by J. Kenner
About a hundred yards from the house, Dallas's earpiece crackled, followed by Noah's voice. "Looks like we've got three in the building. Target is in the basement along with Jane. A male identified as Christopher is on the first floor, kitchen area. Adele spoke to him through the house intercom."
"Jane is okay?" Dallas asked at the same time that Liam asked if there were others inside.
"Can't confirm as to Jane, but best guess is that she's alive and conscious. Adele was talking to her, and the lack of a reply is most likely because of a gag. As for others, it's a possibility. The device detects conversation, not human heat signatures. Could be other targets in the building who are off shift and sleeping, but there's no way to know for sure."
"We haven't had any indication she's working with anyone else," Liam said after they broke the transmission. "But we won't know until we're inside."
Dallas turned to Colin and yanked his gag down. The older man sucked in air, bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he gulped. "Talk," Dallas ordered.
"There won't be anyone else," Colin said softly. He lifted his head and looked between Liam and Dallas. "Adele doesn't trust easily."
"Who's Christopher?"
"A patient. I knew she'd started sleeping with him--I didn't get why." He drew in a breath. "Now, I guess I do."
Dallas looked at Liam. "She knew she needed help."
"Was she sleeping with anyone else?" Liam asked Colin.
"I don't think so."
"Probably just the three of them in there," Liam said, his attention back on Dallas. "Game on."
Liam broke off, following the path Quince had taken, while Dallas and Colin headed for the door. Dallas had a Glock at his waist and a Ruger in his pocket, and he'd happily use either on Adele if she'd harmed even a hair on Jane's head.
"Footsteps." Noah's voice played in his ear as they entered through the kitchen door. "Location indeterminate. I can pinpoint voices with more accuracy."
Dallas said nothing, unwilling to speak and reveal themselves to Adele.
He pointed to the door that led to the cellar. They approached carefully, then opened the door, pistols drawn.
Slowly, they went down the stairs, but the second they reached the concrete floor, Dallas realized that all their planning was for naught.
"Hello, sweetheart," Adele said, her weapon pointed at Jane, gagged and tied to a post. Her eyes were wide, though, and he didn't need words to know that she was terrified. He tried to reassure her, but goddamned if the situation wasn't fucked. He knew Noah could hear everything, but he and Tony would only come if Christopher Brown was taken care of. And what could they do when they arrived, anyway? With a gun at Jane's head, Adele held all the cards.
Especially since Liam and Quince didn't seem to be in the cellar yet.
"Be a good boy and slide your gun over here. Go on," she said. "Do it."
Carefully, he put his Glock on the floor and kicked it toward her.
"Any more weapons on you?" she asked, turning the gun on him as she walked toward him. But it wasn't him she was asking--it was Colin.
"Right front pocket."
"Take it out, darling. Same story. On the ground. Kick it to me." She laughed, then, obviously seeing something in Colin's face. "Well, how do I know what you've been up to? You've been with them. That means you might not be with me anymore."
"Adele," Colin said, as he took the gun from Dallas's pocket, "no."
"You rock solid bastard," Dallas said, though in truth he hadn't expected anything more from the man.
Colin shrugged, then kicked the gun to Adele. "I'm not going to prison, Dallas. Not again."
He looked at Adele. "There are more coming."
She wiggled her fingers at him. "Come join me."
He did, and she turned her gun back on Jane as he approached.
"Insurance," she said, "in case they get in too easily. But I don't think so. I had the cellar door reinforced, and there's no other way in except the way you came. And in case you missed it, that door at the bottom of the stairs we came through? Solid steel. It will take your friends a while to get through."
"You'll never get out," Dallas said.
"Of course we will." She smiled sweetly. "We'll have hostages."
"You miserable bitch." His mind was churning, trying to figure the best plan. If the entrances were reinforced, he needed to buy time so the others could get in. Keep talking and keep her busy. Relay whatever information he could to Noah's headset.
And get her to aim the damn gun somewhere other than at Jane.
