He’d be OK.

Only he wasn’t.

“We need to draw him out. Get him talking.”

“Suggestions?” Rick asked.

“We get close and start talking. Make him put our faces in his head instead of a target. If he’s working for someone, something will come out. If he’s alone…well, we’ll deal with that later.”

Rick nodded. “I’ll take the south.”

“Be safe.”

Rick winked, and disappeared into the brush.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Moving around the room kept her warm. She managed to remove a few strands of colored lights and plugged them into the sole outlet in the room. One set started to blink, adding a twinkle to the dismal room. The irony of the image would have worked up a manic laugh if her mouth weren’t as dry as cotton.

Every once in a while she heard Charles roaming the floor above her and she’d stop. No need for him to come into the room until she had everything where she wanted it.

She realized that the only weapon she had to take Charles off guard was a psychological one. Strewing as much of the room as she could with Annie’s childhood memories along with their household Christmas items was bound to provoke some memories with the man. Something other than the hate that lived inside his soul. If the kid paintings and baby blanket did nothing for him, at least there would be some evidence that she’d been down there against her will. She’d dropped one of the bulbs and nicked her fingers, causing them to bleed. She purposely touched as many of Annie’s things as she could with her bloody hand, and went on to touch the walls, the rail on the stairs, and the underside of the stairs. The idea came from the book she’d attempted to read to pass the time earlier in the week. Crazy how life sometimes imitated art.

If he focused on the mess in the room, maybe she could manage to shoot her way out of there. It was all the hope she had. It wasn’t as if she could talk him out of what he was doing with her mouth gagged.

Using her fingers, and her feet, she tipped over boxes and spread first grade art around the room…all the while Christmas lights twinkled in a heap on the floor.

Neil shook the droplets of rain from his head. The thunder and lightning had stopped, leaving liquid sunshine. He wasn’t sure what was more wrong…the fact that he and Rick were now hunting someone they once called friend, a man Neil would have defended to the death, a man he once felt sorry for, or that like the clouds overhead, something larger surrounded him. Something close enough to smell, but not taste.

His heat goggles picked Mickey up close to where Neil had his fallback position. The strong desire to finish this quickly so he could retrieve Gwen and assure himself that she was well ate at him.

“I’m in position,” Rick told him in his ear.

Neil scurried from one tree to another, keeping his cover. “We still don’t know what his plan is.”

“Keep hidden.” He didn’t have to be told twice.

With his back to a tree, and several bushes at his feet, Neil scouted their enemy. “Ready. I’ll do the talking. Keep him guessing where you are. See if you can get in tighter.”

“Copy that.”

Neil drew in a deep breath and blew it out between cold lips. He positioned his binoculars to see if his words had any impact. “Why are you doing this?” he yelled above the sound of the rain.

There wasn’t any movement…nothing.

“We were friends.”

The brush in his view moved.

“Damn it, Mickey…talk to me. We were all brothers.”

That worked. “I don’t have brothers.”

Hearing his voice again hit his solar plexus. For a moment there he could have been wrong. But not anymore. “Once a marine, always a marine.”

“I’m the only marine left. You left. You all f**king left.”

Neil tracked the moving brush. “He’s coming toward you,” Neil told Rick.

“I see him,” Rick said.

“Our tour was finished, Mickey.” The major granted them leave until their time was served. It was as if the man knew any more would have twisted their minds. Twisted them like Mickey’s.

“It’s all I had.”

“Why blow it now? You gotta know this isn’t going to work. Someone is going to find you AWOL.”

Mickey’s laugh met Neil’s ears. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“AWOL? You think I deserted my country? And he says you’re the smart one. You’re f**king stupid, Mac.”

Neil pulled back and shifted to a tree five yards to the north. “Who’s he?”

“I think it’s much more entertaining for you to figure that out on your own. You won’t live long after. Those last moments will make all your hope fade. Just like mine did.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rick whispered in his ear.

“Don’t know.” But it made him itch like he’d rolled in a hill of army ants.

“Your life still has hope, Mickey.”

“What do you know? Ever watch the light in a woman’s eye die? Ever feel the light in your own fade when she walks away?”

Neil pushed the image of Gwen away. He didn’t need Mickey playing him now. Now he knew that Mickey had planned on using Gwen to get to him. Best not fall into Mickey’s trap now. “There’s other women out there,” Neil said.

“Not when your c**k isn’t good for anything other than taking a piss.” Mickey’s anger was palpable.

Neil cringed. “There’s more to life than sex.” Lord knew he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t perform anymore. But killing his friends wouldn’t be the answer.

“Says the man who’s been f**king the little blonde number.” Mickey laughed again. “How’s Lady Gwen anyway?”

Neil bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He pulled his AK off his back and pushed in closer.

“This has nothing to do with her.”

Mickey laughed, and shifted his position straight toward him. He moved with methodical ease, keeping himself hidden.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

“He’s playing you, Neil. Don’t fall for it.” Rick’s words registered, but they didn’t manage to calm him.

Beyond Mickey, Rick moved closer to the cliff, and closed in.

“Gwen’s safe. You can’t get to her.”

Mickey laughed again. “I don’t have to get to her, Mac. That’s the beauty of this. The man at my back is better than Rick.”