Resisting Ruby Rose (The Ruby Rose Series) (24 page)

CHAPTER 33

After four hours of somber silence, aside from tense check-ins on the comms and a few incoherent whimpers from Rosie, we finally heard a noise that proved Martinez was in the house.

A bomb went off, shaking the delicate infrastructure of the dome above us.

“Mathews,” I spoke into my comm. “What happened?”

“An explosion near the main entrance.” Mathews’s voice wasn’t frazzled or panicked, but it held an edge I didn’t like. It was go time.

“Ruby,” Silver said over the comm. “Stay where you are. It’s a distraction. A decoy.”

I looked down at Rosie lying in the fetal position, unshaken. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” Martinez might want to throw some wrenches at the glass walls in an effort to throw us off our game, but eventually h
e’d
end up right here—in the dead center of my rifle’s scope.

“You OK?” Quinn asked.

“Of course.” I stared him down to assure him. “Go get in position.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and took his tripod to the opposite side of the railing. He moved with stealth and confidence—sexy even in the middle of a life-endangering mission.

After a few minutes of my heart pounding in my ears, Silver broke in. “Report.”

“In position,” Quinn said.

“Holding position,” I said.

“Moving into position,” Silver said.

All I heard was silence as I waited for Mathews to check in. We all waited.

“Mathews?” Silver said. “What’s your status?”

Another ten-second silence ensued. I made eye contact with Quinn, and I could tell he was just as concerned as I was.

Was Mathews OK? Had he been attacked? Abandoned us for some reason? And how would any of us find out if we were all to stay in our positions?

“Don’t move, you two,” Silver said. “I’ll check it out.”

Just great, it had only been a few minutes from Martinez’s first move and we were already deviating from our plan.

Suddenly, I wished Quinn weren’t so far away. We couldn’t speak on our comms without everyone else hearing, and we couldn’t very well go shouting across the gallery. We could only exchange worried looks between scans of the ground floor.

My heart missed a beat when Rosie’s body twitched like a worm’s. Tied at her ankles and wrists, she wouldn’t be running anywhere, even if she woke up, but it still disconcerted me. The last thing I wanted for her was to wake up and be scared, but maybe that’s exactly what the others had in mind. Maybe they wanted Martinez to see her fear and understand that she was suffering.

Several gunshots interrupted my abstract worry and turned it into actual alarm. The sound wasn’t the
pop pop
of a revolver, it was the speeding rounds of an automatic weapon—which meant it wasn’t one of ours. Martinez and his men were storming their way in, calling our bluff that w
e’d
kill her if he failed to come unarmed and alone.

But as I thought through the plan, I reminded myself that it didn’t matter how he got in, as long as he did. Then we would still have the upper hand, since a few of Mathews’s best SWAT men were supposed to follow him in and flush him into the center, where Quinn and I would be waiting. Maybe that’s exactly what was going on.

“Silver?” I whispered into my comm. “Come in.”

“Mathews,” Quinn added. “Respond.”

Neither of them were answering now. A new possible scenario came to mind for why Mathews didn’t respond—a transmission jammer. Maybe Martinez had figured out where the security center was and found a way to block our signals from that area. It seemed like a much better option to believe for the time being than the possibility that they were both dead.

Dang it, I wished
I’d
insisted on having communication with Skryker or the head of the SWAT team.

“Quinn,” I asked via comm, though we were looking at each other from forty yards away. “Can you call Skryker and ask him what’s going on?”

“Sure.” He dipped his head, and the blue light of his cell screen lit his beautiful face. But when he put the phone to his ear and muted his comm, I no longer saw the beauty. I saw red. Why the hell would he keep me from hearing his conversation with Skryker? When his lips began moving, I knew the call had connected.

After a minute, he pressed his finger to his ear.

I spoke before he could. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Ruby, the comm interferes with the cell reception,” he claimed.

“Bullshit.”

“Ruby, just listen. Mathews’s men have successfully found Martinez’s entry point and are following him and his men in. There are approximately eight targets, all armed with explosives and high-powered automatic weapons.”

“So I heard.” I rubbed my forehead to keep composure. “Any news from Silver or Mathews?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean the internal security cameras are down. Skryker has no access to visual inside. Only outside.”

“Good thing for him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who can handle a little DNA evidence on his shoes.” Angsty insults seemed like the appropriate reaction until he cocked his head at me, like
really?

“We need to focus,” Quinn chided. “Now what was the backup plan if communication failed?”

“Hold position by the girl,” I responded automatically.

“And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” I watched him mess with his equipment, then a second later his black rappelling rope went over the railing.

