No Stranger to Danger (18 page)

Chapter Nineteen

0900 hours, Sunday

Outside Pigeon Forge, Tennessee

By the time they cleared the forest and made their way down the mountainside, Mara's lungs burned and her legs felt like lead, as though they might collapse from under her at any moment.

She wasn't out of shape. She went jogging three times a week. This mountain was a hell of a lot different from the paths around the park outside her old job though.

Logan held up a fist, signaling to stop, and Mara had never been happier to oblige him. She halted at his side and bent over with her hands on her knees, gulping air. Even that hurt.

The forest around them sang with the normal activity of a forest. Squirrels, birds, a rushing creek nearby that told her they had made the road that curved down and around the base of the mountain. No more gunfire pierced trees at their backs, nor did heavy crushing footfalls close in on them.

She rose and leaned against a larger pine, all but heaving as she forced herself to catch her breath. It irritated her that Logan didn’t seem winded in the least.

"We're clear. Come on," he said, reaching behind to drag her off the tree. They came out of the woods onto the road, and Mara looked back up the mountain to see a pillar of smoke rising off the mountainside. She wanted to watch, for whatever reason, as all the memories of her childhood went up in smoke, literally. All memories of her wedding night … and last night, too.

They had their lives, she reminded herself. Logan gave her a tug at the center of the road, and at last, Mara looked away, ahead into the forest.

Logan waited at the edge of the trees, straddling the metal barricade at the curve. He took her by the elbow, helping her over and down into the ravine on the other side. A tremble in the ground quivered through the soles of her shoes, tickling her senses as an explosion rocked the forest. Mara lost her footing on loose pine straw from the sudden quake.

"Oh!" S
he
began to slide, but quickly reached out to catch hold of Logan's hand, her fingers latching onto his.

When he steadied her with a firm grip, Mara looked down, gaping at the fall she had almost taken. She gripped Logan's hand for life at the sight of the bottom several hundred yards below her.

"What was that?" she asked.

"The rest of the C-4," he explained, his fingers wrapping around hers securely until she steadied herself.

Mara dug her feet in and reached for a nearby tree to her left. She pulled herself up, steadying herself before letting Logan go.

"Hold on," he said as he set down his bag and pulled rope and
carabiners
from it, quickly setting up a quick anchor on the side of the cliff. "Remember doing this?" he asked.

Mara remembered.

The years with Logan had been some of the best of her life. She had thought she'd forgotten, but he seemed bent on giving her a refresher. 

"Sure," she said, trying to sound unenthusiastic at the memories soaring though her.

She remembered rock climbing and rappelling with him once on a weekend getaway to New River Gorge in West Virginia. He had kissed her on the side of the mountain. He would have made love to her there if she had let him, and he
had
later under the stars where they had camped.

Mara frowned. Until now, she had remembered him being gone more. When they were together, why hadn’t she thought on those memories and not the bad, not the loneliness?

The memory of that weekend getaway heated her cheeks, and Mara looked away as Logan came to hand her the rope, looping it around her in a makeshift harness, readying her for the descent.

Just then, the sound of sirens whirred at the base of the mountain, not far from them. Logan slipped down out of sight from the road and pulled Mara into his chest so they were flat against the side of the ravine.

When the convoy of emergency vehicles passed, Mara let out the breath she had been holding and Logan released her.

"Ready?" he asked, edging her to the side.

Mara snorted. "As I'm going to be."

"You'll be fine," he said.

Mara shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then slipped backwards, the center of her feet on the edge, and she kicked off, working her way down. She didn’t dare look at the bottom. She kept her gaze on the rock face in front of her as her boots met with the stone and she pushed herself out, sliding down the rope as Logan had taught her.

Her feet met with the soft wet leaves, and shakily Mara worked herself free of the harness. "I'm good," she called up to Logan, just loud enough so he could hear.

He began to pull the rope up. Mara waited. Her nerves grated as she watched him begin his descent. Logan came down a lot faster—and more proficient looking she would imagine—than she had.

Logan freed himself and left the rope to dangle against the rock. There was no time to take it with them.

"Let's get down this mountain to that little tourist shopping place," Logan said.

"And then?" Mara asked.

"And then we steal a car and get the hell out of here. I have to get in touch with
MacKall
."

"If they haven’t found him already," Mara said, panting already as she trekked behind Logan. "They found us easily enough."

He stopped to glance around them and held up his hand to stop Mara. She watched as he pulled his burner phone from his pocket and held it up to check service. "Wait right here," he said.

****

Logan walked a few yards away out of hearing distance before he dialed
MacKall
. It went straight to voicemail, and he cursed as he punched the red END button.

He glanced over his shoulder to Mara where she leaned against a wide pine and watched the hills behind them.

Logan dialed a number he hadn't called in a while.

Half a ring was all it took before the line opened.

"Weston," Logan said.

"Logan
Cahil
, you son of a bitch. Where are you?"

"Outside Pigeon Forge Tennessee. I trust you can find me."

