He looked at her then, but could barely see her through the fine mist coating his eyes. "That's just it I didn't save them. Brendan died from his injuries that night. And Mama never recovered from the trauma of her baby boy dying and her older son killing his own daddy."
Standing on tiptoe Caroline kissed him. With care and sympathy. With understanding and compassion. And with love. Her love encompassed him, wrapping around his wounded soul like a soothing balm. Taking him by the hand, she led him to an overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room. She urged him down, then sat on his lap, laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around him once again.
She fell asleep that way, nestled in his lap, with him soaking up her sweet, precious understanding and forgiveness. He drifted off into a light sleep. Visions of his mother and Brendan wafted through his mind, followed by images of Caroline. The only three people who had ever been important to him, the only ones he would have willingly died to protect. But he had not been able to save Mama or Brendan. . ..
Wolfe woke with a start. The telephone had awakened him, but the sound of a loud crash had roused him. What the hell? He realized Caroline was in his lap and he was still sitting in the chair. Their gazes collided.
"What was that?" she asked.
"My cell phone," he said. "A signal to alert me of
dan-ger
.
He shoved her up and onto her feet, then jumped up and hurried to the bedside table to remove his Sig Sauer from the holster. Suddenly another crash and then a third followed in quick succession. He grabbed Caroline's hand and flung open the door into the living room. Flames shot up to the ceiling and spread in every direction. Firebombs! Firebombs tossed through the windows.
Dammit
to hell and back.
"We've got to get out of here," he told her. "Looks like their plan is to smoke us out and be waiting for us when we come outside. They intend to shoot us like sitting ducks."
Chapter 17
Smoke quickly filled the house, folding in on them from every direction. Black, hot and heavy. Like a thick, smothering fog. Wolfe figured he didn't have much choice. The back door was not accessible because of the fire blazing in the kitchen area. Their only escape route was through the front door. Not that it mattered much one way or the other. There was bound to be a man posted at the rear as well as the front. He had no way of knowing how many there were, but his guess would be no more than three or four. And with three Dundee agents in place, the odds were better than even—in his favor. Tugging on Caroline's arm, he led her toward the front door. As they made their way through the smoke-clogged foyer, Caroline began coughing.
"When I open the door, we're going to drop and roll off the porch," he said. "They'll be wearing night-vision goggles and be able to see us, so they're going to start shooting the minute we come out. Don't panic. Don't think. Just move." He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a forceful shake. "I'm going to be right there with you every minute and my guys will be responsible for half the gunfire you hear."
He felt her trembling and wished he could take longer to reassure her, but time was of the essence. This old cabin was quickly burning down around them. If the smoke didn't get them soon, the ceiling would cave in on them.
"Ready?" He squeezed her shoulders, then released her and retrieved his Sig Sauer from his hip holster.
"Ready," she said, her voice shaky.
He flung open the door. Gunfire erupted all around them. They dropped to the porch floor. Bullets flew over then-heads, splintering wood and sending chips flying, some peppering their skin as they rolled. A barrage of gunfire followed, tearing up the floor behind them. Son of a bitch! The Dundee agents would be moving in to strike their attackers at any moment. All he had to do was get Caroline out of the way, keep her safe and wait.
He shoved Caroline off the end of the porch and came down over her on the rock-strewn ground behind the Mercedes. The earth exploded nearby, too close for comfort Grass and dirt and gravel danced into the air. Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, David tumbled Caroline past the car, over the driveway and into the ditch. Not a deep ditch, but hollowed out enough to give them some protection. He lifted himself off her just enough to allow her to breathe, but placed his hand down on her head as a warning for her to stay put. With the pistol in his hand, he scanned the area behind them, black as pitch, except for the moonlight that barely made its way through the trees. Toward the lake, the view was brighter because the trees were sparse. And in front of them the blaze from the burning cabin lit up the night sky.
An unnatural silence fell. He could hear Caroline breathing as well as the thumping of his own heartbeat. The usual nocturnal noises had ceased, as if every living thing around them had fallen prey to their assailants' attack. Wolfe sensed Caroline's fear, could smell her terror. His own fear ate away at his gut like deadly acid. He was afraid—not for himself, but for Caroline.
