Against the Sky (30 page)

She tugged on the rope but it didn't budge. Samantha winced as the shard of glass sliced into her palm, but she kept on sawing at the rope.

They sat in a group in front of the fire, Nick, Cord, Noah, and Derek. Weapons of every size and shape lay on the coffee table or the floor in front of them. Carol had put Evie in one of Noah's bedrooms, along with an iPad he had loaned her so the child could play games.

“So what have we got?” Nick asked, surveying the stockpile on the floor. Along with his Glock 21, he had a backup .38 Colt revolver and the KA-BAR knife he kept in the emergency gear box in the back of his SUV. If he'd had time to make the sixty-mile round trip to his house, he could have pulled a few more weapons out of the gun safe in his garage. But time was of the essence and the Russians were unpredictable. He didn't want to leave the others alone that long.

“I've got my Glock and my backup piece,” Cord said. He used the same standard police issue as Nick, plus a .38 snub-nose. “I brought the thirty-ought-six and the Moss-burg 12 gauge I keep up at the cabin.”

Nick nodded. When he had phoned Cord, his friend had been at the cabin boarding up the broken windows from the recent firefight. Derek had been hammering nails beside him, saving Nick another phone call. Both men had immediately volunteered to help.

Derek reached down and picked up his Beretta nine mil, dropped the clip and checked the load. “I've got this little beauty and the H&K AR-15 I had with me up at the cabin.”

“Nice,” Noah said.

Nick's gaze swung in the big man's direction. “What about you?”

Noah lifted a pistol off the coffee table. “Nighthawk .45.” He slid it into a holster and picked up another semi-auto. “H&K P30 nine mil.” He holstered the weapon and set it on the table, reached down and hefted the automatic weapon on the floor at his feet. “AK-47—little souvenir I picked up in Afghanistan.”

Nick nodded. “Plus miscellaneous knives, a pair of tactical vests, and a couple of flash grenades. Not bad for spur of the moment.”

“Since we've still got a little time,” Noah said. “Let's run through the plan once more.” His head was still bandaged, but he seemed pretty much back to normal. This was good, because it was going to take all four of them to bring down the Russians and get Samantha out safely.

Nick looked at his watch. “Good idea.” It was six thirty. Didn't get dark for another hour. They wanted to be there early enough to do recon and establish their locations, but not before it was dark enough that they wouldn't be seen.

They spread out the maps they had pieced together, one of them aerial views taken off Google Earth. The fact he and Cord had been to the motel helped them identify the best routes in and out, and where the Russians might have their men posted.

“We take three vehicles,” Nick began. “Cord parks his pickup on this hill behind the building.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Noah parks his Durango on the lower road on the other side of the motel. I drive right up in front. When it's time to leave, if we can't get to one of the vehicles, we head for the others. If we have to leave one of them behind, that's better than not being able to get out. The keys will be on the floor under the driver's seat.”

Cord pointed to a high point on a nearby ridge. “I take my rifle and head up here, cover Nick from a distance.”

Noah pointed out his position. “I locate to the north of the building, be ready to move to the east or west, depending on where the greatest threat appears.”

“I hang back,” Derek said. “Move in after Nick makes contact, cover him close up while he brings Samantha out.”

“Once you have her,” Noah said to Nick, “we all converge, cover both of you till you reach your vehicle or one of the others, then we get the hell out of Dodge.”

“That's about it,” Nick said. “We can only pray it goes down half as smooth as planned.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

Nick looked up to see Carol standing at the foot of the stairs. “What would that be?” he asked as the men began smearing their cheeks with grease paint to camouflage their faces. All of them but him.

“Me,” Carol said. “There's no way the exchange is going to happen if I don't go with you.”

Nick started shaking his head. “No way. It's too dangerous.”

“You want to know what danger is? Trying to live our lives with those bastards breathing down our necks. If this doesn't end now, tonight, Evie and I will never be safe.”

“This is going to be hard enough without a woman along,” Noah grumbled, staring at her, his forehead black with paint, black lines streaking down his cheeks.

