Dangerous Dreams (A Dreamrunners Society Novel) (17 page)

Jack!

His magnificent chest labored with the effort it had taken him to jump back here to her.

Grey Man recovered quickly, however. Reaching his right hand into his jacket for a gun, he pointed and fired.

Lara screamed, a useless whispering sound.

Jack winced and stumbled back a half step. Lara saw it. She knew she saw the bullet strike him in the upper body, but there was no sign of it. No wound, no visible bullet hole.

In the next instant, Lara’s captor flew back, Jack delivering a roundhouse kick to the man’s jaw so brutal and efficient, she expected to hear his neck snap. Grey Man practically flipped over backward. The gun was slapped away, skidding across the floor.

“Stay away from what’s mine,” Jack said.

He advanced on his opponent only to find a knife arcing toward his face.

Lara watched Jack block Grey Man’s attack, but it was clear the journey here had taken a lot out of him. Meanwhile, for all Jack’s powerful blows, Lara’s tormenter was fresh and ready, a dangerous combatant.

Though still wheezing for breath, Lara knew she had to act. He may not be perfect, but she couldn’t let Jack be hurt. She began to crawl toward the gun that lay on the floor in the center of the cell. Every inch she moved toward it cost her. Her brief respite at Jack’s cabin, in a healthy twin of herself, highlighted how much her true body’s condition had deteriorated during the intervening hours. Her body was in grave shape compared to when she’d left it. Her fever had rocketed. Previously healthy tissues in her hand now appeared alarmingly red and the swelling had returned, greater than before. Her arms and legs shook, oxygen-depleted muscles refusing to obey. Only sheer determination propelled her forward. Her legs gave out and she ended up dragging herself across the floor on her stomach. She reached for the gun with her good hand. It was so heavy.
Come on!
She had to lift the weapon, call out a warning, stop the fight.

She didn’t have time.

Chapter 25

Pivoting, Jack dove for the semi-auto wavering in Lara’s grip.

Even in the midst of battle, he was aware of her every move. He’d sensed each one of her dying thoughts while still in the fields, the futility gripping her as intractably as the hands around her throat. Any lingering doubts he might have had about her complete innocence disappeared. She hadn’t been turned, willingly or unwillingly. She was a victim with a will of iron to have survived as long as she had under their torture. When he’d heard her think to herself that he was no better than her captors, his stomach dropped as if he’d just taken a header off a fifty-story building, He vowed to change her opinion of him. He would not let Lara die, and after he made certain she was safe, he would show her exactly how he felt about her.

Skidding toward her, he twisted so that he slid in parallel to her body, almost spooning with her. His huge body shielded her smaller, slender one, while he wrapped his hand around hers. Instead of taking the gun himself, he lifted her hand with the gun in it, aimed, and fired.

One, two shots.

One, two bodies thudded to the floor.

He rolled over and up to see to Lara. She wasn’t breathing.

Oh, God! What had he done? It was the tragedy of his first two cases as a finder happening all over again. He’d gone off on his own to try and save her and cost Lara her life. Why hadn’t he confided in Gavin? If he had, maybe his boss would have sent him help, another finder, or even a team to make the run with him. If he’d come charging in with a team on his first trip here, she might have been freed hours ago and already be safe with the Society. History strove to repeat itself. Someone he cared about deeply lay dying in his arms.

“Breathe for me, Lara,” he said.

He saw the imprint of her would-be killer’s hands on her throat, and if the man weren’t already gone, he would have gladly sent him on a second trip to Hell.

He gave her mouth-to-mouth while hoping desperately her kidnapper hadn’t crushed her windpipe so badly she would never breathe again.

It’s Jamie all over again. No, please. Don’t let her be like little Sweet Pea
.

Lara choked, and then gasped for air like a drowning victim fighting upward to breach the surface.

“Lara! Thank God!”

She continued to struggle for air while gazing up at him with eyes touched by the golden light of the fields. As before, her twin hovered just out of sync with her body, showing him how close she was to death. That’s when he saw the thread. He’d almost forgotten it. The glowing cord vibrated in the air around them. Instead of traveling in a straight line, it was knotted and snarled, cutting off the flow of energy between them. She loved him, he could feel that love fighting to untangle the thread, but her belief that he only wanted to use her held her back. That she still didn’t trust him, hurt. She wanted to, but in all fairness, what had he done to earn her trust?

Lara tried and couldn’t speak.

“Shh.” He lifted away strands of hair that had fallen into her face. “Just breathe.”

Shouting and gunfire sounded above. He tensed for action at the noise, battle reflexes sending a heavy shot of adrenalin into his veins. He had no idea what went on up there, but knew there hadn’t been enough time for Gavin and back up to arrive. He’d have to do this on his own.

Jack released Lara gently, tucked the gun into his waistband and swiftly gained his feet. He hurried to the door, picked up the other dead man’s Glock on the way, and held it in front of him, ready to fire at a split-second’s notice. Darting a quick look, he peered into the passage. The hallway was empty, but Jack didn’t expect it to stay that way for long. He broke from cover and sprinted toward the stairs. He needed to head off the enemy before they could get down here and pose a threat to Lara.

He made it to the bottom of the staircase at the exact time several booted feet hit the landing immediately above his. With lightning quick aim, Jack raised the gun.

“Whoa! Whoa, Jack. It’s us,” he heard a familiar voice.

