Ignite Page 3

  “I’m sure boss is shittin’ his pants,” the other guy says with a laugh. “What the fuck does he expect to happen in Montana?”

  Both are carrying rifles, and my plan to take out the truck is shot to hell. If the man checking the transformer knows anything about how it works, he’ll know the line has been cut. Things are about to get interesting. I’m taking a chance that the cameras aren’t running, but it’s all I have. One of the men drives away in the truck and the other heads back inside.

  I run for the house as soon as the front door closes. There’s a tree near the balcony, which is how I’m getting to the second floor. I scramble up the tree and remove the gloves to make the jump from the tree to the balcony. My adrenaline is high and the cold isn’t affecting me right now. It’s a five foot jump. I grab the bottom iron rail, swing back, and bring my leg up. When I’m over the rail, I maneuver into the shadows. A few stitches in my wound ripped out in the jump and fire lights up my side. I ignore it and fit the silencer to the modified threaded barrel of the Glock. If all hell breaks loose, I’ll go to the M27. I take slow steady breaths.

  It’s time to play.

  Chapter Six

  From: Nick.Hoffman@us.gov.org

  To: Beth.Hoffman@mymail.com

  Dear Bethiboop,

  Rough times here and we had a close call yesterday. I worry about you if something happens to me. I know you’re all grown up but it’s important to me that you have someone great to spend your life with and care for you. Rack is that guy! He’s made for you. If the unthinkable happens, you can rely on him. He will get you out of any scrapes you find yourself in. I promise. The man is a daredevil with the luck of a leprechaun. Your children will be the hellions you deserve.

  Your melancholy brother,

  Nick

  ****

  Beth

  NO LADY FRIENDS VISITED Angelo tonight, so he concentrates on me. With methodical precision, he cuts his meat and takes small bites while watching me. He finally wipes his mouth and places his fork on his plate. “You’ve gained weight. It’s not healthy for my child.”

  I’m pregnant for fuck’s sake. It’s not healthy to be a beanpole in your eighth month. I keep this to myself. “I think walking helped keep the water weight down.” I actually have no idea if this is true, but I’ll go stir crazy trapped in the house for the next month. “My ankles are swollen and I’m sure the rest of me is too.” I say this as subserviently as possible. It was a miserable day all around. I thought about my brother, my choices…Rack. He isn’t coming. It hasn’t been long enough for him to get here, but that doesn’t matter. It was a long shot and the chance he got the text, arranged to rescue me, and is on his way is nothing but a pipe dream. Depression pulls the walls in making the house feel small.

  “You think to manipulate me by claiming lack of exercise?” he demands, startling me from my gloomy thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” I lower my eyes before lifting them again. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m eating the food provided for me, but I’ll cut back.”

  His chair scrapes against the hardwood floor. He rises slowly. My heartrate accelerates as he walks up behind me. He lifts the hair from my neck and leans in. “Your attitude needs an adjustment,” he whispers, his hot breath sliding over my skin. His large hand moves around to my throat and he tilts my head in an uncomfortable angle. “I look forward to giving you the discipline you so obviously need.” His hand tightens and he cuts off my air. I can’t help myself and lift my hands to his. He eases the pressure. “When you no longer incubate my child, you will be very, very sorry.”

  As threats go, it’s a good one. I’ve been sorry since the day I discovered what a monster he truly is. Tears slide down my cheeks. I can’t hold them back. I drop my hands to my lap. His hand moves from my throat to my breast. He squeezes one nipple and pain erupts. I inhale sharply and fight jerking away.

  “You will never feed my child. These will be mine. I promise I have wonderful plans for them.” He releases me and moves my half-eaten plate toward the center of the table. “You’ve had enough. Return to your room.” He pulls out my chair like a proper gentleman. A devil. The devil.

  My days are numbered after the baby arrives. I’ve known it, but Angelo’s actions tonight prove it. He’ll even deny me feeding my child. I walk slowly to my room holding back the sobs collected in my throat until I close the door behind me. I sink to the floor and cry into my hands. It’s not a pretty cry. I bawl my eyes out until snot runs down my face and I’m forced to heft myself up and make my way to the bathroom for tissue. If Angelo saw me struggling to get up like this, he would never feed me again.

