Capture the Night Read online

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  The first death came not long afterward. Daniel had related everything that had occurred since he’d left Johnny and Alexa earlier that afternoon, sparing no detail. Traci laid on the flat roof, sobbing softly, until she finally dropped off to sleep.

  Alexa sat next to Johnny, cuddling the baby. From his cognitive abilities, she thought he must be around three months old. Somehow, he comforted her, and she noticed how the entire group seemed more hopeful with his presence among them.

  Johnny glanced at him from time to time, and Alexa wondered what he was feeling when he did so. Regret, at not having a child of his own? Surely, that was a part of it. She could see the curiosity, too. He seemed to regard Alexa with a measure of newfound awe as well, at her skill in quieting the child.

  From time to time, Daniel stopped talking and just watched the baby, reaching out a thick finger to touch the wispy head. Eventually, he’d remember where he’d been in the recounting, and would take it up from there. When he was finished, he fell silent and gave a short nod.

  Johnny finally said, “I wish you had stayed safe out there, Daniel.”

  Daniel looked up at him, surprised. “Couldn’t. I told you I’d help Pete. Well, I couldn’t do it from out there.”

  Johnny sighed. “I know. But now you’re in harm’s way again.”

  Daniel leaned forward, laying his hand on Johnny’s arm. “Some things you can’t change, Johnny.” He looked at him hard to be sure he understood before he went on. “An’ some things—you wouldn’t change. This is one of them things. If I hadn’t come back in, we wouldn’t have this little man with us. Little Dan, I call him—on account of we don’t know his real name.” He looked at the baby, then back at Johnny, who couldn’t help smiling at this revelation. But the smile quickly fled as Daniel continued. “An’ Billings woulda killed Taylor before I could hear them names.”

  “What names?” Johnny asked, sitting straighter as this last caught his attention.

  “Them dirty cop names I told ya.”

  Johnny shook his head. “You didn’t tell—not that. What were they?”

  “Well, lessee. Billings, we know now.”

  “Richter and Frazier—they were killed inside—” Johnny nodded toward the door. “How many more?”

  “Just one.” Daniel cut his eyes away. “There was four to begin with, so that leaves only one, and whatnot.”

  “Who?” Johnny wanted to shake it out of him. He had a terrible feeling that Daniel had told the truth about everything, but was now unable to recall the last name. Johnny’s fingers clenched around Daniel’s wrist, and Daniel looked down, his lips thinning.

  “You’re hurtin’.”

  Alexa took Johnny’s hand. “Daniel. We need to know. In case we hear the name spoken or Johnny knows him—can you see how important this is?”

  Daniel’s lips quivered, as if he might cry. He looked away, into the gathering darkness. “I wish I could, Lex. But I can’t. I won’t give up tryin’. It still might come to me, though…”

  They all fell silent. Johnny’s frustration and pain rippled through his body.

  “I’m sure it will,” Alexa said, mustering a confident smile. She leaned against Johnny, looking up into his face. “You want to hold him?” She offered the sleeping baby to him, but he shook his head, his gaze returning to Pete’s restless movements as he slept.

  “Get some rest, son,” Roberts said kindly. “I’ll watch him while you two sleep. Better catch it while you can.” He winked at Alexa. “That little one won’t be out long—he probably hasn’t eaten in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “At least he’s got some water in him,” Alexa murmured, as Johnny pulled her close. She was just handing the baby to the Prime Minister when the air was filled with the sudden sound of rending metal. She pulled the baby close to her as a man’s horrified scream filled the night air. The section of guardrail near where McShane stood gave way, bending, breaking, and slowly toppling as Cal Billings disappeared over the edge.

  Alexa glanced down at the baby who still slept in her arms.

  Johnny sat up, a harsh groan escaping his lips as his wounded side protested. He shot a quick look at the Prime Minister, not trusting himself to believe what he’d seen. “Did you see what happened?”

  Roberts shook his head, his expression bland. “I’m afraid I didn’t. Poor chap must have leaned on a rusted piece of rail… dreadful. I hope it isn’t so weak all the way around.” He reached again for the baby. “Here, Alexa, let me have him.”