"Keep talking while the trace is running and I will."

"You want Conyers?"

There was a pause.

"You have the local on John Conyers?"

Logan ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Not at the moment, but I will very soon."

"How do you know you will?"

"Because Russian sleepers just burned down a cabin in the mountains, trying to flush me out into the open. They succeeded, but they still don't have me and Conyers still doesn't have the microchip he's after."

"What microchip?"

"Didn't
MacKall
make it to you?" Logan asked with some urgency, glancing behind at Mara.

"What the hell are you talking about?
Connar
MacKall
?"

"Fuck," Logan said under his breath. Where the fuck was
MacKall
? Something had gone wrong, and that was why he wasn't answering.

Logan looked down to check his watch. Thirty-seven seconds, they had his exact location.

"Logan?" Weston's voice cracked over the poor reception. "You know your ass is going down, too."

"If you want me," Logan rasped, "then come and get me. But you make damn sure my ex-wife isn't harmed—or there will be hell to pay."

Logan flipped the phone shut.

He turned and froze on his next step.

A tall, thin man with brown hair and icy blue eyes held Mara, a knife at her throat.

"Logan
Cahil
." The Russian shifted his weight, looking down at Mara over her shoulder and then back to Logan. "You will come with me."

Logan cocked his head to the side.

It damn well looked like he had no choice.

The man motioned with a tick of his head, his eyes on the sidearm in Logan's leg holster. "Drop your weapon."

Logan took a step toward them, Mara's scream meeting his ears before the receptors in his brain fired and the sound of the shot thundered through the mountains.

Logan winced at the pain slicing through his body.

"No," Mara screamed. "No!"

He watched in horror as she fought to get to him, clawed at the man holding her despite the threat to her own self. He wanted to tell her not to move, not to fight them—but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything.

Logan lifted a bloodied hand from his ribs and only then realized he was on his knees.

For the second time in as many weeks, the butt of a rifle cracked into his skull and he fell over.

Chapter Twenty

1300 hours, Sunday

Unknown Location

Mara fell to the cold cement floor and cried out at the pain lancing up her arm. A hand at the back of her head jerked the black bag from her face and sent her hair spilling in front of her eyes. She pulled herself up from the floor, pushing the dark mass of hair away so she could see her attackers.

She gasped and scooted back as Conyers crouched down in front of her and tilted his head to study her injuries.

"My, my. They roughed you up, didn't they?"

Mara pulled her throbbing lip between her teeth, and the tang of blood filled her mouth. She gagged at the taste, and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She glanced around the room for Logan and found him as one of the Russians dropped him near her. His body hit the cement floor hard.

Her stare jerked to Conyers, and she backed away further to the wall behind her. She didn't like being caged in by him. She felt threatened, and the urgency to get to Logan flooded her as a pool of blood puddled from under him.

"Looks like we've come full circle, Logan," Conyers said loudly.

Logan stirred at Conyers's words and tried to lift himself from the floor. Mara gasped as his eyes opened a sliver.

"You can save yourself," Conyers said to her, standing along with her as she rose to her feet. He thrust his hands into his pockets. "Surely you must know where the microchip is now."

Mara glanced between him and Logan and shook her head. "Go to hell," she said. Her face hurt from the blow she had received from one of the men, and speaking only made it hurt all the more.

Telling that bastard to go to hell was well worth that bit of pain though.

Conyers face twitched. "We don't have that long. I need the microchip!"

"You're not getting it." Mara threw herself along the wall, falling to get to Logan. The stone scrape
d
her back as she went down. Mara eased herself upward, panting with her effort and the adrenaline pumping through her. She grabbed his shoulders, and after a struggle, managed to roll Logan over into her lap. She bit back a cry at his mangled face, her hands shaking as she brought her palms to his temples. Pain spiked up her leg, and she glanced with a cutting glare to the Russian who had thrown her down the mountain when she had refused to cooperate.
He
had caused her injury. Mara began to cry in earnest as she turned Logan's head over in her hands, her tears dropping onto his face. She bared her teeth and gave Conyers a snarl of her own.

"You'll have to kill me first," she said, pressing the gunshot wound at Logan's chest, applying pressure. Her attempts to stop the blood flow were of no use. Her hands trembled against his chest, stained crimson against his shirt.

As she gripped Logan to her tighter, her hand grazed the cold hard metal of another Beretta under his shirt, and she bit down on her lip at the little ray of hope. Mara paused, looking on him as he fought for consciousness. This time, it seemed it was up to her. Logan had too many injuries.

"You do know he called Weston to turn himself over to the CIA, don’t you? Keeping him alive right now will do you no good. They'll just kill the both of you once they show up."

Mara scoffed brokenly. "Gives me no reason to help you."

"Doesn't it? You see, Mara." Conyers paused on a hard sigh, one hand stuffed into his pant pocket now, his jaw working on a piece of gum. "You help me find that chip and I'll take the both of you away from here with me. You don't think I'm sticking around to wait on the CIA to show up, do you?"

