Silent Pursuit (17 page)

M
ac gave Gina a small shove, forcing her farther into the room. “Tell your girlfriend to put down the gun.”

Ian eyed Gina, spying the stubborn determination glinting through her terror.

“Gina…”

“No,” she blurted, “he's just going to kill us anyway.”

“Not if we give him what he wants,” Ian lied.

“That's not true and you know it.”

She was way too smart for her own good.

“I promised I'd get you out of this. Now listen to me and put the gun down. Trust me.”

She trembled, looked deep into eyes that he struggled to keep steady but knew were hazed with pain. Doing his best to ignore it and the weakness surging through him, he stood straight, trying to give the appearance of strength. He needed her to trust him. Desperately.

“Drop it, Gina,” Mac ordered from behind her.

The man was losing patience. He could shoot her and still have Ian, who had the information he needed. Of course Ian would be a tougher nut to crack than Gina. In spite of the pain, Ian's mind ticked along, coming up with one scenario, discarding it and forming another. All in the space of seconds.

Mac would use them against each other.

And Ian knew that if Mac threatened Ian, Gina would tell him exactly where the chip was. Truth be told, he didn't know that he wouldn't do the same if Mac continued to threaten Gina. Either way, the man couldn't leave them alive.

Gina lowered the gun gently to the floor. Mac stepped around her and, placing his foot on the weapon, dragged it to him. He left it on the floor, never taking his eyes from Ian or the gun from the back of Gina's head.

“What's on the chip, Mac? What is it you and Bandit—” he gestured to the unconscious man on the floor “—are so desperate to keep hidden?”

“It doesn't matter now. Where is it?”

“Surely you know me better than that.”

The man kept the gun steady on the back of Gina's neck. His lips parted in a mockery of a smile. “I know that you don't want to watch this woman die, do you?”

Gina flinched and bit her lip. Ian took a deep breath, shot her what he hoped was a reassuring look, then said in a conversational tone, “You got here faster than I thought you would.”

“I was closer than I let on.”

Ian had figured that but hadn't counted on the man getting here quite this quick. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he grasped for more time, just a little more time. Sweat wanted to break out across his forehead, but he wouldn't allow himself to show that kind of weakness. “What made you do it, Mac? Money?”

“Yes. Money. Lots and lots of money. I gave my life to this country and for what? A measly little pension when I can't do their dirty work anymore? No, thanks. I've got
Jimmy to take care of, and providing him the kind of care he deserves is expensive.”

“What happened to honor and integrity? Values that you preached to us?”

Remorse flickered briefly, then hardened into resolution. “Yeah, I used to feel that way. Then one by one my family left me until I had no one left but the unit. Then you left and the unit didn't fall apart, but it was never the same. The guys just…” He shrugged. “But all that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that chip. Now hand it over.”

“I don't have it.”

“But you know where it is.”

Ian felt himself growing weaker. Time clicked slowly. Just a few more minutes. He had to stay strong, lucid. Fingers gripped the mantel, and he glared at his former supervisor. One hand tangled in Gina's curls at the base of her neck; the other hand gripped the butt of the gun.

Which he now shifted to aim at Ian's heart. Without looking at Gina, he said, “It's up to you, girl. Does he live or die?”

 

From the corner of her eye, Gina watched Mac's finger tighten around the trigger, and nausea churned in her stomach. Ian kept his gaze steady on her, silently telling her not to say a word.

But she couldn't let Ian be shot again. He wouldn't survive it. And even though he held himself steady, he looked pasty-white.

“It's…”

“Gina, no.”

Mac's fingers tightened in the handful of hair and she blinked at the blinding pain—but refused to cry out. He yanked her with him as he strode closer to Ian. Tears flowed
down her cheeks, and she had to bite her lip against the scream curling in her throat. Against her ear, he growled, “One more chance—then the bullet goes in his head. Tell me.”

“It's in Patrice's room!”

Ian closed his eyes. “Don't do it, Gina. Don't let Mario's death be for nothing.”