  Johnny studied Roberts for a moment, their eyes meeting, understanding passing between them. Roberts had seen it all. It was as Johnny had thought. McShane had pushed Billings.

  Johnny nodded. “Still got your gift?”

  Roberts smiled. “I’m taking good care of it. Get to sleep, John. You look like you could use a physician every bit as much as your brother.”

  Johnny’s gaze went to where McShane stood, hands on his hips, looking over the edge of the roof. He watched as McShane pulled his cell phone out, punching in the numbers with no hurry, and he knew the Irishman was calling Carter. A spotlight flared from below, and Johnny noticed they were careful not to raise it to the roof, as per McShane’s instructions, he was sure. From somewhere nearby, a siren screamed. Billings was dead. No need for that wild ride to Parkland for him.

  Johnny lay back as Alexa urged him down. Even as tired as he was, as wounded as he was, it would be a long time before he slept. His gaze wandered to where Daniel sat, keeping watch over Pete, just as he’d promised all those hours ago.

  The fourth name. Daniel had to remember that fourth name. If he couldn’t come up with it, Johnny thought, there was no one they could trust.

  Chapter 38

  Johnny lay very still, looking up at the night sky. The stars tumbled across the velvet darkness like diamonds tossed from some lucky gambler’s hand. Two hours, he thought, by the position of those stars, since Billings had died. Been pushed.

  Alexa’s arm came across his chest in a gentle caress, and he turned his head to kiss the back of her fingers near his shoulder. She wasn’t awake, he knew, but he wanted to show her every moment of tenderness allowed them on this, their last night together.

  He tried to force his mind to relax. He knew he needed to sleep. But hell, by dawn he may be dead. It seemed a waste to sleep these last hours away.

  “Are you awake?” Alexa whispered.

  He smiled, realizing how much he’d wanted her awake with him, wondering if he’d made it happen by the strength of his thoughts. He didn’t try to turn his head to look at her. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could. He was spent.

  “Yeah. Just thinking, Lex. Just wishing we had a way of—capturing this night and holding onto it forever—until it came out right for us.”

  He felt her smile against his shirt. “Johnny, I—I want you to know something.” She came up on her elbow, looking down at him. “I’m not sorry for being here—wrong place, wrong time I guess, most people would say. But it was the right time for me—for us.” She seemed almost shy, looking away from his gaze. “I was married all those years to a man I thought I knew. Thought I loved. But I never knew what love meant until twenty-four hours ago.” She shook her head, an ironic smile curving her full lips. “Twenty-four years I searched for it, Johnny. And in twenty-four hours, I found exactly what I’d missed—with you.” Her brow furrowed and she glanced at him, then looked away again, as if the bright mirror of her love in his eyes was too much to bear.

  “I love you.” She gave a self-deprecatory chuckle. “And I feel like I’m sixteen again.” She moistened her lips, glancing up at him. “I have nothing to lose at this point by being completely honest, do I?”

  Johnny’s mouth slanted upward. “Alexa…you have nothing to lose with me—ever.”

  The wind teased her hair, blowing strands of it across her face. “I’ve never felt this way before. Earlier—when we—” she stopped, searching for the words she needed. />
  “Honesty, Alexa…” Johnny murmured. “You can say anything to me.”

  She nodded. “I know.” She sighed. “It was…the first time I ever wanted anyone so much.”

  She lowered her head, a tear dropping to wet his shirt. “So, anyhow,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes as she tried to smile, “I wanted you to know that no matter what happens—I love you. I know, now, what that means. You showed me, Johnny.”

  His heart pounded against his chest. “Are you tryin’ to tell me something?”

  “We don’t know what’s going to happen. And, even if we do make it out of here alive, you may decide I’m not—what you want—”

  Johnny shook his head. “Stop it, Lex. I need you to be strong right now. For me, and with me. I know Richard hurt you, but you’ve got to battle through that.”

  He brought his hands up to cup her face, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “Know that I love you, whether it’s here or ten years from now. On this roof or—or in the grocery store’s frozen foods aisle.”

  She smiled.

