Armed Response Page 7

  “No, man, I’m not. Like Derek said, I’m just helping out with law enforcement temporarily. The ranch is going to be my full-time work. Soldiers can come, sort stuff out in their head while riding or walking or just hanging out with the animals. People like you, Oliver. Because if you feel this bad about what happened with your wife, that means you want to do what’s right. I can’t guarantee the ranch will help, but it’s at least worth a try before you leave your unborn child with no father at all.”

  “You’re not lying?” For the first time, there was the slightest bit of hope in Oliver’s voice. “This place really exists?”

  “I give you my word, as one man who served to another, I am not lying. You can be the first person to come visit. Hell, you can come help me get everything set up.”

  Oliver just stared at him.

  “This bridge is always going to be here, Oliver.” Jace knew this might not be the right thing to say, but it was the truth. “There will always be a way to kill yourself if you want to go that route. But today why don’t you choose to do something different? To give life a chance and see if there’s any way to fix things that maybe a few months from now might not be as broken as you think.”

  Oliver stared at him for a long time before finally nodding and stepping one leg back on the safe side of the railing. As soon as his other leg was also over, Jace crossed the few feet to the man and pulled him in for a hug.

  “I was telling the truth,” Jace said. “I don’t know what happens now, but I’ll make sure you get the information about the ranch.”

  Jace stepped back when he heard a woman screaming Oliver’s name and running toward him. She didn’t give him any choice but to catch her as she leaped at him, sobbing.

  The size of the bruise covering half her face left no doubt that this was Oliver’s wife. But instead of being mad, she pulled back from him and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Together. Whatever it is, we get through it together.”

  As he walked back to the rest of the team, Jace realized Oliver probably wasn’t going to need his ranch. He was one of the lucky ones. Oliver had the support he needed right at home.

  Chapter Eight

  Lillian punched the lumpy pillow under her head as she lay in the too-soft hotel bed. Damn things were keeping her from getting any sleep.

  Who was she kidding? The bed and pillow had nothing to do with her not getting rest. She never slept well outside her own bed. Hell, she didn’t sleep all that great in her own.

  Too much time, alone, in the dark, to think...to remember? Not her friend.

  Daytime and her job at Omega Sector allowed her to stay busy, to stay focused, to push herself to her limits.

  To keep the demons at bay.

  But nighttime, especially after a day like today, when she hadn’t expended a great deal of physical energy? Not as easy. The darkness seemed to press in on her.

  How many times had she come back to her senses in a bed sort of like this one with a guy she didn’t quite remember, her skin crawling with the knowledge of what she’d done? Again.

  Jace had been right to turn her down. She was damaged in ways that would taint every relationship she had. And it might have started with Daryl, but Lillian couldn’t deny that her own choices, the patterns she allowed to take over in her sexual escapades, were what had perpetuated the problem.

  And watching Jace today, talking to that vet, connecting to the man on such an honest, authentic level... Lillian rubbed her chest in the general vicinity of her heart. He was going to raise dogs, horses. Animals that would help people who’d been traumatized by war.

  She couldn’t help wondering if a dog might help her through the trauma of a different kind of war. Maybe it could provide the companionship she’d refused to acknowledge she so desperately needed.

  Who was she kidding? She couldn’t take care of a puppy. A dog needed attention. Love. A regular schedule. She wasn’t capable of any of those.

  She glanced at her watch to find it was 3:30 a.m. and swung her legs around to the floor. She might as well get up. She knew well enough she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

  Knew that it was just a matter of time before the darkness around her—even though she had a light on in the bathroom—started to eat at her sanity. Lillian never slept in the dark

  She would go for a walk. It was what she usually did. Although sometimes those walks led her to a local bar and then to the home of some nameless guy for meaningless sex. She always hoped that it might be different. That she might connect. Feel something.

  She had no desire to go find some random guy now. The kisses with Jace had just reminded her how utterly empty those other encounters were. Attempts to punish herself, Grace had said. Lillian had scoffed. What did she have to punish herself for? she’d argued.

  But Lillian knew the list was long and never far from her mind. And growing.

  For not being able to fight back against Daryl.

  For not being strong enough to escape and go to Jace.

  For not having the guts to admit to him—then or now—what had happened and why she was so broken.

  For not being able to stop Freihof from killing Grace and hurting others.

  Lillian was dressed in her cargo pants and T-shirt in under a minute. She grabbed her jacket from the closet and left the voices behind.

  The chill of the February air helped chase away the voices. There weren’t many people around this area of downtown at this hour. The bars had already let out, and most of the buildings were government or offices anyway—no one was burning the midnight oil.

  Lillian found herself wandering down toward the Denver City and County Building, the picturesque government building where the LESS Summit would be taking place.

