Midnight Reckoning (Fortress Security Book 2) Page 8

  “What happened to doing things the old fashioned way? Takes anticipation from the equation.” Micah pulled his cell phone from his holder. “Call Marty’s Pizza. Number’s in the directory. Order whatever you want as long as it’s not a vegetarian thing. Working men need protein.”

  “I’m disappointed, Winter. Scared of a little green?”

  “On my pizza, you bet I am. Green and pizza don’t go together.”

  Sophie patted her stomach. “Don’t worry, Junior. We’ll reform your dad’s taste buds before you head to college.”

  “Dream on, baby.”

  She scrolled through his call list and placed an order for one extra large meat lovers, a large pepperoni and, with a pointed look at Micah, a salad. She handed Micah his phone, grinning at his scowl. “I assume you have things to go on the salad?”

  “Probably. Mom made a surgical strike through the grocery store last weekend. About half the store contents ended up in my refrigerator.”

  “Have you bothered eating anything from the produce section?”

  “Nope. I told you, I don’t do green.”

  “Well, your son will do green, so you better learn fast how to choke it down.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Try me, Winter. You’re not two years old and I’m not putting up with him telling me his father doesn’t eat it.”

  “All right, I’ll try. But no Brussels sprouts. I absolutely refuse to eat any form of cooked cabbage. It’s slimy and stinks up the house for days.”

  “Baby.”

  He growled, sent a glare filled with daggers her direction. Sophie smirked. “Deal. No Brussels sprouts or other cooked cabbage.” She refrained from admitting she hated the nasty little cabbage heads herself.

  By the time Micah parked at Marty’s, the sun had set and the roadway was beginning to glaze. Moments later, they resumed their journey to the cabin. Sophie admired Micah’s handling of the road conditions. A no-brainer for a guy living in Washington, D.C., though. The Beltway saw a lot of snow and ice in the winter months.

  Long before Micah turned off the engine in his driveway, Sophie’s stomach knotted with hunger. The lunch they’d shared just a few short hours earlier seemed days ago.

  “Stay put. I’m going to check the cabin before I bring you inside. I’ll come back and help you to the cabin because the walkway has iced over again. I don’t want you to fall, especially with dinner in your hands.”

  She laughed. “Thanks a lot.”

  Micah opened his door and stepped down on the snow-crusted driveway, keys still dangling from the ignition. He turned back, his expression sober once again. “Sophie, if I’m not back in ten minutes or if you hear gunfire, take off and call the cops from someplace safe.”

  Sophie’s breath left her lungs in a sudden rush. “Micah?” Surely he didn’t mean for her to abandon him. Her stomach knotted and Junior thumped her hard in the side.

  “Do you know how to handle a gun?”

  She shook her head.

  “There’s a Glock strapped under the driver’s seat. It’s a semi-automatic, loaded, ready to fire. If someone comes after you, aim for his chest and keep firing until he drops or you run out of bullets.”

  “What about you? Micah, I won’t abandon you.”

  “Do exactly as I told you, Sophie. I’ll take care of myself better if I know you and Junior are safe.”

  She crossed her arms over her stomach and raised her chin. “Fine. I’ll do what you want this time. When we get a little downtime, though, you are going to teach me how to fire a gun. And I want one of my own.” Her eyes narrowed. “A pink one so you won’t be tempted to steal my weapon.”

  He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am. A pink Smith & Wesson for the lady.”

  “Why not a Glock like yours?”

  “It’s a big gun for you. A .38-caliber Smith & Wesson would probably fit your hand better. No mooching the pizza while I’m gone.”

  “Better hurry, then. I’m hungry enough to eat the box.”

  He grinned and closed the SUV door with a soft snick.

  #

  Micah limped to the front door of his cabin. He doubted anyone had bypassed his security, but he never assumed in his line of work. To do so led to a short career or early grave, neither of which appealed to him.

