Page 1 of Montana's Bravest

1

SAMUEL REDLEY KELLEHER

Helena, Montana.

We’re losing daylight. We’ve been on a wild tail chase skirting the city edges, but now our target has holed up in a downtown hotel. The son of a bitch has turned it into a personal bastion, and young Noah Forbes isn’t spending another night in that viper’s nest—not on my watch. A botch job by another firm’s got the suspect twitchy, more dangerous. It’s a powder keg waiting to blow.

As we hit the Mountain Hotel, my partner flashes me a sharp two-finger cue—time to split up. Mark muscles into the hotel, now a ghost building after the evacuation, while I bolt across the alley and charge up its neighboring building.

“The bastard’s jammed the elevators, barred the fire escape,” his voice crackles in my ear. “Your 20?”

“Fifth floor,” I grunt out, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Roger, I’m?—”

A blast tears through the comms. It feels like a fucking jet had just been blown up right next to me. The explosion must be very close to where Mark is.

“Mark?” No comeback. I immediately stop, ready to turn around and get to my partner’s aid. “Mark!”

A beat of silence, then he coughs out, and I can nearly hear him brushing off debris. “Gelignite on the door. I’m still green.”

Mark presses on despite the risk of more traps. As I approach the top, he alerts me, “Eyes on target, moving to the roof.”

Standard playbook—the perp’s heading skyward, maybe for a last stand. It’s the psychology of someone backed into a corner. That’s why I’m poised on the roof of the neighboring building, two-floor higher than the Mountain Hotel, separated by a gap wide enough for a Navy patrol boat to pass through.

“Zander’s boys with you?” I check in, referring to the alliance we’ve got with Helena PD.

“Affirmative.”

Partnerships between the police and private security companies are still generally shaky. But this time, Captain Zander from the Helena PD has agreed for Mark and me to lead—partly because he’s desperate, and partly because of Noah’s mother. Being one of the most powerful people in Montana, she has insisted that Red Mark be in charge of the rescue.

Soon I catch the kidnapper’s silhouette against the rooftop. I drop low, MK25 drawn.

Dealing with money-driven kidnappers is usually straightforward, but this isn’t your typical ransom gig. This perp’s spun out, deep in delusion, thinking he’s holding the key to some national conspiracy with the kid.

“The asshole’s strapped with C4,” I report, watching him like a hawk. “And the kid’s with him. On him.”

Mark swears, and I can picture his mind racing. Noah’s squirming could turn this standoff into a bloodbath.

No parent deserves to lose their child. No brother or sister deserves to lose their sibling. I have to get to Noah now.

Somehow.

Then the target kneels, unloading his pack. My window. But it means Mark’s walking into the jaws of death.

“He’s setting a charge on the exit. I’m taking the gap,” I decide, eyes calculating the leap.

“You’re off your head!” Mark’s voice is tight in my ear.

But it’s go-time. Noah breaks free, and I’m in the air.

I hit the other side, wrist trapped beneath me, a raw flare of pain. I shove it aside. Mission’s all that matters.

I scoop Noah up just as the kidnapper whips around, his face a mask of shock.

“End of the line, Bower!” I keep it even, despite the urge to pull the trigger. I won’t let myself burst his head in front of a pair of innocent eyes, or risk him detonating the explosives attached to himself upon impact.

The man smiles as he keeps his hands in his pockets. The door to the rooftop moves.

---