Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (34 page)

“Keep me informed, will you?”

“Every step of the way. Have you talked to Grace?”

“No.” Hearing Grace’s voice would only make the hurt deeper. “Quinn calls me daily with updates, though,” he said, referring to the man he’d hired as Grace’s security. “So far it’s been quiet over at her sister’s house.”

Cam shook his hand, and with a promise to call him with any information, left the room.

Once again, the courtroom fell silent and the vacant chairs stared back at him. Only this time, victory filled the air.

He’d succeeded.

His career remained unblemished. His friends still believed in him

He walked down the aisle and shoved the heavy oak doors open. Outside the sun shone brightly, the sky a deep blue.

His life was perfect.

So why did a burst of empty discontent suddenly ripple through his heart?

Grace shifted the bag of groceries in her arms, unlocked the front door and stepped into Mark’s living room. Sun streamed through the windows and lit up the barren room. It saddened her to see Mark’s life reduced to the stacks of boxes that littered the floor. She’d kept a few precious mementos for Ryker, but for the most part, Mark’s belongings would go to charity.

When she’d learned that Mark had left her the house in his will, she’d been stunned. After mulling it over, she knew she could never make a home for her and Ryker here. She missed her house nestled in the pine trees, but even that place held a shadow of memories best left in the ashes. It was time for her and Ryker to start fresh.

He squeezed past her, ducking beneath her arm, on the way to the open kitchen that connected to the living room. “I’ll get the chocolate syrup!”

She grinned and held out the paper sack that contained a gallon of Ryker’s favorite Oreo cookie ice cream. “Whoa, buster. Don’t go empty handed.”

Ryker rolled his eyes and returned to snatch the bag from her grasp. “Do I get a double scoop for this?”

“Of course.” She set the bag that held the rest of her purchases on the counter. “With a double helping of chocolate syrup and whipped cream.”

“Don’t forget the bananas or the cherry on top!”

“They’re all right here.”

Her cell phone rang and she dumped it out of her purse.

Quinn’s number flashed on the display. “Hello, Quinn.”

“Hey, Grace, you left a message for me?”

“Yes, I’m expecting someone from the Disabled Veterans of America this afternoon. I’m donating some of Mark’s things.”

“Okay. Bob and I will keep on eye out for ‘em and stay back. We wouldn’t want to scare the bejeesus out of ‘em.”

Grace laughed. “I hope not.”

She said goodbye and disconnected the call. “All right, who’s ready for a banana split?”

“Me!” Ryker punched his fist into the air.

She dragged out the chocolate syrup and whipped cream from the refrigerator. Side by side, she and Ryker scooped ice cream, peeled bananas and assembled Ryker’s monster sized desert. She plucked two spoons from the drawer.

“Dig in.”

Ryker didn’t need to be told twice. She sunk her spoon into his chocolate ice cream and scooped out a bite.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Ryker grinned, a dollop of whipped cream stuck to his lip.

“You can share with your mom.”

“Oh, all right,” Ryker grumbled.

Grace propped her elbows on the counter and looked out to the living room. “Thanks for your help today.”

“You’re welcome.” Ryker sighed around a mouthful of ice cream. “Are we almost done?”

“Just about.”

She spotted the large gray van through the living room’s bay window as it pulled up in front of the house. “That must be the Disabled Veterans.” She ruffled Ryker’s hair. “I’ll be right back, honey. Finish your ice cream while I help them load some of your dad’s stuff, okay?”

By the time she made it outside, the man had the van’s cargo door open. He had his back to her as he slid boxes aside to make room for her donations. Metal braces wrapped around his legs and squeaked as he moved.

“Thank you so much for coming.” She wiped her hand along the crease of her pants and held it out in greeting.

“You’re welcome.” Familiar blue eyes locked on her, turning her blood to ice. One corner of his mouth twisted into a sickeningly feral smile.

She gasped and her heart raced erratically as she fell back a step. Quinn. Where was he? She shot a glance around the yard looking for him, but the large cargo van blocked her view of the park across the street where he usually set up surveillance.

“Wh—what are you doing here?”

If possible, his smile turned even creepier. “I’m here for you.”

Unease slithered through her belly.
Scream, damn it!

She opened her mouth but his hand clamped tightly over it before she had a chance to yell for Quinn.

He yanked her close. “Get in the van.” His hot breath slithered across her ear. The hard point of a gun dug into her temple.

She sucked in several large gulps of air through her nose and shook her head.

Ryker. Oh, God, he was waiting for her. What if he came outside?

Frantic terror fluttered in her chest. She had to do something. She attempted to twist out of the man’s grasp but his large hands held her upper body immobile. Her legs, however, were free. She struck out with her foot--and connected with metal across his legs.

He let out a bark of laughter. “These damn braces come in handy after all.”

Frustration stung her eyes.
Don’t come outside.
She chanted the fervent prayer in her head, hoping Ryker would somehow hear her warning. The man’s sweaty palm slipped on her mouth. She opened her lips and bit down on his skin.

His fingers dug into her cheeks as he tightened his grip across her face and dragged her closer to the van. “In. Now. Or I’ll pull the trigger. I don’t care if your kid sees me do it.”

Her head snapped up and her heart stopped, crushing the air from her chest.
Ryker
.
His small, pale face peeked between the curtains of the bay window.

She shook her head violently. “No.” The word was lost between her mouth and the man’s palm.

The white fabric that draped the window fluttered.

No, Ryker, stay there.

The curtains stilled. Ryker’s face disappeared.

Do not come outside!

