Taken Hostage. Jordyn Redwood
downstairs. Look at the note again. Develop our game plan.”
Once downstairs, Colby grabbed the note and sat on the couch. Regan sat next to him, peering over his shoulder as he examined the contents. Her closeness made it difficult to concentrate and he scooted a few inches away from her.
“First thing, we can’t operate out of your house. Once the hospital discovers the virus is gone, the cops are going to be on your tail.”
“It will probably be more than the local police,” Regan said.
Colby turned to Regan. “Meaning?”
“I think the hospital would potentially report it to Homeland Security.”
“It’s not a lethal virus. Right?”
“Right. But that doesn’t mean...”
“Mean what? It’s like there’s something you don’t want to say. Whatever you’re thinking, you need to say it. Keeping something hidden from me won’t help us solve this.”
“Viruses can always potentially be manipulated into something more virulent. Or, at least, someone could try.”
Colby’s chest tightened. That had to be it. Definitely a more plausible explanation than her rogue desperate parent theory. There was more there. He was sure of it. But for now, if that was all she was willing to disclose, he’d go with it.
What it meant? That their enemy could be that much more nefarious.
“We need to find a hotel somewhere close to this park. Scope it out tonight before the drop-off tomorrow.”
“I need to exchange these vials for something completely benign. I need to protect what’s here.”
“So you never intended to give it to them? Why take it?”
“Don’t you think it was wise to make them believe I was somewhat complying with their plan?”
“Probably.”
“However, if it comes down to Olivia’s life, I can’t say I won’t choose that path.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and this time he couldn’t help himself. He reached up and thumbed them off her face. Heat raced up his arm from that one touch. “Let’s not think worst-case scenario. Not yet. We need to keep our heads in the game.” Did he say that for her benefit?
Or more for his own?
“I know someone with a private lab who wouldn’t ask too many questions if I asked him to store it. He could at least give me something that resembled what’s in the cooler.”
“Vial wise or biologically, as well?”
“Both.”
She picked up her cell phone. Colby snatched it from her hand. “You can’t use this.” He powered it down. “And I probably shouldn’t use mine.”
“How would they know you’re helping me?”
“It’s not going to be a reach. I stormed out of the hospital saying I was going to look for you. We need to assume the authorities know we’re together—and that mind-set will hopefully prevent us from leaving clues behind. Do you have cash on hand?”
“Not much. A couple hundred dollars at most.”
At least Colby planned for such contingencies such as needing to be on the run or at least off grid for a period of time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some additional resources we can tap into.”
A car door slammed. Both of them sat up straighter.
“Are you expecting someone?” Colby asked.
Regan shook her head.
Colby motioned her down onto the floor. He then army-crawled to the front window, lifted the lower edge of the curtain and peered out.
A nondescript black SUV. One man stood by it—dressed in tactical gear.
Not good.
He turned back to Regan. “We need to go, now.” His voice was low but with as much urgency as he could muster without yelling at her.
She scrambled toward the cooler and picked it up, grabbing her purse that sat next to it.
“Back door?” he whispered.
She motioned to the back of the house. They crawled to the door together. He looked through the window. Didn’t see anyone...not yet, at least. There was a wooded lot just beyond her property. That was where he’d hidden his motorcycle. Probably not the best mode of transportation but easy to conceal, which was why he’d chosen it—not imagining he’d be pulling Regan behind him for an escape. He merely hadn’t wanted her to see him coming.
“We need to run for those trees as fast as we can.”
He saw Regan glance down at her shoes. Modest high heels, but high heels nonetheless. He thought about asking her to take them off but she was likely comfortable in them and she’d need the barrier to keep her running across rocks and sticks. “You’ll be fine. Just keep your head low.”
He motioned her to the side, unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door an inch. Nothing happened, which hopefully meant they’d beaten them to the back door.
The doorbell rang, followed by three successive knocks. “Dr. Lockhart! I’m with the military! We have a few questions for you!”
Colby grabbed her arm. “On three.”
Before Colby could begin to count, Regan heard the tinkling of breaking glass followed by an eardrum-rupturing explosion. Abandoning the count, Colby pushed her forward, and Regan lost her footing, tumbling forward and losing her grip on the cooler. He snatched it up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a standing position.
“Run!”
They ran pell-mell into the tree line, Colby holding the cooler with one hand and Regan’s hand with the other. She gripped her purse against her shoulder with her other arm. He wove through the trees like an expert off-trail skier, pulling her behind him. A canister landed in front of them, Colby immediately picked it up and chucked it to the side. It began to smoke in the distance.
Tear gas.
Bullets tore through branches and leaves rained down on their heads. Colby pulled her down into the underbrush, dirt flying into her face as he positioned himself prone and looked into the wake from where they had come.
Two men were stalking them, walking forward slowly. They were off to the right and the direction they were heading had them in a trajectory that wouldn’t intercept where they were hiding. However, if they moved, they would certainly alert them to their presence. Colby fingered through the dead leaves and produced a fragmented bit of black plastic.
“Rubber bullets,” he whispered.
Regan nodded. From her years of physician training, she knew rubber bullets were less lethal but could still produce significant injury if the victim was hit the right way. However, the tear gas and use of less lethal ammunitions meant these men were more interested in detaining them than in killing them.
Regan reached for the cooler and pulled it close to her body. The two men continued to veer right, in the direction of the spent tear gas canister, when another man broached the tree line.
Colby inhaled sharply, his hand tightening around hers. “I know that guy.”
They both remained prone, covered well by a grouping of waist-high bushes. “From where?” Regan whispered.
“The military. Delta Force. We served together.”
“Maybe we should just surrender then,” Regan said.
Colby shook his head.