  The massive white marble building was iconic in the state of Colorado, beautiful and dignified. Although she knew the plans almost by heart, she wandered around it slowly, getting a feel for it from the outside. It would not be an easy building to secure. Multiple entrances and exit points in the form of doors and windows. The doors would need to be secure, although the windows had alarms and none of them would be open.

  Lillian did a double take at one of the windows she was just thinking about on the far side of the building from where she stood.

  Someone was easing themselves inside one of the windows lowest to the ground. The same windows that Omega, with the help of Denver PD, had secured earlier today after they’d finished with the attempted suicide.

  Someone had missed a window. On purpose?

  Was this Freihof entering the building now? The mole?

  Silently, Lillian crouched down to grab her backup sidearm from its ankle holster in her boot and took off in a sprint toward the window. If this was Freihof, she was going to catch him and nail the son of a bitch.

  Right. Damn. Now.

  The window was still missing part of the grate that should’ve been covering it to stop this sort of entry into the building. Staying low, she gazed inside. The small basement storage room was dark and she couldn’t see anyone. Whoever had entered had proceeded into the hallway.

  Lillian holstered her weapon and edged herself through the window, thankful her size made it easier. Once inside, she crouched low again, weapon back in hand, looking and listening. She was fairly certain no one was in the room, but she didn’t want to take a chance.

  Once she knew the room was secure, she moved quickly to the door, opened it and glanced up and down the darkened hallway. This wasn’t an area of the building used for daily government purposes. The hall was littered with unused desks and furniture, cleaning supplies and bookshelves.

  Plenty of places for someone to hide. And damn well too many areas where someone could leave an explosive device.

  Lillian looked up and down the hall, trying to ascertain which way the suspect had run. This was a virtual maze of connected h
alls and doors. Was the perp trying to get up to the main section of the building?

  She heard a muffled noise farther down one of the hallways and began to move toward it, stepping quickly but silently.

  Now would be a good time for backup, but by the time they got here it would be too late. And the three-man private security force who patrolled this building at night wouldn’t be much good against Freihof.

  Lillian could still remember watching Freihof pull the knife across Grace Parker’s throat, helpless to do anything to save her friend. If Freihof was in this building, Lillian wasn’t going to lose him calling for backup. She’d take him down herself.

  She eased farther down the hallway, coming to an intersecting one. She didn’t know which way the perp had gone. She moved quickly down one hallway, only to find it came to a dead end at a locked door. Cursing, she spun around and ran back down to where the halls crossed, hoping the perp hadn’t made it out. She wished she’d studied this floor’s plans as much as she had the other levels.

  She took the corner too quickly and wasn’t expecting the assailant to be right there. Mistake. She’d been too desperate to catch him to be as careful as she should have been.

  She swallowed a cry as the perp hit her arms with a hardcover law book, knocking her gun to the floor and sending it skidding across the hall. Pain radiated through her right forearm at the force of the blow.

  Mistake on his part, too. He should’ve clocked her with that book and knocked her out while he had the chance. He wouldn’t get a second opportunity. Lillian spun back toward him, already perfectly balanced on her feet.

  Her opponent was around six feet tall, probably close to two hundred pounds, and he was wearing a mask. Lillian was determined that would be coming off.

  The guy dropped the book—smart, it would slow him down—and Lillian went on the offensive. She kicked him in the midsection, then used her momentum to swing her other leg around in a roundhouse kick to catch him in the head.

  He blocked her kick at the last second, bringing his own fist around in a hook that would’ve knocked her to the floor, if not unconscious, if it had hit her jaw, where he was aiming.

  Guy wasn’t playing around.

  Neither was she.

  As always when fighting someone bigger and stronger, Lillian used her speed and agility to her advantage, keeping out of reach of his blows and using her legs and kicks as much as possible. The guy adapted quickly, bringing himself closer to her, so her legs couldn’t inflict any damage. Also meant she had to stay focused in order to not get caught by one of his fists.

  He had some skills.

  She had more.

  Lillian spun, her elbow connecting with the perp’s jaw as she flung around. Momentum propelled him backward, allowing her to hit him with a right uppercut and then a left hook. He was going down and they both knew it.

  Too late Lillian heard the click of a Taser and felt the voltage run through her body. Was there a second person here or had she just missed it?

  She fought the blackness but it overcame her.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS she came to, Lillian realized the direness of the situation.

  A noose wrapped tightly around a neck had a very distinct feel.

  She was sitting on a crate that rested precariously on a step in a stairwell. Her arms were tied behind her back. A few moments later the rope attached to her neck began to move upward as it was hoisted from the other side. Lillian could stand or she could suffocate.

  The rope continued to move upward, pulling her up, until she was standing on the crate, then it kept going until she was on her very tiptoes.

  The bands restraining her arms behind her back weren’t that tight, but weren’t so loose that she could get out.

  “Someone has to take the fall,” a voice whispered from the other side of the stairwell, near the door. Lillian couldn’t tell whose it was. Someone she knew?

  And that was why the restraints weren’t tight on her arms. This needed to look like a suicide.