“Show me.” Hand still snarled by her hair, Mac dragged her toward the steps, then looked back at Ian. “I suppose you're ready to fall over, but knowing you, you'd cause me trouble if I just left you here.”

He raised the gun toward Ian and Gina gasped, “No, don't shoot him. Let me go get it. Stay here and watch him and let me go get it. I'll come back, I promise.”

Mac paused and Bandit stirred. Lightning fast, Ian's foot shot out and clipped the man in the head, sending him back into the darkness from which he'd just tried to awaken.

Growling again, Mac pulled the trigger.

And missed, as Ian hit the floor next to Bandit, then rolled. Mac aimed again and, ignoring the scorching pain coming from her scalp, Gina screamed, “Stop it! Stop it! I'll get it!”

Mac stopped and focused his attention back on her, eyes narrowed in anger, cold chips from the depths of the Arctic. “Do it.” He gave her a shove toward the stairs, and Gina stumbled to keep her balance.

Ian locked his gaze on hers. Run, he was silently shouting—get out as soon as you can.

As if.

But she would try to get some help. Somewhere, somehow. She whirled up the stairs, desperately seeking a way out. A weapon, a phone to call for help.

No doubt Mac had cut the nonworking phone line as a precaution, but that wouldn't have helped her anyway. She made
it to the top of the stairs and turned left, making her way down the hallway and stopping in front of Patrice's room.

“I'm waiting!” Mac called from below.

“I'm coming! It's hidden really well.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Joseph, Joseph, where are you?”

She raced to the window in Patrice's room and looked down at the drive.

Empty.

The sound of a helicopter reached her but she ignored it, going straight to the painting on the wall. Sliding a fingernail under the edge she'd just recently glued back into place, she lifted it and the chip fell into her outstretched palm. Shaking, she tucked the reason for all her problems into the front pocket of her jeans.

Her eyes fell on the pack Ian had brought into the room with him earlier. She fell to her knees and grabbed it. It took her trembling fingers three tries, but she finally got it unzipped. She pulled the laptop out and put it aside. Then she dumped the thing upside down. All kinds of interesting gadgets poured out, but the one thing she was most interested in tumbled to the floor with a thump.

A camera.

 

They should be here by now. Nausea clawed at his throat. Pain from his wound radiated and his knees felt like rubber. The clock ticked, the second hand creeping its way around the numbers. Where were they?

The man in front of him looked calm, unruffled, as though he did this on a daily basis—held people at gunpoint and planned to kill them as soon as he got what he wanted.

And maybe he did.

Ian certainly didn't know who Mac was anymore.

“Who else is in on your little game?”

“Game?” The gun shook and Mac's nostrils flared. “Oh, this is no game, Ian. No game.”

“Right. So who else is involved? Jase?”

A snort escaped the man. “Not likely. He's like you. Thinks everything is black and white, right or wrong. He can't see the shades of gray.”

Relief chugged through Ian. His instincts had been right after all. “Good, I'm glad to hear it.”

“Unfortunately, Jase will have to suffer a similar fate to Mario. He knows too much, is asking too many questions—thanks to you and Gina.”

One more reason he needed to fight off the weakness that was almost overwhelming. He knew if he looked at his knuckles, they'd be bleached white with the effort it took to keep his grip on the mantel.

“Let me call him. I'll tell him to back off, that everything's fine. There's no need to kill him, too.”

“I don't think so.” His eyes flicked to the steps. “Now, where's Gina? You don't suppose she's run off, do you?”

Ian could only hope. Unfortunately, he didn't think so. What
was
taking her so long?

The helicopter thumping in the distance shot adrenaline through him, sharpening his senses, sending a surge of strength he desperately needed. Straightening his spine, he hissed at the bolt of pain that lanced him. Managing to ignore it, he glanced at Bandit, still out cold on the floor.

“Wake him up,” Mac ordered.

“What?”

“Wake him up!” He looked back at the stairs. “Gina! You better be down here in thirty seconds with that chip!”

