Lights Out Page 5

  He wasn’t leaving without Gabby. The strategist in him still wasn’t entirely sure she was innocent, but if she knew something about Liam or his plans, she was an asset. The law enforcement agent in him refused to allow an innocent—a female innocent at that—to be collateral damage if there was any way for him to prevent it. And the man in him—

  He broke off the thought with a vicious curse. Moments later he rounded the corner of the building and saw two figures in the near distance, silhouetted in a flash of lightning. Then the darkness became an impenetrable wall of fog, and the drumming rain drowned out the sound of Liam’s and Gabby’s footsteps, leaving Ty effectively blind and deaf.

  In a flash he was reminded of the text message he and each of his teammates had received moments before the blackout commenced: “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  At the time he’d sneered, thinking it was a cruel joke from someone who knew him well enough to know that he didn’t sleep, but not well enough to know why. Now he began to understand. Fear wasn’t in the darkness.

  It was in the isolation.

  Focus, he told himself, trying to hear the words in his father’s voice, reminding himself it wasn’t just his life at stake or Gabby’s. It was Grant Davis’s life, and the lives of hundreds or even thousands of Bostonians, depending on the range of the device Liam had planted.

  Telling himself he was focused, even though it was a lie, he ran toward the last place he’d seen them. Forget playing Liam’s little game. He was going to grab the bastard here and now, and force him to divulge where Davis was being held.

  Battle madness roared in Ty’s head, tempered by the crisp, cool logic that’d been trained into him through years of experience. He skidded through a puddle, the noise splashing loud in his own ears, but hopefully deadened by the driving rain. He squinted through the fog but saw nothing. Unease took root at the thought that he’d lost them, that—

  A car door opened nearby, bringing a glint of interior lighting. There! Ty thought, and bolted toward the vehicle. Through the mist, a car took shape. It was small and generic, and would have been completely unremarkable if Liam had gotten away and made it out of the city without being stopped at a roadblock.

  Liam’s mist-shadowed form bent over as he shoved Gabby through the driver’s-side door and across. Before he could follow her into the vehicle, Ty slammed into the door, pinning Liam between the door and the frame.

  He pushed down, hard, crushing the bastard in an unyielding metal grip.

  Liam roared and shoved away from the car with almost superhuman strength. The door flew open, banging into Ty, who staggered back two steps, slipped on the wet pavement and fell. He caught a blur of movement in his peripheral vision and ducked, expecting a kick, then realized Liam wasn’t focused on him. He was going back for Gabby.

  “No!” With anger and desperation burning in his veins, Ty erupted from the pavement and lunged for Liam. He hauled the older man away from the car, dragged him across the sidewalk and slammed him up against the clapboard side of an historic house. “Leave her alone!”

  He levered an arm across Liam’s neck and pressed down until the bastard gurgled for breath. Then, nearly beyond himself, he yanked the weapon from Liam’s underarm holster, cocked the revolver and pressed it to his temple.

  “Don’t move,” he growled. “Don’t even breathe.”

  Thunder boomed, underscoring his words, and the rain ran down Ty’s body in rivulets, making him think of rain forest guerrilla warfare rather than urban streets. Faint light from a window above them illuminated the fog, giving him his first real look at Liam in a decade.

  He’d shed the night-vision goggles he’d worn in the church, revealing lines of age and stress and anger fanning out from eyes Ty remembered as being bright green. The older man’s hair was the same jet black it had been back then, but the easy smile of an officer born into wealth and rank had gone cold and mean, and when Ty looked into his eyes he didn’t see a teammate looking back at him.

  He saw a murderer. A sociopath.

  Leaning in, he eased the pressure across Liam’s throat so he could speak, then growled, “Where is Grant?”

  The bastard should have been scared. Instead he smirked. “I told you. Follow the campaign trail, and stick with the proper order. You skip a step and he dies. That I promise you, and I remember you were always a stickler for promises.”

  “No games.” Ty tapped Liam’s temple with the barrel of his own gun. “Tell me where he is or you’re dead, and your revenge dies with you.”