“What are you doing?” I said angrily.

“I’m going after the only dad you have left,” he said, hopping over the railing and descending the rope with too much speed. But when his feet hit the ground, not much more than a gentle thud sounded.

Even if I gave chase,
I’d
never catch him. No words, actions, or threats would bring him back to position now. He was gone, and I was alone with the girl and the menacing feeling that the end was coming soon—one way or the other.

I pinched my eyes shut to gather myself. I couldn’t worry about all the unknowns surrounding me. Focusing on the imminent moment when
I’d
see Martinez again was what I needed to do. Did he still have his stupid goatee and smug face? Would he come in angry? Arrogant? Did he still crave the satisfaction of seeing my dark side?

Based on where it sounded like the shots had been fired, Martinez would enter from the southern entrance to the room. Quickly, I gathered all my things and rounded the perimeter to take a position halfway between Quinn’s spot and mine. Then I hurried over to Quinn’s rope and pulled it back up out of view.

A few more blasts of gunfire sounded through the halls. I ran back to my rifle.

“Quinn?”

Instead of words, I heard breathing and half-grunted curses for a moment until the comm went silent. I could only pray that Quinn hadn’t run headlong into the fray. He was too smart and agile for that, but underestimating Martinez was a mistake w
e’d
all made so far.

Again, Rosie stirred and whimpered frailly. I swore again under my breath that
I’d
find a way to make this up to her. The day’s light was now gone, leaving the room fraught with shadows and blind spots. Just how we wanted it, because even though it restricted our vision, it was more restricted for an enemy who hadn’t memorized the layout.

“Ruby.” Quinn’s voice came through nice and clear. Finally. “Three are coming in hot. Take them out.”

“Copy.”

I leveled my chin against my arm, spied through my scope, and waited until all three men began creeping in like ants. Before they could spread farther apart, I took my aim. One shot, two shots, three shots, and the men hit the floor.

Another round of nameless, faceless men to add to my record. I pushed down the taste of bile.

“Three shots?” Quinn cut in. “I’m assuming you’re as good a shot as you claimed?”

“Three down. Five more plus Martinez to go,” I said. “Keep sending them in, and I’ll keep taking them down.”

“Actually,” Quinn whispered. “I’m pretty sure there’s only three more plus Martinez. Unless these two men in the corridor come back as zombies, of course.”

“Go find out what’s happening with Silver and Mathews.”

“Fine, but if the connection goes out, don’t leave position under any circumstances. Do you understand?”

“I understand. And believe me, I’m not leaving here until Martinez shows his face.”

As I kept watch on the girl, the entrances, and the time, something began to burn. Not just metaphorically. My eyes were stinging. And that’s when it dawned on me that there was gas in the air.

“Quinn,” I said. “Put your gas mask on.” Both Silver and Skryker were adamant that we be prepared for any kind of warfare, including chemical. I dug into my supply satchel, past the flare and the helmet, and grabbed the rubbery straps.

“Copy,” Quinn said back.

Seeing through my scope with the plastic shield wasn’t ideal, but
I’d
have to figure it out. Rosie squirmed again, this time not with a whimper but with a wild screech. Had the gas reached her and woken her up? What would the gas do? Knock her out or kill her?

How could I sit here and watch her suffer? But if Martinez showed up and I wasn’t in position, he could gain the upper hand. “Quinn,” I said. “You have to get back here. Rosie is exposed to the gas.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t, but it’s probably only tear gas. It won’t feel great to inhale it, but it won’t cause any permanent damage. At least I hope not. Rosie doesn’t have a mask.”

A shadow moved around the east corner. My heart faltered as I imagined it being Martinez scouting out the location. The last thing I could afford was for him to see me before I saw him.

I didn’t dare speak into my comm to tell Quinn. Watching quietly was the right thing to do. Patiently waiting for my superior position to serve its purpose.

CHAPTER 34

Sucking in air through the ventilator for several minutes diminished at least three of my senses. Sight was limited, hearing was restricted, and my eyes still burned from what little exposure they’d had to the gas.

But I didn’t need any of them as much as I needed my sense of touch when the ground shook again. Martinez had set off another bomb, and this time it was much, much closer—right beneath me at the northeast entrance hall.

The poor museum meant nothing to him. H
e’d
destroy everything and everyone in order to get what he wanted.
I’d
known it before, but as the smoke and dust in the air settled, it became only too clear that Martinez would stop at nothing. He lived for the destruction.

“Ruby,” Quinn spoke into my comm. “What happened?”

“I think Martinez is here in the gallery,” I said in my masked Darth Vader voice. “He set off at least two explosives, probably meant to block your direct access.”

