Kelan shut off the SUV’s lights well before he and Rocco reached the turnoff to Blade’s ranch. They drove slowly up the long dirt road, their path marked only by the moonlight. Kelan cut the engine at the last hill before the house. They closed their doors quietly, knowing how sound traveled in the night’s cool, thin air. They made a circuit of the main house, keeping to whatever slim cover they could find-fence lines, shadows of outbuildings, and a few scraggly bushes.
The house was completely dark. Blade’s car was parked by the front steps. Rocco swallowed an oath, wishing he’d gotten over here sooner. What if someone had gotten to Blade?
He and Kelan made a fast dash toward the back door. It was unlocked. Kelan wore night vision goggles, so he went in first. Room by room, they cleared the main floor. Blade’s place was a huge, sprawling log home. Rocco had never been there before-he was a little surprised at how Blade hated the property. It was magnificent. They split up, Kelan taking the basement, Rocco the upstairs. The house was empty.
So where was Blade? Had he gone somewhere with the Jacksons? Rocco went back to the den, which was the only room where anything was out of place. He flipped on the overhead light and studied the room. A big mahogany desk had been swiped clear, everything plowed to the floor. A broken lamp lay in shattered pieces on the floor.
Rocco stared at the debris, trying to make sense of it. The papers were displaced but not torn or wrinkled. There hadn’t been a fight.
“Anything?” Kelan asked as he entered the room, his M16 shouldered, and his night vision goggles sitting on his forehead.
“Nothing. Just the mess in here. What happened, do you suppose?”
“It’s hard to say. You tried his cell?”
“Several times.” Rocco began walking around the room, trying to see what else might have been disturbed, looking for a clue, something that could lead him to Blade.
Kelan cursed and held up a crushed cell phone. Rocco shoved the door open farther, his movement fast and angry. The panel hit something on the floor, rolling it toward the shadows against the wall. Rocco bent down and picked up a small syringe. He showed it to Kelan. “They’ve got Blade.”
“Looks like they wanted him alive,” Kelan observed. But neither of them voiced the unthinkable-how long would he be allowed to live?
“Found the mutts,” Val said as two excited dogs swarmed Mandy. She knelt and hugged them both, then ran her hands over them, checking for wounds. They were uninjured but still nervously trembling.
Kit’s phone rang. “Mandy, take them up to the house. Val, stay with her.” He looked at his screen and saw that it was Rocco. “Go,” he opened the conversation.
“Blade’s been taken,” Rocco’s said on the other end of the line. “His car is here but no sign of him or his caretakers. They tranq’d him, Kit.”
Kit cursed even as another call broke into their conversation. “Get back over here. Owen’s called a meeting.” He ended the call with Rocco and accepted the new one from an unknown caller. “Bolanger here.”
“Hello, my friend.”
Kit snapped his fingers to get Val’s attention as he was climbing the porch steps. Kit pointed to his phone. Val pulled Mandy into the house, in a hurry to get Max to trace the call. “Why would you think we were friends, Amir?” Kit asked as he started walking toward the house.
“You may not like me, Mr. Bolanger, but I am indeed your only friend at this point. How do you like the game we are playing? Rather exciting, don’t you think?”
“You owe me a new equestrian center. But don’t get in a dither about coming up with the money to pay restitution. I’ll be taking it out of your hide. Personally.”
“Tsk-tsk. You really shouldn’t be making threats you can’t see to completion. You cannot fight me. I am terror. I am all around you. You’ll never know what I’ll do next. One by one, each of your friends and family members will die, in most horrible ways. I will crush their dreams first, then fill them with terror as you filled my people with fear, then kill them.”
“What do you want with Ty?”
“I just told you. Are you not listening to me, Mr. Bolanger? Your friend, Mr. Bladen, will see his death coming but will be able to do nothing about it. Do you remember the pit your friend Mr. Silas was in? We have a similar one for Mr. Bladen. Unfortunately, there aren’t any scorpions in Wyoming, but I found rattlesnakes were a fair trade. There are so many of them. He will die slowly, painfully, as his body shuts down, knowing all the while that you will never find him. Such is the will of Allah.”
Kit made it to the basement where Val gave him a thumbs-up sign. “Don’t make this about religion, Amir,” Kit scoffed. “Nor is it about an eye-for-an-eye retribution. If it were, you would be building roads for us and schools and hospitals, finding jobs for our unemployed citizens, as we did for your people in Afghanistan.”
