Page 62 of The Captive
Her pulse kicked up a notch.
“About time,” Le Clair muttered.
The Mercedes crept closer, driving unbearably slowly.The nearer it got, the faster Lana’s heart thumped in her chest.She could just make out the driver—male, salt-and-pepper head, a tailored black suit jacket.
Her father.
She swallowed down a lump of panic.He’d come alone.Damn it!Deacon’s warning had fallen on deaf ears.
The Mercedes stopped twenty yards from the van.Lana’s heart was in her throat as she watched her father get out of the car.The very sight of him shocked her to the core.He looked nothing like the man she remembered, the man she’d seen only six months ago.His face was thinner, haggard and weary defeat swam in his eyes.He was in his late fifties, but suddenly seemed far older.Gaunt and broken and completely beaten.
Lana took a step, then thought better of it.Deacon’s order to stay put resonated in her mind, but she wanted so badly to alert her father of her presence.Le Clair and Tango were shielding her from his view.
Le Clair nodded at Kilo.“Search him.”
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Kilo strode to the car.As Lana watched, Kilo patted her father down with enormous hands, then proceeded to inspect the interior of the Mercedes.She heard some muffled words.Her father bent through the open driver’s window and released the trunk lever.Kilo rounded the car, lifted open the trunk and slammed it down a second later.
With a satisfied nod, Kilo rejoined the group.“He’s clean.So’s the car.”
Le Clair glanced at Lana’s father.“Walk toward us, Senator.Do it slowly.”
“I’m not doing a damn thing until I see my daughter,” Hank said loudly.
“As you like.”With a gracious sweep of the arm, Le Clair stepped aside and gave Hank what he wanted.
Tears filled Lana’s eyes the moment she met her father’s gaze.
Hank stumbled, leaning against the car for support.“Lana!Baby, are you all right?”he shouted at her.
Her throat was so tight she couldn’t get a word out.Instead, she nodded, while tears ran down her cheeks.
“Safe and sound, as you can see,” Le Clair said impatiently.“Now walk toward us.Hands on your head.”
Hank lifted his arms and clasped his fingers together at the crown of his head.He took a step forward, as Lana battled the tears seeping from her eyes.She wanted to shout for him to turn around, drive away, save himself, but the hinge of her jaw seemed to be welded together, her teeth chattering as the fear and horror of these past two months flooded her body like water from a dam that had broken inside her.
The closer her father got, the faster her heart raced.No.She couldn’t let this happen.She didn’t know why Le Clair hadn’t shot her dad outright, but it wouldn’t be long before he did.Wouldn’t be long before her father lay on the cold ground with a bullet hole between the eyes.Like Rick Garrison.Oh, God.She couldn’t let that happen.She couldn’t—
Chaos!
Lana barely had time to blink before the entire area erupted in commotion.Men seemed to pop out of nowhere like cardboard targets in a shooting range.They swarmed out of the buildings behind them, weapons drawn from all directions as shouts for Le Clair to surrender echoed in the deserted area.
From the corner of her eye, Lana saw Echo being dragged out of a storage unit, arms cuffed behind his back.And then an explosion of gunshots ripped through the air.Beside her, Kilo dove for cover behind the SUV, his rifle spitting out bullets that clanged against the metal scaffolding and bounced off the pavement.Tango rolled to the ground, shooting at the approaching attackers.
Lana’s pulse shrieked, her ears ringing.Her feet were suddenly yanked out from under her, just as a bulletslammed into the side panel of the van, right where her head had been.Dazed, she found herself staring at the gravel, while a heavy weight pressed down on her back.
“Stay down,” a voice hissed in her ear, and she realized what had happened.Deacon had thrown her to the ground.He was keeping her out of the crossfire.
A loud thud came from beside them.Kilo had fallen to the ground.She turned, saw the hole in his forehead, the lifeless expression on his face.Sick satisfaction coursed through her.He was dead.
She heard an enraged roar, and when she peered up from under Deacon’s heavy arm, her body became paralyzed with panic.Le Clair was charging her father like an incensed bull looking to gore a matador.A blur of movement flashed before her eyes.Blue jackets with the letters FBI blazed across them.The glint of sunlight reflecting off the Mercedes’ windshield.Le Clair’s arm lifting, gun raising, aimed at her father.
“No!”Lana screamed.
She struggled to get out from the unrelenting shield of Deacon’s body, but he forced her down, one strong arm pinning her by the collarbone.
“Put your weapon down!”Loud voices barked orders at Le Clair, but the man was beyond listening.
Lana couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his expression.Fury.Desperation.He’d come here to do a job, and he would finish it, no matter the cost.