"You've disarmed me, Adele. Put your gun down. Let's not risk an accident, okay? There's no reason to keep a gun on her."
"Oh, I think there is."
Dallas kept his eyes on Adele, but he glanced once toward Jane. She stood stoic, her eyes a little unfocused--probably drugged--but she turned to him and he saw the trust there.
Trust he damn sure didn't intend to squander. But right then, he didn't know what the fuck to do next.
"I'm so sorry, Janie," Colin said from where he stood at Adele's side. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just needed the money. Lots of money, and I needed it fast. And I was so angry with Eli and your mother that it seemed like the perfect plan. I didn't know you would be there--I didn't! I just wanted the ransom and then I was going to let Dallas go. But it all spun out of control. Can you forgive me? Please say that you can forgive me."
I'm so sorry, Janie, I never wanted to hurt you.
Can you forgive me? Please say that you can forgive me.
But how do you forgive someone who so cavalierly stole a chunk of your life?
I don't know, and Colin's words are still echoing in my mind when Adele laughs. "Good god, Colin, could you be more of a sentimental fool?" She waves her gun that is pointed at me, as casually as if she's intending to swat a fly.
I didn't think I had room to be more scared, but my heart starts beating triple-time, the pounding in my ears so loud I'm having trouble hearing her.
"She won't forgive you," Adele says. "Why would she? And why do you need her around when you have me? For that matter, why do I need her around when I have Dallas? He's obsessed with her, you know. And it's always best to break the ties to an obsession quickly, just like ripping off a bandage."
Her words hit my mind in sharp focus, everything hyper-real, and I wonder if that's what it's like for everyone before they die, because she is surely about to kill me, or if it's just the effect of whatever drugs she keeps injecting me with every few hours. Drugs that make my head spin and the world tilt sideways. Drugs that are probably slowly killing me, with just as much certainty as the bullet in that gun.
I squeeze my eyes tight and force my thoughts not to ramble, although why it matters I don't know. I'm gagged, so even if I see some brilliant escape plan, I can't communicate it. All I can do is stand here tied to this post, and bear silent witness to my own demise.
Dallas is to my right, and despite all his promises to protect me, I don't know how that's possible. Even if Adele hadn't taken his gun, he couldn't shoot. Not with her pistol aimed straight at me and her finger on the trigger.
He might not be tied up, but right now, he's as helpless as I am.
And over to my left, I see Quince and Liam creep into the shadows at the far side of the room. I'm guessing they came in through the cellar door, and the reason they're so late is that they either had to get through that asshole Christopher, or Adele's reinforcements to that entrance were solid.
I don't think Adele knows they're there. I can't tell if Colin does, but if so, then that gives me hope, because he hasn't ratted them out. I assume Quince is a good shot, because I always think of him as James Bond. With Liam, I have a little more concrete information, as I know he's an excellent marksman, and almost went to sniper school before shifting gears toward military intelligence.
I've trained with a handgun enough to know that it doesn't much matter. Colin is between them and Adele, and they have no cle
an shot to either her head or her hand, to blow away the gun. More than that, both those shots are risky and require a buttload of skill. Miss, and Adele takes the next shot, and I'm dead.
For the first time, I'm grateful that Adele has been pumping me full of drugs. Without them, I think I'd be truly freaking out right about now.
"It's time to say goodbye to her, Colin," Adele says, and I realize that I was totally wrong about that freaking out thing. Because now that she's looking at me over the barrel of her gun, I am drowning in ice-cold fear. "Janie, you know I adore you. It's not personal. You're simply an obstacle. And when you're dead, none of this will matter. Not even Dallas."
And then her finger twitches and Dallas howls and lunges forward and I'm sure that it's all over, because he's too damn far away to save me. And I close my eyes and then my ears are screaming because the gun has gone off and now everything sounds hollow and far away, but it's not the sound of death. It's just the sound of gunfire, hard against my eardrums.
Scared, relieved, confused, I open my eyes, only to see a furious Adele whipping around to aim at Colin. In an instant, I realize that he rammed her gun arm, knocking off her aim. And in the process, saving my life.