The thumping of the helicopter sounded closer. This
time Mac noticed it. Eyes narrowed in fury, he shouted, “Who is it?”

“The good guys, I'm hoping.” Satisfaction warred with worry. The cavalry might be on the way, but Mac still had time to kill them, a fact that Mac wasn't unaware of.

He lifted the gun.

“Here!” Gina's breathless voice sounded from the bottom of the steps. She held out the chip. “Just take it and go. Please! I don't care what's on there. I don't care what you're involved in. Just go!”

Mac snatched the item from her outstretched fingers and slid it into his pocket even as he backed toward the door. “You knew, didn't you? That phone call you made, asking me to help gain you more time. You knew I'd hold off on coming out here until you called to tell me you'd found it.”

“Yeah. I was hoping I was wrong, but when Bandit didn't show up as quick as I'd expected, I figured you'd told him to stand down to give us time to find it.”

And then Mac knew he was out of time. The gun lifted and Ian shouted, “Gina, trust me. Run!”

W
ithout thought or hesitation, Gina pulled the camera from behind her back, lifted it and pressed the button. The flash sparked right in Mac's eyes, blinding him for a brief moment.

Then she turned and bolted for cover.

Ian staggered from the mantel and lunged to clip Mac's legs, but the man was too strong for Ian in his weakened state and easily pulled away. Mac aimed his weapon.

Ian rolled.

Mac fired.

Then he slipped out the door.

Gina raced to Ian, who lay still on the floor. “Are you okay?”

He winced and struggled to his feet, swaying, ignoring the pain. “Yeah, hand me that gun.”

Gina didn't hesitate. She grabbed the weapon and handed it to Ian. He weaved his way out the door, gun gripped in his right hand. “Stay here.”

“What are you doing?”

“I can't let him get away.”

She followed him to the door. At that moment, an SUV came barreling across the field toward the house. Ian stumbled in the direction he thought Mac may have headed but didn't get far before he went down on one knee. Gina
ran to Ian's side and shoved a shoulder under his armpit, grateful he was alive. So grateful they were both alive.

Joseph jumped out and raced over to the two of them and wrapped an arm around Ian. He helped Gina heft him back to his feet. “Where is he?”

“I'm not sure. He ran out of here a few minutes ago. He can't have gotten far. What took you so long, man?”

Joseph motioned for the other men in the vehicle to give chase. They did and he started explaining, “I ran into Robbie Stillman and had to take care of him.”

Ian grunted. “Bet that went over well.”

“He definitely didn't want to be taken care of. It took a lot of convincing.”

“Is that how you got that nice shiner?”

Joseph grimaced. “Yeah. The sheriff made it in time to help me out, but not before Robbie got in a good punch. Stings like mad.”

“I know what you mean.” Between Gina and Joseph, they managed to maneuver Ian back into the house, where he dropped to the couch and stayed there. Bandit had been cuffed and removed from the premises.

“Where's Catelyn?” Gina asked even as she headed for the kitchen to gather supplies to take care of Ian's wound until the ambulance could get there.

Joseph raised his voice so she could hear. “She's with the sheriff trying to get as much information out of Robbie as she can.”

Ian huffed out a painful chuckle. “You won't get anything out of him.”

“Yeah, we realize that, but we can get on his nerves for a while. At least until we find something that will allow us to put him away.”

This time Ian groaned and leaned his head back against the couch cushion. “Ugh. Mac has the microchip—and any evidence we might have had.”

“Um, not exactly,” Gina murmured.

Ian's eyes popped open and Joseph's swiveled in her direction. She set the first aid materials on the coffee table and said, “I didn't give him the chip.”

A frown creased Ian's forehead. “What do you mean? I watched you do it.”

She shrugged. “I took a chance and gave him the media card from the camera. I didn't figure he'd take the time to look at it too closely—or recognize it if he did. Thankfully, he just stuck it in his pocket.” She shuddered at the remembered terror. “So now what? He's still out there, and as soon as he has a chance to look at that camera card, he's going to realize I gave him the wrong thing. Then he'll just be back and we'll start this all over again.” Her voice rose in frustration.

