Fight Dirty (25 page)

CHAPTER 45

J
enna hated driving these Pennsylvania farm roads at night. At least in LA they understood the concept of streetlights. Or ther
e’d
be plenty of other traffic to help guide you through sudden curves that always seemed to appear while negotiating steep mountainsides.

“The sherif
f’s
deputy is still twelve minutes out,” Andre said as he hung up the phone. “We’re her only backup.”

“I’m going thirty miles an hour over the speed limit.” While praying she didn’t hit a deer—at seventy miles an hour that would not be a pretty sight for either of them. “Besides, Morgan can take care of herself.”

Andre leaned forward, his back rigid. More than adrenaline, anger. Shit. She didn’t need this, not now while their client might be on a homicidal rampage and she had to decide how to best protect both him and their firm.

“My point is.” His words flew out clipped, as if he was taking aim. “She shouldn’t have to. You need to decide, Jenna. Right now. Is Morgan part of the team, or not?”

Right. Damn marine code. Leave no man behind and all that jazz. Why couldn’t he understand that there were some people in this world who simply weren’t cut out to be on any team? A mercenary. That was what Morgan was. Someone you used for their particular talents when you needed to and then you cut them loose.

Except cutting Morgan loose might be more dangerous than keeping her close. “She is,” Jenna finally allowed. “Which is why I’m risking our lives to—” They crested a hill and saw the lights ringing the ReNew compound. The building itself was dark. “We’re here.”

“You drilled for active shooter response while with the Postal Service?” Andre asked. Jenna could almost hear his mind calculating lines of sight and approaches.

She didn’t have to ask about Andr
e’s
preparation—his unit had seen some of the worst door-to-door urban combat fighting of the war in Afghanistan. She steered the Tahoe into the ReNew drive, surprised to see the entrance gate open.

“Jenna, watch out!”

A group of kids ran in front of the car, skirting the edge of the headlights. Jenna slammed the brakes, and they scattered. She swore under her breath, fear sending her pulse into a gallop. The SUV screeched to a stop.

Andre rolled down his window. “What happened?” he called out to the kids wh
o’d
dived to his side of the narrow drive. “Why are you running?”

“Fire,” a boy gasped. “The building is on fire!”

Andre glanced at Jenna. “Guess tha
t’s
Morga
n’s
call for help. Just like you told her to do.”

“I didn’t mean for her to panic a bunch of kids.”

“Why aren’t the fire guys here?” He pulled out his phone.

“Don’t bother them for a false alarm. We know i
t’s
Morgan.” She eased the Tahoe down the road to the parking lot. More kids were running from the building, but what caught her attention was the white Lexus SUV pinning a middle-aged man against a Jaguar sedan.

The headlights were so bright they made the ma
n’s
skin appear a ghastly blue white. He held his hands up against the Lexu
s’s
grill as if he thought he could stop the SUV, the movement revealing a white clerical collar visible against his dark shirt.

The good Reverend Doctor Amos Benjamin. Although the blubbering fear that twisted his face made him look nothing like the charismatic man sh
e’d
met earlier today.

Robert Greene leaned out the drive
r’s
side window to shout at the trapped man. “Tell me why, Benjamin. Why did you kill my daughter?”

Morgan led her ragtag group into the music room. Nelson had his arm wrapped around Deidr
e’s
shoulders. It was a protective gesture, but it was also clear that he was limping and breathing heavily. Maybe sh
e’d
done more damage with her improvised mace than intended.

Once inside the room, she closed the door, but that didn’t help—the smoke was weaseling its way down through the ceiling tiles and light fixtures.

“You started the fire in the crawl space?” Micah asked as they stumbled over to the piano.

“Figured it would be the best place. That way I didn’t have to worry about the sprinklers putting it out right away.”

“If they worked in the first place.”

Morgan ignored their chitchat, climbing onto the radiator in front of the windows. “There are no latches. We’ll have to break one out.”

She reattached her padlock to her shirt once again. Turning her head away and shielding her eyes, she swung it as hard as she could against the lower corner of the window. It bounced back, almost hit her. She leaned forward and felt the window. Barely a faint crack.

