Extreme Measures

17

Landon stared at the small, well-kept two-story home on a quiet street in the Fremont district of Seattle. The lawn was neatly mowed, the fence was freshly painted, and the iron chairs on the wide front porch were decked out with new seat cushions.

Not your typical safe house. Then again, that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right place. Every curtain was closed tight, blocking the inside from view, and the fence was taller than your standard six-foot fare, reminding him of that house in Cleveland where those three women had been held captive by a monster for years on end.

His stomach tightened as he sat in the shade of an oak tree and watched the house. When not a single person came or went in an hour, he decided to take a closer look.

His mind drifted to Olivia Wolfe as he crossed the street, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. What she was feeling. Fear and trauma weren’t things that could be measured in time. Whether it was a day, a week, or ten years, a person’s life could be changed forever by one single moment. He knew that better than most because usually he was the cause.

He shifted the backpack hanging off one shoulder, climbed the front porch, pulled back the screen, and knocked. It was ballsy, but he wanted to know what he was up against before he went in, guns blazing.

Seconds ticked by, and no one answered. He knocked again. Waited. When still no one answered, he stepped back off the porch and looked up at the second story.

That fucker in Cleveland had left those women chained in their rooms when he’d gone out. Landon tugged the backpack over his other shoulder, glanced toward the fence, and then made his way around the side of the house.

The possibility that there could be guard dogs flickered through his mind, but he pushed the thought aside and quickly scaled the ten-foot metal fence. Dropping to his feet, he eyed the elaborate combination locking mechanism on the inside, then pulled the SIG from his lower back. Someone definitely wanted to keep something or someone inside this place.

He moved quietly through the backyard. Trees rimmed the lawn, blocking the view from other houses. A patio void of furniture led to three small steps and a back door. One look at the wires in the corner of the window told him there was a security system in place.

Landon glanced toward the upstairs windows, looking for any crack or opening. All the windows looked closed, but that didn’t mean there was no point of entry.

Choosing the closest tree, he climbed until he could access the roof of the garage. Balancing on the steep grade, he made his way across the roof toward the upstairs window he’d targeted below.

Like the door downstairs, there was a magnetic sensor, but it would be triggered only when the window was opened, not broken. Landon tugged on a pair of gloves from the backpack, then pulled out a folded piece of tinfoil he’d brought for this very reason. Using his elbow, he broke the window in the top right corner.

Pain echoed down his arm, but the long-sleeved Henley protected him from the broken glass. After unfolding the tinfoil, he carefully slid it inside the window and down between the magnetic sensors. Confident it was in place, he reached through the hole in the window and flipped the window lock on the top of the pane.

Moment of truth. He pushed the window up and climbed inside.

The small bedroom was empty except for a neatly made bed, a dresser, and a chair. Gun held steady in both hands, he scanned the room and listened. No alarms rang. No footsteps echoed. Moving quickly through the upstairs and finding it quiet, he eased down the stairs and into the kitchen. A glance at the alarm panel by the back door confirmed the system hadn’t been tripped. He turned a slow circle, took in the silent family room and the empty kitchen, and then moved down the hall toward the front of the house.

The place was like a ghost town. No sound, no movement, nothing that indicated anyone had been here in days.

Making a circle through the downstairs rooms, he stopped when he spotted the door beneath the staircase.

He reached out, turned the handle. Found it locked.

Suspicion sent tiny arcs of electricity all down his spine. He holstered his weapon and pulled out his lock pick kit. Minutes later, he pulled the door open and stood staring down a dark, silent staircase.

His adrenaline inched up. He reached back for his weapon again and slowly moved down the first few steps. Wood creaked under his feet. A musty smell hit his nose. The only light came from behind him, spilling down the basement stairs into a pitch-black cavern.

He reached the cement floor. Squinted through the darkness, looking for a light, a switch, anything. Shuffling echoed to his right before he could reach back in his bag and find his flashlight. Heart pounding, he swiveled in that direction and lifted his gun. “Move and you’re dead.”

Something hard slammed into the side of his head.