“The odds of your getting close to them without me are slim and none, and all of you know it.”

Since it was the truth, no one said a word.

“You men have risked your lives to help me and Evie,” Carol went on. “This is something I have to do.”

Derek looked over at Nick. “If we leave her in the car it might work. They'll see her and figure you're going to make the trade. You'll be able to use her as a bargaining chip.”

“What about Evie?” Nick asked, pinning Carol where she stood. “What if something happens to you?”

“I talked to her. She's already in terrible danger. This is our chance to get out. We have to take it.”

Nick glanced around at the men. Beneath the black stripes, their features were hard, but he could tell they were all in agreement. Not having Carol along was a problem they'd already discussed.

“All right, you go with us, but you stay in the car. You don't get out under any circumstance. If I can't get back to you, one of the other men will. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“One last thing.” He looked at the others. “I called Charlie Ferrell.”

Cord's eyebrows went up. “What the hell? Are you nuts?”

“I've worked with Ferrell. He's a straight shooter. He says they're playing Sanders, seeing where he'll lead them. But Sanders won't be told anything about tonight.”

“I hope you know what you're doing,” Cord said darkly.

“I know Ferrell.” Nick's mouth edged up. “But just to be safe, I told him the meet was going down at ten.”

Cord's face broke into a smile, and Noah boomed a laugh. The feds would undoubtedly show up early, so if the mission went off as planned, Ferrell and his agents would arrive just as Nick and the others were making their getaway with Carol and Samantha. They would be on their way back to the lodge, leaving the feebies to cover their withdrawal and pick up the pieces.

For the next few minutes, the men pulled on body armor, shoved guns into holsters and flash grenades into pockets. Nick glanced down at his watch. “You ready?” he asked Carol.

She grabbed her heavy jacket and pulled it on over the navy blue sweatshirt she was wearing with jeans and heavy boots. “I'm ready.”

“Time to go. We need to do a little recon, then get into position.”

Noah grabbed his AK-47. “Okay, boys,” he said, shoving his big six-foot-five-inch frame up from the sofa, the black streaks on his face making him look like a monster from hell. “Let's roll.”

 

 

Samantha shivered. The cuts on her hand still stung, but she hadn't bled much. By now it had dried into a dark brown stain. With luck, the men wouldn't notice. The glass shard had done its job. A final hard tug would break the rope around her wrists and she would be free. She'd be ready to move when the right moment came.

“What time is it?” Lacey asked from her place on the floor.

Samantha raised her head enough to see the red numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand. “Eight forty-five.” She had heard the men talking, knew Nick would arrive at nine, bringing the ledger and the flash drive. She couldn't imagine him bringing Carol Johnson, handing her over to these cruel, vicious men.

“Almost nine,” Lacey said.

The words had barely left the woman's mouth before the door swung open and two men walked in from outside, joining the ugly man at the window. She recognized the one with the spiderweb tattoo.
Roman.
The other man was equally tall, with a ruddy, pockmarked complexion.
Markov.
The man who'd shot Noah.

A shiver of fear ran through her. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.

“Time to go, ladies,” Roman said, hauling Lacey to her feet. “We will be leaving as soon as this is over.”

Markov reached for her but Samantha shook him off and rose by herself. Lacey flashed Samantha a glance, her thoughts clear on her face.
This is it. They're gonna kill me and prostitute you.

Samantha ignored her. Instead she went peacefully, letting Roman lead her out into the cold. The motel consisted of two rows of rooms, back-to-back, one row facing east, the other west. Lights lit the corridor beneath an overhanging porch that ran the length of both buildings.

The short man, The Worm, she thought with a dark tug of satisfaction, had been with Roman at the lodge. He stood just outside the door, next to a big man with thick shoulders, shaggy brown hair, and pig eyes. By the sound Lacey made when she saw him, Samantha knew he was The Bull.

