Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3) (17 page)

“Affirmative. Your heat signatures are about ten feet from…from the little one.”

“Copy that.” He cupped Kat’s chin. “This is the most likely area for a booby trap. They could take out all three of us at once. I need you to be really strong and stay here until I give the all clear. Understand?”

Her heart in her throat, all she could do was nod her agreement again. Tears stung her eyes. She said a silent prayer while Dillon made a thorough inspection of the doorway and the space inside the room visible from his position by the wall. She couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. She watched him adjust his goggles and take a deep breath. Kat held hers. Finally, he moved.

He stepped away from the wall into the center of the hall and spun to face the bedroom. His expression almost brought Kat to her knees.

Dillon didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the first sight of his sleeping daughter—
his daughter, for God’s sake!
—left him breathless and flustered. An experienced agent should never lose focus in the middle of a maneuver, but he damn well lost it. But only for a moment. He shook the image—tiny body, curly black hair, porcelain skin, tiny pink mouth puckered around a thumb—from the forefront of his mind and refocused.

Kat’s gasp drew his attention, and he found her staring at him with alarm and fear in her eyes. His expression must’ve looked as unnerved as he felt. “Skye’s okay. She’s sleeping,” he said reassuringly.

Turning back to the room, he swept the area, looking for anything suspicious. He detected no infrared beams or trip wires. The small room was easy to search because it contained only three pieces of furniture: a crib, a rocking chair, and a small chest with a plastic pad and diapers on it. A security camera hung from the corner of the ceiling, its red light blinking ominously. The Chinese were definitely watching. But if they’d been planning to detonate a bomb, they would’ve done so by now, so shooting the camera didn’t make much sense because the noise would surely wake and scare Skye.

He dropped to his belly and checked again from ground level. From that vantage point, he could see the underside of the crib better but not well, and he saw nothing unusual in what was visible.

Standing again, he scrutinized the room for the second time and still spotted no red flags. But the pressure in his chest wouldn’t abate, and his left hand was shaking. What the hell was happening to him? The need to rescue Skye blocked out everything else. He couldn’t be wrong; there was too much at stake.

He gulped. This overwhelming feeling of protectiveness was primal, instinctual. He’d never laid eyes on his child before but the need to protect her against all odds consumed his entire being.
So this is what being a parent is all about. No wonder Kat wouldn’t wait in the car or at the security gate. This is what she’s felt since the moment she discovered she was pregnant. No wonder she ran from me.
Dear God, he had a lot to learn.

He blew out a long breath. “I’m going in,” he announced to the team. “Stay here,” he said to Kat.

“What? No. I’m going with you. She’ll be frightened if she wakes up and sees you, especially in those goggles.”

“Think, Kat. I can get her faster by myself. Faster is
safer
. It’s best for Skye. Stay here. Please.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut. Her lips quivered, and she blinked rapidly before giving one sharp nod. He gave her a quick peck on the mouth, but it wasn’t nearly significant enough to acknowledge his gratefulness that she trusted him to rescue their child.

Turning back to the bedroom, he adjusted his goggles, even though they didn’t need adjusting, shifted the Kevlar vest under his shirt, even though it didn’t need shifting, and stuffed his gun in the holster. Just as he lifted his foot, Kat grabbed his arm.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

“Right.”

Her hand dropped away, and she gave him a faint smile, a smile filled with trust…and something else he didn’t have time to analyze at the moment.

Get it done, O’Malley.
He set his jaw and stepped into the room, his eyes constantly sweeping the space.

Everything was amplified. Skye’s rhythmic breathing. His heart pounding. The smell of baby powder. He sneezed.

He was beside the crib in five long strides. He leaned down and looked beneath, finding no signs of a weight-triggered explosive device. Straightening, he scrutinized the pastel pink sheet and fluffy blanket Skye held against her face with the non-thumb-sucking hand. No visible wires.

Dillon blew out another breath.
Three, two, one.
He reached into the crib and snatched his daughter. Shielding her with his arms, he hunched over and clutched Skye against his chest. He spun on his heel and reached the door in only four strides.

“Target acquired,” he informed Ben without pausing.

“Oh, my God—” Kat began.

“Follow me!” he ordered, never stopping his forward motion.

Skye squirmed in his arms so he held her tighter. She whimpered, but she’d have to wait to be comforted.

Dillon barreled down the hallway, gaze darting in all directions, always on the alert. Kat, her breathing ragged, followed close behind him. The distance had taken forever to cover coming in, but they cleared it in less than half a minute.

As they raced through the living room, a clicking and hissing noise caught his attention.
What the hell?
Not even tempted to stop and investigate, he raced to the front door.

He yanked it open and hit the front stoop. Shoving Skye into Kat’s arms as he spun around, he yelled, “Go! Go!”