  I want to die.

  The baby kicks and more despair swamps me. I head to the window and move the curtain aside gazing into the darkness. I have nowhere to go. No one to help me. If I kill Angelo myself, will his men spare my child or kill me straight out? I can’t risk it and even if I did I probably wouldn’t succeed. The curtain slips from my fingers and I crawl into bed. I wish a good night’s sleep would make tomorrow better, but I know that won’t happen.

  This princess will never escape her tower. At least not alive.

  Chapter Seven

  Rack

  THE CURTAIN OF THE master bedroom is partially open. I check inside the dark room and see no movement. I take out my phone and pull up the app to blow the barn. With the phone in one hand and my finger hoovering over the control, I lift the gun. My finger presses down and I swing the butt of the gun against the glass as the explosion rocks the balcony. I’m in the house before flying debris settles.

  I’m about to enter the hallway when a voice yells up the stairs and running feet move closer. “Lock her in the damn room and get your ass back here.”

  I move behind the door and watch one of the guards run past. I don’t move as he locks the door to the room where they’re keeping Beth. I wait for him to charge back down the stairs before I run to the door he just secured. I remove a metal wedge from one of my vest pockets and put it against the door to pry it into the lock. The door snaps open without much force. The room’s dark and I flash the tactical light on the Glock at the bed. Empty.

  “Beth,” I say as quietly as possible.

  She runs from the entrance of what I assume is the bathroom and throws her arms around me. “Rack, oh my God, Rack.”

  She’s crying and I need her to pull herself together. What can one quick hug hurt, though? I gather her into my arms and inhale the scent I remember from our one and only meeting. What I don’t remember is her expanded waistline. With my free hand, I force her back and look down.

  “Fuck,” I say when I see the size of her stomach.

  In the very faint light from my tactical light I watch her hands go to her belly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cries.

  I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for. Her pregnancy fucks up my escape plans and my brain is moving a hundred miles an hour to come up with a new plan. “Whose child is it?” Her lips tremble and I think she sees my question as an accusation. “Will Angelo shoot you and risk killing the baby?” I try again.

  She shakes her head, but I see so much guilt in her eyes. I pull her back against me and whisper into her ear, “How far can you make it on foot?”

  Her fingers grip my vest. “As far as I need to. If I don’t get out of here, I’m dead as soon as the baby comes.”

  “Three miles. I need three miles from you.” She nods against my shoulder. “Dress quickly and put your best running shoes on, we’re getting out of here.”

  She releases me and moves away. She turns slightly and I see the full girth of her belly. This won’t be easy. She has the blood of her brother running through her veins, though. It means she’s one tough cookie. I won’t tell her that our chances of escape have narrowed to nothing. I need her to give me everything she has and then give more. I turn to the door and push it almost shut and check the hallway. I move to the windowsill and quickly rig another explosive charge. If we mak
e it to the downstairs backdoor, I need another disruption.

  “I’m ready,” she says over my shoulder.

  I set the detonator and turn. She’s dressed in black—the pants do nothing to hide her enormous belly. I check her feet and the deck shoes are not as encouraging as the rest of her outfit but they’ll do.

  “You need a coat or jacket.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  We’re in the same boat. “Stay behind me. My vest is bullet-proof and will work against hand guns. If I say run, you run. If I say give yourself up, you do it. Understand?” I order.

  Her tears are gone and there’s no fear in her expression. I see the Hoffman perseverance her brother had. She nods and I give her a chin lift.

  “Let’s rock ’n roll,” I say because that was her brother’s favorite expression and I need him to watch out for Beth while I take care of everything else. I check the hall again and place her hand on the back of my belt. “Give a tug if you see anyone behind us,” I tell her.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I move out of the room aware of the woman I’m protecting. A very…pregnant…woman. Not a single scenario I imagined on the way here included this. My resolve to kill Angelo increases. He’ll never give up looking for his child and his death is the only outcome that makes perfect sense. She won’t be able to make it down the tree, and the low lights controlled by the generator leave the stairs fully exposed. There’s no choice. We hug the wall as I take the stairs one at a time so she doesn’t fall.

