He made a trip over to the fireplace and back. After forcing the iron poker under the knot, he gave it a 360-degree turn, tightening the tourniquet like an oversized garrote. LG moaned, clenching her teeth.
“I’m going around one more time.”
He manhandled the poker through one more turn.
“Shit, McBride, you’re killing me.”
“All done. Keep it from unwinding.”
“Where’d you learn this?”
“The Marines, of course.”
“Well, Semper fucking fi.”
“Harv, you copy all of this?”
“Affirm. Sounds like LG’s okay.”
“I’ve got her bleeding under control. She took two to the hip.” He grasped her shoulder. “You’re out of the fight. Stay here, that’s an order.” He showed her one of the grenades and smiled. “I’ve got two more of these. Harv and I are gonna take out the trash.”
She grimaced in pain. “May I quote Fontana?”
“Of course.”
“I like my world with you in it.”
“Me too.”
“Why haven’t they attacked?”
“They’re on the second floor and want us to go up there, which puts us at a big disadvantage. Hang tough, LG. I need to send a text to Cantrell. Can you cover us for a sec?”
“Yeah.” LG pivoted to her good side and pulled herself up so she could see over the sloped half-wall that also served as the stair rail.
He had a good cell signal and sent:
Engaging the twins. LG seriously wounded
“There’s no activity out here,” Harv said, “but a few lights have come on in the cabin to the north. It’s a good bet deputies are on the way.”
Ignoring the hideous sensation on his leg, he limped over to the sofa and crouched.
Keeping his voice low, he said, “I’m in the living room and I’ve got eyes on the stairs down to the garage. They can’t escape in this direction. LG’s got my back. I’m going to clear a door near the stairs. I think it’s a coat closet. The door you’re guarding leads into the kitchen. Stand by: I’m going to test my theory.”
“Copy.”
Nathan grabbed a coaster from the sofa table and hurled it across the room. It bounced off the floor and smacked the door.
“Did you do that?”
“Yes. LG, you’ve got living room, dining room, and kitchen.” He hurried over to the suspect door near the basement stairs, stood to the side, and ripped it open. Several coats and umbrellas greeted him. He looked across the living room to the stairs leading up to the second floor and knew he’d have to go up them. No time like the present. He was about to make his move when his phone vibrated.
“LG, you still good?”
“Yes.”
He ducked into the pitch-black stairwell leading to the garage, pulled his cell, and looked at the text from Cantrell.
Ambulance, Delta, and FBI SAs on the way. Local law enforcement will stage at street until Delta and feds arrive. ETA 15 minutes. I need the twins alive.
No shit, Sherlock. He instantly regretted the crass thought. His damned leg felt like a blowtorch was at work. Surprised Cantrell had brought in the FBI, he relayed the info to Harv and LG. Thinking about it more, it made sense at this point. Delta had no law-enforcement powers.
“Nate, you shouldn’t clear the second floor by yourself. If LG’s got this door, let me help you. We can leapfrog it.”
“I need you out there. I’ll be okay. I have a few surprises in store and it’s super dark in here.”
Nathan started toward the second-floor stairs, then stopped.
Why not give the twins a taste of their own medicine?
“Harv, I’ll meet you at the door leading out of the kitchen. Are you at any risk of being fired upon from any of the windows upstairs?”
“No. If they open or break one, I’ll hear it.”
“I’ll be at the kitchen door in the next few seconds.”
“Copy. Standing by.”
“LG, you’re still on the stairs to the second level.”
“I’ve got them.”
Nathan hurried over to the door next to the refrigerator and cracked it a few inches. “Take these,” he whispered, handing Harv two of the bangers. “Head halfway up the stairs out there and stand by. We’re going to flush them into the living room.”
“Too bad we don’t have any tear gas.”
“Maybe we do. I’ll be right back.” He used his penlight to search the cabinet under the sink and hit pay dirt. He grabbed a can of oven cleaner and a plastic bottle of ammonia.
He rejoined Harv at the door. “I’m going to secure this can to a banger with duct tape. Hold it in place for me.”
Working quickly, he bent the safety handle a little outward, removed the tape from his waist pack, and wrapped several layers of tape around the can and the grenade. He made sure to keep the tape under the safety handle so it could fly free when deployed. He repeated the process with the bottle of ammonia.
“Shit,” said Harv. “This might work.”
“We’re going to find out.”
“If it starts a fire?”
“Then our beloved twins will be forced to come down. Up you go. Shoot out the window first. Send the other banger through a different window.” He looked toward the stairs leading up to the loft and saw LG peering over the half-wall.
“Need I remind you guys I’m not in any condition to run wind sprints?”
“Don’t worry, LG. I’ll carry you.”
“At least I’m properly dressed this time.”
“Stand by,” he told her. “We’re about to heat things up.”
Nathan positioned himself at the corner of the kitchen where he had a clear view of the second-floor stairs.
“I’m ready,” Harv said.
“Do it!”
CHAPTER 29
Nathan heard Harv’s handgun boom. A few seconds later, a loud bang rocked the second floor, followed by a shrieking whistle.
