Chapter Twenty-three

For the span of a heartbeat, Cam stood her ground with bullets singing around her head, praying for a one split-second glimpse of Matheson’s unprotected body. But the bastard was smart, and he held Blair so close that only an inch or two of head and torso was visible. She was a good shot, but not good enough to risk Blair’s life. Cam held for another heartbeat, petitioning the universe to bend to the force of her will, but it would not yield. She dove to the ground chest first, barely registering the pain lasering through her bruised ribs. When silence fell, she rolled to her knees, breathing hard, and trained her weapon on the closed cabin door. She wanted to storm the cabin, she wanted to be in that room with her hands around Matheson’s neck. She wanted to shout that if he hurt her, if he so much as touched her again, she would tear his still-beating heart from his chest with her bare hands.

“Commander,” Hara called from somewhere behind Cam. “Commander, take cover, for God’s sake.”

Cam stood up, her gaze riveted to the cabin, and slowly backed away. Take cover. What kind of cover did Blair have inside that cabin with a maniac? When Cam reached the trail in front of the cabin and saw no activity from inside, she holstered her weapon and sought out her people, who had taken positions in the trees around the clearing. Hara and Wozinski had been joined by the other members of Blair’s security detail along with Steph and the rest of Tanner’s team. All told, a dozen formidable professionals. Someone, probably Hara, had deployed them to cover the cabin should Matheson try to escape, with or without the hostages.

Cam needed to formulate a counterattack. Matheson was going to move fast, and he had the advantage as long as Blair was alive. That he intended to kill her was a given. At some point, Blair would no longer have value as bargaining currency, and then Matheson would execute her. Cam had only one option—kill him before he ever had that chance.

“Steph,” Cam said, “put your best sniper on that door. Put another on the rear. I want only you, me, and Hara to have a channel to them. I give the go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Make sure we have a tight perimeter on the cabin. Then evacuate the other cabins, get everyone into the lodge, and post someone on all the entrances. No one leaves without my say-so.”

“On it.” Steph spoke into a throat mic as she ran toward the closest cabin.

“Hara.”

“Commander?”

“I need aerial surveillance. Have Wozinski contact the president’s advance team in town and tell them we’re canceling the press conference because we need extra time to secure the road up here. Do not apprise them of the situation here. Then put Greg and one of Steph’s long-range shooters into the air in our bird.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hara started away.

“Hara,” Cam said.

Hara looked back. “Ma’am?”

“If I go down, you have the command.” Cam stared at the cabin. “He’s going to try to move her. Soon. He’s going to come out and she’s his ticket to freedom. Do not let him put her in a vehicle. Give the sniper the green light to fire at will.”

“Understood.” Hara’s voice was raspy with tension.

Hara disappeared and Cam signaled for one of Steph’s men to take up the position that Hara had vacated. Then she went in search of Mac Phillips. She found him hunkered down behind a boulder, an assault rifle trained on the cabin. “Stark’s down.”

“Could you tell—”

“Status unknown.” Cam fisted her hands. “Dana Barnett’s in there too. That’s all we know.”

“Jesus.”

“Do you have people on the back?”

“Two teams.”

“Good. Who was on the back door?”

“Julio.” Mac shook his head without taking his eyes off the cabin. “There’s a body on the porch. Must be him. No way Matheson could have gotten past him unless he took him out.”

“I agree.” Cam’s head was buzzing, her instincts were at war. Her heart and a good part of her mind screamed for her to get Blair out now, get Blair away from him, get Blair to safety. But her training demanded she be calm and dispassionate—assess the situation, plan for contingencies, and ultimately, execute a counterattack. The Secret Service did not react, it acted. She could not allow Matheson to dictate the plays. She knew that. But she wanted to be inside that cabin with Blair more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, and she didn’t care if she died trying. Not the way she needed to be thinking. She closed her eyes and directed every bit of willpower she possessed into resurrecting her professional shields. She would do this by the book, until she had no other choice.

“You think he’s alone?” Mac asked.

“Looks that way. So far.” Cam’s nerves settled as she focused on the problem. “No covering fire when any of us took position, and these kind of guys don’t pass up a ready target. Besides, I think the only way he could have gotten this close without being detected was to come alone or with one or two others.”

“Bold plan but makes sense.”

“The lone gunman,” Cam said bitterly. “The hardest to defend against. Christ, he could have skied to within a hundred yards of here from almost anywhere on the mountain and we wouldn’t have known.”

