Page 50 of Waiting for Him
“All right. Pick the lock instead of knocking it down. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Boomer was working on the deadbolt, and once it clicked, he turned his attention to the lock on the knob. In less than two minutes, they were ready to go. Ian got the “ready” from Devon as Boomer stood with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for the signal.
“On three. One . . . Two . . . Three.”
The front and back doors opened simultaneously, and the five teammates stormed in. Since he didn’t have a shot from the trees, Carter had shouldered his rifle and hoofed it to the back door, two steps behind Marco, with his Sig Sauer pistol in hand. Weapons at the ready position, they moved systematically through the house, clearing each room, closet, and hiding place along their way to the family room. Brody stopped at the door leading to the garage and, after checking for boobytraps, opened it for the others.
Nothing could have prepared Boomer for what awaited them in his parents' family room. His mother was frantically trying to get out of the duct tape wrapped around her bare legs from ankles to knees. Her arms were also similarly taped behind her. The bastards had even put it over her eyes and mouth. All the poor woman could do was squirm futilely.
But it was his dad who held Boomer’s shocked attention. Lying in a pool of blood, the man was ashen. Like his wife, Rick had been trussed up, but apparently, the Russians hadn’t seen the need to cover his face.
Boomer’s feet were nailed to the ground as the others pushed past him, cursing and dropping to their knees to help the couple.
Next to him, Ian was barking into the phone, demanding that 9-1-1 send an ambulance to their location for a home invasion gunshot victim. That broke Boomer from his shock, and he dove to help Devon and Brody free his father.
Now that he was closer, he began assessing Rick’s injuries. In addition to a gunshot wound to the abdomen, he’d been beaten . . . viciously. His face and torso showed bruises, swelling, and split skin, which must have occurred over several hours.
Brody began handing them items from an emergency medical pack, ripping open the packages as he went. Pressure dressings were applied as Devon worked to start an IV. Rick’s breathing was labored, but, thank fuck, he was alive.
Behind Boomer, Marco and Carter cut through Eileen’s bindings and began to peel the tape from her face very slowly. They’d wait until they got her to the hospital and let the doctors use an anti-adhesive to remove the rest. Duct tape could be like glue against the skin and was more painful to remove the longer it was on. As it was, they couldn’t help but peel off a layer of skin from her lips and parts of her eyebrows. But it didn’t bother her because when they freed her mouth, she started screaming for her husband, desperately trying to get to his side as they held her back.
Knowing he needed to calm his mother, Boomer switched places with Marco, who took over holding the pressure bandage to staunch the blood flow from Rick’s abdomen.
“He’s alive, Mom. Pop’s a fighter. We got this. We’re gonna get him to the hospital, and he’s going to be all right.”
Sitting on the floor, Boomer wrapped his arms around his crying mother, rocking and assuring her everything would be okay. He released her only for a moment when Burke and Dusty began collecting everyone’s weapons to hide them in a concealed compartment in the van before the cops showed up. Since none had been fired, the guns weren’t needed as evidence and would only cause trouble with the locals. The camouflage clothing could be explained by saying they’d been on their way to play paintball or something stupid like that.
Ian squatted down next to Boomer and his mom. Taking her hand, he squeezed until he got her attention. “Eileen, we’re doing everything we can for Rick, but I need you to tell us what happened before the cops arrive.”
When she didn’t answer immediately, Boomer knew her adrenaline was wearing off, and shock was setting in. He shook her and then tugged her chin so she was facing him. “Mom, help us out. You gotta tell us what happened. Where’d they go? When did they leave? How many of them were here?”
“I . . . uh . . . oh, God, Ben!” Her body began to tremble.
“It’s going to be all right, Mom. But we need to know. When did they leave? How long ago?”
Eileen shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She probably had no idea how long she’d laid there, struggling to free herself or reach Rick after hearing the gunshot. “It was . . . it was a few minutes after you called. They . . . there were three of them . . . they said that was all they needed us for, then they covered my eyes and mouth. They were being . . . being rough with me, and Rick yelled for them to leave me alone. That’s when I heard the gunshot. They had beaten him a few times while . . . while we were trying to get ahold of you.”
Boomer swallowed the guilt swarming through him. He’d been getting laid while his parents were being brutalized.
“I don’t know how long it’s been. They left right after that. Rick was able to talk for a while, but then he started fading. When he stopped talking, I thought he was . . .” She choked on the last words.
“He’s not, Mom. Pop’s alive, and he’s going to stay that way.” When she began crying harder again, he pulled her back into his arms and glared up at Ian, who now stood next to Carter. “They’re going after Kat. This was all a ruse to get most of us away from her.”
The two men nodded in grim agreement. Boomer reached for his headset only to find it’d fallen from his ear sometime in the last few minutes. “Tell Reverend to get her to the panic room.”
Ian glanced at Carter and jutted his chin toward Eileen. The spy knelt and took her from Boomer so he could stand to talk with his boss. Ian grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. It was far enough away for Eileen not to overhear them, yet Boomer could still see what was happening in the other room. “We can’t get ahold of him. He’s not answering the com or his cell. There’s also no answer at the office or front gate.”
“Fuck!” His words were hissed low but urgent and desperate. “They’re already there! We’ve got . . . shit!” He glanced at his watch. “If they left right after the call . . . an hour drive . . . fuck, they would’ve gotten there almost thirty minutes ago. How are we going to get back there? It’s probably too late! Shit!”
At the beginning of Boomer’s panicked rant, Ian had hit a speed dial number on his cell. He held out a hand to shut him up as the connection was made. The younger man frowned at him, then turned to watch his teammates work on his dad. Fear like he’d never known punched him in his gut—fear for his father and the woman he loved more than life itself.
Sirens penetrated his brain. Help was coming, and it was getting closer by the second. Help for his father, but what about Kat . . . and Jake and the others?
* * *
Placing his hand on his teammate’s shoulder in sympathy and solidarity, Ian waited impatiently for his call to be answered.
“Can this wait, Ian? I’m walking into a meeting with POTUS.”