The shriek burst past Olivia’s lips before she could stop it.

The wooden leg she’d broken off a small table slid against her sweaty palms, but she pulled back, ready to nail the fucker in the head again.

“Son of a bitch.” The man yanked the weapon out of her hand. It clattered against the floor across the room. “Don’t fucking hit me again.”

Olivia scooted as far away from him as the chain would let her go. Bright light burned her eyes, making it hard to see. Her muscles ached, her stomach hurt, and her entire body vibrated with both fear and exhaustion. She couldn’t see the other table legs she’d ripped off that small piece of furniture. Wondered how far away they were and if she could reach them before he came at her. She knew she shouldn’t do anything more to antagonize the men holding her, but she was losing control. Playing scared wasn’t working. It was time to fight back or die.

Kill me. Just do it. Get it over with.

She wanted to scream the words but couldn’t seem to make her lips work. All that came out was another pathetic screech.

“Son of a bitch. No. Don’t. Shit. Shh . . .”

Fabric rustled. The man standing in the spray of light moved closer. Olivia’s terror shot to all new levels. She scrambled for the corner of the room. The chain around her ankle rattled. She looked around for her weapons. All she needed was one. Something . . .

Stay back. Don’t touch me . . .

Do it! Just get it over with and kill me!

Conflicting thoughts battled in her mind. She was losing her slight grasp on sanity. The shadow grew larger, closer. Her hand curled into a tight fist, and she shook her head, searching for that elusive place where they couldn’t touch her, where they couldn’t hurt her, where no matter what they did, they wouldn’t win.

“Olivia, shh . . . I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

She tugged her legs up to her chest. Tightened her other fist. Pain ricocheted all through her body. She’d heard those words before. Had fallen for them one too many times. The screams from the man she’d been talking to through the wall in that other house when they’d dragged him away echoed through her mind.

“Olivia, stop. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Landon Miller. I work for a company called Aegis Security. Your sister Eve sent me to find you.”

One word got through. One thought.

Eve.

“That’s right,” he said in a gentler voice. “You know Eve. You remember her. She’s worried about you. She can’t be here right now, but she sent me to get you.”

Olivia stilled, squinted, and tried to see his face. With the light at his back, all she could make out was the silhouette of his body, kneeling close to her.

Trust him. Don’t trust him. It could be a trap. Her frantic mind searched for something solid to latch on to. Eve could have sent him, or he could be another psycho, this one eager to torment her in new, more sadistic ways.

“Look,” he said softly. “All I want to do is get you out of this house and away from these people. But first you have to trust me. Do you think you can trust me, Olivia?”

No. Yes. Olivia wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that as bad as her captivity had been so far, at the hands of someone else it could be a thousand times worse.

She was still debating her options when the floorboards creaked above.

“Shit.” The man tilted his head toward the ceiling. Footsteps echoed, and a door somewhere above slammed shut.

Olivia’s heart rate shot up.

“Stay here.” He pushed to his feet and quickly disappeared.

Confused, Olivia drew away from the wall and looked for him, unsure what he was doing. Seconds later he was back, kneeling in front of her again. “We need to get moving.”

He shifted around, tugged something from his back. Olivia tensed. Then he flicked a switch, and a beam of light spread over her dirty, bare feet.

A flashlight. He was holding a flashlight.

“Hold still.” He put the end of the small flashlight in his mouth and tugged something else from his back. Light shone over her butterfly tattoo and the metal cuff around her ankle. A click echoed, and she looked down and watched in surprise as he used a long metal object to pick the lock.

The cuff sprang free. He tucked the lock pick back in his pack and pushed to his feet. He was tall. Really tall. Taller than the others who’d come down here. He held out a hand. “Can you stand?”

Olivia’s heart raced. Indecision warred. She was free. Free for the first time in days. With a complete stranger who might or might not be another psychopath.

“Cellar doors lead to freedom, Olivia. You’re either with me or you’re not. It’ll only be seconds before they find that door upstairs open.”

Freedom. The word sounded elusive. A fable. A fantasy. She looked down at his wide palm, dimly lit from the light near the stairs, and made her choice.