“What does he want?”

“What do any of these fanatics want? Someone to listen to them. The semblance of power.” She raked a hand through her hair. She was afraid it was more than mere political fanaticism this time. She feared his true target was Blair and always had been. Her shirt, wet from her dive into the snow, had frozen and chafed her skin. She shivered. “He’ll tell us soon enough. In the meantime, I need you back inside the lodge.

Set up a command post and monitor any and all transmissions in or out of this area.”

“With respect, Commander, I think I’ll be of more use out here. Maybe you should take the inside—”

“No,” Cam snapped. “He’s got partners somewhere. He wouldn’t walk into this if he didn’t have someone on the outside waiting to help him disappear. The more we know, the more we limit his options. I don’t want him to think he’s in charge.”

“Right. Okay.” Mac looked uncomfortable. “Are you going to call for backup?”

Cam shook her head. “We have all the people we need right here, and I know just how good they are. We bring in hostage rescue or a spec ops team and we’ll have chaos. I’m not putting him under that kind of pressure. Not with our people inside that cabin with him.” Not with his gun on Blair.

When Mac looked like he would say more, Cam cut him off. She knew she’d probably lose her creds over the decision. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting Blair and the others out. “What’s Valerie and Renee’s ETA?”

“They should be landing right about now.”

“Good. Go ahead and brief them, then I want to see them both.” Cam scanned the area, checking to be sure she had people in appropriate vantage points. “Double-check that everyone has radios and put them on delta frequency. Then get back to the lodge, Mac.” She tore her eyes from the cabin and met his. “That’s where I need you. I need to know what he’s doing. I’m blind out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” Mac crouched, ready to move away, but still he hesitated. “I’ll send a vest and a dry shirt down for you.”

“I’m okay.”

“You might be out here for a while.”

Wordlessly, Cam nodded. She would be here until Blair was safe. Time was immaterial.

Emory had heard gunfire before. The first shot had brought her upright in bed as she struggled to make sense of the sound. She knew what it was but her conscious mind refused to embrace the idea. The second and third reports had followed closely on the first, and instinctively she’d rolled out of bed onto the floor, no longer able to deny the reality. The eerie silence that followed was more unnerving than the gunfire. Staying low, out of sight of the bedroom window, she quickly grabbed her clothes and jumped into the bathroom. Hastily, hands shaking, she pulled on jeans, a sweater, and boots. When she dared to peek out the window she saw armed figures moving at the edge of the woods, but she couldn’t make out who they were. Heart hammering, she dashed into the main room and snatched her jacket and cell phone. She wished she had a gun. After the first attack on her life, she’d gotten a license and learned to shoot but she refused to carry a weapon. Despite the threats made against her, she did not want to answer violence and hatred with more violence. She wondered now if she had been wrong.

She knew she was safer inside the cabin than outside, and she knew that someone would come. Crouched on the floor behind the sofa, she hoped it would provide enough cover from an errant bullet. Waiting was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

When a sharp knock on the door was followed almost immediately by a voice calling, “Emory, it’s Steph. Let me in,” Emory jumped to her feet.

“What happened?” Emory asked anxiously as she held the door open just wide enough for Steph to slip inside.

“There’s been an incident at Blair’s. I need to get you and the others up to the lodge.”

Emory grabbed Steph’s arm. “What do you mean by incident? Is she hurt?”

A muscle in Steph’s jaw bunched. “It’s a hostage situation, Emory. I don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

“Oh my God. Dana. Dana was supposed to meet with Blair. Is she there?”

“We’re not sure who’s in there.”

Stunned, Emory glanced in the direction of the bedroom. Was it possible that less than an hour ago she and Dana had lain together in that bed, making love, talking about the next time? What if there was no next time? What if Dana never came back? Emory couldn’t take it in.

Blood rushed from her head and her vision flickered. The room turned gray at the edges and she swayed. “This can’t be. She was just here. We made lo—”

Steph grabbed Emory’s arm to steady her. “Jesus, Emory. I didn’t know about you two. I’m sorry.”

“It’s…we’re…new.” Angry at herself for almost falling apart, Emory shook her head. She clenched her hands until her fingers ached. Better. “What can you tell me?”

“Until we get a head count up at the lodge, we won’t know for sure who’s with Blair. The perp said someone was unconscious. It might be Dana.”