He jerked his gun from the holster and guarded them from behind while they ran down the sidewalk.

The Civic was parked two lots down. Staci and Ben had left the SUV and now stood at both ends of Kat’s car, their guns ready but shielded from public view. Conrad held the back door open as Kat slid inside.

After a quick visual sweep of the area, Dillon leaned into the car. “Is she all right?” he whispered, his heart in his throat.

“Hi, baby girl. I missed you,” Kat crooned in a singsong voice. Her gaze and hands flew over Skye’s little body.

“Mama. Mama.” Her tiny hands reached for her mother’s face, and she stood up in Kat’s lap.

Tears slid down Kat’s cheeks as she continued to examine Skye. “I…I think she’s okay.”

Air whooshed out of Dillon’s lungs. “Great. Conrad and Staci will drive you two to the hospital to have her checked out.”

Kat’s head whipped around. “You’re not coming?” she asked, her words tainted with disappointment.

Dillon jerked his head toward the house. “Ben and I have to secure the site until the ERT gets here.”

He read
Why can’t someone else do it?
in her expression, but she just nodded.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” He swallowed hard and turned to Ben. “Let’s work from the back to avoid attracting too much attention from the neighbors.”

Conrad and Staci climbed into the front seats of the Civic as Kat buckled Skye into her car seat in the back. The toddler put up a fight, wanting to love on her mommy instead of being restrained. Kat could empathize. She wanted to touch her daughter over and over again until she could confirm the reality of having her safe.

She glanced back at the house just as Ben and Dillon disappeared through the side gate in the wooden fence separating the front from the backyard. Why did it hurt so much that Dillon wasn’t coming to the hospital with them?

When Conrad started the car, she straightened and fastened her seatbelt. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. He pulled away from the curb and accelerated down the street. Pressing her lips together to keep the sobs at bay, Kat couldn’t resist looking back one more time.

As she turned, a huge blast rocked the car.

Kat screamed and twisted back to reach for Skye. The toddler’s cries were earsplitting, but she showed no signs of injury. After Kat confirmed they were both unhurt, she whipped around to stare out the rear window.

She gaped at the sight. The house they had just left no longer existed. Flames shot skyward, meeting and consuming the raining debris. Fire raged in the skeletal remains, and smoke billowed into the sky. Car and house alarms set off by the shockwaves filled the air with a cacophony of blaring noise.

Kat shoved the car door open before Conrad brought the Civic to a complete stop. The cracked glass shattered onto the asphalt. Her fingers fumbled with the seatbelt until she was free. After kissing Skye, she said softly, calmly, “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”

She jumped from the car. “Take care of Skye. Get her the hell out of here,” she yelled to Conrad and Staci.

And then she ran, as she’d never run, as if life depended on her feet pounding the pavement faster and faster.
Dillon. Oh God, Dillon. Don’t die. I love you.
Over and over, the words echoed in her head. She wanted to yell them, but her lungs couldn’t provide enough air for yelling and running at the same time.

She’d almost reached the property when a large hand wrapped around her arm from behind and yanked her back against a hard chest.

“Stop, Kat,” Conrad shouted, wrapping her in a bear hug despite her struggles. “You can’t go in there.”

Not that “there” was anything left to go into. Inhaling smoke as she gasped for air, she gazed in shock and disbelief at the devastation. The house had been leveled as if a tornado hit it, and a ferocious fire was consuming the evidence. Debris was scattered across the street and into several yards. The windows in neighboring residences had been shattered. People ran outside screaming, many in their pajamas, some of them heading toward the burning ruins.

“Those people need to stay back. There could be more explosions. You’re safe here, Kat. Don’t you dare move,” Conrad ordered.

She grabbed his arms. “D-Dillon. B-Ben. We have to f-find them.”

The grief in his blue eyes told her what she didn’t want to know. He swallowed hard. “Kat…” He stopped, closed his eyes for a second, and started again. “You realize there’s no chance anyone in the house survived, right?”

Unable to accept his conclusion or to answer him, she gulped back tears and let her eyes plead with him.

“Okay. I’ll go look after I take care of these people,” he agreed with heavy-hearted resignation.

“Skye? Where’s Skye?” she asked, only then comprehending that he hadn’t driven off with her daughter.

“Staci’s got her.” He pointed down the street.

She turned and spotted the agent by the Civic, which was now parked at the curb several yards away. With her gun at the ready, Staci stood by the door next to Skye’s car seat. She rotated 360 degrees, constantly on guard for threats from any direction. When their gazes connected for a moment, Staci acknowledged her with a grim nod. A small sigh of relief escaped Kat’s trembling lips.

“I gotta go,” Conrad murmured. “I’ll just be a sec.”

