Run to Me (36 page)

At the door, they stopped. Ethan moved to the other side. Able to read his thoughts with just one look, Shea felt as if they’d never parted. She twisted the knob, and the door swung open. With stealthy quietness, gun at the ready, Ethan peered in low, then high, moving to avoid being a still target.

“Empty stairway,” he said quietly.

Ethan went through the doorway; Shea followed. His long legs took the steps three at a time. They stopped at the door and Shea whispered, “Hold on.”

Ethan jerked around. “What are you doing?”

Slipping her shoe off, she twisted the bottom and pulled out several vials of her new miracle drug. “Getting prepared in case I can get one of these into Cole.”

“Shea?”

The husky tone of Ethan’s voice had her looking up. His expression was a mixture of tenderness, grim acknowledgment, and pride. “You’ve remembered everything, haven’t you?”

Recognizing and understanding every nuance of his expression, she answered with a simple and quiet “Yes.”

He blew out a long breath. “We have a lot to talk about.”

She straightened, pocketed the vials, and nodded. “Yes, we do.”

Ethan turned back to the door; Shea grabbed his arm. “Wait. I don’t want Rosemount killed.”

The glare Ethan shot her told her he disagreed. “Why?”

“Because I want him to rot in prison.”

A smile of understanding tugged at his mouth. “You’re right. There are some things worse than death. And few people who deserve it more. I’ll see what I can do to make sure he stays alive.” He shrugged and added, “Healthy is another thing.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Shea turned the knob, pushed open the door. Ethan dropped low, took a look, and jerked back. “Kitchen’s the next room. Rosemount’s visible through the doorway … in the middle of the living room. Surrounded by four armed men. He’s got a .357 Magnum to Gabe’s head.”

Shea closed her eyes. “Guess that answers my question about Gabe.”

“Come on out.” Rosemount’s voice sounded strained and nervous. Not a good thing … especially for a coward with a gun in his hand. “Come join the fun.”

Ethan took Shea’s knife and slipped it into the back pocket of his pants, then shoved the gun into his waistband at the small of his back. “Stay back. Cover me.”

She didn’t argue. Ethan was better trained in hand-to-hand combat. She was a good shot. They needed to use their strengths to get out of this situation with everyone intact.

Ethan strode through the kitchen. At the living room door he stopped and took in the scene. Rosemount stood in the middle of the room. A tied-up and gagged Gabe sat at his feet. The gun, pressed against Gabe’s temple, shook. One finger twitch and Gabe was a goner. Sweat rolled down Rosemount’s face; his eyes, behind the thick glasses, darted back and forth, roaming all over the room. The man was scared as hell and desperate. A bad combination for someone as fucked up as Rosemount.

The four men around Rosemount all shared the same glazed expressions. Their guns aimed at Ethan indicated their intentions.
Well, hell.

Ethan’s gaze flicked to Gabe. His blue eyes were almost black with fury. When he got free, Rosemount wouldn’t stand a chance.

Rosemount’s voice, squeaky-high and shaking, grated on Ethan’s ears. The nose of his gun ground against Gabe’s temple. “I really want to keep him, but if you don’t back off, I’ll sacrifice him.”

Ethan held his hands at his sides, away from his body. “You kill him, you’ll be dead in an instant.”

“Oh yeah, who’s going to kill me? Not you. My soldiers will rip your body in half with one shot. And my woman may have disobeyed me, but she wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ethan just smiled. No words were necessary.

Biting his lips, Rosemount glanced around nervously. Then his eyes narrowed into lizardlike slits, a sly look replacing the fear. “I have another idea.” Turning his gaze to Ethan’s left, he said, “Snap his neck.”

Ethan twisted around.
Cole.
His expressionless face and cold, emotionless eyes said it all. He would do whatever Rosemount wanted. Without any concept of right or wrong, he only knew he had to obey. Ethan turned fully toward him, his mind racing with how to take down his friend without killing him or getting killed.

Cole marched toward him; Ethan braced himself. Just before Cole attacked, Ethan kicked, his foot landing squarely on Cole’s chest. Confusion flickered on Cole’s face. He stumbled slightly, recovered, and started forward again. Ethan backed up and kicked again, targeting the same spot. Pain flashed in Cole’s face before he dropped to his knees. Ethan scrambled behind him. Sliding his forearm under Cole’s chin, he locked him in a choke hold. And squeezed. Cole gasped and gurgled. Pulled at Ethan’s arms. Shifting left and right, he grunted as he tried to dislodge Ethan. Keeping the pressure tight but not lethal, Ethan held on. At last Cole slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Rosemount squealed, raised the gun from Gabe’s head, and fired at Ethan. Ethan dropped and rolled. Catching sight of a leather recliner to his right, he sprang to his feet and leaped. Tipping the chair, Ethan rolled it forward with his body and ducked behind it for cover.