“Listen to me, Ruby,” Quinn urged. “Do not leave the perch, whatever he does. Be patient. As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll find a way to you.”

“What could you possibly be doing over there that means you can’t get back here to help me get our target?” I asked, worrying that I actually didn’t want to know what he was doing, in case it involved wrapping a tourniquet around his severed arm.

For a moment, all I heard was my own breathing. Then Quinn. “It will only take me a few minutes to get the surveillance back up. Believe me, in order to avoid his getting away or gaining the upper hand, we need eyes and ears on the ground.”

“Where’re Silver and Mathews?” I asked, this time desperate for the answer, even if it came with bad news.

“I’m assuming that Silver is in the process of taking out the remaining three men. Skryker said he met up with the SWAT men to surround them.”

“And Mathews?”

Nothing.

“Quinn,” I begged. “Where is Mathews?”

“Ruby, he’s dead. In the control room.”

My knees buckled, and I had to lock them in order to stay upright. Not Mathews. Not the giant with the soft heart. Not the young prodigy my father considered a brother. He risked everything for me, for Jack, and he fell.

Either the loss had clouded my eyes or some kind of vapor was fogging up my mask. No, not vapor, but smoke. Not the chemical kind. Smoke from the heat of a real fire, perhaps started by the explosion and now burning below. I pulled the mask on top of my head to get a better look and temporarily access all my senses.

That’s when I saw what
I’d
been dreaming of and fearing all along: Martinez was standing at the center of the gallery with his daughter in his arms. Wearing a tactical helmet and full body armor, with a human shield in his arms, he was the toughest yet easiest shot of my life. If I aimed for the neck and chest, at a minimum I could knock him off his feet with a shower of bullets. And I could always rappel down and finish him off with the knife on my leg. But to fire at him,
I’d
risk hurting Rosie. I wasn’t willing to do that.

Without putting my mask back on, I peered through my scope to take my aim. It was an even tougher shot than I thought. H
e’d
thrown Rosie over his shoulder to shield his neck and vitals. If I wanted him dead,
I’d
have to take Rosie out with him. He knew it, and he was willing to risk it because he was so sure I wouldn’t do it. And he was right, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I screamed, “Martinez, put your daughter down!”

His gaze swung up to my position. “Oh, there you are,” he called with the biggest, smuggest smile he could muster. “Thanks for taking good care of my Rosie. I know you have a soft spot for girls.”

“You’re not leaving here alive, Martinez,” I yelled down. “The place is surrounded. All your disposable men should be disposed of by now.”

“As well as yours.” Martinez’s deep voice—which I had heard only in my dreams the last few months—echoed off the walls with the acoustic clarity of a recording studio. “Too bad Mathews had to join his mentor in the grave. I told you that you shouldn’t have involved my daughter.”

“Why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?” I screamed. “You killed my dad, you put me and my friends through hell. Why’d you have to go after my mom
again
? Why Bill Brandon?”

He laughed a maniacal belly laugh that echoed off the walls. “You think I was behind any of that?”

“If not you, then who?” I demanded.

“Certainly someone with more pull than me,” he said, looking and sounding more haggard than I expected from a man who’d successfully ruined all our lives and laughed all the way to the bank. “Look, you know that if I wanted Jane dead, sh
e’d
be dead. I wouldn’t pull some half-assed explosion to simply injure her. Oh, no—the Rose family now has another enemy.”

The moment he said it, I knew. I knew exactly who and why.

Skryker. Everything he did was to gain control, position, and power. And the lengths to which he was willing to go surpassed even the madness of Martinez. H
e’d
mimicked Martinez’s MO to gain advantage over all of us.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered to myself. “You were the one who started all of this,” I said to him. “Now put your daughter down, or I will shoot through her.”

“Ha!” Martinez laughed again, and my trigger finger itched to make him stop. “Believe me, I know how much you love to kill, and how much you’d love to kill me in particular, but you won’t kill her.”

He wasn’t exactly baiting me; he was gloating in his victory. I looked through the scope to see if I could find any decent disabling shot, placed my finger on the trigger, and hesitated. He stood there waiting, knowing that h
e’d
won again. At least for now.

Maybe if I got a few rounds in his foot or knee, I could get down there quickly enough to disarm him, take his weapon, wait for Silver, and let him face the system he was so good at flaunting.

Before I could try, Martinez made his move to escape the target area. A shot rang out through the gallery, and a bullet ripped through Rosie’s back and into Martinez. He faltered but didn’t fall. A second later, another shot blasted through Rosie’s shoulder, and it must have hit home, because his knees broke and both of them fell back onto the travertine floor.