  Liam’s eyes flashed in triumph. “That’s where you’re wrong. If you kill me, the bomb goes off at dawn and Davis will be blown to pieces.” He paused, and that cold, cruel smile touched his lips again. “Besides, my revenge will live on in my sons.”

  “No, it won’t.” Ty watched carefully for the other man’s reaction when he said, “Colin is in intensive care under police lockdown, Aidan is dead and Finn is in custody.” He paused, registering Shea’s blink of surprise that flattened to a cold mask. “They failed, Liam. You failed. It’s over, so do yourself a favor and give it up. Nobody’s listening to you, and you have nothing left to prove.”

  “I have everything to prove,” Liam snarled, his face contorting with rage. “I spent ten years in prison because of Grant Davis. I lost my wife, my family, my future…everything.”

  “You were the one who disobeyed orders,” Ty said, fury rising at the other man’s intransigence. “Don’t blame that on your teammates.”

  “Of course not,” Liam sneered. “Especially not when I’m talking to a teammate who’s always been blinded by hero worship.” He paused, and something shifted in his eyes when he said, “We were friends once, and you were always smarter than the others. You saw things they didn’t. That’s why I saved you for last. But remember one thing…You bring in the authorities and Davis is dead. I’ll be watching you.”

  He shifted lightning fast and yanked away from Ty, who lost his grip on Liam’s rain-slicked clothes.

  Roaring, Liam spun and jammed his foot into Ty’s gut, doubling him over, then stomped viciously behind his left knee. Fighting through the pain, Ty twisted, grabbed a fistful of Liam’s coat and yanked. Unbalanced, Liam cursed and flailed his free arm, then wrenched free from the jacket and took off into the fog.

  Ty took two steps after him, but his left leg gave way beneath him, sending him crashing to the pavement.

  As he struggled back to his feet, a car door slammed and an engine revved. Then Liam took off with a squeal of tires, the headlights of the small car lighting the scene for a moment. Then the car disappeared into the fog, leaving Ty alone as the rain ended and the storm began to move away, grumbling to itself with fitful lightning flashes.

  Ty hung his head and sucked in a breath. Then another. Then he quit breathing altogether when he suddenly remembered. “Gabby.”

  The word echoed along steamy streets that had gone quiet, save for the drip of water from eaves and parked cars. There was no response.

  He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about her in the heat of battle, couldn’t believe his responsibility to Grant Davis had completely blotted her from his thoughts for a brief period that could prove deadly.

  Why can’t you believe it? said a small voice inside him that sounded like Mandy’s. You’ve always put your country before everything else. Why should now be any different?

  And that stray thought was right. It shouldn’t be any different. Grant was his protectee, his priority. Yet that didn’t stop Ty’s pulse from pounding in his veins, thundering in his head when he filled his lungs and shouted, “Gabby, damn it, answer me!”

  Sudden moonlight poked through the rapidly clearing storm clouds. A dog barked in the distance, then another, closer by. Halfway up the street, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Ty?” Her voice held a faint tremor.

  He crossed to her in five strides, grabbed her arms and held her away from him, just able to see her in the faint glint of m
oonlight. “You’re okay?”

  Her laugh was hollow, trailing off in a swallowed sob. “I’m not hurt, but I’m not okay, either. That man…He…” She pulled away from him and pressed the back of one trembling hand to her mouth. She took a deep breath before she said, “I escaped from the car when you grabbed him, but I didn’t know where I was or where to hide. I thought…” This time when she trailed off, she shook her head and said simply, “I thought he was going to kill me.”

  Ty wanted to reassure her that he wouldn’t have let that happen, but it would’ve been a lie. Once again he’d been too wrapped up in his own agenda to pay attention to others who needed his help.

  Instead he said, “He’s gone now. You’re safe and—” He broke off and muttered a low curse. “We’re safe, but I don’t know what comes next.”

