“What do you want?” Alexander hissed, his nostrils flaring.
“You know exactly what I want,” she replied. “And every hour that passes that you don’t bring the rest of the women your wife took from me, I’ll kill one more girl. Who should be next? Your darling wife?” She smiled maliciously. “Or your daughter?” She grabbed Melanie, dragging her in front of the camera, holding a gun to her temple. Her little screams and cries forced an unbearable ache to pierce his heart.
“No!” he shouted. “Don’t you dare hurt her!” His nerves were shot. He was in a vacuum. The only thing that mattered was getting Melanie back home safe and never letting her out of his sight again.
“Tick-tock, Mr. Burnham. Speaking of which, you might want to watch where you step.”
Alexander’s eyes widened as he looked at Martin bound to a simple metal chair, tape across his mouth. He glanced down at his feet and took a step back, noticing a plate beneath the chair. Releasing a breath, he met Martin’s forlorn eyes, then looked back at the laptop.
“Guess you figured it out, huh? That’s a pressure plate, but we’ve wired it to work in reverse. The second the weight shifts where dear old Martin is sitting, and I mean anything that causes him to shift in that chair at all…” A malicious smile crossed her red lips. “Boom.”
The video cut out. Alexander simply stared at the laptop, wishing this were all just a nightmare he was about to wake up from at any minute.
“Boss?” one of the agents said, climbing the stairs and stepping onto the landing. “What do you want us to do?”
“Stay back,” Alexander ordered. “Get out of here and go back to the cars. Call the bomb squad. Get in touch with Agent Moretti of the FBI. He should be at a crime scene right around the corner from here.”
“Sir,” he said, then rushed down the stairs.
Careful about where he stepped, Alexander reached for the tape and ripped it off Martin’s mouth, holding his breath.
“Get out of here,” Martin said firmly, sweat beading on his brow. Alexander met his gaze. “This won’t end well and you know it, Alex.”
“We’ll get someone up here to defuse it. It’ll be okay,” Alexander said, frantic.
“I’m not your priority right now. Olivia and your daughter are. So are all those women.”
“But—”
“Go, Alex. I don’t know how much longer I can sit perfectly still.” A look of peace fell over his face as he cracked a small smile, at complete odds with the stoic man who had been at Alexander’s side since the day he took over the company. “I’m an old man. I’ve lived my life. I don’t have a wife or a daughter to make it home for. You do.”
“But my mom…”
“Will understand.”
Alexander shook his head, swallowing through the lump in his throat. He refused to believe this man was willing to give up so easily.
“Alex, stop being stubborn and get the hell out of here. I didn’t do everything I should have to protect your father from getting killed on a job. I won’t make the same mistake with you. So go. Now. That daughter of yours is counting on you.”
He pulled his lip between his teeth, glancing between the stairs and Martin. He hated not being there for him when he needed him most, like he should have been for Landon.
Like he should be for Melanie right now.
Alexander met his eyes and paused for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say to him. Not a day had gone by over the past several decades that he didn’t speak to Martin at least once. He couldn’t imagine doing his job without him. He wasn’t just his assistant, his right-hand man. He was his mentor, his advisor, the man he looked up to.
He was family.
“Uncle Leroy, I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.
A calmness fell over Martin’s face. “I know, son.”
With a heaviness in his heart, Alexander turned toward the stairs, aware that time was not his friend.
“Alex?”
“Yes?” He faced him, hopeful he had some brilliant idea that would get him out of this.
“Don’t make the same mistake I’ve made, that your father made. Family first. Always.”
Blinking back his tears, he replied, “Always.”
Martin took an unsteady breath. “And tell your mom I love her. I should have told her that every day.” His voice wavered and Alexander knew… He wasn’t expecting to make it out of this.
“I’ll let you tell her yourself,” he choked out, giving him a comforting smile, then ran down the stairs, taking breath after breath to settle the tears that wanted to fall. Dashing out of the warehouse, he continued down the block, past an FBI perimeter that had been set up, and toward his parked SUV.
“What’s going on here?” Moretti bellowed, running up to him. “Your men said there’s someone strapped to a bomb?” He raised his eyebrows.
Alexander opened his mouth to tell him exactly what was going on just as the sound of a blast filled the air. Instinctively, everyone threw their bodies onto the ground and covered their heads. Shrapnel falling onto the pavement echoed in the distance as Alexander looked over his shoulder. He expected to see flames billowing out of the windows. Instead, there was just a little smoke, the result of a small, targeted blast. This bomb wasn’t intended to do mass damage. It was just to send a message.
Alexander sprang to his feet and dashed to his SUV, racing against time.
“Where are you going?” Moretti called after him.
Stopping outside the SUV, Alexander met his confused eyes, holding his gaze. “To get my daughter and wife back,” he replied, trying not to allow Martin’s death to consume him. He had to stay focused on the mission. He couldn’t let the sacrifice he just made be for nothing. He needed Martin’s death to mean something.
Just as Moretti opened his mouth to most likely berate him for interfering with a federal investigation, Alexander asked, “Aren’t you coming?”
Grinning mischievously, Moretti jumped into the passenger seat of Alexander’s SUV.
“Are we good?” Alexander asked, glancing at Moretti. “I mean, with me following up on a lead and not telling you?”
“Yeah. We’re good,” Moretti replied. “I get it. Sometimes you need to take justice into your own hands.” He gave him a knowing look, gripping onto the door handle as Alexander sped off.
Chapter Thirty-Five
December 20
4:15 PM
WITH SHAKY HANDS, OLIVIA brought the baby closer to her chest, trying to keep him from looking at his mother lying in a pool of her own blood. He cried louder. She wanted to cry with him, but she couldn’t. She needed to keep it together, needed to stay strong for this sweet, innocent child in her arms and her own daughter trembling beside her. They didn’t deserve to be exposed to the cruelties of this world at such a young age.