  No new tracks to his porch. Micah quartered the area and unlocked the door. He slipped inside, gun drawn, ready. At least the gangbanger had shot him in the left leg so the cane in his left hand kept his dominant hand free to fire his weapon. He could still shoot with his left hand, but his aim was lousy. Couldn’t hit an elephant unless the beast lumbered right up to him and stood still while he adjusted his aim over several shots.

  Micah paused in the middle of his living room and listened. Nothing disturbed the silence. No unusual smells or sense of wrongness experienced after a disturbance.

  He drew in a breath and inhaled the lingering scent of Sophie’s soap. She’d spent mere hours in his home, yet already left her stamp on the atmosphere. He should let his mother know about Sophie before she dropped in and smelled the aroma, dead giveaway a woman had been in his home.

  Satisfied his living room remained untouched by an intruder, Micah searched each remaining rooms. Positive Sophie and the baby would be safe inside the cabin, he returned to the SUV and opened the passenger door. Sophie all but tumbled into his arms in her haste to climb from the cab.

  His arms closed around her, drawing her trembling body against his. “You okay? Did something happen?” Micah’s gaze darted around the area. He detected no changes.

  Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was worried about you. Don’t make me do that again.”

  Well, now. How interesting. “I’m trained, Sophie. I can take care of myself.”

  “You’re also limping and still healing. You can’t run if there’s a problem.”

  Ouch. Micah chuckled. A man’s ego couldn’t grow out of control with Sophie around. “Thanks for that rousing vote of confidence.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He grinned at the dismay in her voice. “It’s too cold to debate my self-protection skills out here. The house is clear and Brent should arrive soon.”

  Micah helped Sophie to the porch and returned for the pizzas and salad. Once inside his home with the door secured, he left the food on his free-standing island and stripped off his coat.

  “I’ll take it,” Sophie said, holding out her hand. “Why don’t you check the weather forecast.”

  He opened his mouth to protest that he could hang his own winter gear when he noticed her glance at his leg, worry clouding her face. His leg throbbed more than after a session with the physical therapist. An extended medical leave was the last thing he wanted.

  He clamped his jaw shut against words threatening to spill from his lips, handed Sophie his coat, limped to the living room and sank onto the recliner. He jabbed the button on the television remote and flipped to a local station, scowling at the screen. Appearing weak in front of Sophie shouldn’t have bothered him. Micah knew he was more than capable of protecting her and himself, but she didn’t. Her doubts stung, though, especially since she was partially correct. Though he couldn’t execute defensive maneuvers, there was nothing wrong with his brain and strategic capabilities.

  The glare of headlights trailed across his living room window. Micah rose, eased the curtain aside, weapon in hand. Brent’s black Tahoe cruised to a stop behind his own vehicle. Muscles relaxing, he slipped the Sig into his holster and opened the door.

  Brent stepped into the lamp light, eyes twinkling. “Looking good, old man. You aren’t limping as much as I expected.” The twinkle disappeared. “Read the shooting report. You’re lucky that kid had bad aim.”

  Before Micah had a chance to reply, vanilla scent reached his nose. Sophie. Brent fell silent, gaze widened at the sight of his temporary housemate. An emotion burned in his gut, one Micah preferred not to name. He held out his hand to Sophie, plea
sed when she laced her fingers with his. “This is Sophie Valero. Sophie, this is Brent Maddox, the guy installing your security system.”

  “I see why Micah’s kept you a secret, Sophie.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Pizza’s hot. We can talk while we eat.” Micah led them into the kitchen and seated Sophie at the table.

  “I can help,” she protested.

  “I can handle getting a few plates. Brent, grab Cokes from the fridge for us and a bottle of water for Sophie.”

  “We need salad bowls.”

  Micah scowled at her over his shoulder. He hoped she’d forget the rabbit food. Another glare at Brent’s smirking face sent his friend to the refrigerator with a grin. So his aversion to green food was legendary. Didn’t mean macho Brent had to rub it in. Guess he could man up and eat a few bites.

