Inevitable Series 06 The Unavoidable Read online

  Blair stared up at him, unflinching. "I didn't ask to be abducted by those people. I didn't want anything to do with Walsh. His death is not my fault." The blow came hard and low, catching him in the gut, doubling him over. A rough hand tangled in his hair, pulling him upright again.

  "I'm going to take great pleasure in watching you die." Grabbing him by the arm, Drake pulled him toward the still open door.

  Blair looked at Jim as he passed the Sentinel.

  "You're a dead man, Drake," Jim bit out. "You touch him and I swear to God, I'll find you and kill you."

  Drake didn't even hesitate. He nodded toward Brackett. "Bring him," he ordered Lantry.

  Blair managed one last look over his shoulder at Jim as he was pulled from the room.

  ######

  Jim clutched the mesh of the cage, straining to hear the sounds beyond the door his Guide had been taken through.

  {"On your knees,"} Drake ordered. Blair grunted as he was forced to the floor then Drake spoke again, {"I'm not a fool, Brackett. Don't believe for a second that I trust you."} Jim heard the sound of a gun being loaded. {"This has a single bullet in it. You put it in Sandburg's brain and you walk out of here. You don't and I kill you."}

  Brackett's voice held no emotion when he spoke. {"I understood the first time you explained it to me."}

  {"Brackett,"} Blair said and Jim could hear the fear beneath his voice. {"Just promise me one thing. Promise me you'll make him let Jim go. That you won't let him kill Jim too."}

  Jim shook his head. {Don't worry about me, Chief.}

  {"You don't plan to kill Ellison, do you?"} Brackett asked with little interest.

  {"No. He was just a means to an end. Sandburg's end."} Drake laughed at his own joke. {"We'll leave him here to clean up the mess."}

  Jim's hands tightened around the mesh. In his mind's eye, he could see Blair kneeling on the floor, Brackett behind him, the muzzle of the weapon pressed against his Guide's head. He could hear Blair's uneven breathing, his racing heart. Jim's eyes slipped shut. He locked onto those sounds.

  {He'll be okay. He'll be okay. He'll be—}

  The gun fired once. A body thumped to the ground. "No!" Jim screamed but even as the single word of denial left him, he could hear other voices, raised in anger. His eyes snapped open. He strained to hear but there was more shouting. A weapon discharged again. He could smell coppery blood. He tried desperately to wade through the commotion of noise. To find Blair!

  {What's going on? What's going on!} "What's going on!"

  The door to the room slammed open. Lantry came in at a jog. "Back away from the door!"

  "What happened?" Jim demanded.

  "That bastard Brackett shot Timmons. Then he grabbed your pal and took off."

  Jim couldn't help the laughter that poured from him. "They got away?"

  "They won't go far," Lantry jeered. "Not as long as we have you." He raised his weapon. "Now back away from the door."

  Jim did as he was told.

  "Now turn around and put your hands behind your back." The man held a set of plastic riot cuffs.

  Again, Jim did as he was told. But as the man reached for his wrists, Jim twisted around, grabbed his weapon in one hand and punched him with the other. He knocked him backward, into wall. The man slid to the ground, dazed.

  Jim rubbed his sore knuckles. "I've been wanting to do that since we first met."

  #####

  Blair gritted his teeth, working hard to keep up with Brackett as he dragged him from the run-down warehouse and out into the bright afternoon light. His gaze swept around him. A gravel pit. More dilapidated buildings. A large field. He didn't recognize the area.

  They skidded around the corner of a ramshackle building and Blair pulled his arm from Brackett's grip. Pressing his back against the wall behind him, he bent forward and tried to catch his breath.

  "Come on, Sandburg. We've got to keep moving." Brackett leaned around the corner of the building and looked back at the warehouse they'd escaped. "We've got to put as much distance between us and that building as we can."

  Blair shook his head. "Get this tape off my wrists," he said between breaths. "I'm going back for Jim."

  "Are you crazy?" Brackett hissed. "Let's get back up first. Call Banks in."

  "You call Simon. I'll going back for Jim."

  Brackett gripped Blair's arm, pulling him away from the wall. "I could force you."

