wasn’t sure how his sewed-up wound would affect the second, and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
He had to get closer.
Which meant he had to move out into the open.
Nate pressed his ear against the front door. Whatever yelling there had been, he didn’t hear it now. What he did hear was the roar of a fire.
Quinn.
His mentor must have lit up the house to give them a diversion. The problem was, they had no way of checking outside to see if the route was clear. His hand dropped to the knob.
Just a quick look, he thought.
But he couldn’t bring himself to turn it.
Instead, he said, “Basement. Everyone.”
The ground between the trees and the car was a patchwork of grass and dirt and weeds. His gun held firmly in his hand, Quinn stayed low as he moved in directly behind Michaels and the other man, staying out of their line of sight.
Through the windows of the car, he could see that the duo at the building had arrived at the door. Michaels waved his arm, and one of the men reached across the entrance and grabbed the handle.
Wait! Quinn willed them, knowing he wasn’t close enough yet. If he tried to go faster, they would hear him.
The man started to pull the door open.
Nate was the last one down the stairs. As his foot touched the basement floor, he heard something from above. A metal scratch, muffled and distant. He was about to ask the others if they’d heard it, too, when the unmistakable sound of bullets slamming into the walls of the ground-floor corridor answered the question.
“Go! Go!” he yelled, urging the others into the cell.
“Check everywhere,” Orlando ordered. “There’s got to be a hidden latch or panel or something we missed before.”
They spread out and ran their fingers over the walls and floor. Nate chose a spot nearest the door so he could hear what was happening above. Within seconds of the initial barrage, the shooting stopped. He imagined several of the others moving into the upper hallway. He couldn’t hear them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“I’ve got something,” Mila said.
Everyone moved over to her.
She jiggled one of the floor tiles. It moved, not much, but enough to show it wasn’t cemented into place.
“Is there a way to pull it up?” Orlando asked.
Mila ran her fingers around the edges. “I don’t think-”
“Let me,” Daeng said.
He was holding a twisted piece of metal that must have come off one of the doors during the explosion. He slipped the edge between the tile and the mortar, and levered it up. Underneath was another ring tab, only this one was large enough for a whole hand to grab.
“Please, everyone move back,” Daeng said.
Once the area was clear, he gave the ring a yank. A three-foot-square section of the floor opened.
“Get in!” Nate ordered. He was sure the people above were heading down the stairs at that very moment.
Orlando went first, then Mila.
When Nate entered, he put his hands on the underside of the hatch, and said to Daeng, “I’ve got it. You put the tile back in place, then sneak around behind me.”
After Daeng did as instructed, Nate shut the hatch.
Michaels and his companion opened fire on the building.
With no choice left, Quinn ran, and was able to get within ten feet before Michaels cocked his head and began to turn. Quinn lunged forward and grabbed the man’s arm, shoving his SIG into the base of Michaels’s skull.
“Cease fire,” Quinn ordered.
The other man noticed Quinn for the first time and started to bring his weapon around.
“Don’t,” Quinn said. “Throw it on the ground behind me.”
The man hesitated.
“Do as he says,” Michaels told him.
The man tossed the gun behind Quinn.
“Now lie on the ground,” Quinn instructed. “Facedown, spread eagle.”
The man did as he was told.
Quinn glanced at the men near the door of the building.
“Tell them it’s all clear, and have them come back here.” Quinn emphasized the command with a gentle push of the SIG’s muzzle against Michaels’s head as he moved so that Michael’s body would shield him from their view.
“We’re all clear,” Michaels yelled. “Come here for a minute.”
Still looking confused, the men started walking across the grass.
Without moving his head, Michaels glanced to the side. “You’re Quinn. I’m glad to see we didn’t kill you.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes. The shot was only meant to warn you off.”
“Then whoever took it needs some target practice.”
The men from the building were nearing, but their pace was starting to slow as they realized something was wrong.
“Tell them to throw their guns off to the side as far as they can, then get on the ground like your buddy here.”
Michaels relayed Quinn’s order. While neither man looked happy, they seemed to realize Quinn had the upper hand at the moment, so they tossed their guns and lay on the ground.
“What do you want, Quinn?” Michaels asked.
“That’s a dumb question.”
“Look, we’re just doing our job. We were hired to find the girl, so we did. I wish I could let you have her, but I can’t.”
“Too late.”
“You already have her?”
Quinn noticed those at the farmhouse were starting to head back.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Quinn said, just as his phone vibrated for the third time in the last ten minutes. He reached down and hit the button that sent the call straight to voice mail. “You’re going to wait until they get-”
Michaels jerked in surprise. “Sorry. My phone. Someone’s calling.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. He thought that maybe Michaels was trying to pull a fast one, but then he heard the low buzz of the other phone. It rang twice more, then stopped. Five seconds passed, and Quinn’s vibrated again.
What the hell?
“Don’t move,” he said to Michaels.
Keeping his gun pressed against Michaels’s skull, he pulled his phone out. “Yes?”
“Quinn?”
Quinn smirked as he punched the speaker button. “Hello, Peter.”