The man shoved her into the van. Her knees struck the unforgiving metal, but she ignored the pain and spun.

“Help!”

The door slammed in her face and swallowed her cry. Darkness pressed in on her from the windowless space. She pounded her fists on the door. “Help me! Let me out of here!”

The engine snarled to life. Ryker’s high-pitch scream keened above the noise. “Mommy!”

“Ryker!” She felt for the door’s lock, searched for the latch, but the inside of the door was smooth.

The van jerked forward. Momentum threw her backward, her head struck the opposite side as the van sped down the street.

Ryker was alone. No, he had Quinn nearby. And Bob. They’d realize what happened and take care of Ryker. Quinn would call Keith.

And Keith would come in a heartbeat.

The C-17 dipped, and Keith’s stomach went with it. He gripped the rail overhead to steady himself, and turned to the eager trainees prepared to experience their first real HALO jump.

Did any of them feel as ill as he did?

He tightened his jaw as the large cargo hatch at the rear of the aircraft opened. Gray clouds stretched beneath the plane, masking the thirty thousand feet that stood between him and the ground.

As the recruits lined up, two-by-two, and the aircraft leveled out, he found himself thinking of Grace. How was she doing? Had Ryker perfected the card trick he’d taught him?

His throat constricted.
Damn, I miss them.
They were under his skin. Big time. He’d never before let anyone that close. How could his heart hurt with missing them?

In the last several days, he’d picked up the phone several times to check in. But he always returned it to the cradle before he dialed Grace’s number.

His life was here. Grace wouldn’t welcome his call. Not with the way they’d left things between them.

Static crackled over the headset embedded in his helmet. “We’re good to go,” the pilot announced.

Keith’s head swam with the same dizzy feeling he’d experienced since that first HALO jump during his own freefall training days. Back then he hadn’t wanted to admit how close he’d come to being cut from the Special Forces. HALO jumping was a necessary skill; failure had not been an option.

His stomach rolled. “Ten-four.”

The first two recruits stepped up to the open cargo bay and stared into the vast cloudless blue sky.

Keith urged them on with a flick of his arm. “Let’s go, team.”

The men nodded and jumped, side-by-side. The deep blue surrounded the pair. They shrunk in size as they fell further away from the plane, until they disappeared completely from view.

Bile rose in Keith’s throat. He forced it down and gave the command for the rest of the recruits who jumped from the aircraft in rapid succession.

And then, Keith alone stood at the edge of the C-17.

He sucked in a breath and choked on his own spit. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
Get a grip, fathead.

He rubbed a hand along his brow and straightened. He had a job to do, and he would damn well do it.

When he’d been in danger of scratching out of the Special Forces because he couldn’t make the jump did he chicken out and give up?

He’d stood at this very spot, looking down at the cloudless blue sky, his stomach a jumble of nerves, and realized that he wanted a spot on the team too badly to fail.

Stop trying to control the situation and take the risk, he’d told himself.

“Are you going or not?” The sudden shout through his earpiece came from the pilot.

“Yeah, I’m going.” He stepped to the edge, the tips of his boots meeting nothing but air.
I love this job.
The mantra chanted in his head as the wind whipped around him.
I love this job. It defines me.

He sucked in a breath.
Grace.
She completed him too. The way she looked when they made love, her heart in her beautiful green eyes, gave him the same sense of rightness—of coming home—as he had when he’d joined the Army.

He’d put everything on the line to go after what mattered to him. Didn’t Grace deserve the same kind of devotion?

He stepped into the blue abyss, adrenaline rushing through him. A grin tipped his mouth. “Hoo Yah!”

He had to tell Grace he loved her—even if she threw the words back in his face.

Keith’s cell phone rang the moment he stepped onto the blacktop outside the hangar. He pulled it from his belt and flipped it open.

He didn’t recognize the number, but by the area code the call originated from Northern Arizona.

He pushed the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear. “King.”

“Keith?”

Ryker’s wavery voice stopped him cold.

“Hey, buddy. What is it?”

Ryker’s breath shuddered into the phone. “He took mom.”

“Whoa...hold on...who took your mom?”

“That man! That man with the metal legs! The one who gave me that piece of paper. He was supposed to be from the donation place, but he wasn’t and he had a gun and he pushed her in the van.”

Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest. He swiped his hand through his hair. “Slow down. What donation place? Are you hurt?”

“No. I was inside, and mom told me to wait and I did, but then I missed her and I looked out the window and—will you come?”

His throat tightened. “You bet.”

Ryker sniffed. “Soon? Can you come right now?”

“Are you alone?”

“I ran outside and Quinn saw and took off and now Bob’s staying with me. But what about mom? She’s all alone.”

“Stay in the house. Keep the doors locked and listen to Bob. Don’t open for anyone but Quinn, okay?” His phone beeped and he glanced at the display. “Cam’s calling me. I need to take it.”

“’Kay.”

“Hang tight, buddy.”

Keith switched over the call and strode back toward the hanger. “The son of a bitch took Grace.” He bit off the words without giving Cam a chance to speak.

Taut silence weighed down the other end of the line until Cam snapped it with a whispered, “Fuck.”

He clenched the phone to his ear. “Tell me you have something.”

“The bank accounts are fake, Keith. Every single one of them belongs to a retiree with medical problems. Vernon Alfonso, eighty-five and carries an oxygen tank around with him. Maria Rodriguez, sixty, just had a hip replacement. Juan Gortez, seventy, died of a coronary about three weeks back. And get this, they’d all been hospitalized in the last month. Guess where?”