The sounds were faint, almost inaudible. But he heard them. Since boyhood, when he'd been raised to hunt wild game in the hills, he had relied on his acute sense of hearing. Without seeing them, he knew there were two shooters closing in on them, from opposite directions. He sensed no more than two men, so where were the others?
Suddenly a single shot rang out, coming from behind the cabin. About damn time, Wolfe thought. He'd begun to wonder if the Dundee agents were ever going to make their move. As he had suspected, a third man had been posted at the back door, just in case he and Caroline had made their escape by that route. But the guy out back wouldn't be helping his buddies. Not now. One of Dundee's best had eliminated him. The approaching footsteps stopped. Their attackers now had to realize Wolfe wasn't alone, which meant they were aware that they, not Wolfe and Caroline, had walked into a trap.
He wanted just one of them to live. Just one. Whichever man survived was going to do some talking. Whoever ordered the hit on Caroline wouldn't have done his own dirty work, but for a mission this important, he would have sent the best snipers. Please, God, let one of them still be alive. And give me five minutes alone with him. That's all I need. Five minutes.
Caroline tugged on Wolfe's shirttail, which partially hung out of his pants. "What's happening?" she whispered. "Why is it so quiet? And who—"
He clamped his hand over her mouth. Be quiet, sweet Caroline. For just a little longer. He could hear movement again. Heavier. Deliberate. The men moving around now weren't trying to disguise their footsteps. They had the advantage. The Dundee agents were coming in for the kill. That probably meant there had been only three attackers and one had already been eliminated.
Gunfire erupted again. Close enough for Wolfe to see shadows and hear grunts. A battle that ended almost before it began. Wolfe waited. He eased his hand from Caroline's mouth and down her throat. She trembled.
"All clear," Jack Parker shouted. "There were only three of them and they've been contained."
Caroline wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but her chest hurt too much to do more than whimper. And a burning ache ripped through her side when she moved. Wolfe grabbed her hands and lifted her up and out of the ditch. Moaning, she fell against him, her legs too weak to hold her.
Dammit
, don't pass out now, she told herself. You're alive. Wolfe's alive. The bad guys
are. . .contained.
As if from out of nowhere three large dark figures appeared and surrounded them. For a split second her heart stopped, but when one of the men removed his night-vision goggles and grinned, she recognized his grimy face. Jack Parker, looking for all intents and purposes like a commando. Oh, God, that's what he was, she realized. That's what they all were, including David Wolfe. Men trained for deadly missions, capable of subduing an enemy with superior efficiency.
"You took your own sweet time," Wolfe said, glowering at Jack. "Where the hell were y'all?"
"We had everything under control," Jack said, a wide grin revealing a set of white teeth, bright against the dark war paint he wore. "Your orders were to wound, not kill at least one of them, so that took a little more effort."
Wolfe wrapped his arm securely around Caroline, giving her even more support as she began to tremble. "Well, did you accomplish that goal?" he asked.
Matt O'Brien and another Dundee agent flanked a wounded attacker as they dragged him forward. Jack reached out and ripped the man's dark mask from his face. Caroline gasped. She felt Wolfe tense.
"They get younger all the time," Jack said.
"He's just a kid," Caroline cried.
"We're going to have to get him to a hospital for a
litile
repair work," Matt said. "That is if you want him to live long enough to tell us who sent him on this little hit-and-run mission."
"Take him to the hospital," Wolfe said, his voice deadly. "I want him to live. Just make sure that one of you guards his sorry ass every minute until he's well enough for my interrogation."
Lifting his head, the young man glared angrily at Wolfe. He cleared his throat and spit on the ground. Bloody drool trickled from the side of his mouth. "Interrogate me all you want, Mr. Wolfe. I'll never tell you anything I don't want you to know." He fixed his gaze on Caroline. "Don't think he can keep you safe forever. He can't."
"Get him out of here," Wolfe said.
"The fire department and the sheriffs department will be showing up soon," Jack said. "I can handle this kid by myself, so if you'd like I'll leave Matt and Dom here to explain to the local authorities what happened. I called Sawyer Mc-
Namara
in on this, so he can help us out with the sheriff."
"Who's Sawyer. . ." Caroline's vision blurred. The world began to spin around and around.