Joseph's jaw clenched. “That's why we're going to get him before that happens.”

“Absolutely,” Ian concurred. “Now, give me a phone. I've got to call Jase and warn him to be on the lookout for Mac. Also, we need a unit to keep an eye on the Rodriguez family. Mac may try to go there for protection.”

Joseph grunted. “He won't be going by plane. I've got teams at the three closest airports with Mac's picture everywhere. I've also got something going to the TV stations with his picture. If by some crazy way he somehow does get back to Colombia, he's a dead man. Once old Esteban realizes Mac's got the wrong thing, he'll kill him.”

Ian couldn't argue with that statement.

 

While Gina watched ambulance personnel arrive and begin to work on Ian, Joseph stood outside the door strategizing. Unable to convince Ian to go to the hospital, the paramedics patched him up as well as they could.

“It's just a flesh wound,” he assured them. “The bullet passed out the other side. It's painful, but I don't think it's done much damage, if any.” The young paramedic agreed with Ian's assessment but declared an X-ray necessary to be sure.

Gina tried to get Ian to go with them, but he was adamant. “I'm going after Mac. I'll let someone look at it when that man's in custody.”

“But, Ian, you don't have any idea where he'd go, do you?”

He looked away. “No, not a clue. And if our guys haven't caught up with him yet, he had a vehicle stashed somewhere.”

Joseph nodded. “We never spotted one, not from the air or the ground. He had it hidden well. Under some trees or in a nearby building. It doesn't matter now. All that matters is catching up with him.” His phone rang and he excused himself. Gina prayed it was news that Mac had been captured.

Catelyn was still occupied with the sheriff and Robbie Stillman, who still hadn't cracked. Ian had called his current commander, who agreed to fly in and take the chip off their hands and turn it in to the appropriate authorities. Carly had called to check in, and when Ian hadn't explained what was going on, Gina had taken the phone from him and spilled everything. He told her to keep an eye out for his sister as he felt sure she'd probably show up before too long.

He reached for Gina's hand and her insides trembled as his fingers curled around hers. She swallowed hard. “You scared me, Ian.”

Intense eyes bored holes into hers. “You trusted me.”

She swallowed. “I had to.”

“You'll never know what that means to me.”

Joseph reentered the room and shoved his phone in his pocket with a disgusted sigh. “We lost Mac. Unless you can come up with an idea of where he might head…”

Ian stood, his face twisting into a painful grimace. Keeping his arm tucked against his side, he paced to the door and back as he thought and muttered, “Where would he go?”

Joseph shrugged. “If he goes home, we've got guys covering his house.”

“No, he won't go home. Surely, he prepared for this. Had some kind of backup plan in case he failed. That was practically his motto. ‘If you have a plan A, B and C, make sure you have a D, E and F,'” he quoted. “He's got a plan. I just don't know what it would be.”

Gina watched the men brainstorm as Ian paced. The fluids the paramedics had given him seemed to have infused him with renewed strength and energy. She wondered how long that would last.

Hopefully long enough.

Ian clapped his hands together, then winced. “All right, my first guess says that he'll want to find a place to check out what's on that chip, so let's head toward the town. Where would be a good place to find a computer and be inconspicuous about it?”

Gina spoke up. “The library.”

“Good idea. I can't see him stopping at any of them, but we can't take the chance. Let's get someone covering all the libraries in town.”

“What about the three universities in town? They all have computer labs.”

“Tracking him down may be impossible.” But Ian picked
up his phone anyway and made the arrangements. When he hung up, he said, “So far the bases I've covered are his home, his office at the base in Georgia, the local libraries, the universities and everywhere else they think he might land. They're even sending a team back to Colombia to watch Rodriguez just in case Mac has a private plane stashed somewhere and manages to get out of the country.”

The trio made their way to Joseph's car, and Gina wondered if this day would ever end.