I pulled away from my scope and pulled my finger off the trigger. In fact, I removed my entire hand from the rifle in shock. Had I flinched and released the shots? My mind reeled, searching for answers among information and sensory details that made no sense.

Looking over the rail, I gasped in horror as blood spread across the decorative sun flooring. Neither father nor daughter were moving. Had I done this?

And that’s when I saw another figure emerge from the shadows, his hands held up to the sky to make sure I didn’t shoot. In one of them, he gripped a high-powered rifle with a scope—just like mine.

Liam.

His new buzz cut, his broad shoulders, his baby face.

Our eyes met, and while his filled with a twisted pride and triumph, mine filled with an unbearable sorrow and anger. He was the one who shot through Rosie to get to Martinez. Not me.

“You still find me incapable of this?” he asked, calmly allowing the acoustics to carry his cold voice up to me. “Skryker assigned me to take Martinez out, and that’s exactly what I did. Where you failed, I succeeded.”

I couldn’t even respond; could only shake my head in disbelief. Those couldn’t be his words. They were Skryker’s words coming out of his mouth. How could he see killing a poor girl as a success? I didn’t know this boy anymore. And the worst part was that it was all my fault.

Rosie’s body suddenly jerked in pain. “We need to get a paramedic in here. Call Skryker, Liam,” I yelled, as I swung the rifle over my shoulder and ran to Quinn’s rappelling rope.

After tossing it down, I climbed over the edge and used my feet to slow my descent. As my feet hit the ground, Liam grabbed me by the arm to keep me upright. His touch disgusted me.

“Call him!” I ordered. “I don’t have a way to contact the outside.”

“Ruby, stop,” Liam said softly, with a hint of hidden shame in his voice he didn’t want me to hear. I knew him too well, though. “She’s not going to make it.”

I jerked out of his grip. “You don’t know that!” I slipped on some blood and slid into the bodies on the floor. Martinez was limp and lifeless, but Rosie began trembling. Cautiously, I checked Martinez’s pulse, wary that he might come to life and drag me down to the pits of hell with him.

Two fingers on his bloody neck confirmed it—Liam had shot him, and he was finally gone. But there was no room for relief when Mathews was dead, along with countless others, and Rosie was in the process of bleeding out. I had to focus on the one person with a chance at living. I was praying that most of the blood was from Martinez’s open neck wound, not from her.

I put my bloody finger to my ear. “Quinn, come in.”

“I saw it all, Ruby,” Quinn said, somber and sober. “Silver and I both did. I got the surveillance back up.”

“Don’t worry,” Silver cut in on the comm. “Paramedics will be there in less than five minutes. Do what you can to keep her alive. I’m on my way.”

All I could say was “Ten-four.”

I turned Rosie over and brushed the hair out of her eyes. It was the second time I had straightened out her hair. Except this time her eyes weren’t scared at all, they were shocked. She trembled in my arms like a child.

“Rosie,” I said. “Help is on the way. You’re going to be OK.”

Her eyes shifted to mine and her mouth parted to say something, but instead a bloody coughing fit ensued. I raised her upright against my chest so she wouldn’t choke on her own blood. Placing my hands over her exit wounds to stop the bleeding, I wondered how long she could survive in this condition. And if she did survive, I wondered if sh
e’d
ever get a good night’s sleep again without seeing this scene in the back of her mind. I might not.

Time slowed down as Rosie’s body went limp. I looked around the darkness at the low-burning fire. Liam was gone, or at least nowhere to be seen. And maybe it was better that way—I didn’t want him in my sight right now.

There would come a day when h
e’d
regret what h
e’d
done, but maybe not today.

Before I knew it, Silver and Quinn came running through the southern entrance with two paramedics carrying a stretcher. The paramedics peeled Rosie out of my arms and took over trying to bring her back to life.

Silver picked me up, very much like Martinez had picked up Rosie, and I let him. I couldn’t get my legs to work through the shock. And I had no pride left. I failed to take the shot, and someone else did. I had failed—not just because I was supposed to be the one claiming Martinez for my own vengeance, but because my failure meant another step closer to Liam’s downfall.

But at least Martinez would never hurt anyone again.

There would only be funerals and press conferences, and a life full of replacing what was lost. My dad and Mathews were never coming back. I would allow myself to mourn them. I would let my heart and mind remember their faces before I had to bury them to survive. I would honor them in the best way I knew how—
I’d
keep on going.

Silver put me down on the dark gallery floor, and I found my balance. Surrounded by the two men I had left, I made my way out of the Getty and back into the world, where tomorrow the sun would rise.