“That’s one of the questions this one’s going to answer,” Liam said darkly.
Liam, Bishop, and Reynoso crowded into the nursery. A battery-operated LED lantern hung from a hook by the door provided light. Their pistols were holstered, their long guns stacked against the crib.
Liam held his Gerber MK II tactical knife low at his side.
At the sight of it, the hostile’s eyes widened in fear. Good. Let him piss his pants a little.
By the stench of ammonia in the room, he already had.
It was nearly 0200 hours. They hadn’t bothered to wake the rest of the town council; this was a job for the security force.
Perez had several teams combing Fall Creek in case of a secondary attack. So far, they’d found nothing.
Molly was staying with Milo at Hannah’s house; fortunately, the kid had slept right through the commotion.
Travis and Hannah had settled the babies in the Brooks’ master bedroom, since the nursery was in use for interrogation.
After nursing Charlotte back to sleep, Hannah busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning Ghost with a bucket of fire-warmed water and tending to his injury.
Evelyn and Travis had wrapped the mangled corpse in a tarp and dragged it to the woods behind the property. No one wanted to waste good firewood on burning a body, but they couldn’t leave it for the feral dogs to tear up, either.
Nothing like discovering a severed hand on your back porch with your morning coffee.
As if anyone still had coffee.
Tomorrow, they’d transfer the corpse to the burial pit at the west edge of town, where they’d used a couple of backhoes to dig a hole to bury their dead a safe distance from nearby water sources.
The second hostile would join his partner shortly. But not before Liam got the information he needed.
Liam turned his attention to their prisoner. Outrage thrummed through him. It took incredible self-control to keep himself from tearing this maggot apart with his bare hands.
Forget Ghost. Liam could rip this man’s throat out himself without an iota of remorse.
How close he’d come to losing Charlotte. To losing Hannah.
Jaw clenched, he crouched before the hostile. Bishop and Reynoso stood behind him, watching with hard expressions.
Liam tapped the flat blade of the Gerber against his open palm, the edge glinting. “There’s only one way this ends. How much suffering you endure is up to you.”
“Go to hell!” The hostile still had fire in him, but he was fading. His skin was ashen, the circles beneath his eyes like smudges of charcoal.
They’d tied his ankles with paracord from Liam’s everyday carry case; his hands bound with a pair of Reynoso’s department-issued handcuffs.
His body sported three new holes. One round had torn through the meat of his upper right shoulder. The second buried itself in his upper thigh, missing his femoral artery. The third shot had lodged above his crotch, in his groin.
Hannah had done a damn fine job.
Evelyn had dressed the hostile’s wounds enough to slow the bleeding. She’d used strips cut from a sheet rather than precious bandages, antiseptic, or antibiotics.
“It is my job to heal. To give life, not to take it.” She’d met Liam with a level gaze. “That being said, in times of crisis, we perform triage and focus on the ones we can save. There’s nothing I can do to save this one. Do you understand?”
Liam had nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her voice lowered. Her eyes sparked with anger—and steel. “You, however, are not bound by that oath.”
Liam estimated the hostile had an hour before it was lights out. He was already dead. He knew it, too.
“Are you going to torture him?” Bishop’s expression was grim, his complexion waxy. He looked physically ill.
Liam glanced up at Bishop. “We know he’s guilty. There’s no question. This is our only opportunity to glean crucial intelligence. You know that.” He raised his voice. “If he tells the truth, I won’t touch him.”
Bishop raked a hand through his afro and gave a resigned sigh. “What I know in my head and what I feel in my heart are two different things. It doesn’t feel right.”
It felt fine to Liam, but he didn’t say so. He gave Bishop an out. “Why don’t you radio Perez and link up with her reaction force? Make sure we’re clear.”
Bishop nodded, relief on his face. He turned on his heel and marched from the room.
Bishop was an honorable man. A better man than Liam. This moment might haunt his nightmares later, but he could live with that. It had to be done to protect the people he loved.
Liam shifted his gaze to Reynoso. “You in or out?”
Reynoso’s bronze skin looked distinctly pale, but he didn’t waver. The man was solid as a rock. “Do what you’ve got to do.”
Liam returned his attention to their prisoner. “Who sent you and why?”
“I’m not telling you anything—”
Liam leaned forward and poked the tip of the knife into the man’s wounded shoulder.
The prisoner howled.
Liam continued with his work. Within a few minutes, the hostile was writhing in agony.
Liam eased back. “Let’s start a little easier, shall we? What’s your name?”
“Jenkins,” the man said.
“That’s better. Who are you?”
“Security contractor.”
Liam nodded. The hostile’s Sig Sauer M17 and M4 carbine were army-issued. He carried himself like former military.
“How did you sneak past the perimeter?”
Jenkins’ mouth pressed into a thin line.
“How did you get in?”
“Go screw yourself.”
Liam went to work again. The prisoner squealed in anguish. Liam worked harder.
“On foot!” Jenkins said. “By bike on Boone Trail. Then we…we hiked in through the woods to avoid the blockades and patrols.”
It made sense. Fall Creek’s security teams had enough warm bodies to watch the roads, which were the most likely entry points. Liam had stationed a few observation posts in the woods, but not enough.
For anyone truly determined, especially on foot—there were a hundred points of entry to breach the perimeter.
“Who sent you?”