  “Which way to the back door?” I ask quietly.

  “Hallway on your left.” Her voice is hushed but rock solid.

  I push her in front of me so my back is to the front door. “Down,” I say when the door opens. I fire at the man who enters and hear Beth make a strangled noise when he drops. The guy was young and not Angelo. “Go,” I tell her. There’s a shout from out front.

  I reach over Beth when we hit the back door and I unlock it. I move around her and check both directions. There’s a small bush against one side of the house. I quickly move to it with her holding my belt again. “Crawl behind the bush and stay put.”

  “But…”

  I don’t have time for gentleness and unclench her hand from my belt. “Do what I fucking say,” I hiss. She drops to her knees and crawls behind the bush. I hug the outside wall and inch toward the side of the house so I can see what’s happening out front. Headlights approach from the road. It’s the truck from earlier. The driver slams on the brakes and the truck slides several feet. He’s about twenty yards from the front door.

  Someone yells “cover me” from an unknown direction. The man in the truck gets out with his rifle at ready. The hidden man runs for the truck. It’s Angelo. I studied his face from a picture I found on the Internet. I could take him but I might not get them both. “Go get her,” Angelo yells at the man with the rifle.

  I pull out the phone and take that option out of the equation by detonating the C4. The windows blow and fire spills from the room. Angelo stares for several seconds before both men jump in the truck and it takes off. Now I need to get Beth to the Jeep. We need to be as far from here as possible. I move back and help her stand.

  “Angelo thinks you’re dead. It buys us some time.”

  “He’s not dead?” she asks shakily.

  “No.”

  She closes her eyes and I can’t help but wonder if she has feelings for him. I don’t like it. Her eyes open and lock with mine. “After the baby’s born, I’ll kill him myself.”

  That settles that.

  I don’t tell her that Angelo is all mine. Beth’s brother would have it no other way. “We’re moving out. Tell me if you need me to slow down.” I don’t have her hold my belt. She needs both hands for balance and to break her fall if she goes down. I don’t see Angelo coming back tonight. He’ll gather more men, which could take a day or two. Right now it’s the cold climate I’m worried about. The temperature is dropping fast and neither of us is dressed for the outdoors.

  I set out at a slower pace than I planned. Beth is breathing hard around the half mile point. I steer her to a fallen tree and take her hand to help her sit. Her fingers are freezing. I forgot about the gloves. I remove them from my vest and push them over her trembling fingers. “You okay?”

  “I’m good, give me two minutes.”

  “If we stop for longer than that, your body temperature will drop. We need to keep going.”

  “I only asked for two minutes,” she snaps. Her hand goes to her belly while she tries to catch her breath.

  I’m completely out of my element. “Is the baby coming?”

  Her startled eyes lift. “No, dummy, she’s just kicking,” she snaps between huffs of air.

  Damn, my face flushes. “How far along are you?” I think this is a normal question for pregnant women.

  “Eight months. I have a month to go and the baby is sitting tight until then. We’ll make it.”

  “I know we will. You ready to move?” I place my hand out and she takes it.

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Eight

  From: Nick.Hoffman@us.gov.org

  To: Beth.Hoffman@mymail.com

  Dear Delusional Beth,

  This Kevin guy is not for you. You need to trust your older, wiser brother on this. Kevin has no idea the spirit you carry inside you. He can’t. I can tell by your emails that he’s a stodgy prick. And yes you read that right. I don’t need to meet him. You need to meet Rack. He’ll blow all thoughts of this other man out of your head.

  Your wiser, older brother,

  Nick

  ****

  Beth

  RACK CAME FOR ME. A man I’ve met one time. A man Nick said was the best person on the planet. I should have had more faith in my brother.