She dragged her gaze away, fixed on one of the others. He was medium height and build, well-dressed in a long, gray overcoat, an expensive maroon cashmere scarf around his neck. He stood beneath the overhead light as if he had no reason to hide, as if there was no one in the world he was afraid of. Hard, gray eyes fixed on her face and a chill slid through her. The devil himself had eyes like those.

She knew without doubt the man was Constantine Bela Varga.

He ignored her as if she weren't there, turned and said something Samantha couldn't hear to one of his men. A fingernail moon cast dim gray light over the landscape. Enough to glimpse the Explorer parked on the street in front of the parking lot.

Her stomach cramped. Nick was there.

Her heart started pounding. She fought to keep from trembling. There was someone sitting in the passenger seat. Dear God, it had to be Carol. Seeing Lacey's battered face, Samantha could only imagine what the men would do to the woman who had betrayed her powerful lover, the devil who patiently waited to deal with her.

Samantha's gaze searched the darkness. Her heart squeezed as she spotted Nick, standing ten feet in front of the SUV, close enough to converse with the men, but not so close they could touch him.

He held a small canvas satchel in one hand, his other hand out of sight in the pocket of his coat. “The book and the disk are in the bag.” He tossed it into the space between him and the other men. “The girl's handcuffed in the car. Let Samantha go and you can have her.”

Samantha stared at him, unable to believe her ears. “Don't do it, Nick! They'll kill her!”

“Shut up or we'll kill you, too,” The Bull warned. One of the men hurried over and picked up the bag, unzipped it and looked inside. “What about copies?” he asked.

“I didn't have time to make any,” Nick said.

Samantha knew that wasn't true. Lisa Graham undoubtedly had a copy of the flash drive she had worked on, and Nick had said he'd copied the ledger. She shifted her thinking. Nick was planning something. She needed to stay alert, be ready to help him when the time came.

Roman shoved her forward. For a moment, she was afraid the rope would break too soon. “Here's your woman.” Roman turned to the Russian with the pockmarked face. “Markov, go get the girl.”

“Not until I have Samantha,” Nick said. “Come to me, baby.”

She started moving, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She took two steps before Roman fell in beside her, pressed his gun into her ribs. “Stop right here.” He spoke to Markov over his shoulder. “Get Crystal out of the car.”

Samantha looked at Nick. There was something in his eyes she had seen before. A darkness that seemed to well up inside him. He was in warrior mode. Nick was ready. Samantha prepared herself. Now was the time to move.

 

 

Nick recognized the determined glint in Samantha's eyes the instant before she jerked at the rope binding her wrists. The rope went flying, Samantha turned and shoved the big Russian as hard as she could and started running. Nick jerked his pistol out of his pocket, dove toward her, knocking them both to the ground, firing at the same instant. Two quick taps took the Russian down, the sharp reports followed by a barrage of gunfire from the men hidden around the motel backing him up.

His bullet hit the Russian square in the chest and he went down hard, his gun flying out of his hand, landing uselessly on the ground. Nick was back on his feet, firing off more rounds as he and Samantha raced for the cover of the SUV. Carol had ducked out of sight in the foot-well of the passenger seat to ride out the firestorm of lead filling the air around them.

The Explorer was only a few feet away. Nick grunted as a bullet slammed into his back, and he heard Samantha scream. Shots pinged off the SUV as they rounded the bumper and reached safety on the opposite side behind the front wheel.

“Nick!”

He could hear the fear in Samantha's voice. “I'm okay, baby, I'm wearing a vest.” At her look of relief, he couldn't resist a quick hard kiss before he popped up and fired off a few more rounds.

A rifle shot from Cord's location took out one of the men. “That's Markov,” Samantha said as the man rolled on the ground in pain, shouting obscenities in Russian.

Nick shoved her head back down. “Stay low and stay close,” he commanded.

“The man in the gray coat is Bela Varga,” she said, undeterred, as the Russian in the long, gray overcoat ducked out of sight in one of the motel rooms. Noah moved into position. The AK belched a stream of bullets, and the Russians scattered even more.