Gratitude for the cop exploded through Heath. “We owe you.”
“Damn straight.” Malloy took a sharp left turn. “Your face is also plastered all over the news. Reporters were waiting when you were taken out of the bombed building. They have stills and video—clearly showing it’s you. Shane told me to warn you about that for some reason.”
Heath studied the cop. Cobb and Madison would be coming. Fast. “How much do you know?”
“More than I want to know. I ran into the force chasing you guys, and I know they’re not really with the military. So I help Shane when I can,” Malloy said. “This is above and beyond, however. I don’t need the FBI on my ass. Or a Sheriff Cobb—whose phone call I still haven’t returned.”
“Agreed. Where are we?”
Malloy eyed the storm outside. “Headed to a hotel on the outskirts of town where the owner won’t ask any questions.”
“No.” Heath tried to sit up, and his ribs protested. He sucked in air. Jesus. “Denver? Where’s the safe house?” He needed to make sure Ryker and Zara were all right.
“Mulcolly Street,” Denver said, working away on his phone. “Last house on the end. Cute blue bungalow.”
Malloy shook his head. “Safe houses. For the love of pete.”
“Take us there,” Heath said, his body wanting to shut down. “Do you have anything on Anya? Anything at all?”
“Not yet,” Malloy said grimly. “We have everybody working on it, and I’m sure the FBI does as well. Reese was bellowing into a phone the second she was taken. He’s almost obsessed, which is good.”
“Denver?” Heath asked, struggling to keep his brain working when his body wanted to freak the hell out. She was with a fuckin’ serial killer. This was Heath’s fault.
Denver tapped on his phone. “The quickest kill for this guy, besides the victim this morning, was three days. She’s smart, Heath. She’ll keep herself alive until we can get to her. Plus, she’s the one he’s always wanted.”
“I saw the guy.” Heath closed his eyes again and tried to see through the fog. A man coming toward him, more smoke, his lungs burning. Hours later he still coughed, and he forced himself to concentrate on the man. The guy was dressed in all black and wore a gas mask. A clear gas mask.
It had been difficult to see through the smoke, but Heath’s eyes weren’t exactly normal. “The way the guy moved. Smooth and graceful . . . and he knew all about explosives. In addition, he somehow found our safe headquarters.”
“He’s smart,” Denver returned, still working on his phone.
Yeah. Definitely smart. “He tracked us, he blew the place up, and he took Anya.” Heath rubbed at the stitches along his forearm. “I’ve seen him before.” Where had he seen the guy? He needed to clear his head, and now. “How long till morphine leaves your system?” he muttered, turning toward his brother. His ribs protested, and he sucked in air as pain beat at his innards.
“With your metabolism, not long,” Denver said.
“Good.” Heath concentrated harder, and a face swam into his vision. He blinked. Wait a minute. Everything crashed through his head at once. “Ah shit.”
“What?” Denver looked up.
“Give me your phone.” Heath lifted a hand, and his chest compressed.
Denver handed it over. Heath quickly dialed for a face chat.
“Heath?” Shane swam into view. “Saw you on the news. We’re loading up now and should be there in a couple of hours.”
“No.” Heath coughed and could swear he still tasted the gas. “We’re heading to a safe house, and we have no clue where Anya is. Right now, you’re of more use to me by getting on the computers. Hack into every satellite and camera you can, and find this guy.”
Shane’s worried eyes turned a dark gray. “You need backup.”
“I have it. Please. For now, hold tight. If we need physical reinforcements, I’ll let you know. Right now I need your expertise, contacts, and prayers.” Heath stored up his breath to talk. “The guy who took her, I saw him.” The face cleared. Came into focus. Determined brown eyes and a hard jaw. That fucking fake marshal. The one who moved like he’d been trained his whole life.
Shane’s eyebrows lifted. “Who is he?”
“Dunno, but he acted like a U.S. Marshal looking for us. I think he also attacked Anya and me at the hotel near DC.” Facts started clicking into place. “He moved like you. Like he’s been trained.”
Shane drew in a breath. “You think he’s one of Madison’s soldiers?”
“That’s what I thought when I saw him the first time—even though he wore a disguise.” It made a sick kind of sense. “The way he fought at the hotel coupled with the knowledge of infiltration and the use of explosives tonight? He’s one of her soldiers.”