“You did not improve my country. You made every man stand between two lines of guns-yours and the Taliban’s.”
“This is not a debate I’m gonna have with you, Amir. We both know your complaint with my men and me is that we crippled al Jahni’s main drug and arms trade route. For that, I will not apologize. I took you down there, and I’ll take you down here. And when I’m done with you, I’m going for al Jahni.” Kit dropped the call.
“The call originated in Jalalabad, Afghanistan,” Max told him.
“Impossible,” Kit growled. “We know Amir was in Denver two days ago. He’s bridging his call somehow.”
Owen replayed the recording of the phone call. Twice. Kit struggled to find meaning in the words Amir spoke. Sounded like Blade was in a pit. With rattlesnakes. In Wyoming. Was it man-made, as Rocco’s had been, or was it naturally occurring? He started pacing. What if Amir had mentioned it knowing they would go off chasing that lead? What if it took them in the opposite direction of where they needed to be looking?
“Pull up a topographical map of the area within a hundred mile radius of Blade’s home,” he ordered Max. “I want to know about all rock formations that might house crevices or holes or pits wide enough to dump a man deep enough that he can’t get out.”
“Hold up,” Owen called out. He shut off his phone and looked at Kit. “A vehicle registered to Dennis Jackson was just reported to have been in a roll-over accident near off Highway 130 not too far from here.”
“Were there any survivors? Any bodies?”
“No word on either yet.”
Kit sighed and swiped a hand over his eyes. He looked at the guys. “Greer, get over there. If they are alive, stick with them. Give me an update when you can. Max, concentrate on the area within a fifty mile circumference from the accident location.”
When Rocco and Kelan came back to the ranch, they both went their separate ways. Rocco knew Owen was waiting for a meeting, but he had to get rid of the dirt, ash and blood still clinging to him from the explosion. And, he needed a few minutes to process everything that had happened that night. Whatever the team wanted could wait until he cleaned up-or they could catch him up when he joined them.
The coffee pot was gurgling, filling the house with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. The dogs had returned and were happily chowing down their breakfast. Though dawn was only a faint hint on the eastern horizon, Mandy was already starting breakfast prep. He stood there, watching the woman he loved.
A strange sense of being beside himself, observing his life instead of living it, came over him. His present and his past had collided a few hours ago, and he wasn’t sure what remained of himself. Believing his son still lived was the only thing that kept him alive in the months following the explosion in Kadisha’s village. And now that he knew the truth, he realized he’d lived beyond that terrible event long enough to begin again, to heal, to start a new life.
A life he had no right to live.
He headed down the hallway before Mandy caught him watching her. He wasn’t ready to talk to her or anyone yet. Christ. He’d remembered what happened. All of it. And the freshness of it was like losing his family all over again.
In the shower, he bowed his head in the streams of the hot water. Revisiting the memories the night had unlocked, he forced himself to walk through the minutes before the explosion had destroyed Kadisha’s village. He saw again the panic that had women and town elders fleeing about, gathering their loved ones. Kadisha was helping them to hurry, bombs still strapped to her waist.
He thought of how much C-4 she wore, realizing it wouldn’t have been enough to wreak the destruction the explosion had caused. She’d said there were more bombs placed about the village. Whoever had set them wanted it to look as if an airstrike had hit the remote mountain town.
Rocco scrubbed his face, his hair, every inch of his body. The salt of his tears stung the cuts on his face as he thought about his son. Beautiful. Precocious. A child full of laughter and light. As a grandson of the region’s most powerful warlord, he’d been the darling of the village. He’d made a vow to himself that the taint of war would never darken his son’s spirit. His boy was born to stand in two worlds. Rocco had intended he would know and love not only his mother’s people, but his father’s as well.
Instead, he’d let the war snuff his boy’s life out.
Rocco shut off the water. He grabbed a towel and mopped his face, trying to compose himself. Now wasn’t the time to break down. His son was gone-he couldn’t undo the past. Terrorists were loose, Blade was missing, and Mandy and the team were still in danger. He had to stay present and on task. He could compartmentalize it, as he had all his feelings and desires and dreams for ten long fucking years. It was what he’d done when he’d let himself forget the truth of that day. But no matter what he told himself, that wound was raw and gaping, exposed as it was to the air and the light of day.
Stepping to the sink, Rocco made the mistake of catching his reflection in the mirror. He swiped at the steam and looked at the visage of a man he didn’t know. Tall, lean, gaunt, eyes filled with shadows, chin covered with a few weeks’ growth of beard-a beard he no longer needed now that he knew his son was dead.