  “This isn’t going to work, you know. Whatever you have planned.”

  Lillian winced as the rope jerked the slightest bit higher as the masked man tied it to the door. The door pulled to the outside, which meant if someone opened it she was a goner.

  So much for yelling for help.

  She was on the very tops of her toes, the square crate balancing precariously on the rectangle step that was much more narrow.

  “No one is going to believe I killed myself with my arms tied behind my back.” The words came out in breathy gasps as she focused on holding herself steady.

  Masked Man just tilted his head, studying her. But she knew if he didn’t cut her arms loose she had no chance of survival.

  The box tipped forward and she felt sweat drip down her forehead as she attempted to get it back straight with what little leverage she had. She wasn’t sure she had much chance for survival anyway.

  The man moved away from the door and came up the stairs, giving her a wide berth—as if she could kick him and still maintain balance on the crate—and without another word cut the cord from her arms.

  Lillian immediately brought her hands up above her head and took her weight from her legs, then swung her legs back down, twisting and using momentum to propel them toward Masked Man, hoping to catch him around the shoulders.

  But he was expecting it and had moved up the stairs out of her reach. Her legs fell downward to the crate again, to give her arms supporting her weight a rest.

  “Goodbye, Omega Sector.”

  She heard the whisper from behind her and saw an envelope drop to the floor before the crate was kicked out from under her. Immediately her arms took the weight of her body. She swung her legs up to try to wrap them around the rope, but couldn’t, with the length and angle of the noose. She reached her foot out to the side, trying to reach the banister, and cursed when her legs weren’t long enough to reach it.

  She couldn’t see the bastard behind her but knew he was waiting. Waiting to watch her die as her strength gave out and she couldn’t support herself anymore.

  She tried to yell—even if someone came rushing into the room, it wasn’t going to do much more damage than her swaying here until her strength gave out—but the sound was cut off by the rope over her vocal chords. If she wanted to yell, she was going to have to use one hand to pull the rope away from the front of her throat. That meant supporting all her weight with one arm.

  Her muscles were already straining from the constant state of pulling up. Supporting her weight with one arm wasn’t going to work.

  But she’d be damned if she was just going to die in front of this bastard.

  She swung her legs up, trying to catch the upper part of the rope, but failed again. Even if she could get her legs hooked up there, she wasn’t going to be able to get herself released.

  She heard a low chuckle to her side. Bastard. He was enjoying this.

  And then the alarm started blaring.

  Masked Man muttered a curse and took off up the stairs. Lillian felt her arms begin to shake as the exhaustion from holding her own weight began to take its toll. If it wasn’t for the rigorous SWAT training, she’d already be dead.

  But even training wouldn’t be enough. Physics would win. Her arms began to tremble more and she was forced to let go of the rope to give them a break.

  Immediately the rope cut off all oxygen.

  When everything began to go black, she reached up and grabbed the rope again. It wasn’t long before the tremors took over.

  She didn’t want to go out like this. Wished she hadn’t squandered this second chance she’d had with Jace in her life.

  But even thinking of Jace, with his gorgeous blue eyes and cocky grin that still did things to her heart after all these years, couldn’t give her any more strength.

  She r
eached back up with her arms and found them collapsing before she even took her weight. Then the noose tightened and jerked around her neck, pulling her body forward, all air gone.

  Blackness.

  Chapter Nine

  The door to the stairway was heavy as Jace opened it. Abnormally heavy, like someone was slumped against it. Fear coated his throat. Was it Lillian against the other side of the door, unconscious?

  What he found when he pushed it open was much worse.

  Jace immediately took in the situation, cursing violently as he flew up the steps toward Lillian’s swinging form. “Lily!”

  He dove to get himself under her legs and lift her, taking the weight off her throat and airway.

  “Lillian? Lily? Come on, baby, talk to me.”

  His heart was a hammer in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and hoisted her up.

  God, he couldn’t be too late.

  “Lily!” he yelled, shaking her and tapping her leg, trying to get her to wake up. The only thing he could hear was silence and the desperate beating of his own heart.

  “Come on, Tiger Lily, damn it. Fight.” Lillian Muir was nothing if not a fighter.

  Jace reached into his pocket for his army knife, trying to position himself where he could hold her weight and saw through the rope above her head. He still couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.

  Holding all her weight while on the awkward stairs made cutting the rope nearly impossible. But there was no way in hell he was going to let her go.

  “Hand me the knife.”

  Lillian’s hoarse whisper sent relief flooding through Jace. He gave her the knife, lifting her body farther to provide her the slack in the rope she needed. A minute later she fell completely into his arms as she finished cutting the binding around her throat.

  He set them both on the stairs and pushed her clawing fingers away from the noose, loosening it and lifting it over her head. She slumped back against the wall.

  There was already angry red marks and bruising on her neck and throat where the rope had been suffocating her.