  Blair wrenched free of his hold. "You could try."

  Brackett ran a weary hand through his hair. "God dammit, Sandburg. Do you have a death wish or something?"

  "I'm not asking you for help," Blair shouted, frustration shaking through him. He had no idea what was happening to Jim and with each passing moment, he imagined the worst. "Just untape my hands."

  "How are you with one broken wrist and no weapon going to help Ellison?"

  "Undo the tape!"

  Brackett turned him around and stripped the tape off his wrist, freeing his hands. But as Blair started to move away, Brackett shifted in front of him, blocking his way. "You're not going back inside."

  "I'm not leaving Jim—"

  "I'll go back for Ellison," he blurted out.

  Blair blinked several times, sure he had heard him wrong. "You? You're going back for Jim?"

  Brackett nodded, his mouth set in a grim line of determination. "You go find a phone and get some help out here and I'll go back for Ellison." He looked down at the empty gun in his hand. "I don't know how I'm going to get him out but I'll try." He turned his attention back to Blair. "But you have to stay out. You're what Drake wants. Not me. Not Ellison. You. And if he gets his hands on you, all he'll do is use you to get to us. You understand?"

  Blair nodded, knowing Brackett was right. Knowing his presence would be more of a hindrance than a help right now. "Okay. I'll go find a phone."

  "Good. Because if anything happens to you, Ellison will kill me."

  Brackett turned back toward the warehouse but Blair caught his arm, stopping him. He held tightly, staring into his eyes, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say. "Thank you," he finally whispered.

  "Don't thank me until we're coming out because I doubt that'll happen."

  Blair released his hold and Brackett jogged back to the warehouse. As soon as he was out of sight, Blair turned and scanned the area, looking for his best bet in finding help.

  #####

  Brackett moved through the building, checking each corner before making his move. He hated not having a weapon. Hated not knowing where the target was. Hated this whole damn situation.

  He had planned to kill Sandburg. Had made up his mind as he sat in his cell. He didn't really have a choice after all. But when it came right down to it, when he put the muzzle of that gun to the back of his head, he just couldn't pull the trigger.

  {Maybe if he hadn't asked about Ellison. Hadn't shown more concern for someone else in what could have been the last moment of his life….} He shook his head. Who was he kidding? He couldn't kill Sandburg because he liked him. Because there was just something about that kid, an innocence that allowed him to see the good in people. To trust someone like him. Someone who did not deserve that kind of loyalty. That kind of faith. Bracket simply could not bring himself to extinguish that.

  {And look at me now. Risking my life for Ellison.} No, he corrected. Not Ellison. It was Sandburg again. Because the kid would have come back in here himself…and been killed for sure. And Brackett just couldn't let that happen.

  "I should have retired years ago," he muttered.

  Cold steel pressed against the side of his head. Drake's cold voice washed over him. "Where is he, Brackett?"

  ######

  Jim moved forward, toward the main part of the building. He'd left Lantry tied up and gagged back in his cell, hoping to conceal his escape as long as possible. He sent out his hearing but could not pick up on Blair's heartbeat. {Just stay away from here, Chief.} But even as the thought went through his head, he heard Drake call o
ut.

  "Sandburg!"

  Jim jerked toward the voice, straining to hear… two heartbeats, neither one Blair's.

  "I have Brackett," Drake yelled.

  Dammit! Jim tensed. {How the hell did Drake get a hold of Brackett? Where is Blair?}

  "Come on, Sandburg. Or do I need to start blowing off parts of him." Seconds later, a gun fired and Brackett let out a cry of pain. "I just shot him in the leg," Drake called out. "You have one minute before I put a bullet somewhere else."

  Jim slipped around a corner. He could see Drake and Brackett just a few feet away. Drake held Brackett in front of him like a shield, a gun pressed to his temple. Brackett's hands were locked behind his back. Blood dampened the right thigh of his pant leg where Drake had shot him.

  "Time is ticking away, Sandburg." Drake shifted the gun to Brackett's left shoulder.

  Jim stepped out before he could fire again. "Let him go, Drake."

  Drake raised one eyebrow. "Got the drop on Lantry, I see. I'm not really surprised."

