The Belial Stone (The Belial Series) (19 page)

CHAPTER  42

Saint Paul, MN

L
aney closed the bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment with her head bowed.  Words sprinted through her mind, but none of them stayed long enough for her to catch.  And she didn’t have the strength to focus on the task.

She pushed herself away from the door and walked to the bathroom.  She placed her bag on the bathroom counter and started pulling out her shower supplies. 

As she turned towards the shower, she caught her first glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.  She stifled a scream, as her shampoo and soap dropped to the white tile floor.  She stepped closer to the mirror and stared with morbid fascination at her reflection. 

Dried blood was smeared across her hair, face, and neck.  She reached down to touch her shoulder.  Her shirt was stiff with blood. Half of her hair was caked with more blood and lay flat against her face.  She looked like she’d stepped out of a horror movie.  Although, she supposed, that wasn’t too far from the truth.  She couldn’t tear her eyes from her image in the mirror. 

Giving herself a mental shake, she turned on the shower, making the water as hot as possible.  She stripped off her clothes and dumped them in the garbage.  She didn’t want any of them. 

Climbing into the shower, she scrubbed her skin and hair until she was raw.  Then she stood there, letting the water beat down on her.  She had killed a man.  She pictured the fight in her mind, cringing with every swipe of her knife.  My god, she had killed him without any thought.  She had just reacted.  Who was she becoming?

Her skin now bruised and pruned, she turned off the shower.  Climbing out, she inspected herself in the mirror.  All the blood was gone, but she still felt like it was there.

“Out, damned spot,” she whispered, feeling a connection with Shakespeare’s doomed lady.

She grabbed a hotel robe and wrapped it around herself.  And then she went still.  She reached out a trembling hand to hold onto the wall.  Fear, sadness, terror boiled up inside her, clawing their way up her throat. 

Her breathing came in jagged bursts.  Turning, she slid down the wall.  Pulling her legs to her chin, she wrapped her arms around them.  Her chest heaved and sobs burst from her. 

CHAPTER 43

Baltimore, MD

T
he wreckage of the Security Jeep cast a glow through the window of Henry’s office. 

“We need to move now.” Henry pushed Patrick towards the door before running across the room to the conference table.  He half-lifted, half-pulled Danny out of his chair. 

“What’s going on?” Danny asked, panic filling his voice.  With the noise-buffering windows and his focus on the monitor, he must not have heard Patrick and his conversation. 

Henry pulled him towards the door.  “The estate is under attack.”  He looked back to see that the shooter in the helicopter had reloaded and was aiming for his office. 

“Down!”  Henry tossed both Patrick and Danny into the hall, before throwing himself on top of them. 

He heard and felt the impact of the missile as it slammed into the wall to their right.  A wall of flame shot above their heads.  Henry rolled off them as the flames receded, his back stinging, smoke choking him.  Patrick jumped to his feet, slapping Henry’s back to extinguish the flaming debris that had landed there. 
             

Henry grabbed one of Danny’s arms, while Patrick grabbed the other.  Together, they hustled him towards the stairs and down to the second floor. 

Patrick started to head down to the first, but Henry grabbed his arm to stop him.  “We need some supplies first.”

He crossed the landing to a section of wood paneling along the back wall and pushed a button concealed under the white chair rail.  A small portion of the panel slid back, revealing a keypad.  He entered a password and another larger panel to his left slid open.  He pulled out an M4, a shotgun, two Berettas, and a bag of ammunition.   The shotgun and one of the Berettas had been specially crafted to fit his larger hands.  

He handed Patrick the M4 and, at the priest’s raised eyebrows, replied, “I’m very security conscious.”

Patrick nodded with a small smile and checked the weapon.  Henry turned and handed Danny a Beretta with the safety on.  Danny’s face was filled with fear. Henry’s heart clutched.  He was supposed to be offering Danny a safe haven.  The boy had experienced enough violence in his short life.