  They stood there for a long moment, standing close enough that he could feel her warmth and smell her light, flowery scent on the humid air, close enough that he felt as though he should either step closer still or take a big step back.

  Finally, she said, “What did he mean by ‘follow the campaign trail’?”

  “He was just talking,” Ty said, frustration sharpening his tone. “If you’ve been on his Web site, you know Liam hates that Grant is the vice president and the heir apparent to the next round of nominations. It’s ironic, really. We all thought Liam was the one who’d go on to be president someday.”

  “What if he wasn’t just talking?” Gabby said. “He said something about an op being like a treasure hunt. What if it was a clue?” She paused. “Didn’t President Stack make a swing through Boston during his last campaign?”

  “No.” Ty shook his head, but his pulse picked up a notch. “His plans changed at the last minute, so Grant took his place.” Follow the campaign trail. “I was with him back then. He’d requested me for his protection detail.”

  He barely remembered the quick trip, just another one-dayer among many during those last few weeks before the election.

  “Where did you go?” Gabby asked. When he didn’t answer right away, she pressed, “Ty, what was your first stop in Boston?”

  “Let me check.” He reached for his handheld, then cursed when he remembered that it was dead. Moments later the radio on his hip beeped. The long-range units had been handed out to the members of Davis’s Secret Service detail who’d scattered to track down even the slimmest leads.

  It was an alternative Ty knew he should consider. He could check in with his SAC and bring in the resources of the Secret Service and the other federal agencies. They’d have the itinerary from the Boston trip, along with the manpower to search each location. They had bomb dogs and additional agents en route, as every federal resource under the sun had converged on Boston.

  But there was Liam, and as much as Ty wished he could discount the threats, he just couldn’t.

  When the radio beeped again, he pulled it out of his pocket. Instead of answering, he opened the back panel and shook out two rechargeable batteries, which he swapped into his flashlight. He clicked on the light and shone it on Gabby, who was pale and shaky but seemed otherwise okay. “Let there be light,” he joked feebly, then winced when he remembered that the flashlight didn’t matter to her.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about her blindness, or the fact that she hadn’t told him.

  Then again, he wasn’t exactly starting on the moral high ground when it came to full disclosure.

  Her eyes were dark with fatigue and upset, and he could hear both in her voice when she said, “I want to go home.”

  “You can’t,” he said quietly, wishing he had a better answer for her. “Your place isn’t safe, and I don’t have time to get you to someone I trust. Besides, you know the city better than I do. I could use your help.”

  She tipped her head, and a sad smile ghosted across her lips. “And you’re still not sure whether you’re being set up. You want to believe me, but there’s still the question of why Liam was in my apartment and how he knew my name. Until you figure it out, you’re not letting me out of your sight.”

  “Something like that.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, her sightless eyes unerringly fixed on his face, before she nodded reluctant acceptance. “What’s our first stop?”

  Chapter 4

  Dear Ty:

  I missed you while you were away from your computer. I hope that doesn’t set off your “needy alarm” or anything. I don’t mean to cling or put a guilt trip on you like your ex used to. I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you’re back online. Did you have a nice visit with your parents? I hope so; I envy you the relationship. I haven’t spoken to my parents in…gosh, nearly a dozen years. Not that I blame them. I was a pretty unlikable kid. Some days I wish they could get to know me as an adult, though. And aren’t I a total downer today? Chalk it up to the rain we’re having here in Boston. I think I’ll go hit my stash of Reese’s Pieces and then go to bed before I piddle on anyone else’s parade. I’ll catch you later, and hey, welcome home!

  [Sent by CyberGabby; May 3, 11:58:02]

  12:50 a.m., August 3 4 Hours and 48 Minutes until Dawn Ty breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the New England Aquarium, which had been the first stop on the Boston leg of the Stack/Grant campaign trail.

  They’d walked, knowing a car would draw attention, given the curfew. Thankfully, they hadn’t run into any cops or members of the Guard, and they’d managed to avoid the places where shouts, shots and the orange glow of fire warned that the looting had spread eastward.