Joseph and Ian took the front, with Joseph behind the wheel—much to Ian's obvious frustration. “You're not driving with that arm,” was all Joseph said.

Gina climbed in the back.

 

Inspiration kicked Ian like a punch to the nose just on the edge of town. “His son.”

Gina leaned forward. “What about his son?”

Excitement chased away the weariness that had descended over Ian during the thirty-minute drive. “He won't go anywhere without his son. Mac's going to have to get out of the country to escape prosecution and jail. There's no way he can hide out here in the United States with a special-needs adult like Jimmy.”

“You think he'll try to take Jimmy with him?” Joseph asked.

“I know it. Mac loves that kid and would never leave him behind for as long as he's going to have to be gone for. Jimmy may just be Mac's one emotional weakness.” He looked at Joseph. “Take us to the airport. I'll arrange for the chopper to meet us there. It's the only way we'll be able to beat Mac to the home where Jimmy lives.”

“We're only about twenty minutes from the airport.”

Ian paused. “The only problem is we're not going to be
able to sneak up on him. We'll have to land a couple of miles out. And I'll have to arrange to have a car there, too.” Thinking out loud, he muttered, “No, by the time we do all that, Mac will already be there—he's got about an hour's head start depending on how fast he's driving and whether he has to stop for gas or anything.”

“Then we'll have to drive it,” Joseph determined.

“You're right. We will. I can arrange a team to be there to keep an eye on things, but they'll have to stay out of sight. I don't have a good feeling about Mac's mental state right now.”

Gina asked, “You think he might do something to hurt his son?”

“No, I don't think he would hurt Jimmy, but another resident to get Jimmy out of there? I just don't know, but I don't want to get into a hostage situation.”

“No, we don't want that.”

“I'll call and have them lock down the place. We have to protect the residents and staff first. Then we'll figure out how to go about grabbing Mac.”

Ian got on the phone to get the number to the home. Once he had that, he carried out his plans, arranging for a team to be there, and prepared to handle whatever situation might arise. “Call me back and let me know what's going on,” he told the leader of the unit assigned to the home.

They rode in silence for a good while until Joseph asked, “Now, what do we do with Gina?”

Ian turned in his seat to look at her, a speculative look in his eye. “She'll have to stay in the car. We don't have time to drop her anywhere.” He asked her, “Can we trust you stay in the car, or do I need to find an officer to keep an eye on you?”

“Hey! That was uncalled for. I'll stay out of trouble, I promise.”

His eyes narrowed. “Hmm.”

Joseph gave a low chuckle, then said, “You know her pretty well, don't you?”

Gina reached up and gave Joseph's head a light smack. “Zip it, big brother.”

Ian's phone rang, cutting off any response Joseph might have had to his sister's admonition. Ian answered it halfway through the first ring. Jase. “What do you have?”

“You called it. Mac's already there. He's in his son's home. Everything looks peaceful right now. And nothing to indicate Mac's in a hurry.”

Ian thought. “No, I remember him saying something about how Jimmy was so laid-back it drove him crazy sometimes. Most of the time Jimmy goes at his own pace, although he can occasionally have a ferocious temper that even Mac has trouble dealing with. Right now, let's hope he stays calm. This might work in our favor.” He looked at his watch. “All right, just keep an eye on things. Don't let Mac know you're there unless you have to in order to keep him from leaving. We're about ten minutes away.”

They'd already crossed the Georgia state line. The home was just beyond the border. The miles clicked by, and soon Joseph turned down the street that led to the group home.

A uniformed officer stood at the entrance to the street. Joseph pulled to a stop and rolled down his window. The officer leaned in and said, “License check.”

Joseph and Ian flashed their badges. The man would have been informed of who to look for. Everyone else would have been turned back and rerouted away from the area.

The officer stepped back and waved them on.

Six group homes—built by a private donor, according to Mac—lined the small cul-de-sac.

One way in. One way out.

Mac's black truck sat outside the home at the top of the circle. Backed into the drive and ready to go.