Raising his head slightly, he caught a glimpse of vibrant auburn hair at the doorway as Shea fired. Blood bloomed on Rosemount’s shoulder, and he let out another squeal as he twisted his head and stared at the doorway where Shea had stood. His voice shook with hurt and betrayal. “She shot me.”

With a wild sweep of his arm, he ordered the two men to his left: “Go get the woman. If you have to shoot her, fine, just don’t kill her.” He turned and shouted to the men on the other side, “Kill the freak with the scar. Now!”

Shit.
Sinking behind the chair, Ethan pulled Shea’s knife from his back pocket. Ears attuned, he heard the soldiers stomp closer. Praying that he’d gauged the distance correctly, as well as the height of the men, Ethan peered over the edge of the chair. Once he spotted the target, he let the knife fly. The blade landed inside the intended target: the man’s groin.

An unholy scream erupted. Eyes rolling back in his head, the soldier dropped his gun. His hands clutched the knife as he fell to his knees, his screams turning to agonized whimpers. The other soldier never spared his comrade a glance as he continued forward. Holding his gun steady, Ethan squeezed off a shot. The bullet ripped into the man’s hand. He howled, too, his steps faltering as he looked down at the blood. Then, his expression showing no emotion, he kept marching toward Ethan.

Resting his arms on the chair to steady himself, Ethan fired another shot, this time into the man’s other hand. That stopped his forward progress. The gun fell as the soldier held both damaged hands and howled with pain.

Clambering from his hideout, Ethan ran toward the door. Shea and one pistol against two men with AK-47s? She didn’t stand a chance.

“Hold it right there.”

Ethan halted. Rosemount stood in front of him. Hands shaking violently, the bastard was close to losing all control.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Gabe approaching. Because of Rosemount’s tunnel vision and blind arrogance, he’d forgotten about the man he’d left tied up on the floor. To Gabe, having his hands tied behind his back was a slight and insignificant detail. There were dozens of ways to kill without using your hands. Gabe knew them all.

Worry for Shea pounded at Ethan. Every second counted, but Ethan forced himself to move toward Rosemount with a nonchalant ease. “Might as well give it up.”

“Not bloody likely. Now it’s just you and me, and looks who’s holding the gun.”

“That pea shooter?”

Eyes wild, Rosemount raised the gun higher. Exactly what he and Gabe were waiting for. Ethan ducked as Gabe rammed into Rosemount’s back. The shot went wild.

Ethan lifted his head to see Gabe sitting on Donald Rosemount’s back. The man was facedown on the floor, kicking, pounding, and sobbing, his feet and hands useless.

Wishing he had time to appreciate the picture, Ethan dashed toward the kitchen. The door leading outside was open. In the distance, he heard the blast of an AK-47. His heart almost exploded. About to run out the door, he was stopped by Shea’s voice: “Hey, over here.”

Ethan whirled around.

Shea emerged from a bottom cabinet. Grinning, she dusted off her clothes. “Donald’s cabinets are nice and roomy, but he needs to dust more often.”

His legs wobbling as if they were made of melted rubber, Ethan strode awkwardly toward Shea. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Not a scratch on me.” Her eyes shifted to the door. “Where’s Rosemount?”

“Come see. Gabe caught himself a little fish.”

They stood in the doorway and watched Gabe make himself more comfortable on top of Rosemount. Multiple gunshots from outside drowned out Shea’s chuckle. Ethan peered through the window. Seeing the distinctive blue jackets of LCR people, Ethan blew out a relieved sigh as they swarmed the grounds. He turned to Shea and said, “Cavalry’s here. I’ll go—”

A big body slammed into him.
Cole.
Ethan skidded across the carpet, landed on his shoulder. He heard and felt a pop. Twisting around, he tried to push Cole off, but his arms were trapped between their bodies. Big hands wrapped around Ethan’s neck with one clear intent: he’d been ordered to snap Ethan’s neck. Unconsciousness had delayed him, but it hadn’t stopped him.