She nodded. But when he stepped away, Kat realized he’d been physically supporting her. Her legs wobbled, and she sank onto the sidewalk. Her whole body began to shake. Tears followed, streaming down her face. Hopelessness squeezed her heart. “Dillon, Dillon…,” she mumbled over and over.

How could she lose him again? Now, when he’d finally learned about Skye. Now, when Kat knew he still loved her. Now, when she was almost brave enough to tell Dillon she still loved him. How could fate do this to them?

To push her misery below the surface, she forced herself to focus on searching for any signs of him or Ben. Her gaze swept across the yard. Piles of building materials and furnishings burned everywhere. The structure had been leveled so completely that the men would’ve been taller than any of the remaining walls. Taller,
if
they were able to stand. Her throat constricted at the thought.

Her eyes were drawn to the spot where she’d last seen Dillon. The gate no longer existed. The first fifteen or twenty feet of the fence next to the house were also completely gone. Farther away, some boards still stood vertical, but most of those were on fire with smoke rising from them in pillars.

Desolation weighed on her. After everything they’d been through in the past few days, it just didn’t seem fair for it to end this way. Her suspicions about Diablo Beach had started all of this. She’d been the target. Dillon had only wanted to help. Wanted…out of an enduring love for her that had never died. And what was his reward? Death by inferno. She closed her eyes against the devastating images.

Even though she’d hurt him to the core, Dillon had believed her about the problems at Diablo Beach. The only person who did, at first. Together with Chaos and his faithful team of FBI agents, they had managed to thwart not only the Chinese government but also the evil goals of an unbalanced, vengeful security guard. They…Dillon…had done a lot of good, saved a lot of lives. How could life be so cruel to take his afterward?

With a whimper, she let her head drop back as an epiphany hit. This explosion was supposed to claim them all, not just Dillon. This bomb, or whatever it was, had been supposed to detonate while she and Dillon were rescuing Skye. The damn Chinese wanted to kill all three of them. And poor Ben. He was simply collateral damage.

When she opened her eyes again, she heard coughing, the hard, choking, I-can’t-breathe kind. Her gaze darted from spot to spot, trying to identify the source.

Through the churning smoke where the fence had once stood, she spotted a dark, indistinguishable image in the backyard. It was low to the ground, moving slowly, but moving. The creature appeared to be trudging on all fours, like a huge dog or a bear. She couldn’t see a snout, a muzzle, or a face because the head seemed to be covered with something. And the head hung limply and bounced slightly with each laborious step.

She squinted against the stinging smoke, struggling to see. Then her eyes widened, and she blinked. Rapidly.

“Dillon?” His name came out more as a gasp than a word. She scrambled to her knees, but couldn’t stand. “Dillon?” Louder this time. She spun back to the street. “Conrad! Conrad! Come quick!”

When the agent turned, she motioned frantically toward the backyard. He got her message loud and clear because he left the neighbors instantly and headed toward her at full speed.

“I-I see something…s-someone…through the smoke,” she stammered when he was within earshot.

Conrad peered in the direction she pointed and then took off at a sprint without a word. She watched until he raced into the swirling smoke and disappeared near where she’d last seen…something.

Kat crawled until she reached the mailbox and used the post to leverage herself to her feet. Her eyes stung, and her throat burned. After a reassuring glance at Staci still standing guard over Skye, she pushed away from the mailbox and stumbled into the yard. Keeping her gaze fixed on the backyard, she made slow forward progress with each unsteady step.

She’d taken about ten when a vertical figure appeared in the smoke. When it reached the former fence line, she could finally discern what she was seeing.

Dillon trudged beside Conrad, his hand clutching his friend’s left shoulder to steady himself. Conrad lumbered under the weight of Ben’s limp body hanging over his right shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Despite having pulled his shirt over his head for protection earlier, Dillon’s eyes, nose, and throat burned from the smoke. Ashes and grime covered his clothes and skin. The acrid smell of scorched hair made him wonder how much he’d lost. Oddly curious, he lifted his fingers to his eyebrows. They still existed—well, at least partly.

Blinking through the crud in his eyes, he surveyed the devastation.
Holy shit! We’re lucky to be alive.
His twisted ankle was probably only a sprain, the smoke in his lungs would temporarily slow his running regimen, and the ringing in his ears would end after a while. Ben had gotten the worst of it when the cinderblock retaining wall they’d jumped behind had collapsed, one of the bricks hitting him directly in the temple. The guy would have a helluva headache when he regained consciousness and most likely a concussion, but he too would survive this nearly fatal ordeal.
Nearly fatal. Yeah, “nearly” by less than a minute.

“Dillon, Dillon.”

