Kai’s flashlight beam scoured the living room carpet. “Here.”
“Dex.” Mitch pointed to the rock, the size of a small melon, pretending to tap it without actually touching it. He leaned close to the shepherd’s ear and said very clearly, “Hunt, Dex. Hunt.” He struggled to clear his mind to bring up the Russian word . . . “okhota.”
Dex sniffed the rock—top and sides. A low growl rolled from his throat.
“Show me the vent,” Mitch said to Cash and darted up the stairs behind him, Dex on his heels.
Mitch paused at the ladder leading into the attic and turned to pick Dex up, but the shepherd darted past Mitch and climbed the ladder while Mitch watched, his mouth gaping.
“Sign him up for one of the engines,” Kai murmured behind them. “He climbs better than most of the team.”
Mitch ran the ladder behind the dog and found him already perched at the rectangular vent, wagging his tail, whining.
“You sure he won’t break his neck getting to the ground?” Cash asked, pulling himself into the attic. “It’s a much longer fall than the ladder.”
“He already made it down once with Halina,” Mitch said. “And it’s better than the alternative.”
“Hunt, Dex. Okhota.” Mitch leaned in, closed his eyes, and kissed the dog’s fur. “Get that bastard before he gets our girl, buddy. Okhota.”
He gestured to release the dog and Dex jumped through the vent. He instantly disappeared into the darkness and Mitch experienced another deep jerk of loss in his chest. He turned, scrambled down the ladder, and sprinted toward the bedroom he and Halina had shared. He had to grip the doorjamb to slow himself, then catapulted toward the bed.
He was out of ideas. Had drained every last one. And he knew each had severe limitations. So severe he wasn’t counting on any of them to save Halina.
His heart beat so hard, so fast, it hammered his lungs and made it hard to breathe. Panic escaped his barriers and pushed wetness into his eyes, blurring his vision. He blindly scooped the papers he and Halina had scattered on the floor while making love and bunched them in his arms.
Kai and Cash stood near the door on his exit, just shadows shooting questions at him. Questions he couldn’t even hear with the blood pounding in his ears. And by the time he’d jammed all the papers into the box they’d come from, still sitting in the family room, he slumped to his hands and knees, so dizzy from lack of air he couldn’t stand.
Someone put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. Blind with terror and rage, he shook it off, jerked the box to his body as he stood and twisted toward the front door. He ran as hard as he could toward that opening and the light beyond, which pulled him like a beacon.
Just before he reached it, a body hit him from the side. Mitch stumbled, hit a wall, spun, and fought to keep the box upright while papers flew over the edge. He landed on his ass near the splintered window and stared up, dazed. Frantic.
Teague climbed to his feet, wincing. “He’ll shoot you, you dumbass. How are you going to help her when you’re dead?”
Mitch got his feet underneath him and stepped within inches of Teague’s face. “If that was Alyssa, would your ass be in here?” When Teague didn’t answer, Mitch said, “Don’t get in my way again or I’ll push you out that door in front of me.”
Mitch sidestepped Teague, but instead of going for the door, sprinted toward the shattered window, stepped on the ledge, and pushed himself into a leap onto the front lawn.
Halina could have been naked and chained to a cement floor, she felt so vulnerable. With her arm up and shading her eyes from that searing beam of light, she took one shaky step after another over the uneven ground. No point in rushing, right? Except that she might freeze to death before she reached Abernathy. Which might not be a bad alternative. Because every time her thoughts drifted backward to the house behind her, to the people inside, to the anguish on Mitch’s face when he’d realized he had to make a choice between her and his family . . .
God, she couldn’t take the knifelike stab at her heart. Her throat thickened with tears again. She paused so she wouldn’t stumble while she blinked them away.
“Keep moving, Beloi,” Abernathy screeched at her through some type of megaphone. One he didn’t need any longer if the way it blew out her ears every time he spoke indicated how close she’d gotten to him.
Too close.
Her stomach did a double flip in her gut. She envisioned cement block cells and iron bars and handcuffs in her very near future. Hunger, pain, isolation, degradation, abuse.
She was no stranger to any of these things. But she had believed she’d finally escaped it. At least the kind she’d suffered most of her life. No such luck. Abernathy would throw her in a dungeon until she produced the research he wanted and then he’d kill her.
And poor Mitch. The tears picked up again. Her heart squeezed so hard she swore it would stop beating. But it just kept going. Poor Mitch . . . he would search for her. Pull out all the stops. Dedicate his heart, body, soul, and every resource. She had no doubt.
Inside, her heart broke. Her legs weakened and for a moment she seriously considered simply falling to her knees and refusing to go. She could make Abernathy come out here, pick her up, and drag her away. If it weren’t for the others in the house—the others she knew he’d blow up without a second thought—she would.
She had to find enough strength to get through this. To get to Abernathy, so Abernathy would leave the others alone. Then she could take whatever chances she wanted. The kind that only involved her own life.
She closed her arms around herself as an icy gust of wind cut through the air. A hard shiver wracked her body. Her teeth chattered.
“What is wrong with you?” Abernathy yelled—but not at Halina. He wasn’t using the megaphone. “Shoot him!”
Halina glanced up, but couldn’t see anything past the blinding floodlight and averted her eyes. The damn thing would burn her retinas. That would teach Abernathy. He wouldn’t get any research out of her then.
“I don’t care where he came out, you dumbfuck,” Abernathy said. “Shoot. Him.”
Another set of twin shots sounded to her right. Halina jumped, then froze, waiting for the eruption of pain somewhere in her body. But no, he hadn’t hit her. Hadn’t been aiming for her. And her stomach sank a little more. She sent up another prayer that he’d missed his intended target or that the team had found a hiding place or . . . something. The only reason she held on to any hope at all was because she didn’t hear anyone screaming in pain.
“Either you kill Foster or I will,” Abernathy yelled to the shooter.
Fear tore up Halina’s spine. She stopped and chanced a glance over her shoulder, squinting to adjust her vision. Skirting the edge of the light beam, a shadow darted toward her. Her heart jolted with both excitement and fear and she turned toward the house. In that second between losing sight of the figure and turning, Mitch appeared, out of breath and carrying that damned box from the apartment.
She gasped, half believing he was an apparition she’d conjured out of self-preservation. Then Abernathy’s voice screeched again. “Get away from Beloi, Foster.”
Halina instinctively lunged for him, putting her body between him and the shooter. She gripped Mitch’s bare arms, his biceps hard and warm . . . and quivering beneath her fingers. “Get the hell out of here. Get back to the house. He’ll shoot you.”
“I don’t think so.” But he had a wild look in his eye. Frenzied. “It’s Owen. I think Abernathy’s forced him to be here. And I can’t live through losing you again. I’d rather die.”
He sidestepped Halina and lifted the box over his head. “I’ve got a deal for you, Abernathy,” he yelled, raspy and breathless.