The can of oven cleaner. Glorious!
It probably seemed like a demon was loose up there.
Harv’s pistol sounded again, followed by a second explosion, not as loud. The ammonia grenade.
A female scream rang out.
Nathan yelled, “Hey, Ursy? How do you like us now?”
He heard stomping above his head, from more than one person, then violent coughing.
Even if the oven-cleaner grenade didn’t start a fire, the fumes had to be overpowering. The ammonia made it even worse.
Automatic gunfire erupted followed by a thump of some kind.
Harv’s handgun boomed again.
Nathan was tempted to rush up the stairs, but he didn’t want to breathe any of the toxic gas. The glow from the stairwell ended, meaning the place probably hadn’t caught fire. Either that, or it hadn’t spread yet.
“One of them just tried escaping out to the deck. I forced them back inside.”
“Good work, Harv. Stay there for now.”
He heard more coughing and choking, louder this time.
Something thumped down the stairs. His NV registered the bouncing light source as a flashlight, not another banger.
Automatic gunfire followed.
“LG, get down!”
The wood floor of the living room splintered as dozens of slugs destroyed its surface. All the bullets missed LG’s position, but that would change as the shooter reached the ground floor.
In the eerie light from the flashlight, Nathan lined up on the stairs’ landing.
What happened next took him utterly by surprise.
The ceiling exploded in an oval shape of dust and debris.
One of the twins was firing blindly through the floor. Nathan dived to his left and ended up against the kitchen’s island.
Looking like a war refugee, Tomas bounded down the stairs and entered the living room with a look of pure hatred and rage. The oven-cleaner grenade must’ve detonated right next to him; his burned pants stil
l smoldered and his shirt was charred.
His right hand held a huge revolver, his left a Mac-10.
Nathan saw LG pull herself upright from her cover and aim at Tomas.
Her bloody hand slipped off the rail and she fell out of sight.
Tomas tossed the empty Mac-10 aside and pointed the revolver at her.
Knowing the magnum’s bullets would easily penetrate the half-wall, Nathan yelled, “Tomas! Over here!”
Before he could fire a wounding shot, the ceiling erupted again, and again. Nathan found himself in a maelstrom of wood splinters, chunks of drywall, and dust.
Something hit his cheek, causing him to flinch and lose his aim just as he fired.
Tomas turned to him, madness lighting his eyes.
Nathan watched in horror as the muzzle of Tomas’s revolver ignited with a thunderous roar.
He heard LG scream his name.
The impact hammered him so violently, he thought he’d pass out. He staggered back, lost his balance, and felt the back of his head smack the granite countertop. His vision grayed, then went dark. His final thought before losing consciousness was a desperate prayer that Linda wouldn’t kill Tomas . . . that he wouldn’t die in vain.
Harvey heard multiple bursts of automatic gunfire roar from the interior of the cabin, followed by a single thunderous report.
From the frantic tone of LG’s scream, he knew Nate was down. He felt it as surely as the sun would rise.
Throwing caution aside, he bounded up the stairs to the deck and kicked the door.
An empty bedroom greeted him, along with a noxious smell.
He heard the sound just in time, a cycling bolt.
He dived to the floor as the wall to his left exploded in a linear string of eruptions.
A scream of animal-like fury overpowered the roar of the machine pistol on the opposite side of the wall.
Harv shimmied on his stomach into the hall. Without hesitating, he ran to the next door and rushed into the adjacent bedroom where he’d thrown the second grenade.
Ursula.
Her face wet with ammonia, she wiped her eyes and cursed. When she attempted to reload the Mac-10, Harvey struck her jaw with the butt of his Sig.
He kicked Ursula’s weapon aside, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her out of the bedroom and down the hall. Flailing and screaming, she tried to bite his arm. He flung her against the wall and belted her in the face again. Her eyes rolled and she went limp. Had they not needed this woman alive, he would’ve slit her throat.
He stopped at the top of the stairs to the living room. “LG!” he yelled.
“I’m okay.”
“Where’s Tomas?”
“Dead.”
Shit.
Not caring about Ursula’s head, he switched his grip to her ankle and hauled her down the stairs.
Tomas lay on the floor, a puddle of blood growing next to his chest.
Bloody handprints smeared the half-wall of the stairs where Linda stood. She took a step into the living room, and nearly fell.
Harv left Ursula next to her brother and rushed to Nathan’s side.
He reached down and felt for a pulse.
Behind him, Ursula screamed.
Hatred boiled in Linda’s soul, strong and deep. She’d wanted this opportunity for years and here it was. One down, one to go. She hobbled over to Ursula and winced at the overpowering smell of ammonia. The woman had seemed unconscious, but now she stirred. Writhed, really, no doubt from the chemical cocktail burning her face and eyes. You poor thing, she mused. I’m happy to end your suffering. Ignoring the hideous sensation in her right hip, she pressed her Sig against the woman’s temple.
“Time to die, Ursy.”
Squinting in agony, Ursula looked up. “You!”
“Stop,” Fontana yelled. “Damn it, LG, don’t do it. You know we need her alive.”
“She just killed McBride!”