  “I’ll never let you go, Alexa—never. So, you better get used to seeing my face every morning when you wake up.” He lifted her chin with a finger, leaning up to kiss her, ignoring the shot of fire that streaked through his side. She smiled, finally—a real smile—and it was all worth it. Then, she put her mouth to his, and he knew he’d do anything he had to do to keep her with him—once they got out of this.

  “Marry me, Lex,” he whispered close to her lips.

  She nodded, unable to speak, and he kissed her long, and hot and slow, sealing the vow between them in the only way he could. He reached to wipe away her tears, settling her against him.

  The night closed around them in a wash of dark, gentle comfort, and in spite of his iron intentions, Johnny Logan finally slept.

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  Daniel’s head jerked up at the familiar sound—a sound he would never forget. Helicopters. Incoming wounded. For an instant, he was back in Nam again, and he lunged to his feet from the depths of sleep, making an automatic grab for his boots he always set at the side of his cot.

  “So…you are real…” Pete’s voice was groggy as he looked up at Daniel, the Watcher he’d seen in the wall.

  “Yeah.” Daniel grinned. “Guess I am.”

  “What is it?” Pete asked, looking toward the noise.

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m not sure…” But he was. It was a helicopter—U.S. military issue, from the look and the sound of it; formidable in the semi-darkness of the early pre-dawn light.

  Behind him, the baby stirred against the Prime Minister’s chest, and then set up a wail.

  Eileen Bannion emerged suddenly from the equipment room door. “It’s not here!” she screamed, trying to make herself heard above the dull roar of the closely-hovering helicopter. “He didn’t have it!”

  “Have what?” Alexa asked, sitting up as Johnny did.

  “The SAMS unit, I would think,” Roberts murmured. “She must’ve gone to see if O’Brian had it on him when he—” he looked at Johnny, “—when he died.”

  “Guess we’ll see if there’s anyone left alive down below or not,” Johnny said grimly.

  “How so?” Alexa sat close to Johnny, reaching for his hand.

  “If there’s no one alive in there, he’ll send Eileen back down for it,” Pete supplied with a measure of bitterness. “He won’t give a damn if the SWAT guys take her out—at least, he can say she died for him.”

  They watched in silence as McShane motioned her to follow him. He ran back toward the side of the equipment building, and she joined him. He cupped his hand at her ear. She shook her head.

  “She’s got some sense,” Johnny said. “Looks like she’s telling him no.”

  “Shit,” Pete muttered, trying to turn over so he could see.

  “Why?” Johnny asked, glancing at Pete.

  “She’s bucking him.” Pete struggled to focus on the two figures beside the equipment building. “She—has her own plan. This may be it—for all of us.”

  Alexa took the crying baby from the Prime Minister, trying to sooth him. The chopper hovered, the noise seeming now to surround the roof. After a moment more, the pilot backed off and flew the craft away, starting to fly in a circular pattern at least a mile from the hotel.

  McShane had lost his legendary temper and was shouting at Eileen.

  Pete tried to sit up, but Roberts reached across Johnny to lay a hand on Pete’s shoulder, staying him. “Keep down, Peter, unless you want to be noticed.” Roberts’s expression was serious, full of warning.

  Johnny met his brother’s swollen eyes. “Something between you two?” he asked, disbelief coloring his words.

  Pete gave a caustic laugh at the obvious implausibility of that suggestion, letting himself lie back down on the roof without answering.

  “Pete?” Johnny pressed.

  Pete looked up at him. “No. There’s nothing.”

  The group’s attention was riveted on McShane, striding over to Roberts’s cadre of bodyguards and aides. He spoke to them, his words indistinguishable. He reached down and hauled one of them up by the collar.

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  Pickens.

  He turned and dropped to his knees, pleading with McShane, but McShane bent and grabbed him again, hustling him over to the section of railing where Billings had broken through earlier. Johnny started to his feet, his head exploding in agony as he tried to stand.

  “John!” Roberts exclaimed, rising beside him. “Bloody hell— Sit down. You look ghastly, even in this dim light.”

  “Pickens,” Johnny replied tersely. “He’s gonna throw… throw him over.”