Ethan pushed with all his might. The roaring in his ears told him suffocation was imminent. Underneath the roar, he heard Shea’s sobbing voice pleading. She hopped onto Cole’s back, pulled frantically at his arms. Ethan pushed harder. If he died, Cole might go after Shea next.

Black dots appeared before his eyes. His vision blurred. Ethan’s knee shot up and rammed the other man’s balls. A slight loosening gave Ethan air; then the hands tightened again. He could see Shea’s face, wet with tears and wild with fear, just above Cole’s shoulder. Her hand came up to Cole’s neck, and she jammed a needle into the skin. Cole froze for an instant, his expression one of confusion. Then, with a roar, he threw Shea off and lurched to his feet.

His head in his hands as if in agony, Cole roared again, the heart-ripping sound an agonizing testament of a tortured soul.

Gasping and coughing, Ethan got to his feet, looking for Shea. She’d landed facedown several feet away. Ethan half-ran, half-crawled to her. His heart in his throat, he rolled her over. She blinked up at him with a reassuring smile.

Another agonizing roar. They turned to see Cole shoving Gabe off Rosemount. Donald let loose an ear-bursting screech. Scrambling on all fours like a frightened cockroach, he tried to escape. Cole scooped him up and dangled him by his neck. Rosemount’s legs swung uselessly; his hands slapped ineffectually at Cole’s arms as his face turned a brilliant purple. Then, like a pretzel stick, his neck snapped. With another roar, Cole swung Rosemount around and threw him across the room. His body made a nauseating but satisfying crack as it slammed against the stone fireplace.

Cole whirled around, his face wild with a horror Ethan could only imagine. Never had he seen such agony. With a soft sob, Shea jumped up and ran toward him. Ethan opened his mouth to shout at her to get back. Before he could say anything, Cole’s arms wrapped around her. They dropped to the floor together.

It was finally at an end.

Ethan pulled himself to his feet, his dislocated shoulder and bruises a distant, ignorable pain. The couple on the floor was a demonstration of not only horrendous suffering but also incredible survival.

Pulling her head from Cole’s shoulder, Shea looked up at Ethan. Tears poured down her face. An ungodly ache grew in his heart. What these two had endured was unimaginable, but they would survive. With their inner strength and support from each other, Cole and Shea could be the loving couple they were meant to be. As long as Ethan stayed out of their way. He’d sabotaged their marriage once before, and they’d all paid a hefty price. It was time to accept the inevitable. Time to let Shea go.

Offering her a small nod of understanding, he turned away. There was cleanup to do; reports had to be filed. Then he would go home, where he belonged.

Washed out, ecstatic, weepy, and a whole host of other things, Shea shuffled out of Cole’s room. He was finally and thankfully asleep. Dr. Norton knew much more about Rosemount’s drugs now. Cole could be treated more extensively and more quickly. Though he was still confused and in pain, his prognosis for a full recovery was excellent. His physical strength would return much sooner than his mental stability. She knew from experience that it could take him months to overcome all the demons he faced.

“How’s he doing?”

Ethan sat slumped in a chair down the hallway. Bruises and cuts stood out distinctly against his too pale skin. A sling held his right shoulder in place, and his wrists were wrapped in bandages. He looked as bad as she felt.

“He’s finally asleep.”

“Does he remember?”

She nodded, sad beyond measure at what he did remember. “Not all of it yet, but a lot. Too much, too soon. Dr. Norton gave him something to help him sleep. He couldn’t handle any more today.” She swallowed hard. “Neither could I.” Still unable to believe the horror of his torture, her eyes swam with tears. “What Rosemount did to him, Ethan … I still can’t believe it. I’ve never seen scars like that … all over his back. I can’t imagine the agony he’s endured.”

His eyes stark with pain for his friend, Ethan said, “With your help, he’ll make it through.”

Shea swallowed a sob. What had she expected? Ethan hadn’t changed his mind. She had to accept that and move on. But first, they needed to get some things out in the open.

“Can we talk a few minutes?”

Looking as though he’d just as soon eat razor blades, he gave a brief nod. Together they walked toward a staff lounge, thankfully empty.

The instant the door swung closed, she moved across the room and leaned against a table. She needed to be as far away from Ethan as she could get. If she stayed close to him, she’d end up in his arms. In her weak and vulnerable state, she couldn’t trust herself. She had things to say, questions to ask, and apologies to make. Having all her memories back gave her a certain amount of peace, but also a knowledge of what she had done to precipitate so much of what came after. Ethan had taken all of the guilt on himself, and she couldn’t allow that to stand.