"FBI," Jack replied. "Hey there, Miss Caroline, are you all right?"
Wolfe pivoted her in his arms. She cried out as pain sliced through her side. Wolfe lifted his hand from her rib cage and cursed a blue streak. "She's bleeding," he yelled. "
Goddammit
, Caroline, why didn't you tell me you were hit!"
"Hit?" What did he mean? Why was he screaming at her?
Wolfe swung her up into his arms and ran toward the Mercedes. Matt opened the car door. Wolfe deposited her on the seat, then knelt and lifted her arm so he could inspect her side. She glanced down and saw that a huge red circle stained her tattered blouse. Wolfe grabbed the soiled material and ripped it apart, exposing the bruised and bloody flesh. He probed gently. She cried out in pain.
"Where's the nearest hospital?" Wolfe demanded.
"Follow me," Jack said.
The last thing Caroline remembered was Wolfe slamming his door as he got behind the wheel.
Caroline had been trying to awaken for the past half hour. He'd been at her side constantly since she'd come out of surgery early this morning. The bullet had gone through her side, doing no major damage, but she had lost a lot of blood and she would carry a couple of nasty scars the rest of her life. He'd been wild with worry when he carried her into the local hospital's emergency room. In retrospect, he realized that he'd scared the ER staff half to death with his rage when he had demanded immediate care for Caroline. He had blamed himself for not realizing sooner that she was wounded. But she hadn't said a word, hadn't let on that she was in pain. His brave little trouper. She hadn't even realized she'd been shot.
While he had walked the floor in the waiting room, Jack Parker at his side, he had mouthed and grumbled, blaming himself, blaming the Dundee agents and cursing God for allowing something like this to happen to someone as dear and good as Caroline. At one point, Jack had all but dragged him outside to the parking lot.
"Take a deep breath of fresh air and chill out," Jack had said. "You're not doing Miss Caroline any good by the way you're acting. She's not going to blame you or us or anybody except those damn snipers who attacked y'all. That's who you should be wanting to rip apart, so stop screaming at everybody and stop beating up on yourself."
"That kid is going to talk. He's going to tell me what I want to know or—"
"It may be a few days before we can get our hands on him, if then," Jack said. "We may have to get in line behind the FBI, the local sheriff and maybe even Peacekeepers International."
"What do the Peacekeepers have to do with this?"
"Seems our kid sniper, Seth Horton, is a new Peacekeepers recruit," Jack said. "What do you make of that?"
"If Ellison Penn pulls any strings to get his hands on that kid, he'd better be doing it so he can hand him over to me. Otherwise, he'll be as good as admitting he was involved with the attack. Ellison's too smart for that."
"You talk like you know the guy personally and that you suspect him of being part of the plot to kill Miss Caroline."
"I know Penn by reputation," Wolfe said, realizing how close he'd come to revealing himself.
Ellison wasn't on his suspects list. He had always trusted him implicitly. After all, the man had been Ms mentor and had done a great deal for him over the years, including giving him a new life. He couldn't see Ellison as a rebel, as a crazed right-wing insurrectionist, but at this point, he didn't dare rule out even the most unlikely suspect. Perhaps he had eliminated Lyle and Roz from his list too quickly. He honestly didn't think Roz was the type. And Lyle's love for Caroline seemed too genuine for him to take part in anything that would harm her.
"Find out who recommended Seth Horton for his job at Peacekeepers International," David had told Jack.
"You don't suspect a network of Loyalists Coalition members within the Peacekeepers
orgamzation
, do you?"
"Not a network, but possibly a few moles working their way into key positions, the way Preston Shaw did."
Wolfe decided that until he had proof of any kind against Ellison, he would go with his gut instincts and trust his old friend. But Gavin Robbins was another matter altogether. He didn't trust that bastard any farther than he could throw him. Especially not where Caroline was concerned, he thought now, gazing down at her as she slept.
"Wolfe?" Caroline opened her eyes.
He took her hand in his as he leaned over and smiled. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight than Caroline awake and recovering. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"
"Groggy." She wriggled, then groaned. "And sore."
"You'll be sore for a few days and then the stitches will itch awhile, but the bruises will fade and so will the scars, eventually."