She's furious, and instead of regrouping and shooting me, she's turning that fury on Colin.
She fires, and he falls, a bright red stain growing on his shirt.
I try to scream, but the gag makes it impossible, and I'm completely incapable of doing anything as Adele turns the gun once again toward me.
But this time Dallas is close, and he leaps the final distance, risking her turning the gun on him.
She does, but not fast enough. He tackles her low, sending her tumbling, and as they go down, Liam and Quince race toward them. And even though Adele recovers quickly, moving to turn her weapon on Dallas, it's too late. Liam kicks her arm and sends the gun flying before she's found her aim, and Quince drops down, presses the muzzle to her temple, and says, very low and very slowly, "Bitch, don't you fucking move."
While Liam and Quince take care of restraining Adele and getting her out of the room, Dallas rushes to me. He uses a knife to unlash me from the post, then rips the gag off me.
He pulls me close, his eyes wet with tears, his expression anguished. "Thank god," he repeats again and again. "Thank god."
I'm sobbing openly now, clinging to him, all of the emotion of the last day pouring out of me like Niagara Falls. "You came," I say. "You came."
He pulls back to look at me. "Of course," he says, and then kisses me hard.
"Is he dead?" I ask when he pulls away.
"He's dead," Dallas confirms.
I turn my head to look at Colin's body. The man who tormented me. The man who saved me. The man who didn't figure out how to be a father until the very end.
I turn back to Dallas, then draw a deep breath. "It's over," I say as he pulls me close once more, his embrace trembling with emotion. "It's really, finally over."
Dallas sat on the edge of Jane's hospital bed, stroking her hair.
"I knew you'd rescue me." A weak smile flickered on her lips. "You'll always protect me, right?"
"Always." He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. "God, Jane, I was so afraid I was going to lose you."
"Me, too." She squeezed his hand, her grip weak. "He came through at the end, didn't he?"
"He loved you. He was a complete asshole, and I won't ever forgive him. But at least we know that he loved you."
A tear spilled from her eye. "I'm sad he's dead. Even after everything he did, I'm still sad." She glanced at her IV. "When can I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. They want to make sure the drug she injected you with is completely out of your system. And let you rest."
"I'm good with the resting part. I'm so tired." She reached for his hand, then squeezed it. "But I'm ready to be home with you."
"I know, baby. Me, too."
"And Mom's doing okay?"
He looked away. Just a split second before his gaze returned to her face, but she noticed.
"What?" she demanded.
"It's not good. They didn't want to worry you when you were first admitted, but she's still unconscious."
She shifted in the bed, as if to rise. "I need to go see her."
"Jane, no. They want you to stay in bed. But I'll go. I'll tell her you're awake and that you say she has to recover. Okay?"
She nodded, her lips pressed tight together in an effort not to cry.
He bent over and kissed her forehead, trying not to cry himself. From worry about his mother. From relief about Jane. "I love you. I'll be back soon. Try to sleep some more."
She nodded, but didn't close her eyes. When he turned back at the door, though, he saw how heavy her lids were.
He blew her a kiss and slid out the door--and found himself face-to-face with Bill.
"Fuck," he said.
"Hello to you, too."
"I promised her I'd go see our mother," he said. "Will you at least give me an hour to do that before you haul me away?"
"I overheard you, and yes."
Dallas drew in a breath, Bill's words as bracing as ice-cold water. One hour of freedom. One hour before he had to tell Jane about the deal he'd cut. One hour before he was back in a cell. Hell, his cell would probably be adjacent to Adele's, who'd been taken away in the chaotic aftermath of the takedown.
"You can have an hour," Bill said, his voice bitter. "Apparently, you can even have forever."
Dallas froze. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I got a call from a director at MI6 an hour ago. From what he tells me, Deliverance has been working with that organization for years now."