The smoke was drifting down, a thick blanket choking and smothering them. Deidre and Nelson leaned against the piano, coughing.

“Let me try,” Micah said. He took the makeshift weapon from her and twisted his body to put his full weight against it and swung. This time there was a definite thud and a crack. He swung again, and the padlock went through the glass, producing a hole.

The night air rushed in. Morgan filled her lungs, relishing it. A crackling sounded overhead. Ceiling tiles began dropping around them, coated with flames. More flames roared in through the gaps they left, searching for the oxygen.

“Hurry,” she urged.

Micah swung again, grunting with the effort. He broke through the glass a few inches away from the first hole. Quickly he wound up and hit it again and again until a thunderous crack pierced through the wail of the fire alarm. The glass crashed down, shattering against the windowsill, flying in all directions.

Morgan grabbed Micah, pulling him back and spinning them both away from the glass. A gust of wind swept in, feeding the fire. The room now was choked with smoke and flame.

She took her shirt and the padlock back from Micah and wrapped the cloth around her nose and mouth. “You go first,” she told Micah, her voice hoarse from the smoke and the need to shout. “That way you can help Nelson down.”

Micah nodded and climbed onto the radiator. He swept as much glass off with his legs as he could, but there were still plenty of shards poised to cut them. As he twisted around to lower himself through the window, Morgan took his arms to help brace him. She had no idea how far down it was.

“My feet aren’t touching,” he confirmed her suspicions. “Let go, I’ll have to drop.”

She did and he vanished into the night. Too late she remembered that none of them wore shoes. She leaned out the window, trying to stay away from the sharp edges at the rim. “Are you okay?”

There was enough light between the fire and the moonlight that she could see him push up from the ground to his feet. His head was about two feet below the window. “I’m fine. A bit sliced up, nothing serious. Go ahead and pass Nelson through.”

The fire seemed frustrated by the lack of fuel in the empty classroom, crawling along the remaining ceiling tiles and the walls. But the air was heating up to the point where it was hard to take in a breath, and the smoke was blinding.

Morgan didn’t waste energy on talking. Instead she tapped Deidr
e’s
arm and grabbed Nelson by the shoulders. Together they helped Nelson, who was breathing shallow and fast, up onto the windowsill, then held his arms to lower him as Micah guided him from below. He cried out in pain, but there was nothing else they could do.

Deidre was overcome with a coughing spell and let go abruptly, leaving Morgan holding all of Nelso
n’s
weight. He slipped through her grasp and fell with a loud scream.

“Shit,” Micah said. “He landed on a piece of glass, sliced up his leg.”

Morgan didn’t have time to do anything—Deidre had collapsed, and the smoke was so thick, Morgan had lost sight of her. She dropped to her knees and felt around with her arms spread wide, listening for Deidr
e’s
coughing. Finally she found her.

Grabbing Deidre by the arm, Morgan hauled her up and onto the radiator. The flames were so close their roar was louder than the fire alarm. She pushed Deidre out the window, hoping she wouldn’t land on top of Micah and Nelson, then she jumped as well, trying to spin her weight to one side to avoid hitting the others.

She landed hard, but remembered to bend her knees to absorb the shock and rolled with her momentum. Pieces of glass bit into her knees and palms, but nothing too large or deep. Gasping for air and relishing how cold and fresh it was, she climbed to her feet and turned to the others.

Flames shot out of the window above them. Deidre was still coughing, but not as badly. She sat beside Nelson, picking glass from his hair. Micah had taken off his shirt and tied it around Nelso
n’s
right thigh. “I can’t get the bleeding to stop. We need to get him help.”

“Can you carry him?” Morgan asked. They were at the back of the building, near the forest. Out of sight of the road.

“Yeah, help me get a good hold on him.” Micah squatted and she maneuvered Nelson into position for a piggyback. Then she let Micah lean against her as he straightened. His weight landed on the welts on her shoulders and hurt like hell, but it was only for a moment.

“We’ll be right behind you,” she said.

Micah took off into the night, and Morgan turned to help Deidre who sat stunned on the ground. Her flowing dress had been singed and torn so it fluttered around her like ribbons. She looked up at Morgan, nose dripping with mucus; the fire reflected from her eyes making her appear like a madwoman.