  My stomach cramps and I dig my fingers into my side. I know it’s not the baby coming. I should have exercised more while I had the chance. Even with the pace Rack sets, I’m freezing and my teeth are chattering. I know he’s moving much slower than he wants to. I put one foot in front of the other and refuse to stop. Ignoring my frozen toes, the ache in my side, and the terror living in the center of my chest is another matter.

  Rack halts after another hundred yards or so and starts removing his gear. I have no idea what’s up, but I’m too winded to ask. There’s no place to sit this time. He rests the items he’s carrying carefully on the ground next to a tree. He shrugs out of the vest and places it around my shoulders.

  “Slip your arms in,” he says when I just stand there in a stupor.

  The vest is heavy but warm from his body heat. He takes off one of my gloves and checks my fingers. “They’re good,” I say between teeth chatters.

  “I expect you to be honest with me. If we need to stop, say so.” His voice isn’t harsh, just matter of fact.

  I tilt my head back and look into his dark eyes. He’s at least six inches taller than I am. The moon casts enough light to see strength, honor, and sacrifice in the green orbs. Nick’s were the same way. I absorb the strength of Rack’s gaze and I know whatever happens, this man will give his life for mine. Normally this would upset me but I have the baby to think of. “I need to sit down,” I tell him truthfully.

  He leads me to a tall tree a few feet away. He places his back to the tree, turns me, and wraps me in his arms. He sinks to the ground taking me awkwardly with him. His arms adjust and he situates me slightly so I’m cradled against his chest. He pulls his rifle closer and then tightens his arms a bit.

  “We’ll rest for thirty minutes and then move again. I need to know if you get too cold.”

  “I thought it was better to keep moving,” I whisper against his warmth. I swear my entire messed up world fades away. I never want to leave the safety of his arms.

  “You need a break. I promise to keep you warm for thirty minutes. Now close your eyes and rest.”

  I’m exhausted and figure my slow loops around Angelo’s property did little in the way of kee
ping me fit. Of course the larger my stomach got, the slower I walked. Stupid really, I could have pushed it more and been prepared to escape.

  I snuggle a little closer. “Tell me something about my brother and I’ll rest.” I miss Nick so bad it hurts. This man knew my brother in ways I never did. My brother was always a badass and I so badly want to hear the stories. Rack remains quiet and I don’t think he’s going to answer.

  “Your brother talked about you all the time. He said you were superwoman.”

  I laugh and sink further into Rack. “He called me supergirl all the time.”

  “He was very proud of you.”

  I catch the sob that’s working its way up my throat. “He raised me, you know.”

  “He told me. You were what? Twelve when your mother died?”

  “Nine and he was eighteen but he raised me long before that. Mom was always sick. She had MS. Our father left when we were young. I still don’t know what happened to him. One day he was there and the next he wasn’t. I was six then. Nick just took over. He even found odd jobs and supplemented Mom’s Social Security. He was always just there, bigger than life, taking on the world.”

  We both stop talking. I didn’t mean to do this. I know Rack still hurts over the death of my brother. I saw it the day I met him. He feels responsible and it showed in his eyes. Nick would hate that. He thought of Rack the same way he thought of me. His protective instincts were always in overdrive. My brother has been my hero for as long as I can remember, and now he’s given me another hero.

  “He loved you,” Rack says softly.

  “I know.”

  We stay there for what seems like only minutes, when Rack shakes me out of a light sleep. “We need to move.”

  I stiffen and realize I’m unable to move. “I can’t get off you,” I say in mortification.

  “You don’t weigh that much,” he says with a laugh.

  How he gets his legs beneath him and lifts me is a miracle that I don’t want to repeat. He lowers my legs until my feet plant firmly on the ground. I sway and he settles me with a hand on my shoulder. Without his body warmth, I quickly grow cold again. He must be freezing. “I don’t think I can walk far with the vest.” I shrug out of it and he lifts it from my hands and puts it on. He picks up his gear and secures everything in place. The cold seeps beneath my clothes.