That realization was heartbreaking. Paralyzing. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. What was there left to him?
Nothing. Not a goddamned thing.
He reached into a cabinet and retrieved his shaving kit. His movements were angry and jerky as he slapped shaving cream on his face, sending white foam everywhere. He reached into his kit for his razor, but it caught in a bit of netting and wouldn’t come free. He yanked at the razor’s thin handle, knowing logically that wasn’t the way to free it but unable to stop himself. He yanked and yanked, flapping the kit around, emptying its contents in a noisy clatter across the counter, but still not freeing his razor.
Rage built within him, a fire in his bones, his being, his empty, empty soul. He wanted to pound the walls, rip the medicine cabinet off its mounting.
Catching himself before his fury spooled out of control, he felt the ugly wash of emotion slam back into him. His legs crumpled beneath his weight, and he slumped on the floor by the cabinet, wracked by soundless sobs.
His son was dead. His wife was dead. Their second child, still in the safety of his mother’s womb, was dead. Two beautiful, innocent children given to a pair of monsters. Gone.
He rested his arms on his knees and bowed his head, sucking in air as he tried to calm himself. He should have died with them. He was their father. Kadisha’s husband. Though he hadn’t loved his wife, he had loved his children. He should not have lived when they didn’t.
In every way that meant anything about being a man, he had failed his children, his wife. Himself.
Rocco didn’t know how long he sat there. Gradually, noise of the men gathering in the living room drifted to the back of the house where he sat. He got to his feet and faced his reflection. The shaving cream had thinned and dried on his face. He rinsed it off, then wiped the counter down, and tried again.
And when he looked at his eyes next, he saw banked anguish and determination that was raw and unbounded.
Amir, who was one of Abdul Baseer al Jahni’s lieutenants, as Kadisha’s father had been, was here. In America. Threatening Mandy and men he’d come to think of as brothers. The bastard would die a hard and bloody death if Rocco had anything to do with it.
He straightened the bathroom, then dressed. When he opened the door to the hallway, he stood unmoving as he looked at his future. He was hollow inside, a shell of a man. He had a choice to make. Live or die. Fight or quit. Be or stop.
He heard Mandy laugh in the kitchen. In the middle of the hell that had become her life, she could still laugh. The guys were gathering in the living room, hungry for breakfast. They’d been up all night. Like him, they were anxious to find Blade.
It seemed, whether he was done with life or not, it wasn’t done with him. It beckoned at the end of the hall. He knew if he accepted what it offered, he would be starting over. He would have to put the past behind him. Become a man reborn, a man who looked forward rather than backward.
He stepped across the threshold and made the long walk down the hallway and into the kitchen. Mandy took one look at him and hurried to his side. “Rocco, what is it?”
He ached to hold her. She didn’t resist as he pulled her against himself. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held her. His arms moved across her back, one folding around her tiny waist, the other circling up to wrap around her head, pinning her to him.
“I love you, Mandy,” he whispered against her hair. He stroked her hair. “It’s important for you to know that.”
She pulled back and looked up at him, searching his face, his eyes. Her hands lifted to his cheeks. “I love you, Rocco.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. He felt the cool track of tears on his cheeks. Zavi. His boy was dead. “No. I’m not.” He sighed. “But I think I will be.” Blade had been right-what he felt was the ghost connection of a father and his son. “I remembered, Emmy. I remembered everything.”
Mandy studied his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She touched the smooth skin of his jaw. “Your beard-”
He shrugged. “I don’t need it anymore. I’m not going back after all.” He pulled her close again, then kissed her temple. “Blade’s been kidnapped.”
She tensed in his arms. “I heard. What happened?”
“Someone took him from his house. We have to go after him fast. I want you to be careful. This Abdul Baseer al Jahni is a bad guy-he’s rich, connected, and determined to make examples of Kit, Blade and me. If you must go outside, I will go with you. If I’m not here, take a couple of the men. You are not to be alone outside of this house, ever. They used a tranquilizer on Blade, so even if you don’t see anyone nearby, you still may not be safe. I don’t know how long it’ll take us. For Blade’s sake, I hope not long.”
He pulled back and looked at her. “I need to know you’ll do as I ask. I hate how indefensible this property is.” He frowned down at her as he considered other options. “Maybe I should take you down to Warren or Fort Carson.”
“I’m not leaving here. I’ll do as you ask, but I won’t be going to any safe house on a base somewhere. I don’t want to be away from you during this.”