The words broke through the ringing to register in his brain.
Kat? What is she doing here?
He frowned and shook his head to clear it. Kat had left with Skye. He’d seen them drive off. They were supposed to be at the hospital getting the baby—their baby—examined. Nice and safe at the hospital.

He blinked harder when it hit him that Conrad had been driving the Civic. Dillon hadn’t even put two and two together to understand that, if Conrad was here, Kat might be also. His brain must be more addled than he realized.

He started.
Skye? Where is Skye?

He let go of Conrad’s shoulder and limped at max speed through the debris toward Kat. When she threw herself into his arms, he grabbed her shoulders and held her away. “Skye? Where’s Skye? Is she okay?” he croaked as loud as his smoke-coated throat allowed.

“Skye’s fine. She’s with Staci,” she said and pointed.

When Staci gave him a thumbs-up, his sudden panic diminished.

Kat forced her way back into his arms and hugged him tight, not seeming to care about his filthy condition. “Oh my God, Dillon. I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead.” She lifted her head from his chest. “Listen. I hear sirens. Thank God.”

She visibly pulled herself together to lead him to the curb and help him sit down. She was fussing over him, checking for injuries, when Conrad caught up with them and carefully deposited Ben on the grassy strip beside the sidewalk.

Groaning, Ben opened his eyes. “What…happened?” he asked groggily.

“Natural gas. The fuckers must’ve had it rigged so they could turn it on and ignite it remotely. I heard a hissing and clicking sound as Kat and I hauled ass out of there, but no smell. But damn, it was strong when I opened the back door. Saved our butts by giving us a few seconds to dive behind that wall.”

Ben groaned again when he turned his head to look around. “Holy shit. How’d we get out of there?”

Dillon leaned over and punched him in the arm. “You’re a slacker, Alfren. Got a little bump on the head and you had to catch a ride.”

Ben covered his eyes with his hand and groaned again. “Fuck off, O’Malley…or my head will explode all over you. Why didn’t you man up and carry me yourself?”

“I was crawling out of there with your sorry ass on my back when this prick showed up and stole all the glory.”

“Well, excuse me for saving both your sorry asses,” Conrad interrupted.

“Stop it. Just stop it. Don’t you realize what…what almost…” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t continue.

“Of course we do.” Dillon grinned through the grimy mask on his face. “This is how we deal with it.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you can joke about it because I can’t.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard before snuggling against him. “If you were on all fours with Ben on your back, that’s why you looked like a huge grizzly bear through the smoke.”

“Guess so. Don’t recommend it as a mode of transportation, but I wasn’t stable enough with this damn ankle to carry him standing upright.”

They all looked up when screeching sirens filled the air and ended their conversation. Two fire engines, a police car, and two ambulances roared down the street. People scattered out of their way.

The first responders poured from the vehicles and immediately set to work. The firefighters and police shouted orders. The gushing of the hoses added to the roar of the fire. Organized chaos reigned.

The paramedics swarmed the two injured men. Someone wrapped a blanket around Dillon and another fastened an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. A voice hammered him with questions. The frenzy of activity made him nauseous.

Dillon tried to keep one eye on Kat and Conrad as they were buffeted by the shuffle of faces, but when he closed his burning eyes for a second, he lost them. Minutes later, before he could stop them, the EMTs loaded him onto a gurney and shoved him into an ambulance.

“Where’s Kat?” he yelled at Conrad who appeared at the ambulance door just before it slammed shut.

Kat lay on the pullout bed beside Skye’s crib in the hospital room. She should’ve been dead asleep because she was beyond exhausted, but residual adrenaline from the night’s events had her staring at the ceiling.

Thank God, the ER doctor’s examination of Skye had revealed no problems other than slight dehydration. She had no drugs in her system and no signs of physical abuse. The pediatrician on call strongly recommended admitting her for observation until late morning. Kat concurred. By the time they had reached this hospital room, Skye had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms.

Kat rolled onto her side so she could see her baby and reassure herself that Skye was safe. It would probably be a while before she’d be comfortable leaving her daughter with anyone, even her folks.

The door opened, and someone shuffled into the room. Kat closed her eyes. She really couldn’t handle any more questions right now. It would only prolong the adrenaline flow keeping her awake.

She heard the person approach the crib. An instant of terror struck, and her eyes popped open. But when she saw Dillon, she closed her eyes to slits. Why she didn’t say something, she didn’t know. But the need to watch him, unaware, overwhelmed her.

Rigid and still, he stood beside the crib and just stared at Skye for a long time. His face revealed no intense emotions, but something more akin to bewilderment. Tears began to leak from Kat’s eyes.

Dillon reached over the side of the crib as if he wanted to touch Skye, but his hand stalled several inches above her.

You can touch her, Dillon. She’s your child, our child, our creation. Touch her, please touch her. Let me see that you care.