Gently, he wrapped Danny’s hand around the weapon.  “It’ll be all right, Danny.  It’s just in case.  You won’t have to use it.  I won’t let anyone hurt you.  Okay?”

Danny nodded, fear causing his whole body to tremble. 

Henry placed a hand on his shoulder and gave what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.  His throat felt thick when he thought of Danny being caught up in this.

Henry looked over at Patrick.  He’d read up on him before he and Laney had arrived.  The Scottish priest had been an incredible soldier in his day.  The sight of the machine gun nestled familiarly in his arms gave him a sense of hope.  Maybe they could survive this.  But looking at Danny, he promised that regardless of the cost to himself, Danny would survive

Patrick glanced at Danny and then back at Henry.  He nodded, his face determined.  Henry knew the priest had just promised to defend Danny as strongly as he would. 

“Okay, let’s go.”  With a calming breath, Henry led them across the landing and down to the first floor of the house.

CHAPTER 44

Saint Paul, MN

I
n the living room of the suite, Jake glanced at the door Laney had closed.  He’d taken a quick shower and changed.  When he’d gotten back to the living room, he heard Laney’s shower still running.  She’d been in there a long time.  She’d only turned it off a short time ago.  Maybe he should check on her. 

He shook his head.  Or maybe he should just give her some space.  He leaned against the wall across from the door and stared at it. 

He was out of his league here.  If it were anyone else, he’d probably just bang on the door and tell them to get a move on.  Here, he didn’t know what to do.  Part of him wanted to kick down the door, hold her, and tell her everything was all right. 

Another part told him he should just leave her alone.  He was the last thing she needed right now.   She’d been through hell and he’d failed to protect her.  And besides, she was a professor with a nice normal life.  What could he possibly offer her?

Jake leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  He couldn’t get the image of Laney curled up and covered in blood out of his head. 

He banged the back of his head against the wall in frustration.  What the hell had he been thinking bringing her here?

He cursed himself for not taking stronger precautions.  He didn’t think they’d follow them to Saint Paul.  Why hadn’t he noticed the surveillance? 

He’d been off his game this whole investigation.  He didn’t know if it was because he was worried about Tom or because he was attracted to Laney.  Generally, he knew the second someone glanced at him for too long.  His platoon buddies use to joke that he was part psychic, he was so attuned to danger.  Where was that ability lately? 

Whatever the reason, his radar was off and Laney was paying the price for it.  Well, this latest attack was the last straw.  He might not know what to do about how he felt about Laney, but he sure as hell knew how to keep her from getting hurt again. 

His head jerked up as the bedroom door opened.  Laney stood poised in the doorway.   She looked around the room before her eyes landed on him.  Her eyes were red from crying.  He wanted to kill those men all over again
/

Jake pushed away from the wall.  He opened his arms.  She flew across the room and into them.  Jake held her, his heart aching at the fear that trembled through her.  She'd been so strong and handled so much.  Damn them for doing this to her.

He couldn't let her be put in danger again.  When the plane arrived, he was going to lay down the law – she was going back to Chandler Headquarters in Baltimore.  At least if she was back in Maryland, he’d know she was safe.

CHAPTER 45

Baltimore, MD

T
he first floor was silent.  Patrick followed Henry down the staircase, keeping one hand out to grab Danny, who was walking so close to Henry he could have been his shadow.  Adrenaline racing through him, Patrick mentally pulled up the floor plan from the first floor.  He knew there was a front door and a back, but there were a ton of doors along the veranda.  He hoped Henry had a plan.

The front door flew open.  Patrick shoved Danny up against the wall, his gun trained on the entrance.  Henry took a defensive position in front of both of them.

“Mr. Chandler,” a man called as he stumbled into the hall.  He was bleeding badly from a wound in his right shoulder.  Scratches and cuts were scattered across his face and arms

Henry quickly descended the rest of the stairs and crossed the foyer to reach him.  “Kevin, what happened?

“They took out my vehicle.”

Patrick took a deep breath, releasing his grip in Danny.  The injured man must be Henry’s head of security.  “It’s okay, Danny.  Come on.”