“What’s going to happen?” Emory asked urgently as Steph opened the door and guided her outside with an arm around her and her gun at the ready. Now that they were outside, Emory could see agents shielded by boulders and trees ringing Blair’s cabin.

“We’re going to get this guy,” Steph said resolutely. “Trust us.”

Emory wasn’t used to relying on others to take care of what was important to her. And Dana was very important to her. “I know how to shoot. I practice at the range regularly. I can help.”

“You’ve never shot a person.” Steph led Emory quickly up the path toward the lodge. “It’s a lot different than a paper target.”

“He’s hurt my friends. I won’t hesitate.”

Steph indicated the back door of the lodge. “You’re the only doctor we have. We might need you. See if you can put together an aid station.”

Emory watched Steph hurry away. It wasn’t enough. Caring for the wounded, no matter how necessary, was not going to assuage the terrible anger that roiled in her chest. But doing what she could do might keep her from imagining Dana hurt. Dana had to be all right. They had just begun—only hours before she had held her, loved her. Emory refused to believe she would never have another chance.

Matheson shoved Blair toward the sofa. “Sit down.” Blair hesitated. She wouldn’t have very many opportunities to get herself out of this, and she didn’t have much time. Stark lay slumped on the floor just inside the door. Blair couldn’t tell how many times she’d been hit, but a dark pool of blood spread out beneath her body from an obvious bullet wound in her left thigh. She appeared to be unconscious, but Blair wasn’t certain. Dana lay face down where she’d fallen after Matheson had clubbed her. Either one of them could be mortally injured, and she wasn’t going to stand by and watch them die.

As if reading her thoughts, Matheson said, “If you make a move anywhere except where I tell you to move, I’ll shoot one of them.”

“She needs attention,” Blair said, pointing to Stark. “At least let me see if I can slow down the bleeding.”

Matheson didn’t answer as he collected Stark’s gun, tucked it into the waistband at the small of his back, and sidled next to the front window. With his eyes and his gun still on Blair, he felt for the cord and yanked the drapes closed. Then he stepped over Stark and nudged Dana’s shoulder with his boot. When she didn’t respond, he shoved and she rolled onto her back with a groan. Matheson flicked a glance at Blair. “Who’s this?”

Blair said nothing, and Matheson kicked Dana in the ribs. Blair shot forward as Dana moaned. “Leave her alone.”

“I’d stop right there,” Matheson said coldly. He pointed the gun at Dana’s head. “One more step, and I won’t care who she is.”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not carrying, so she’s not an agent.” Matheson motioned Blair back to the couch. “Sit down.”

Dana opened her eyes, blinked, and lifted her head enough to look around the room. Her expression darkened when she saw Stark. “Christ.” She pushed herself to her knees, coughed a few times, and finally focused on Matheson. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

He laughed. “Welcome to the party. Who the hell are you?”

“The name’s Barnett.” She glanced at Blair. “I guess he’s not a friend of yours.”

“Not exactly.”

“Letting a federal agent die isn’t a very good idea.” Dana got slowly to her feet, swaying slightly. She pressed a hand to her rib cage. “How about I take a look at her?”

Matheson motioned with his gun toward Stark. “I want you over there anyhow. On the floor, next to her. If you want to put your hand over the hole in her leg, be my guest.”

Dana inched carefully in Stark’s direction, her eyes on Matheson.

Then she knelt and worked her pullover over her head, exposing the white T-shirt she wore underneath. Pressing the balled-up garment against Stark’s thigh, she said, “She’s bleeding at a pretty good clip. How about if I drag her out onto the porch so someone can get her to a medic.” She leveled her gaze at Matheson. “You can watch me through the doorway. If I try to run, you can shoot me.”

“Thanks for the permission. She stays.”

“I’m the one you want,” Blair said. “I’m all you need, and you know it. Let Dana take the agent outside. There’s no reason she has to die.”

“You might be crazy enough to try coming after me,” Matheson said to Blair. “But if you know I’m going to shoot one of your friends if you so much as sneeze wrong, you just might behave. They stay.”

Blair glanced at Dana. “I’m sorry about this.”

“I’m not.” Dana held pressure on Stark’s leg but kept her focus on Matheson. “Look, I’m an investigative reporter. You must have an important story to tell. Why don’t you tell me, starting with what you want.”

Matheson regarded her with interest. “You might be useful, but I’m not sure I’ll be here long enough to tell you the story.” He smiled and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Ms. Powell and I are going for a ride to meet some of my friends.”