"That's true," Dallas said, unsure where Bill was going with this and how much he knew. The fact was that Quince hadn't wanted to leave MI6. So he'd worked out a deal with his agency. Only one man there knew about that deal, though, so the fact that Bill was now in the loop was more than a little odd.
"Yeah, well, that director is your goddamn guardian angel, because now the State Department is prohibiting any move to arrest--or even publicly acknowledge--Deliverance or its members. The word is that such an action would be very bad for relations between the US and the UK."
"Really?" Dallas tried not to smile, but it was damn hard to stay stoic. "And you're not going to push the point?"
"I have a lot of friends on the Hill. A lot of powerful connections in the intelligence community and in various Senate oversight committees."
A hint of worry ate at Dallas's good mood. "And?"
"And I thought about it," Bill said. "Then I ruled it out."
"Why?" Dallas asked, then immediately regretted the question. Better to just take the good news and run with it.
Bill had been standing ramrod straight, but now he slouched a little and shoved his hands into his pockets. "To be honest, Dallas, I'm not sure I know. Maybe it's because Deliverance has rescued more than its share of victims. Maybe it's because MI6 values the organization. Maybe it's because I'm just not up for a fight."
He drew a deep breath. "Or maybe it's because I love Jane, and she loves you. More than that, she needs you."
It was the last thing in the world Dallas expected Bill to say. "You're giving Deliverance a pass because of a woman?"
For the first time, Bill's smile seemed more than just polite. "No, I'm giving Deliverance a pass because the State Department told me to. But I'm not fighting that edict because of a woman. And don't look surprised, Dallas. You and I both know that you'd do exactly the same."
"For Jane? Yeah. I'd do whatever it takes."
"I know," Bill said, and Dallas thought that maybe the guy who had once been Jane's husband wasn't a complete dick.
He held out his hand. "Thanks, Bill."
Bill took it, his grip strong. "I'm going to go see Jane for a minute, okay?"
"Sure," Dallas said, with only the slightest hint of lingering jealousy. "She'd like that." And with that strange detente lingering in the air betwe
en them, Bill went into the room, and Dallas took off down the hall to check on Lisa.
Since she was in ICU, it took him about ten minutes to get there, and when he walked through her door, his relief at finally arriving immediately evaporated. His father was standing right there. Frankly, Dallas really wasn't in the mood.
He considered leaving, but his father turned, and his expression so mirrored every bit of fear and helplessness that had ripped through Dallas when he'd been terrified of losing Jane, that he couldn't walk away.
"No change," his father said. "I keep telling her to come back, but there's just no change."
Dallas drew closer, then stood at his father's side, his hand on Eli's shoulder. "She's strong, Dad. Give her time. She's in there. She's trying to heal."
He hoped he was right--god, how he hoped he was right. But while he was trying to stay optimistic for his father, the doctors hadn't been able to give them much hope. She was alive, yes, but she hadn't regained consciousness, and if she didn't come around by morning, they were going to put her into a medically induced coma.
They said all the right words about how her vitals looked good and her labs looked good, and yet they couldn't promise that it would turn out okay, and that deep hole of uncertainty terrified Dallas as much as it broke his heart.
"You should try to get some sleep, Dad."
"I can't go home. I can't leave her."
"I know. I get that. I can ask the nurse if they can bring in a cot." Because they were in ICU, Lisa wasn't in a full-blown room with amenities. Just a small, glassed-in area lined with privacy curtains. "If they can't, maybe I can find something for you."
Eli's brow furrowed, and then he turned to Dallas. "Thank you, son."
A lump formed in Dallas's throat, and he tried to swallow it. "Listen, Dad, about everything. We're not going to agree, I know that. But--well, what I said before. About us both wishing I wasn't your son. You know I didn't--"
"My brother was a complete fuckup," Eli said, his harsh interruption so surprising that Dallas simply stared. "Totally useless. You know it. And I know it. And although you may have his blood, Dallas, that's not who you are."
He turned a bit so that he was facing Dallas directly, and there was something on his face that Dallas wasn't sure he recognized. Something he thought just might be respect.