The fire burst through one of the other windows, showering them with glass. Deidre didn’t move. Morgan grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. Both of them were slicked with sweat yet also shivering in the cold night air. They stumbled away from the building, feet crunching through the glass. Deidre slipped and fell to the ground. Morgan let her catch her breath—they were far enough from the building that they were safe for now.

She was too sore and exhausted to risk sitting down herself, afraid she might not find the strength to get back up again. She unwound her ruined top and rewrapped it around her arm where glass shards had left some bloody cuts, squeezing the padlock in her hand. Damn thing had saved her more than once tonight; she wasn’t about to let it go now.

“You okay?” she asked Deidre after a few minutes. “We need to get moving before we get hypothermia.”

The girl stared at her without comprehension. She ignored the hand Morgan reached down to her.

“Deidre, c’mon. We have to go now.”

Deidre shook her head. Small, quick shakes as if trying to deny reality. Morgan wondered if the girl had finally had a mental breakdown. Not like she was all that stable to start with. But then she realized Deidre wasn’t staring at her—she was looking at something behind Morgan.

She whirled, the padlock gripped in her fist her only weapon. No match for the large semiautomatic pistol Sean Chapman had aimed at her heart.

CHAPTER 46

J
enna positioned the Tahoe to maximize the amount of cover it provided. She got out on the drive
r’s
side and drew her Sig Sauer. Andre slid across the front seat and climbed out beside her, his own weapon, a Beretta 9-millimeter, in his hand.

“How do you want to handle this?” she asked him. When it came to tactics, there was no one she trusted more than Andre.

“Can’t risk a shot. If we kill him and his foot slips off the brake—”

“Then the Reverend is toast.” She glanced over the Taho
e’s
hood. Greene was screaming obscenities at the Reverend, and he was also now aiming a pistol at the man.

“H
e’s
not our only problem.” Andre tapped her shoulder. Behind them more kids emerged from the building. Accompanied by thick billowing smoke.

“Damn it. She started a real fire. What the hell was she thinking?” Jenna muttered. Andre called the fire department. Greene finally sputtered to a stop, and she saw her chance. “Mr. Greene,” she called. He swung his head to face her but didn’t point the gun at her. A good start. “I need you to put the gun down and back the car up.”

“Jenna!” Greene seemed relieved to see her. “He did it. This sonofabitch came to my home and killed my little girl.”

Benjamin saw his chance, twisting his torso as much as possible to face Jenna. He raised his hands as if surrendering. “No. I’m innocent. I never hurt his daughter. I never hurt anyone. I love them all. Can’t you see? I’m trying to save them.”

“Liar,” Greene spat the word. “You used my own daughter against me. Tried to blackmail me. And when I wouldn’t pay, you killed her!”

Andre edged away from Jenna, skirting the rear of the Tahoe, aiming for a position closer to the Lexus where he could take a head shot without risking the children.

Benjamin clasped his hands in prayer. “I swear to God, I did no such thing. I’ve never met you or your daughter before today. I only did what she asked me to. I was only trying to save her soul.”

Greene was livid. “That wasn’t my daughter. My daughter is BreeAnna Greene. And you killed her.”

He revved the engine, but thankfully the SUV didn’t move. He must have it in “Park.” Which might buy them time and the ability to use lethal force if need be. She glanced at Andre, still not in position.

“Mr. Greene,” she called out again. “Obviously ther
e’s
been some confusion. Why don’t you let me take it from here? The police are on their way. We’ll make sure BreeAnn
a’s
killer pays for what he did.”

Hostage negotiation wasn’t exactly Jenn
a’s
forte, but Greene seemed to consider her words.

“No.” Or not. “I want to hear him say it. I want to hear his confession. About how he used my daughte
r’s
own words, e-mailed me blackmail threats with messages from BreeAnna, and then h
e . . .
he—” Green
e’s
voice sputtered away, choked with tears.

Benjamin appeared confused. “BreeAnna Greene? I never even—you don’t understand—it wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. I never use a computer, my assistant does. I never e-mailed you, and I certainly didn’t kill anyone.”