  "Let him go," Jim repeated.

  "I don't think so." The gun pressed harder into Brackett's back. "I have to believe you have some loyalty toward this man since he didn't kill your partner. Now put your weapon down or he's dead."

  "You kill him and I kill you."

  "You're right." Drake pulled the trigger again. A bullet ripped through Brackett's shoulder. He cried out, his body spasming in pain. His knees buckled but Drake wrapped an arm around his chest and held him upright. "How 'bout I just shoot him in stages instead."

  Jim stared at the fresh blood soaking through Brackett's shirt. Watched as Drake moved his weapon to Brackett's right forearm. "Okay," Jim relented. "I'm putting it down."

  "Kick it away," Drake ordered. Seconds later, the gun skidded across the floor, out of Jim's reach. Drake released his hold on Brackett. The ex-CIA agent collapsed to the floor. Both bullets had gone straight through but he was losing a significant amount of blood. Jim didn't think he'd be conscious much longer.

  Drake pulled plastic riot cuffs from his pocket. "Turn around."

  Jim cringed as his hands were trapped behind his back. "Listen, Drake, your little experiment didn't work. Why don't you get out while you still can."

  He spun Jim around to face him. "While I still can?" He laughed. "You make it sound like I'm going to lose." He placed the gun under Jim's chin, forcing his head back. "Look around you, Ellison. I'm the one in control here. I'm the one calling the shots. And I'm not done yet."

  He shoved Jim toward the door. "Let's go find your friend." Grabbing Brackett by the arm, he pulled him up and dragged him along.

  They moved slowly, Drake keeping his gun positioned at the center of Jim's back while using his free hand to support Brackett. Jim sent out his senses searching for his Guide. But the only sound he could hear was Brackett's labored breathing. The only odor he smelled , the fresh blood soaking half of Brackett's shirt.

  "Stop," Drake ordered.

  Jim did, his back rigid. "Now what?" he asked when no other orders were forthcoming.

  "Now we play." He shoved Brackett forward, letting his fall to the floor beside Jim. "On your knees. Both of you."

  Jim started to turn around. "What—"

  "On the ground!" Drake lashed out, kicking him in the back of the legs.

  Jim's knees buckled. He landed hard against the solid floor. Struggled to keep himself from sprawling forward. Somehow managed to sit back on his heels. He watched as Drake grabbed Brackett by the arm and pulled him up to his knees.

  The two men knelt side by side, their shoulders mere inches apart. Brackett swayed. Started to topple over. Drake grabbed him by the hair, pulling him upright again.

  "You stay on your knees," he warned Brackett, "or I kill you right now."

  Brackett stared up at him, glassy eyed, Jim not even sure he understood completely what he was being told.

  Drake released him, his gaze sweeping the room around them. "Come out, Sandburg!" he called, moving directly behind the two men. "It's about time you joined the party."

  "You just stay put, Chief!" Jim yelled, his voice sharp. "Brackett and I are doing just fine."

  The gun clipped Jim on the side of the head. He let out a low grunt of pain. Warm blood trickled down the side of his face from the fresh cut opened just above his right eye. He glared up at the man who had delivered the unexpected blow.

  "Keep your mouth shut, Ellison," Drake warned.

  "Sandburg's gone," Brackett slurred, clearly struggling to stay conscious. "Went…to call for…help."

  "I doubt that. He wouldn't leave you two behind. He's not the type." He raised his voice and shouted, "He knows I'll kill you if I have to! And he doesn't want to be responsible for that! Do you Sandburg?"

  "No." Blair stepped through the door at the far side of the room.

  Jim locked his gaze on his partner. He could see the slight tremor in Blair's right hand. Hear his heart as it pounded heavily in his chest. Almost smell his fear. But he held Drake's gaze, unflinching, his expression strong, unafraid.

  "I knew you'd come out if I threatened them. People like you make me sick," he sneered. "You care too much. It makes you weak. Vulnerable."

  "You couldn't be more wrong. I'm alive today because Brackett cared about my life. Walsh is dead because he didn't."

  Drake's gun shifted away from Jim and Bracket. Aimed at Blair. "You little shit!"