Gavin, dressed in black assault gear, stood at the top of the first flight of stairs with several more men, heavily armed. Sighing his relief, Jack checked his weapon.

“Gavin,” Jack said. “How’d you get here so quickly?”

“This place is only 15 minutes from Baltimore,” he said. “We’ve spent the last hour on recon, or else we would have been in faster.”

Jack was puzzled. “But how’d you get a team together that fast?”

“Jack, the extraction team has been on standby for four days.”

“Oh. For Taylor.”

“No, the team assigned to Taylor is still waiting for the go. This one’s for Lara.”

Jack was speechless. Gavin already had a team ready? Four days. He must have put them on alert moments after Jack first called about the kidnapping.

“Any sign of Taylor?” Gavin asked.

Jack shook his head.

“Damn. I guess it was too much to hope for that they’d keep both of them in one place.”

“He might be in one of the other cells, though. I haven’t had time to check,” Jack said. “Hurry, she’s down here. I don’t know if she’s…”

His breathing, which had become progressively more difficult during this short exchange, made it hard for him to concentrate, but he took off at a run, back toward Lara’s cell.

Chapter 26

Lara was lifted carefully in a man’s arms, a man who treated her like precious cargo. Except she knew Jack’s arms, and these weren’t them. Strong, yes, but Jack’s were bigger.

Opening her eyes, she found a man with a long, sharply angled face and thatch of white blond hair carrying her into the open air.

The sky!
She thought wearily, seeing it this time for real, or with her real eyes at any rate, something she’d doubted she’d ever experience again.

“Lara Freberg?” the man said.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Someone who’s very glad to meet you. My name’s Gavin,” he said.

Oh. The man who couldn’t get off his paranoid ass to warn anyone about the bombing
.

The man carrying her jerked and stumbled, though his arms remained steady, supporting her securely. A second later he recovered his footing.

Lara mourned all over again for the unsuspecting innocents in her dream. That poor little boy with the book bag. All those people in the street.

They would die, just like the other victims she’d seen since the dreams had begun.

What’s the point?

She wished she could put that question to Jack. What was the purpose of having this ability if it didn’t do anyone any good? Jack would know what to say. He’d have a good answer, and that face of his, with its scarred cheek and those dark blue eyes, troubled by their own mysterious guilt, would understand why her failure to speak up earlier about her dreams ate at her so badly.

Jack! Where’s Jack?

Suddenly in a panic, she squirmed in Gavin’s arms. Why was a stranger carrying her out of her prison, and not Jack? Agitated, she tried to free herself from Gavin’s arms and get to her feet. She had to find Jack.

Gavin’s arms didn’t budge.

“Quiet, Lara,” he said. “I need you to keep still. We’re not out of this yet.”

To underscore his warning, he broke into a run, carting her through a decaying courtyard, while an assault of bullets stung and chipped the cement at his feet.

We’re being shot at!

Return fire from an automatic rifle held just inches away momentarily deafened Lara. Shell casings flew from the weapon, pinging against the concrete where they dropped and scattered. They weren’t alone. Armed personnel flanked and shielded them on all sides.

Gavin never slowed. He chugged up flight after flight of stairs, every one of which sent shock waves through her damaged hand, reopening and jarring the injury in time with his steps. Pain filled up her chest, her face, her head until she was nothing but hurt, and she lost the ability to think clearly. She heard cries and sobs, probably her own, weapon harnesses jangling, boots pounding on the stairs, and finally the shooting stopped. Gavin’s team moved quickly, yet covertly into the open, where a second team met them on the final landing.

“Are we clear?” Gavin asked.

“That was the last of them,” another man’s voice answered. “How is she?”

Gavin didn’t answer aloud. Lara felt a minute shift in his body and knew he shook his head,
not good
.

“Jack?” the same person asked.

Again, no response from Gavin, not even the head shake. Just dark silence. Something had happened to Jack.

No. Please, no
.

“Shh, Lara,” Gavin said and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She must have moaned her fears aloud.

To the man who had spoken, Gavin issued orders. “We need a clean up, but make it fast. I don’t know how much time you have.”

“Blood?” the man asked.

“And three bodies,” Gavin confirmed, “in addition to the snipers you caught up here.”

“Leave or take?”

“Leave the bodies, but take the weapons down below. I don’t know which ones Jack may have handled. Spray everything in the cell. Wipe the cell door, and the immediate corridor for prints. Any DNA he’s left should vanish or degrade on its own, but he took a triple of Karat so who knows for sure.”

“Okay. Got it.”

The second team moved on, descending while she and Gavin moved forward again, crunching over gravel. Mercifully, Lara passed out.

When she regained marginal consciousness she found herself in the back of an enormous SUV. Someone, a woman judging by the light, deft hands working on her, slid a needle into Lara’s arm, adjusted tubing, and cool liquid began to flow into Lara’s veins. Her eyes flickered open, but she was too physically drained to move. They drove at a high rate of speed, so fast trees lining the road became one long smear of green. How long had she been out?

“Lara?” Gavin said from what felt like a hundred miles away. “Lara? Can you hear me?”

She tried, but couldn’t hold on to more than scraps of consciousness over the next hour, possibly two. She had impressions of traveling a lengthy bridge over water, then speeding down into a tunnel, a serious jolt when they took a metal ramp upward and then slammed on the brakes.