Jaden Baker (76 page)

Only one lamp was on downstairs. The entryway was large, leading into the living room. Madrid’s home was gorgeous: clay tiled floors, high ceilings, a stained glass window in one corner of the house, soft archways, Spanish style. Exposed wood beams in the ceiling added to the rustic feel of the place.

The ground floor had an open floor plan, so it was easy to see that no one was downstairs unless they were hiding. Libby checked every room, just to make sure. Alan followed behind her, and Jaden and Christine trailed them, both visibly nervous and uncomfortable.

Footsteps upstairs. Libby lowered her gun and stretched her neck up. Whoever was upstairs was walking the length of the house. She strained her ears, all four of them did, to listen. Hard as she tried, Libby could not hear voices. They had no way of knowing how many people were there.

Christine was shaking her head, backing away. “I don’t like this,” she whispered.

“Oh, do not go crazy on us now,” Libby whispered. “We need your help!”

But Christine wasn’t listening. She was on the verge of a breakdown, her face screwed up in terror. Not watching where she was going, she bumped into a table, gasped, then dashed out of the open door.

“I hate her,” Libby said, and Jaden watched her leave. He went to the doorway, and they all heard the Land Rover engage and drive off. “Who leaves us in a time like this? Leia would never do that to Luke. She is
not
your sister!”

Jaden shut the door and tiptoed to the staircase and started up it, Libby following and Alan behind her. She tried finding the silver lining to Jaden not being able to use his ability in this house. If they did bump into Madrid, and he was able to...power Jaden on (she shook her head at the thought) there wasn’t much harm Jaden could do. Well, he could still do physical harm. There was no silver lining. She had tried convincing herself in the car that Jaden wouldn’t hurt her, even if manipulated, but it wasn’t a solid feeling.

Before they reached the top step, Jaden held her back. “You should leave.”

“Hell no,” she said.

“I’m powerless here!” he whispered to her. “I can’t protect you!”

Libby wiggled her gun. “That’s what the Glock is for.”

“Libby, please,” he said, tugging her. “This isn’t your fight. It’s between me and him.”

They didn’t have time for this, he should know that. Upstairs was a mad man. “Look,” she said, “I get that you want this to be a classic battle between good and evil. I understand you don’t want anything to happen to the princess, but where am I supposed to go? Our getaway driver got away in our car, so if I go out now I’ll be exposed with no protection. Besides, in this house you’re just like the rest of us mortals. You need help.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt the lecture,” Alan whispered from one stair down, “but can we continue on?”

“We’ll pause this conversation and resume play later,” Libby said, tearing her eyes away from Jaden’s distressed face, hoping that nothing would happen to any of them. She took the last stair, signaled Alan to check the next room while she checked this one. Jaden was trying to push his way in front of her, but she elbowed past him. “I have the gun!” she whined at him. “You can go first if you want the gun. Do you want it?”

He shrunk away from it and reluctantly got behind her. She opened the door, pushed it aside, and sidestepped into the room, stretching her head out, her arms extended with her pistol. It was a bedroom. She walked around, her heart racing, but she was focused. She opened the closet door from the side, followed her gun to look in, flipped the switch.

Clothes, shoes, boxes. No one inside. She turned off the light and resumed her hallway patrol. The next door was open, but she saw no one. Alan had cleared the room and proceeded on. The third door was locked, but before she kicked it down, or had Jaden kick it down, she assessed its position. The next door wasn’t far off and had more space between it. This was the bathroom. She summoned Jaden closer.

“Check under the door,” she said, pointing to the floor.

It would be a good trap. They’d bang in the door, announce where they were, no one inside, then they’d be trapped in a small room with no exit.

Jaden got on his elbows, ducked his head under, then stood up, shaking his head. Just as she thought. Libby tossed her head, got the hair out of her face and walked to the final door of the second floor.

This was the door. Her heart raced. She took a deep breath.

But Jaden waved at her. He was breathing fast as he reached for the gun, took it from her hands, and grabbed it in his own. She wouldn’t argue with him. This was his fight, and if he wanted to kill Madrid, she wouldn’t stop him.