  Jim tensed. Readying himself for whatever came next. Prepared to make whatever move was necessary to protect his Guide.

  "This was never supposed to be about you," Drake shouted. "This was about Brackett. About saving him from a life of weakness. But that's now changed. Now I want you to pay. "

  "I'm right here," Blair said, moving a few more steps into the room. "You let them go and we'll end it."

  "No!" Jim blurted out, struggling to rise.

  Drake pushed him back down. "Don't worry, Ellison. You're not going anywhere." He pressed his gun to the back of Jim's head. His gaze locked on Blair. "You're a man of principle, Sandburg. I can see that. You take your friends very seriously. Are loyal...to a fault. So I want to play a little game with you. A game of choice."

  Blair stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

  But Jim knew. "He's going to execute one of us," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "He wants you to choose which one."

  "Drake, you son of a bitch," Brackett panted.

  "Worried, Brackett?" Drake mocked. "You should be. You saved this kid twice but even you have to realize that if the choice comes down to you or Ellison....well, let's just say that I think it's pretty clear who's going to be walking out of here today."

  Blair licked his lips, his gaze shifted down to Jim then to Brackett. He looked back up at Drake. "I can't," he whispered.

  Drake shifted the muzzle of the gun, resting it behind Jim's right ear. "Every minute that goes by that you stand there without making a decision, I'll blow off a piece of one of them. So you can either choose one to die quickly or let them both die slowly, painfully."

  Blair's eyes widened. He shook his head. "Please, I can't do this. I can't…." His voice trailed off. He trembled visibly and dropped his chin to chest. That's when Jim heard the words, spoken sentinel-soft, {"Jim, I have a gun."}

  Jim's gaze traveled over Blair, searching for….there... he could see it now. The black muzzle of the weapon sticking out from the underside of his cast. Secured there by the duct tape still attached to the white plaster. Where the hell did he get a gun? But then he knew. It was Lantry's. The one Jim had been forced to toss away.

  His jaw tightened. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. {What are you planning, Sandburg?} He didn't have long to wait as his Guide's soft whisper reached him again.

  {"In a second, I'm going to give you a signal. I want you to get yourself and Brackett out of the way. When you move, I'll fire. But Jim, get down low, man, and stay there because I'm a lousy shot."}

  Jim stared at
his Guide, wishing Blair would look at him. That somehow he could relay to him that this was not a good plan. That he was only going to end up getting himself shot. But Blair wasn't looking at him. He was keeping his head down, working hard to convince Drake that he was beaten. Slowly, Blair's right hand shifted toward his left arm. Toward the gun taped there. Panic raced Jim's heart. Tightened his gut.

  {Don't do this, Chief. Don't--}

  "Your minute is nearly up," Drake said from behind him, his voice triumphant. "Time to make up your mind." The gun shifted from Jim's head to Brackett's and back again. "Which one, Sandburg? Which one?"

  Blair looked up. His gaze shifted from Drake to Brackett to Jim...and locked. "I've made my decision...Jim! Move! Now!"

  Jim had no time to think. To stop what was about to happen. He threw himself sideways, barreling into Brackett who crumpled beneath his weight. An instant later, Jim heard two weapons discharge, the loud blasts echoing through the room, and then a grunt of pain.

  He struggled to sit up, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His gaze swung toward his Guide. He nearly toppled over with relief at the sight that greeted him. Blair stood in the same spot, the gun still held firmly in his right hand. He looked behind him. Drake lay sprawled on the floor, blood darkening his left shoulder. {I'll be damned.} But as Jim watched, Drake moaned and began to sit up.

  Jim pushed up and shifted around until he was on top of Drake, his right knee pressed against the bullet wound in the man's left shoulder. Drake cried out, flailing beneath Jim's weight, trying to shove the sentinel off him.

  "Chief, get his gun!"

  An instant later, Blair was there, grabbing up the weapon and tossing it away. Reaching deep in his front pocket, he dug out his Swiss army knife and cut the cuffs that encircled Jim's wrists. As soon as he was free, the sentinel grabbed Drake, pulled him slightly up off the floor and punched him once, knocking him out.