  Roberts’s expression was grim as he watched McShane and Pickens. “Yes. Well, I suppose it would be good enough for him since he helped arrange this little escapade.” He shook his head. “It’s those of us with a bit of honor that find ourselves being done in, isn’t it? I’ll walk over and see if I can’t talk some sense into the bloody bas—” He broke off, nodding at the space Johnny had just vacated beside Alexa and the unhappy baby. “Sit down, son. Let me go work things out with the madman.” His smile was rueful. “Perhaps you’ll have some luck quieting ‘Little Dan’…”

  Johnny reluctantly nodded, sinking back down beside Alexa. Roberts stepped away, outside of their circle, hesitating as he straightened his coat and his resolve. Then, he started for McShane.

  Halfway across the distance separating them, Roberts called McShane’s name. McShane had reached the skewed railing, taunting the terrified Pickens with what he intended to do.

  They stood at the edge now, McShane forcing the other man to look down—down to his own waiting death. McShane’s laughter rang above Pickens’s pleadings in a hellish cacophony.

  “McShane!”

  The Irishman turned, surprised at Roberts’s audacity. He leveled his weapon at him. “Not another bloody step, Brendan, lad, or ye’ll be dead before this one will.”

  “Killing is not the answer.”

  “Maybe not your answer.” McShane pulled Pickens to the edge of the concrete. Terrified, Pickens sobbed incoherently.

  “McShane—”

  McShane held the gun under Pickens’s chin. Turning his blistering gaze to Roberts, he shouted, “Leave off, Roberts, damn you! This is my show, not yours. Not unless you want to take this man’s place and enjoy your fifteen seconds of fame first!”

  Johnny swore. McShane had tipped his hand. He intended to kill them all, one way or another.

  “Yep,” Daniel agreed. “For sure.”

  Pete turned, trying to peer around where Daniel sat, blocking his view.

  “What’s going on?” Traci asked in a sleepy voice.

  “McShane’s trying to kill one of the hostages.” Alexa’s reply was curt as she juggled the crying baby. She finally laid the baby beside her on the roof and began to change the makeshift diaper she’d torn from Daniel’s bedding earlier. Then, she soaked the end of a piece of th
e sheet she’d ripped up in the water, twisted it, and gave it to the baby to suck on.

  They watched as Eileen started toward McShane. “Kier!”

  “Stay back, Eileen,” he warned, not taking his eyes from the Prime Minister’s steady gaze.

  “End it, Kier,” she said, still walking.

  “Don’t…tell…me…what to do!” McShane screamed. “I give the orders here, you bitch. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Back off, Brendan,” Eileen murmured as she came abreast of the Prime Minister. “Walk away.”

  Roberts did not reply; he did not give any indication that he’d heard her. But as she took a step forward, he took one backward, away from McShane.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Eileen replied in a louder tone, lifting her chin.

  McShane pushed Pickens away from him with a rough shout of disgust, bringing the gun to bear on Brendan Roberts.

  The Prime Minister stopped moving.

  Johnny Logan stopped breathing.

  There was an unmistakable, unholy light in McShane’s eyes. He was going to shoot Brendan Roberts…just to prove he still ran the show.

  “Damn it!” Johnny started to his feet once again, lights exploding behind his eyes for a brief instant until the pain became manageable. His focus remained on Brendan Roberts.

  Alexa stifled a startled warning, and Traci cowered beside Pete on the roof. Pete pushed her aside and began to crawl toward the stairwell door.

  Johnny wanted to stop him, but his brother must have the same thought he did at this moment—this had to end. Behind the door could be anything…anyone. The SWAT team had to be inside…waiting. Time they came to the party—dirty or not.

  Roberts stood frozen. Why didn’t he pull the gun—shoot McShane? It was true, McShane wore bullet-proof garments all over, from neck to toe, but at that close range, Roberts couldn’t miss if he aimed for his head. And Johnny wasn’t ready to lay his cards on the table—to show the pistol he had taken from Alexa and jammed into his back waistband.

  Shoot him. Johnny didn’t understand Roberts’s reluctance to use the .38. Was he going to martyr himself in the hope of ending this?