  A part of him—the part that had been dissatisfied by the routine of Secret Service work and had craved the excitement of Eclipse assignments—itched to dive into crowd control, but he had other priorities tonight.

  At the thought of one of those priorities, he glanced over at Gabby. She had paused at the edge of the front court, and as he watched, her face relaxed into a smile. “We’re here.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, struck by the subtle interplay of emotions.

  “I can smell the salt water and chlorine.” She gestured across the open court, to where a sheet of Plexiglas separated visitors from a pool of water and a rocky ledge beyond. “When I first moved to Boston, I used to come here and sit by the seals. I liked to listen to them bark at each other. They always sounded like they were talking to me.”

  Her words held a hint of loneliness, of secrets that almost had Ty asking more. Instead, he took her arm. “Come on. We need to search the area.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” he said shortly, then winced. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m blind. I deal.”

  “You sure do.” Ty let his hand slide down her arm until their fingers linked and they were holding hands. On the walk over, he’d figured out that she did best if she had that contact, which allowed her to interpret shifts in his weight or pace and react accordingly.

  He’d never been a touchy-feely sort of guy, even with Mandy, but this was expedience, nothing more.

  Ignoring the faint buzz of disquiet brought on by the thought, he tugged her toward the ticket window. As they walked, he said, “Why a cane rather than a dog? I remember you saying you loved animals.”

  It was part idle curiosity and part a feeler designed to help him figure out how much of what she’d told him online was true. He knew he didn’t have the right to ask for—or expect—that honesty, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it.

  “I’m on a waiting list,” she answered after a moment. “Since I stay close to home, it isn’t usually a problem.” She reached out a hand and touched the rough stone facing of the ticket area, which was mocked up to look organic and rocky. “Do you see anything?”

  He shook his head and cut the flashlight beam around, shining it into shadowy corners that yielded nothing but more shadows.

  “There has to be something here,” he said, frustrated. “A note or a clue or something. Otherwise why would Liam insis
t we come here?”

  They quartered the open court at the front entrance, but found nothing. The aquarium itself was dark and locked tight, though a loud mechanical hum from behind the building suggested the personnel were running generators, no doubt fighting to keep the big tanks aerated and filtered.

  Ty and Gabby worked their way around one side of the main building, where a series of loading docks provided access for the supplies needed to maintain both animals and tourists in grand style. Ty shone his light into each shadowed nook as Gabby followed behind him, the soft lines of her face set in concentration.

  After a few minutes she said, “Why are we doing this? What does Liam want from us?”

  “He’s angry,” Ty said shortly. “He wants revenge on the people he blames for his own mistakes.” Then, realizing those were the obvious, unhelpful answers, he took a deep breath and tried to focus, tried to think rather than just react. “Eleven years ago, seven of us were recruited by Commander Tom Bradley for a rescue op in the Middle East. Fifty-eight civilians, including U.S. Secretary of State Geoffrey Rollins, were being held hostage in the middle of a civil war and it was our job to get them out. We each had our specialty—Liam was the electrical specialist, I was the demolitions man. I was supposed to set off a blast as a distraction, then he’d kill the power to the building where the hostages were being held. It was all split-second timing.”

  Ty paused, muscles tightening at the memory of the tense days and hours leading up to the rescue mission, then the moment it had all blown up in their faces. He continued, “Liam was angry even back then. Or maybe entitled is a better word. He’d grown up rich, and his father’s money and political power had helped him get where he was going quicker than he would’ve otherwise. Our C.O. knew he was a loose cannon, knew he had a temper and hated the kidnappers. There’d been a car bombing a week or two earlier, and Liam was nearly killed, and a local woman died in his arms.” He paused, knowing that war had marked each of them differently. “Anyway, whatever the reason, he rushed the job and cut the power before Tom signaled the attack. I hadn’t set off the charge, the tangos weren’t distracted, and they mounted a hell of a response, pinning us down while they set off cyanide gas grenades in the rooms where the hostages were being held.”