“Stay here!” he mouthed, and he opened the door. It was an office, a converted former bedroom. She watched as Jaden went inside, his hands shaking the gun. This was probably the first time that he’d held a loaded weapon with the intent to kill, she thought. She hoped he remembered to clear the closet.

She heard a soft footstep behind her, and she expected to see Alan when she turned around.

Joseph Madrid put a gun to her forehead.

Libby couldn’t have screamed if she wanted to. Madrid’s face was full of victory. He grabbed onto her, spun her around, and they walked backwards down the hall, the warm barrel to her temple.

She was paralyzed with fear; she couldn’t feel her heart. The only proof she had that she was alive was that her eyes were still working. Every moment was otherworldly. Her soul was trapped in a dead body.

They backed into the empty bedroom, the one Alan was supposed to have cleared. As they got further into the room, Libby saw Alan face down on the floor, in a pool of blood. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Pounding footsteps in the hall. Jaden rushed through the door.

“Drop the gun,” Madrid said.

It broke her heart that he didn’t hesitate. He dropped it to the floor, shaking his head, breathing hard and fast.

“I’m sorry,” Jaden said, he looked at her, then to Madrid. “Don’t hurt her.”

“You promised you wouldn’t disobey me again.”

Libby’s senses started coming back. She gained feeling in her legs and stood up. The gun to her head had a sound suppressor—it’s why they hadn’t heard Alan being shot and killed. Madrid’s forearm was around her neck and chest, her fingers on his arm, pulling down. She could not surrender to the horror that was happening to her, to Jaden. Both of their lives were at risk.

“I know,” Jaden said, shaking his head. “I thought I could outsmart you, I was wrong.”

Madrid laughed, then he growled. “Don’t try to manipulate me.”

This wasn’t going to happen. Madrid would not win. Jaden surrendered because Libby was foolish, had gotten caught, and had let Jaden have the gun to win his battle. Now they were here.

Her mental clarity astounded her. She compartmentalized her terror and locked it away. She had to be in control of herself if they were going to come out of this alive.

“I keep my promises,” Madrid said. “You didn’t believe me before. What part should I take off her first?”

“Run for it,” Libby said. Madrid covered her mouth with his free hand.

“Yes,” Madrid said, and from the tone of his voice she knew he was smiling. “He’s good at running. Go ahead and run. And when we find you next, as we will, I’ll put her pretty eyes in your limp hands.”

Jaden took a step forward, and Madrid tightened his grip.

“I saw you arrive. A recovery team is on its way,” Madrid said. “I didn’t think you would come after me. I underestimated you again. An old man’s mistake. But you’ll notice I have taken precautions. The mind is an amazing thing, but rules are meant to be broken,” he said.

Libby hated that her mouth was clamped shut, she badly wanted to comment on his I’m-so-clever monologue. Madrid was high on the control he had over Jaden.

“And when the team gets here, we’ll turn you off with the flip of a switch, and pack you back to the lab. That’s the beauty of technology.”

He was so absorbed in the glory of himself, Madrid wasn’t paying her much attention. Jaden and Madrid had their eyes locked on each other, consumed by the power play. She had to be quick. She had to act now.

She said a quick prayer. Then Libby threw her head back, hitting Madrid in the nose. Her elbow jammed into his ribs. He grunted but didn’t release the gun. His grip on her slackened, and she capitalized on his mistake. She ran toward the door, toward Jaden, who’s face splint into panic. He ran at her, collided into her, and they spun on the spot.

There was no time for this. Grabbing his hand, Libby tried for the door again, pulling him with her, but Jaden didn’t move.

She turned to face him to see what stopped him. Had Madrid triggered him?

Jaden looked at his stomach, his hand held there. Libby didn’t know why they weren’t running, and she peered over Jaden’s shoulder to see Madrid, eyes wide, mouth open, a smoking gun at his side.

She looked at Jaden’s stomach again, and when he pulled away his hand, blood.

