head out of your ass.

    "Switch to two."

    Holy shit, his body hurt. His heart pounded in his chest, in his ears. Ignoring the burning sensation in his chest as he fought to keep his breathing even, he crested the hill. Two more hills and he'd be halfway there.

    "Switch to one. How's the breathing?" Weber asked once David joined him on the frequency.

    "Just,"
pant
, "fine." Jesus. He was still half a mile out.

    "Switch to nine." He did. "You should just see the top of the building as you crest this next hill. This is the last one."

    As each minute passed, Weber instructed him to switch to the new frequency. It also helped him keep time. And, he thought with a grip on his heart, it showed him just how far two miles really was.

    "Good." He topped the hill and spotted the rooftop in the tree line. Panting, he swallowed to wet his throat and started down the hill.
Char-is.
Char-is. Char-is.
He chanted her name as he ran. It gave him the added strength he needed to make it to the small building without collapsing.

    He switched to seven as instructed. "Do you see her?"

    "Infrared picks up four bodies inside," Weber stated. "Two alive, two not so much. Judging by the color of their body temps, they've been dead for about four to six hours."

    Shit. He didn't have time to catch his breath. Drawing his weapon, he flattened his back against the side of the building, next to the door. Gasping to pull air into his burning lungs, he rasped into his lip mic. "Anyone on the other side of the door?"

    "No, but-"

    He kicked it open, weapon at the ready.

    "God
damn
it, Snyder! He's got a-"

    The shot came from his left, slicing into his side. Fuck! The-son-of-a-bitch psycho bastard would pay for that. Frankly, he was tired of getting shot.

    Knowing the exact angle the bullet entered-entered,
shit
-he allowed his mind to run the quick calculation to pinpoint exactly where to shoot and render the man incapacitated, but not kill him. Not until he told him where he'd taken Charis.

    One shot. One scream from the pathetic asshole. He heard the distinct clank as the gun hit the cement floor, followed by the thud of his body. David hurried over, worried he'd been off in his calculations and actually killed the bastard.

    Nope. Hissing against pain in his ribs, he lowered down and leaned over Surreal.

    "Hi there, Dickwad." He cocked his gun and rested the barrel on Surreal's forehead. "Where is she?"

    "Piss off," Surreal spit as he spoke. Shaking, he attempted to reach for his gun.

    "I don't think so," he stated and kicked the gun away. "Where is she?"

    Silence. Surreal narrowed his eyes. "She's dead."

    The pain constricted his airways. No. She couldn't be dead. Sick to his stomach, he pushed the gun into the bastard's skin, ignoring the slight shake in his hand. "You're lying."

    "Kill me and you'll never know."

    Never had he wanted to kill a man more than he wanted to kill this one. But he had to take the emotion out of the equation. God
damn
it. "Tell me now or I'll take my chances."

    "You won't," he challenged. "You can't. I know protocol. You've disarmed me. You've obviously detained me. You must now take me back to HQ and question me."

    "He's right," Weber sounded in his ear. "Bring him in. You know the rules."

    Fuck the rules. David tore the earpiece out and threw it. He did the same with his lip mic. Standing up, he kept the gun fixed on Surreal's big ugly forehead. "Last chance."

    "If you kill me, you'll be thrown out of your precious NASSD. May even be sent to prison. Is she worth giving up the rest of your life?"

    Hell yes, she was.

    He caught the sound of a slight hum in his ear. He knew that sound. He was in love with that sound. His lungs filled with the sweetness of his discovery. She was alive. Stealing a glance in the direction of the sound, he spotted her figure in the shadows.

    His blood stilled. A rush of blinding fury engulfed him when he saw her face. The bastard had beaten the hell out of her. He had her taped to the chair so tightly her pretty fingers and toes had turned purple.

    He wouldn't let this asshole off so easy. Tossing the gun aside, David jumped him and started connecting fists to face. Fists to whatever he could.

    "You like beating up women, you sorry son-of-a-bitch? How does it feel? Huh? How. Does. It. Feel?" He emphasized each of his words with a bone-crunching blow to Surreal's nose. His cheek. His chin.

    He didn't know how long he'd thrashed on Surreal before he felt himself being pulled off. "It's over, man. It's done."

    Damn Neely brothers. They stood on either side of him, holding him back. Exhausted, the adrenaline finally spent, he pushed out of their grasps and hurried over to Charis.

    He knelt down beside her and whipped out a knife. Careful not to cut her-she had enough cuts without his help-he freed her from the bindings.

    She started to sob uncontrollably as he slowly pealed the piece of duct tape away from her pretty mouth. "Oh, David! You're alive. Thank God you're alive." She collapsed into his arms, trembling.

    "Ah, Angel." He buried his face into her hair. Jesus, he'd never been so scared. "I'm sorry." He felt the burn of emotion in his eyes. And, for the first time in a lifetime, he didn't care. A hard, painful and love-filled sob tore through him. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here sooner."

    "You came," she cried, her body convulsing. He felt every one of them with her. Stroking her hair, holding her close, nothing else mattered.