The Reverend managed to pull himself together, standing tall despite the automotive steel pinning his body. “I’m a man of God, sir. If someone used my good name to do you harm, then we need to work together to find him.”

Greene considered the Reveren
d’s
words. Then he shook his head and aimed the gun at him once more. “No. I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”

Shit. They were losing him. Jenna glanced at Andre. He was in position for a kill shot. No sign of the cops. Damn, damn, damn. She did not want to make this call. Getting her very first client killed had not been the plan. Damn Morgan, this was all her fault. Stirring things up, creating this chaos.

She held a hand up to Andre, telling him to stand by. No one could fault them for that, for trying to defuse the situation, waiting for the authorities to arrive.

Engage the subject. Connect with them. The heart of any negotiation.

“Mr. Greene,” she tried again. “Robert. Would BreeAnna want you to do this?” Stupid question. Never give them a chance to say no, she reminded herself. She quickly regrouped. “What would BreeAnna want? For you? For your family?”

He hesitated, the pistol drifting down. She thought she had him when a man stumbled out from around the building, into the glare of the Lexu
s’s
headlights. And the line of fire.

Not a man, she saw. A teenage boy. Carrying another. He carefully laid the second boy onto the asphalt. “Help me,” he called. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”

“Get up, Deidre,” Sean ordered, his gaze locked on Morga
n’s
. At this close range, any shot would be lethal. “You two are coming with me.”

Behind Morgan, Deidre obeyed and climbed to her feet.

“Sean.” Deidr
e’s
voice filled with surprise and dismay. “Put that gun down. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you really screwed up, tha
t’s
what I’m thinking. I’m thinking I need to cut my losses.” He gestured for them to move toward the tree line and the side of the building farthest away from the road and any help. “I’m thinking a hostage wouldn’t hurt.”

They walked around the far corner of the school. There was a service drive here and a Cadillac ATS parked, its engine running. Sean realigned himself so that the girls were trapped between him, the building, and the car.

Morgan braced herself to rush him, but he was still too close. If the gun went off at this distance, h
e’d
surely hit her. Because it was her he was aiming at, not his sister.

He gestured for them to move to the car. Clicked a remote and the trunk popped open. “Inside, Ms. Renshaw—or whatever your name is.”

“No.” Sean appeared as surprised by Deidr
e’s
defiance as she herself did. “Let Morgan go. She doesn’t belong here, mixed up with yo
u . . .
you,” her face twisted as she searched for the right words, “you heathen. I see now. The truth. Using these children, twisting Go
d’s
word, making a mockery of everything you profess to believe in. For what? Money?”

She was practically spitting the words at her brother by the end. Sea
n’s
attention shifted to his sister, but unfortunately his aim remained on Morgan. He understood who the real threat was here.

“What would you know of it?” he snapped back. “All your life you’ve been coddled, taken care of. After Mom left, who went out and stole food for you while going hungry himself? Who sat in the rain in the gutter and begged so you could have a coat to keep you warm? And these past years, safe inside here—”

“Inside here where you imprisoned me. Was that the deal from the beginning? Was I the price you paid the Reverend so you could have a roof over your head?” Deidre paced in a small, tight circle, her fists circling through the air, not unlike the movements sh
e’d
inspired in her flock during Morga
n’s
Purge. “You used me, Sean. Just like he did.”

Sean studied his sister as if seeing her for the first time. “You didn’t figure that out by yourself. The Reverend had you totally under control—he had everything under control until that fat cow, BreeAnna Greene, came along.”

“Don’t you blame her! Don’t you even say her name!”

If only Sean would take a step back or to the side. If only his aim would waver for an instant—it was all Morgan needed to escape. Because there was nothing here she could use to fight—nothing except Deidr
e’s
wrath. And her baby.

“Did you know sh
e’s
pregnant?” Morgan threw the words into the silence between brother and sister, gasoline on a fire. “Did you know your sister is having a baby?”

She braced herself, ready to make a run for it. But Sean didn’t take the bait. Instead he let loose with a small, exhausted exhalation. “Of course, I knew. Tha
t’s
why I had to kill BreeAnna.”