He leaned down and touched his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, breathing her scent, feeling the soft curves of her body. She was everything he was not: kind, gentle, strong, soft, warm. The ugliness of his life had invaded her existence, and he regretted that. She deserved be sheltered, protected, not warned and guarded, afraid to even to walk the grounds of her property.
He straightened, then wiped his cheeks against his shoulders. “Can I help you with breakfast? I don’t know how you keep up, cooking for all of us. I need to hire some help for you.”
“No. I’m fine. Fee’s a big help.” She frowned at him, her gaze catching on the various scrapes on his face. “How are you feeling? What did the doctor do?”
“I feel like I tangled with a sewing machine and lost. I think he put a hundred stitches in me, here and there. And he gave me some prescriptions.”
“Leave them on my desk. I’ll get them filled for you this morning.”
“No you won’t. The doc said the pharmacy delivers. Get them to bring it up here. I’ll leave cash for you. And you don’t answer the door-one of the guys does it if I’m not here. Understood?”
She smiled. “Yes. Don’t worry about me.”
After breakfast, Rocco joined Owen, Kit and the whole team in the dining room. A topographical map of taped sheets of paper covered one end of the table, various rifles, pistols, knives, and ammo covered the other end. They were all dressed in tan, green, or black T-shirts with black jeans or tan cargo pants, Earth colors of civilian camo. All of them were strapping on holsters and knife sheathes. Owen and Max were carrying Sig Sauer 9mm pistols. Kit and the others all had Berettas. Rocco found it odd that they were handling battle maps and lethal weapons in the homey dining room of Mandy’s grandparents’ house, like revolutionaries instead of trusted associates of the U.S. government. He had only his shotgun and a hunting knife in his personal armament, but it didn’t matter. He knew plenty of ways to kill a man.
He crossed his arms and looked beyond the men to Mandy. She was leaning against the doorjamb to the kitchen, watching them. He caught her gaze and held it, hoping to reassure her with a look that said this madness was temporary.
He wished to fucking hell it was.
Kit called him and the others over to the map. He pointed to an area about fifty miles northwest of where they currently were. Color-coded squares layered several blocks in one portion of the map.
“This is where the Jackson’s SUV was found. These are rock formations thought to have deep crevices where a man could be stashed.” Kit looked up at the men around him. “This is the White Kingdom Brotherhood’s compound,” he said, using his finger to outline an irregular shape that surrounded the rock formations in question.
Owen assigned teams. “Rocco, I want you and Max to stay here. Kelan, I want you to take Fee and go back to Buchanan’s house. Look for anything that would give us more information about who he was working with, others around town he might have bought, or where they stashed Blade. Val and Angel check out this sector,” he pointed to an area on the map. “Owen and I will take this area. Max has sent the coordinates to your phones. We’ve connected with state police and the U.S. Forest Service. They’ll be helping us cover the maximum area we can.”
The men picked up their comm equipment. Rocco thought that was the end of the briefing. There was still a set of gear and a full complement of weapons, including an M16, a Beretta, the associated ammo, and a KA-BAR ankle knife on the table. He looked around, trying to see who hadn’t geared up.
Kit nodded toward the rifle, then handed Rocco the pistol. “You said you’re still in. You might need these.”
Rocco grinned. “Hell, yeah.” He strapped on the ankle holster, feeling like himself for the first time in months.
When the house had settled after the men left for their assignments, Mandy headed out to the porch with two fresh cups of coffee. Rocco was standing at the edge of the steps, his hands in his pockets. He took the mug she offered.
“Rocco, what does all of this mean for the center? Should I move it to a different town? Stop construction entirely? I expect George to come by this morning and don’t know what to tell him.”
He touched her face, letting the velvet softness of her skin warm his palm. “I won’t let you give up your dream, but it’s too early to know what’s best to do. Tell George you can’t give him an answer yet. If you’ve become one of Amir’s targets, they will find you wherever you go. So relocating wouldn’t help. Either way, the construction can’t resume until we put an end to Amir and Abdul Baseer al Jahni.”
Mandy bent her head and rested it against his chest. “I wish you were getting out, Rocco. I don’t want you to fight. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care about the war or stupid skinheads or druglords. I don’t care about saving the world. I want you safe.”
He stroked her face with his thumb and gave her a sad smile. “I do care about saving the world, from this threat at least. I’m good at what I do. So are Kit and Blade, as are the rest of Owen’s team. I hope you’ll understand we have no choice but to end this. Now.”