Her hand slid over his. Warmth rushed into her skin. His fingers quickly closed over hers and tightened, holding her in a fierce grip, tugging her to her feet and closer to his broad body.

His chest was huge. His arms thick and muscled beneath the long-sleeved top. And his legs . . . dear God, they were like tree trunks. Panic consumed her. His other hand landed at her waist and slid around her back. The spicy scent of leather and musk filled her nostrils. The air grew thicker the closer she drew to his body, and her heart rate picked up speed.

She’d made the wrong choice. He was one of them. He was going to hurt her. He was going to—

Shouts echoed from above. His head swiveled toward the stairs, and he muttered, “Fucking A.”

Light from the stairs spilled over his profile, and she caught her first glimpse of his face. A nose slightly crooked as if it had been broken once or twice, full lips, a strong chin and sculpted jaw. She couldn’t tell what color his hair was, but his skin was shades lighter than the men who’d been holding her in this prison, and even in the dim light, there was something solid, reassuring, hopeful about him.

His gaze snapped back to her, and she found herself wondering what color his eyes were. “I have to let go of you. Don’t fall.”

She didn’t have time to answer. He released her waist and hand and reached back for his pack. Weak, Olivia swayed on her bare feet, but her adrenaline kept her upright. Footsteps pounded above. Running. Growing louder. Growing closer. Her gaze darted toward the stairs.

The man—Miller? Had he said his name was Miller? Or had she imagined that?—pulled something from his pack. His fingers moved quickly in the dark, and then he grasped her at the wrist and pulled. “Come on.”

They were heading toward the stairs. Sweat burst all over her skin. He couldn’t possibly mean to—

They reached the base of the stairs. A body stepped into the light at the top. One she recognized. The man who’d hit her relentlessly. She tensed. Tried to pull back out of the grip at her wrist. The man yelled in that same foreign language she didn’t understand. Miller threw whatever was in his hand up the stairs.

The sound of an explosion echoed through the basement, shaking the walls. A blinding light erupted above. Miller tugged hard on her arm. “Now!”

Olivia stumbled. Gasped. Tried to keep up. He dragged her across the basement, then stopped in front of what looked like a steel door. “Turn away.”

She didn’t know what he was doing, but she listened. Two more bangs, then the sound of metal shattering. She looked back just as he was shoving his shoulder against the door. It gave with a crack. Cement steps let up to cellar doors, which he quickly pushed open. Then warm sunlight rushed over her body, warming her frigid skin and bathing her in light.

Relief trickled through every cell in her body. She sucked in a deep breath, but the grip on her hand jolted her out of any celebration she wanted to lose herself in. “No time to fuck around,” Miller said to her. “We have to keep moving.”

Bright light blinded her, but she looked his way and realized he was holding a gun in both hands, scanning the area behind them.

“Head toward the fence,” he directed.

Grass pressed against the bottom of her feet as she forced her muscles forward, running for the fence. When she reached it, her heart sank.

The thing had to be at least ten feet tall. And metal, straight up. No footholds. She’d never scale it.

A dog barked. Inside the house, voices echoed and shouted. Footsteps pounded.

“Up, let’s go, come on. We’re running out of time.” Miller holstered the gun and then leaned over and cupped both hands together, creating a step for her.

“I can’t—”

“Fuck can’t. You wanna live? Then haul ass, woman. We’ve got seconds before they’re here.”

Olivia’s heart jumped into her throat. She gripped his strong shoulders and slid her foot into his hands. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He didn’t even grunt as he hefted her up. Her fingertips grazed the top of the fence, and she clawed for a tight grip. “Throw yourself over.”

Throw herself over? She managed to get one leg over the side of the fence, then made the mistake of looking back.

Three, four, no . . . five men spilled out of the house, guns drawn. Somewhere a dog snarled and barked.

“Go!” Miller screamed.

Fear froze every muscle in her body.

Gunfire erupted in the yard.

Zane’s pulse shot into the stratosphere as he slid his arms into both straps of the backpack. He’d counted four men heading toward them from the direction of the parking lot, but they were already splitting up.

