"Please, lay down your weapon and surrender peacefully. There's no need for this kind of uprising amongst friends."
Tension filled the room. Lucy prayed to any god who would listen that none of her team tried to play hero and take out a guard or the Seeker.
Then, the last person in the world Lucy expected to take up the hero role walked up behind the Seeker. Mary grabbed a chair....
...and swung it at his head.
The Seeker didn't turn to face his attacker, or even move at all, but Mary screamed.
She dropped the chair and clutched at her head as if someone were frying her brain. She collapsed to the floor in a heap, and stayed there, motionless.
Neil screamed and ran out of the building.
Without a command, the guards fired on them.
Lucy ran to the window with the intention of breaking it and jumping out. Have to get to Luke. Have to regroup.
Luke's voice called out in her earpiece. "Lucy! What's happening?"
She opened her mouth to answer him, but something bit her shoulder. She reached her hand around to swat at it and discovered blood. A lot of it. All hers.
The room collapsed in on her, and then darkness took her.
Chapter 47 – Sam
The dingy motel room had two double beds with cheap, ugly comforters on them, two dressers, a television, and a desk with internet hookup. As uncomfortable as it looked, the promise of sleep enticed me. My baby kicked against my ribs and pressed down on my bladder.
"This is your stop, Dude," Drake told Brad.
We were about an hour from the Rent-A-Kid site. Drake and I would leave in the morning to take down the Seeker and help my friends escape. Brad would work with Father Patrick and anyone else he could find, to help us once we got the kids out.
Brad nodded and pulled out his computer. "What if you don't make it? Then what?"
"There's no Plan B. If we fail, get the hell out of here and stay off the radar, got it?"
Despite the non-smoking request, the room smelled of stale cigarettes, booze and sex. Maybe a shower with a lot of fruity shampoo would get the stench out of my nostrils.
Hot water had a soothing effect on my body, but did nothing to wash the gore and blood from my mind. Drake had killed a man. He'd done it right in front of me. How could I ever look at him the same again?
By the time I had finished my shower, my body had nothing left to give. I collapsed on the bed next to Drake.
"Feeling any better?"
"I feel cleaner, which is a step up from being covered in blood."
His face fell. The pain in his eyes compelled me to reach for his hand, but my heart kept a distance I didn't know how to bridge.
"Hey, guys, you're not going to believe this." Brad held up his laptop and flinched in pain from the movement. He had showered after me, and now all of his bruises were at least clean. "Someone donated $500,000 through my website to help us rescue the kids. And I've got emails from large scale media outlets who want in on the story."
He smiled like a kid at Christmas. "There are thousands of responses. This is amazing."
Drake sat up. "Maybe we should wait to attack. We could muster up some backup, go in with guns blazing?"
My forehead wrinkled in worry. "Maybe. I don't know. We should check in with Luke and Lucy before we cancel our plans." Postponing our assault would give me and my baby time to recover. It would be safer, smarter, and likely more successful.
But a shadow of doubt nagged at me.
Drake massaged the tension out of my shoulders. I tried not to pull away at his touch. His bloodied knuckles had already started healing, but the memory of fists pounding into bone and flesh would haunt my dreams for a long time to come.
"Why don't we connect with them in the morning before we leave? It's late, and you're exhausted. Expending that kind of energy right now is probably not the best idea."
He had a point. "Okay. Set the alarm. First thing tomorrow we move forward with our plan."
Brad shut down his computer and unpacked his clothes for sleep. "What plan would that be? Do we have a real plan?"
"Sure we do," I said. "We go to the Rent-A-Kid center, and... improvise based on what we discover when we get there. What could go wrong?"
My attempt at humor was met with frowns from both men.
"I'm going to bed now. See you guys in the morning."
Drake tucked the covers around me and kissed my cheek. "I've got to make a call to Father Patrick and let him know what's going on. I'll be back in a minute."
He took his cell phone and left the room.
My body screamed at me to sleep, but too much had happened. I needed to know what Drake would say to his confessor, and his mind was so familiar I could easily slip in without him knowing.
I pushed aside the guilt with memories of the hamburger meat Drake had made of the man who attacked us. I had to know if I could trust him.
The conversation played out in my head as clearly as if I too were a part of the call.
'Father, forgive me for I have sinned.' Drake's voice sounded broken, lost.