Danny seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move.  Putting his arm around him, Patrick said.  “It’s time to go.  We’re going somewhere safe, okay?

Danny looked up at him, his eyes impossibly large and way too young.  He nodded. 

“Your men?”  Henry was asking Kevin as Patrick and Danny joined him. 

Kevin shook his head.  “I don’t know.  My radio’s toast.  There’s a unit at Sharecroppers Lane securing the personnel and then the unit that went to investigate the helo.” 

Henry spoke with compassion.  “Kevin, the unit at the helo…”

Kevin gave a curt nod, cutting off Henry's words.  Anger slashed across his face, but his tone remained even.  “I know what happened to the group at the helipad.  I told the unit at Sharecroppers to stay with the personnel.  That’s all there was on the estate.  I called the off-duty units and the police, but it’ll take them some time to get here.”

Patrick placed an arm around Danny’s still trembling shoulders, carefully, aiming Danny's gun at the floor.  “Do you know how many men are in the helicopter?”

“Five, including the pilot,” Kevin grimaced and his face paled.  He breathed deeply, waiting for a wave of pain to pass. 

After a few seconds, he continued.  “And they’re not in the helicopter any more.  I saw four rappel out of it.  The pilot dropped them and flew off.”

Henry nodded and gestured with his gun.  “Okay, let’s move.  We’re heading to the bomb shelter.”

“Dom's bomb shelter?” Patrick asked, trying to imagine how they were going to make it all the way across the estate.

“No.  When I renovated this place, I told them I wanted all security measures available.  That includes a bomb shelter, which also acts as a panic room.  We access it through the kitchen.”

Henry led them through the front hall and into the dining room.  Patrick once again took flank, casting his eyes around the room, looking for any movement.  He watched Kevin in front of him, holding a shotgun.  He wasn’t sure how the man was still standing, never mind if he’d be able to fight in his condition. 

Patrick stopped as he entered the dining room, sensing rather hearing something in the other room.  He glanced behind him just in time to see two men silently enter through the front door, each carrying an AK-47.  Just as silently, Patrick flattened himself against the dining room wall. 

He watched Henry, Kevin, and Danny disappear through the swinging doors that separated the dining room from the butler’s pantry.  They hadn’t heard the men enter and luckily, their exit hadn't drawn the gunmen’s attention. 

Saying a prayer, he stood silently, hidden from the front foyer by the wall.  He waited, alternately hoping they wouldn’t come his way and hoping they would so he could protect the others. 

He heard a footstep only a few feet from him and knew the latter was coming true.  He held his breath and slid lower down the wall.  Without a sound, he switched the machine gun from semi-automatic to fully automatic. 

A man dressed all in black stepped into the dining room, casting his eyes around looking for movement, his gun following the path of his eyes. 

Patrick hesitated, not wanting to do what needed to be done.  His eyes caught the man’s.  He pulled the trigger before the man could get off a shot.  A string of bullets raked the man from knee to shoulder. 

Bullets erupted through the wall behind him.  Patrick threw himself at the floor and crawled along the marble tiles until he was right next to the entryway. 

A curse came from the other room.  He peered through the doorway.  The second gunman had jammed his weapon and was struggling to release the magazine.  He finally managed it and reached for a new mag from his vest. 

Patrick pulled the trigger just as the man slammed a new magazine into the weapon.  The man flew back with the impact of the bullets and blood sprayed in an arc across the foyer wall from the wounds in the man’s chest and neck. 

Patrick knew an arterial spray when he saw one.  The man wouldn’t survive. 

He stood up and looked at the two men he’d killed.  His shoulders drooped at the senseless loss of life.  What was going on? 

He shook his head, as if he could wipe away his culpability in their deaths.  His soldier days were supposed to be behind him.   He was a priest now, but he’d slipped so easily back into that old skin. 

Gunfire barked from the kitchen.  Taking off at a sprint, he knew he was going to have to live in that skin a little longer.