Eve’s hand gripped his shirt and tugged him back into the cover of the trees.

“How many?” Carter asked.

Eve took up space near Zane, gun drawn and ready, eyes scanning the park beyond. She was in black ops mode, and all he wanted to do was shove her behind him where he knew she’d be safe, but he knew there was no way in hell she’d ever go for that.

“Four,” he answered.

“Civilians?” Natalie asked, pulling a Colt XSE from her holster.

“They’ve scattered.” Zane squinted through the trees. “I can’t see them anymore.”

“Let’s hope to God they had the sense to get out of here.” Natalie gripped the gun in both hands. “Four against four. Those aren’t bad odds.”

“Four that we can see.” Zane glanced her way. “Packing M14s and who the hell knows what else.”

She grinned. “Makes it all the more fun.”

“You should leave, Natalie.” Eve’s strained voice met Zane’s ears, but he refused to turn and look. “This isn’t your fight.”

“I’m not leaving the three of you on your own.”

Yeah, but they needed Natalie alive so she could help clear Eve’s name. “Listen,” Zane said, “maybe Eve’s right.”

Gunfire exploded in the clearing. Reflexes had Zane shoving Eve to the ground.

She grunted as her shoulder and hip hit the earth. Dirt and grass flew up around them. More gunfire ricocheted, this time from Carter and Natalie as they fired back, protected by the trees. A thud echoed to Zane’s right, and Natalie groaned. When he turned to look, bright red seeped through the white cotton at her shoulder.

Zane scrambled off Eve and rushed to Natalie. With Eve’s help, they pulled her behind another tree. From ahead, Carter hollered, “A little help here!”

Eve was on her feet in seconds, her gun drawn as she joined Carter. Tightness closed around Zane’s chest, but he knew he had to trust in her training. Had to let her do what she needed to do. He helped Natalie lean against a tree and pressed a hand over the wound.

“Shit,” she gasped. “Maybe I should have listened.”

“We’re gonna get you out of here.” He picked up her good arm and placed her hand against the wound. “Pressure here. You hear me? Don’t let up.”

She bit hard into her lip. Nodded. “Just get the fuckers.”

When Zane reached Eve and Carter, Eve was already switching magazines. Two assailants lay dead in the park, but two more were closing in fast. He skidded to his knees and quickly rummaged through the backpack until he found the flash grenades in the bottom. Jerking the pin free, he threw one into the park. “Go!”

A boom echoed, followed by a flash of light, blinding the attackers. Eve stepped out from behind the tree, lifted the gun in both hands, aimed at the man on the right, and fired. The bullet hit him in the throat. He went down like a board. She swiveled and aimed at the guy on the left and did the same. Gunfire erupted, but the man only got off two shots before he was on the ground.

“Fucking A,” Carter mumbled from yards away. “Archer!”

Lifting his Beretta again, Zane swiveled and saw what Carter was staring at.

Two more men coming from the direction of the parking lot. One carrying what looked like a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

“Fuck me,” Zane muttered.

Carter whipped around. “We need to haul ass.”

Eve stepped out and fired. Missed. Fired again. Bullets thunked against wood. She ducked back behind the tree, just barely missing being hit. “What about—?”

“I’ll get her,” Carter announced. “Just fucking go!”

He was already running for Natalie before Zane could stop him. Before he could argue. The guy with the rocket launcher lowered it to his shoulder and lined up his sights.

Grasping Eve by the collar, Zane pulled hard. “Go, go, go!”

Muscles in his legs burned as they sprinted for the far end of the park. Gunfire rang out behind him. He turned to fire one. Twice. Felt like he was in a dream. From the corner of his eye he saw Carter lift Natalie over his shoulder. Saw the blood running down her arm. Saw Carter push his legs into motion and head the other direction.

No. They were going the wrong direction. That would lead them closer to the parking lot. Where they didn’t know how many others were waiting.

He opened his mouth to yell for Carter to stop. The rocket launcher hissed.

And then the world exploded.