Andrew Peterson - Forced to Kill

“That’s a terrible thought.”

“It kept me up most of the night, but my instincts are telling me he’s not finished yet.”

“You think he’s going after more people?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot more. Maybe we should take a closer look at Nichole Dalton’s past. Montez might be interested in someone she knows or has worked with. She’s got two daughters, but is she married? Divorced? Does she have a boyfriend? Who fathered her children?”

Holly fell silent for a moment. “It’s likely the San Diego PD has already made those types of inquiries. I wouldn’t be surprised if Henning has a copy of the police report. I’ll find out.”

He closed his eyes and rested his head.

“When we get to your house, you’re getting some sleep.”

Nathan crashed most of the day. He didn’t like losing the hours, but it couldn’t be helped. He still abided by his personal Marine Corps adage: Sleep when you can.

Now it was Holly’s turn. Curled into his shoulder, the darkness hid her face. She looked so unguarded and yet strong. Somehow this woman had slipped through his defenses. She felt like the missing piece of a puzzle. They’d talked for hours, sharing each other’s lives. Nathan had talked about his loneliness and quick temper. The nightmares. The anger and dark thoughts. The other . His need for privacy.

Holly had reciprocated and told him about her troubled childhood and high school years, her bout with drugs, and her tequila-shooting, can’t-remember-how-she-got-home days. She admitted to looking for love, but never finding it. It seemed they shared a few things in common.

They’d spent the day at his La Jolla home. She really loved its architecture and the collection of Civil War relics and weapons. She’d been especially taken by his dogs and vice versa. After dinner, they came over here, to his Clairemont home. She wanted to see where he spent the majority of his time. She liked this house too, said the modest scale and furnishings somehow fit him better, made him more-

The red LED on the security panel next to the front door began flashing.

Someone just tripped the motion detector in the rear yard.

The low whistle of the alarm coming from every room in his house confirmed it.

“Holly.” he whispered, giving her a firm shake.

She opened her eyes.

“We’ve got company. Someone’s in the rear yard.” Nathan put a forefinger over his lips.

She needed no other prodding. Within seconds, they were both in the bedroom, where he punched a sequence of numbers into a small gun safe on his nightstand. Holly put a hand on his back as the metal hatch silently popped open, revealing his Sig 9-millimeter. He retrieved the weapon, suppressor, and two subsonic round magazines before grabbing his night vision scope from the nightstand drawer.

“Where’s your service weapon?” he whispered, screwing the suppressor into place.

“In my hand.”

“You’re with me. On my six.”

Dressed only in underwear, Nathan and Holly advanced down the hallway into the den, where vertical blinds covered the sliding glass doors. Standing off to the side, he cracked the slats just enough to see out. He activated his NV scope and scanned the yard.

Nothing. No movement at all.

He backed away from the blinds, returned to the hall, and stood perfectly still-listening. He inhaled deeply through his nose. No smell of anyone or anything. No faint cigarette odor, or cologne, or leather. Nothing.

He put his lips to her ear. “Stay close, I’m going to check the house.”

Knowing that any security system could be beaten-even his own-he conducted fast-moving reconnaissance, looking in every place big enough to conceal an intruder. In the living room, he picked up their clothes from the floor and tossed them into the coat closet.

The house was clear.

A second red light on the panel indicated a front yard motion detector had also been tripped. From the den, he checked the rear yard again. There. Two dark figures. In tactical SWAT-type gear. Moving toward the patio. In the green image of the night vision scope, he saw they carried suppressed Heckler amp; Koch MP5s.

He approached the keypad by the door and turned it off. If possible, he wanted to take one or more of them alive.

They hurried back to the bedroom.

Moving fast, he slipped into a pair of jeans, grabbed T-shirts for himself and Holly, and led her back through the house into the kitchen.

He handed Holly a shirt and put his on. “We’ll hide in here,” Nathan whispered, and pulled the cabinet doors open. Where there should have been pots and pans, a wide-open space loomed.

“In there?”

“Yes.”

Precious seconds were wasting, he didn’t have time to explain. Once they were both inside, Nathan pulled the cabinet doors closed. Holly ended up sitting with her back to one end of the cabinet with Nathan opposite her in the same position. They were enveloped in near blackness. The only source of light came through tiny holes on the cabinet veneer facing the living room.

“Nathan, what’s going on?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was forgetting something, something critical. What was it? Come on, damn it. What am I forgetting? Come on.

Holly’s purse. On the kitchen counter above them.

He opened the cabinet door, retrieved the purse, and placed it between his legs.

Low on his left, he turned the knob of a dimmer switch, adjusting it to the lowest setting before pressing the knob to activate a series of night lights plugged into wall outlets.

The tiny points of light in the cabinet face brightened.

“Peepholes,” he whispered.

He had to keep Holly calm. Yes, she was a special agent in charge of a major FBI field office, but this situation could rattle even the most battle-hardened soldier. If she made a tactical mistake, they were both dead.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “These cabinet walls are armored with ballistic vest material. We need to stay absolutely quiet. Pretend nobody’s home. We’re just part of the furniture. Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly.”

“How can you be so calm?” she whispered back.

“No one’s home. This is an empty house. Inhale deeply, exhale slowly.”

He heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m okay.”

They both heard it, a sudden crash of glass.

“They’re inside. Absolute silence from now on.” He gave her hand a squeeze and pressed his eye to a hole.

Like demons from a nightmare, four dark figures rushed into the living room.

In the ambient light, Nathan watched the laser dots sweep through the room. He hoped they were mercenaries, not federal agents. If they were feds, or U.S. military, they’d have a much harder battle on their hands. One thing was certain, he’d never allow Holly or himself to be taken prisoner. One way or the other, this fight was to the death.

Intruders one, three, and four advanced down the hallway toward the bedrooms, moving with precision and silence. Number two stayed put and crouched down.

Number two looked directly at the cabinet where they were hiding.

He gave Holly’s hand another squeeze. After several seconds, Number two looked in the other direction and froze again. Seeing nothing, Number two moved to the base of the cabinet and ended up inches from Holly’s face.

He watched a red laser beam flash three times on the dining room wall. Number two painted his laser at the same spot and gave three flashes in return, predetermined signals to avoid being blown away by friendly fire. One, three, and four emerged from the dark hallway. Two joined them for a whispered consultation. Good. They weren’t feds. Feds would have used hand signals to implement one of several backup plans.