  Minutes later, he’d managed to choke down half a bowl of salad, each bite dripping Ranch dressing, and inhale four pieces of pizza. Micah eyed Sophie’s plate with half of one slice left and her salad bowl empty. “I hope that’s the second half of your second piece. Boys are born hungry.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “It’s my first piece. My salad portion was larger than yours. And your son isn’t using enough calories to justify a second piece. I don’t mind waddling into the hospital delivery room, but I refuse to waddle out.”

  “At least finish the portion on your plate. If you pass out from low blood sugar, you’ll force me to carry you to the SUV and fight lousy road conditions transporting you to the hospital. Have pity on me, Sophie. As you keep reminding me, I’m injured.”

  Across the table, Brent laughed. “Make him quit whining already, Sophie. He’s getting on my nerves.”

  “Right.”

  Though she didn’t sound convinced, Sophie finished the rest of her pizza and pushed the plate aside. Satisfied she’d eaten enough for now, Micah turned his attention to Brent’s suggestions about the security system he planned to install. In the middle of their debate over motion-activated versus continuous recording cameras, Micah’s cell phone beeped. He checked the readout, surged to feet and helped Sophie stand. “Come with me. Brent, Level 1 breach.”

  Brent reached behind his back and pulled out his Glock. “Where?”

  “Behind the cabin. At least three. I’ll check the monitor as soon as Sophie’s safe.”

  His friend stationed himself at the back door, peering into the darkness. When he and Sophie left the kitchen, Brent would douse the lights and resume his watch for the intruders.

  “Micah, what’s going on?” Sophie asked as he propelled her down the hall toward his bedroom.

  “Someone is coming through the woods at the back of my property.” He led her into his walk-in closet, closed them in before turning on the light. No need to telegraph his location to watchers. The least clues they had to his whereabouts inside the house, the better. If these guys made it past him and Brent, the safe room was the only chance Sophie and the baby had.

  Micah pressed pressure points on the specially-coated mirrored wall and, when the mechanism released, moved aside the mirror. He punched in the security code, opened the steel door and flipped on the light. Computer monitors and video screens flickered to life. A glance assured him that all systems were operational, security sensors tracking the trespassers. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be here a while.”

  “Are you staying with me?”

  He slid into the leather desk chair and pulled the keyboard toward him. “Just long enough to confirm the number of people coming after us.” And to grab mobile monitors for himself and Brent. Had to love the toys his friend developed for security clients.

  “I hate bringing this up, but is there a bathroom in here?”

  Micah lifted his hands from the keyboard, swung around in time to catch the surge of color in her cheeks. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m spending a lot of time in bathrooms.”

  He indicated the closed door in the farthest corner.

  “Thanks.”

  He dared to let a smile creep to his face while her back was turned. Micah watched her progress until the door closed again behind her. He swung around and tapped the necessary keys to bring up video feeds. Four men coming in from the back, two waiting in front. Probably hoped the guys in the back would flush them out the front door.

  He studied thermal imaging of the men in front. The position of their hands indicated they each held a pistol. Micah frowned. Not an efficient distance weapon for picking off the cabin occupants as they ran out the front door for safety. They didn’t appear to be holding anything else.

  He snatched a pen, yanked a small notepad close and jotted down the door code for Sophie. He rose as the bathroom door opened again and Sophie emerged. “I wrote down the code for you. No one can come in or go out without it. Brent’s security team is on the way. They have the code. Don’t open the door. The friendlies will be able to get in without your aid.”

  Micah reached into the right top drawer and grabbed the two wrist bands with video display feed from his security cameras. Buttons along the bottom edge allowed him to shift camera views. He turned on each display.

  “Be careful, Micah. Junior needs his father.”

  He remained motionless a few seconds, then fastened one band to his wrist. Did Sophie need him, too? Micah raised his hand, ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. So soft under his rough fingers. “I hear you.”

  An internal clocked pushed him to move. Every second he delayed, six thugs crept closer to Sophie and his son. Micah forced his hand away and left the room. He reached back, shut the door, and locked her inside.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “About time.” Brent glanced over his shoulder. “Company’s almost here.”