Mara met his stare. It wasn't like she believed the man who had once told them that, in no uncertain terms, he would kill them no matter what.

"Let's trade information then," she said. "Tell me what you're doing with the chip first."

Conyers laughed, his eyes glimmering in the dull light. "All right. The chip is nothing more than classified information on an old man. A chemist who once served our great country. Alexei
Volkov
. I need the information on the chip to force his hand."

Mara's face fell in disbelief. Information? That was all they had been risking their lives to protect at all costs, and possibly could have gotten
Connar
killed.

She didn't buy that.

"What is this
forced hand
going to do?" she asked, stalling.

Conyers leaned closer. "He's going to make me a bomb."

Her eyes flared, but that wasn’t really a surprise. "What are you going to do with a bomb?"

"Surely that's obvious. I am sure Logan has figured out at least that much. He just doesn't know all the names and places, but he's a smart one. Quick learner."

"What names?" Mara interrupted.

Conyers's jaw ticked. "I'm not telling you that. The Arabs are supplying the hostiles to create a diversion, and the Russians are supplying the necessities for the bomb. Soon the US will be under martial law, and you will be thanking me from the afterlife that you won't be here to witness it. It's
gonna
get dirty." He chuckled darkly.

Mara's heart sank, and her stomach dropped to meet it.

They were really trying to destroy America.

And all that stood between destruction and the world were a few men like Logan.

Right now, there was Logan—her eyes fell to her lap—and then there was her.

Her fingers tightened around the grip of the M-9.

She looked down in her lap as Logan stirred a little and lifted his head. He blinked, but she wasn’t sure he was really there. Her arms tensed around him protectively.

"I love you," she whispered. She bent and brushed her lips against the creases on his forehead, her fingers slipping under his shirt, around the back.

She slipped the safety off.

Mara pulled the gun on Conyers—and to say he was surprised as he faced down the loaded muzzle and her fiery stare, was to say the least.

He blinked rapidly, slowly swallowing as he cocked his head to the side and lifted his hands.

"Now, now," he said quietly, shifting his weight as he examined the weapon and found it ready to fire. Conyers's eyes flared on the Russians angrily.

She wouldn't make the mistake of pulling a weapon on a man like Conyers if she wasn’t ready to pull the trigger.

Logan had taught her well.

Mara ticked her head behind her toward the two Russians standing at the door. "Tell them to drop their weapons."

Conyers's lips thinned, his eyes flicking angrily to his men at the door again, but he nodded at them and Mara heard the sound of four weapons falling to the floor, clattering against the cement.

"Tell them to kick the weapons away," she instructed.

Conyers snarled. "Do it," he yelled.

They did, and Mara swallowed, but just as she was about to pull the trigger, the door squealed open and a tall haji
walked in."The helicopter is ready, boss—"
Taj
paused in the door, his mouth falling open.

"Where the fuck are you when I need you?" Conyers yelled at him. He turned his stare to Mara. "Well are you going to fucking kill me or not!"

"Gladly," she drawled and pulled the trigger. Mara blindly fired around the room until the gun clicked.

Taj
fell.

Conyers fell.

The two Russians were down—but not before Mara gasped and cried out at the hot bullet tearing through her shoulder.

She screamed and dropped the weapon to clasp at the wound
Taj
had given her before his eyes rolled back.

"Mara," Logan rasped under her.

"You fucking bitch," Conyers gurgled, gasping loudly for air as he clawed his way to the wall and dragged himself up to sitting. He held his neck, and with his other hand, he flopped his jacket open to look at the stomach wound. "Ah, hell," he said, a trickle of blood leaving his lips at the corner.

He looked back up to Mara. "You think killing me is going to stop this, little girl? You think there's a head to cut off?" He looked to Logan. "There's not. It's conglomerate. There are too many heads. You could never find them all in time. They only want the same thing. To own world power. The US may have stood a chance if their mindset wasn't so fucked up on trivial things." He let out a garbled cry and thumped his head back into the wall with a grunt. His stare fell on
Taj
and the other two. He laughed darkly. "No one realizes what's going on."

"If … I'd known … all it would take to get you so chatty—" Logan winced in pain. "—was a bullet, I'd have put one in you long ago," Logan said, coughing. "Why are you telling us all this?"

Conyers gurgled on blood, his hand shaking with nerves as he lifted it to his side. "‘Cause you won't be around long enough for it to matter." He started to laugh, but blood choked him and his eyes went blank.

Mara panted against the pain as Logan looked up to her. "Don't leave me," she begged cupping his face with a bloodied hand. "Please, Logan, don't leave me. I just got you back," she said weakly.

Minimally, she heard footsteps coming down the hall as Logan's eyes closed and Mara collapsed weakly over him.

"Mara
Cahil
?" a voice called. Hands pushed her up, lifting her head a moment later. She looked into the face of a man. "Are you Mara
Cahil
? Can you confirm?"

Mara used the last ounce of her strength to nod
d
.