“He’s not dead. Just unconscious.”
“You’re just saying that so I won’t kill her.”
“It’s the truth. Lower the gun.”
She shook her head. “She deserves to die.”
“So this was your plan all along? You used us?”
Linda didn’t trust herself to answer that.
In the eerie light coming from the fallen flashlight, Fontana took a step forward.
She pressed her pistol tighter against Ursula’s head.
Fontana holstered his pistol and held his hands out. “One minute, that’s all I ask.”
She felt herself breathing hard. “What difference will a minute make?”
“Lower the gun, okay? She’s not going anywhere.”
She didn’t move.
“Killing her will leave a wound that won’t heal.”
“This bitch is pure evil. She tortured Glen and tried to kill McBride in Caracas. She sold children into sexual slavery. She’s pure evil!”
“I was trying to kill you, not that big dumbshit!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Fontana said. “Focus on me.”
“You’re a whore! You spread your legs for my brother.”
Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“Don’t do it, it’s what she wants.”
Ursula issued more insults and foul language, first in English, then in Spanish.
“Eyes on me, Linda. Tune her out.”
“She has to die.”
“The price is too high.”
“Too high?”
“To yourself, to Nathan.”
“I’ll gladly pay it.”
“You can’t.”
“She’s lying about Glen’s rescue.”
“Think about it, Linda. In Caracas, Ursula could’ve shot any of us in that house. We were in the kitchen. I was on your left. Nathan was in the living room, near the television. Ursula lined up on you from the hall right after you shot the old man on the couch.”
Ursula twisted on the floor, trying to stare Linda in the eye. “Old man? He was my father!”
Fontana narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t have to kill him. He trusted you, let you into our family.”
Linda pistol-whipped the side of Ursula’s head.
“The old man on the couch was their father?”
“Why does that matter?”
“But you knew?”
“He was reaching for a gun! What would you’ve done?”
“The same thing, but I didn’t have to make that decision. You did. This is different. You don’t have to kill Ursula. You gave us your word. No summary executions.”
“Don’t you want her dead?”
“Cantrell needs what’s in her head. Look, no one will ever know. If you kill her, I won’t say anything, but there’s one condition.”
“What condition? What are you talking about?” She didn’t want to hear any of Fontana’s bullshit. Ursula had to die. Simple as that.
“You have to use your knife.”
“My knife?”
“I’m going to repeat what Holly once told Nathan when he faced the same thing. I wasn’t there, but he told me about it.”
“I’m in no mood for a lecture, Fontana. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”
“I want to see you kill her with your knife. Up close and personal.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You heard me. I want to see you slice her throat from ear to ear. I want to hear the gurgling of her lungs. I want to see her blood spurt onto the walls. Go ahead, show me how tough you are. I want to witness the real Linda Genneken at work. Apparently the woman I thought I knew doesn’t exist.”
“Spare me the drama, Fontana. I’m in no mood.”
“Having the power of life and death in your hands is like heroin to an addict, but there’s no twelve-step treatment plan. Once you kill, you can’t get that life back. Nate and I fight it every day of our lives. Don’t give in to it. You’re in a lot of pain and you’re losing blood.” He nodded t
o her foot. “Your boot’s overflowing. Close your eyes, LG, and focus on my voice. Shut everything else out.”
“We don’t have time for this.” She shuffled back a step and painted the bitch’s face with her laser.
“Close your eyes and focus on my voice.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Life is about choices, Linda. Every day.” Fontana took a few strides forward.
“She had Glen murdered!”
“Killing her won’t bring him back.”
Linda couldn’t listen to this. Ursula had to die.
“You need to trust me, like you’ve never trusted me before. You and I? We’ve been through life and death together. I’d never lie to you, or try to deceive you. Ursula’s not going anywhere.”
She could feel her rage radiating like white-hot iron. Killing this bitch was the only way to purge it. Nothing less would work.
“Focus on my voice. Lock everything else out.”
She squinted.
“Eyes on me, right here.” He pointed to his face. “I know what you’re feeling. The anger and rage. It makes you want to scream until your throat bleeds. Killing Ursula won’t release it; it only makes it worse. You’ll hurt yourself. Hurt your country. Doubt and regret will haunt you for the rest of your life because you did something that can’t be undone. The feeling festers and gets worse with time. It’ll consume you like cancer.”
“I have to kill her. I have to!”
“Is that what Glen would want?”
She didn’t answer.
Harvey stepped forward and put a boot on Ursula’s neck. She groaned in protest, but he didn’t ease off.
“Close your eyes and focus on my voice.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “This is it, Linda. Your soul’s at stake. Everything in your life hinges from this moment forward.”
She shrunk away from his touch, then cried out at the pain in her hip. “It’s just you and me,” she breathed. “No one has to know.”
“The price is too high.”
“But no one will know!”
“You’ll know.”
“I can’t . . .”
Ursula started another tirade, but Fontana stepped heavily on her throat until she went slack.
“Stay with me, Linda. Close your eyes and listen to my words . . . that’s all I’m asking you to do. If you still want to kill her afterward, I won’t stop you.”