Libby grabbed Jaden around the chest as his legs gave way. He was too heavy for her, so they both fell to the floor.

In the dull yellow light of the room, Libby saw the blood on his stomach, staining his shirt, expanding outward, increasing its orbit. His face was losing color, his eyes came in and out of focus, his breathing was labored.

Libby cradled him and held his head up. “Jaden,” she said, her voice strange to her, deeper, hollow. “Jaden, don’t,” she warbled, and the fear she’d locked away released itself, blowing the door off its hinges.

She felt warmth on her knees, blood coming out his back, seeping across the carpeted floor. He was gasping for air, suffocating. Libby laid him down on the floor, then removed her sweatshirt and pressed it on his stomach, thinking it would help.

“Don’t you go,” she sobbed, her eyes blurry with tears, her whole face swelling. “Please, Jaden,” she said.

His leg twitched when he looked up at her, he tried to smile.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” she said. She risked a fast look at Madrid, who’s face and position had not changed. “Call an ambulance!” she screamed at him. “Hurry!”

The plan was for Madrid to die, not Jaden. He couldn’t leave her. Madrid was going to kill Libby; he never intended for Jaden to cross into the line of fire.

He went to the corner of the room, picked up a phone and dialed a number. “Send a medical team,” she heard him say. “My house. Now.”

Jaden’s voice was faint when he next spoke, and Libby tried keeping her sniffling and sobs quiet. She leaned down to hear him.

“Don’t let him take me,” Jaden whispered.

She cried harder now, cradled him again, his head in the crook of her elbow. “I won’t let you go,” she said. “You can’t go.”

His breathing was shallow. The medical team would not make it in time. All Madrid cared about was keeping Jaden for himself, even as Jaden approached the end. An ambulance would be closer than his damned medical team.

“Time to go,” Jaden breathed, putting his hand over the one holding the blood soaked sweatshirt to his chest.

“No!” she said, shaking him. “No, don’t you dare. Jaden, please!” she said. “I love you, too,” she cried, her tears splashing to his chest. “I love you so much, please don’t go.”

There were sirens in the distance. Or she imagined them out of hope. Oh God please, she prayed. Please!

“Just hold on a little longer,” she said, wiping her eyes so she could see him. “Help is coming. I hear them coming. You’re going to be okay!” she said, forcing a smile on her face. “You’re going to live a long and happy life.”

His face changed, looked optimistic.

“Yes,” Libby said, smiling now. “You’re going to make it.”

But he wasn’t looking at her. With effort, Jaden pointed at the gun some five feet from them, the one he dropped when he came into the room. Then Jaden glanced at Madrid, standing stoically away from them.

Jaden looked at Libby hard, flicked his eyes back to the gun, then at Madrid.

She nodded at him.

Libby dropped Jaden’s head and lunged for the gun. It met her halfway.

Madrid reacted, raised his own gun and pointed it at her.

Libby pulled the trigger.

The first ringing shot hit Madrid in the leg. Her aim was poor.

The second shot hit his stomach. Madrid dropped the gun.

Shots three, four and five were fast. Each exploding shot hit Madrid in the abdomen, the last one just shy of the chest.

Madrid did not fly backwards, did not stagger as he fell. There were no words, no last gasps. No dramatics. His legs simply gave way and he slumped forward, his face in the carpet.

Libby dropped the gun then went to pick up Jaden, who’s eyes were barely open, his breathing so weak she hardly heard it.

“He’s gone,” Libby said. “It’s finished!” She squeezed his hand, but he only held onto her and did not squeeze back. “Don’t go,” she said, but he was fading, dying in her arms. “Don’t go!” she screamed.

Noises downstairs.

“Someone help us!” Libby shrieked. “Somebody help!”

She took his head in both her hands, kissed his cheeks and lips, but there was no movement. She wouldn’t listen for his heart, she couldn’t bear the idea of him being dead and gone.

“I love you,” she cried, her tears soaking his face. “Jaden, I love you!”

But there was no response to her words. His lips and eyes were motionless.