  Micah held out the second mobile wrist unit to his friend. “Sophie’s secure. What’s your team’s ETA?”

  “Seven minutes.”

  Muttering under his breath, Micah took up position opposite Brent and drew his Sig.

  “Told you not to build in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I’m not keen on close neighbors. And you’re a fine one to accuse me of living in the boonies. You live even farther out than I do. Bet your neighbors wouldn’t know you if they passed you on the street.”

  “Probably not.” His friend checked the wrist band. “But I know all of them, just like you know everything about everyone within a five mile radius of this place. How many did you see on camera?”

  “Six. Four coming up from the creek and two stationed in the tree line on either side of the drive.”

  “Overkill.”

  And that bothered Micah. Six guys to bring in one very pregnant woman with no weapons or defensive training? The thug who hurt Sophie didn’t consider her a threat. Why send a whole team to retrieve her? Even if the guy knew she now had protection, one well-placed bullet and Sophie and Junior would be vulnerable.

  Micah’s gut knotted. He breathed away the tension, firmly shoved that possibility to the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford the distraction. “Looked like they’re carrying pistols.”

  “Huh.” Brent slipped his cell phone free and checked his screen. “My team will come in behind the four and take care of them. I’m going after the two in front. You’re the last line of defense. You know this cabin better than my team. If these guys get past us, it’s up to you to protect what’s yours.”

  Micah bit back a protest. Brent’s people were at risk, so that made it his op no matter how much he wanted to be out there hunting the guys after Sophie. Until his injury fully healed, his leg made him a liability in the field. He checked the digital readout. “If you go now, you can get into the woods and parallel the two jokers near the driveway.”

  Brent motioned for Micah to take his position, flipped open his briefcase and slipped on the communication gear that kept him in constant contact with his team. He reached into another pocket of his case, withdrew another headset from its recesses and strung the webbing a
round Micah. “Works similar to your Secret Service com set only better. I’ll let you know when we’re coming inside. Don’t shoot us.” He eased the door open and disappeared into the shadow of the woods.

  Micah locked the door and took position to the left side. Snow drifted to the ground sparkling with ice crystals. If he’d been more functional, he would have dashed out the back door and messed up Brent’s tracks leading to the woods. At least his friend had shuffled a path, making it near impossible to tell if someone had left the house or come in from the woods.

  He listened to the sporadic whispered communication between Brent and his team. The team was tracking their quarry by their footprints. Micah checked the readout again, noted the security team’s progress. They were cutting it close. Two, three minutes at most before the thugs emerged from the woods.

  One by one, Brent’s team reported in. One down. Two down. Three down. Micah waited in the darkened kitchen. His friend radioed he’d taken down one in the front, circling to the second target. At that moment, a man clad in black stalked from the woods, gun aimed at the cabin.

  Micah keyed the microphone. “This is Micah. Bogey in the back.”

  “Roger that,” Brent whispered. “Winston, you got a bead on him?”

  A soft groan. “Negative.” Muttered cursing. “I’m down. Ankle’s broken.”

  “Micah, can you take the fourth guy?”

  “Affirmative.” Micah unlocked the door and moved to more cover. “Letting him come to me.”

  “Roger. Roberts, cover Winston. Lassiter, head to the cabin. Micah, Lassiter is a linebacker with bright red hair.”

  “Copy.”

  Micah moved into the darkest part of the hallway, hoped his dark sweater and jeans were hard to detect with a quick glance that direction. He raised the Sig, sighted the center of the doorway, and waited.

  Footsteps crunched on the deck. At least the miserable cold provided an early warning system with those crunchy crystals. A shadow blocked the deck light. He hoped this guy was smart enough to follow orders. If Micah had to move fast, he was good for one or two position changes before his leg gave out and he landed on his backside. Even a Neanderthal could pinpoint his location and take advantage of his injury. Though he preferred to question him, he couldn’t let this guy near Sophie and the baby.