Page 63 of Relinquish

We’re posted a quarter mile from Randall’s house. God willing, there’s someone to rescue. Tears sting my eyes. Don’t think that way. She’s still alive, and you know it.

Eddie looks up from the heat sensor in his hand. “Three heat signals from what appears to be the study.”

Thank God. I close my eyes for a second and slowly exhale.

“You need to get in there. Now,” Edward barks.

I open my eyes. “I realize you want to get her, and so do I, but we can’t rush in without a solid plan. That will get her killed.” I run a hand through my hair. “Right now, we’re going to assume she’s one of the people in that room and that she’s alive. Give us a little time to make a plan to get in there and get out safely.”

“Fine.” He twists on his heel and marches to Derrick, who’s standing at the backend of a black Escalade.

“How do you want to do this?” Ripley leans against the hood of his 4x4 pickup.

“The closest door to the study is this one.” I point to the schematics on my cell phone. “If we cut the power to the security system, we should go in through that door and get to her in under sixty seconds.”

Sloane taps her finger over the tablet in her hand. “The security system is down.”

“Perfect.” Ripley grins.

“We’re going in, too.” Eddie Jr.’s hands are in fists at his side.

“You can’t. There’s no FBI jurisdiction. There’s no evidence he’s committed a crime. You have to leave it to us.”

“That’s bullshit.” He stalks toward me like he’s going to knock me out. Try it, fucker. Ripley grabs my forearm.

Derrick steps between us. “They’re right. We can’t go in. Unless we see someone getting fired on. The DIA and FBI have no jurisdiction here. Cade and Ripley are experts at rescue missions. Let them do their thing.”

“We should wait for the police.” Edward paces, causing the gravel under his shoes to make grinding sounds.

Everyone turns to stare at him. “Fine.” Several seconds later, he shakes his head. I’m not familiar with the police in the area, but it’s a small town on the outskirts of New York City; I’m doubtful they’ve hired top-quality candidates.

We’ve studied every aspect of the building’s layout and the surrounding landscape. We don’t have enough people to surround the area if he would happen to escape. I should care if Maitland gets caught, but right now, my only concern is Lola.

If I don’t kill him, someone else can worry about getting the son of a bitch later. I’ve got to get my eyes on her and make sure she’s okay. That’s the only thing that matters. There will be time enough to watch him drown later; kidnapping a congressman’s daughter will bring the wrath down on him.

“Ready?” Ripley pats me on the back and adjusts the bill of his black baseball cap. His face is covered in black face paint, leaving only his eyes showing.

“Yeah.” I nod. I’d changed into dark cargo pants and a T-shirt to blend in with the middle of the night darkness. No one will see us slinking across the yard.

“Let’s roll.” Ripley nods his head.

We switch on our microphone packs so we can hear each other, and Lola’s family can keep track of what’s going on. My gut churns at the enormity of our mission. I haven’t been in the field since my injury, and I’m trying to save the woman I love from a complete amateur idiot. There’s no way he’s a skilled marksman, which makes him dangerous. He’ll be impulsive and unpredictable.

Edward grabs my shoulder. “Bring my daughter back to me.”

“Yes, Sir.” I give him a curt nod.

Seconds later, Ripley and I enter the edge of Maitland’s estate. The grass is cut short and makes a rustling sound under our feet. If we had hours to traverse the 400 yards, no one would hear a sound, but we don’t have the luxury of time. The blood whooshes in my ears as I inhale the scent of grass. One. Two. Three. I count the seconds it takes to cut through the yard. 240 seconds. Right on time.

When we reach the backdoor, I rest my hand on the knob and slow my breathing. It’s erratic and sounds loud to my ears. During a mission, every sense is amplified. Calm down. I can’t afford for him to hear me sounding like an overweight pug after climbing a set of stairs to the front porch.

“She’s going to be fine.” Ripley’s voice is reassuring in my earpiece.

“I know.”

From behind the house, a dog barks. Shit. Damn it. The dogs are going to give us away. It’s just like last time–a loud commotion and our locations were discovered. I’m going to screw this up.

Listen, fucker. You don’t have time for this. Get your head out of your ass.

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