“On the floor,” Rafe ordered. “Both of you. Face down.” Crossing quickly he disarmed both men then used the handcuffs they were carrying to lock them in place, back-to-back. “You have the choice to keep quiet on your own or be knocked out.” He displayed the grip of one of the guns he’d taken off them. “Which will it be?”

  “I’m not sayin’ a word,” Curly immediately offered.

  His companion agreed with a grimace and a nod. “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Okay. I’ll come back and see that neither of you ever talks again if you break your promise. Got that?”

  “I said so, didn’t I? The boss is liable to do it for you if he thinks we let his merchandise get away.”

  “That’s your problem,” Rafe said. “I’ll send somebody back for you once everything is under control.” He took a moment to look through the hole in the wall, saw nothing but a white-painted board blocking the other side, and tried to push it open. Since it didn’t budge he figured it was locked and left it as he’d found it.

  “Who are you, anyway?” one of the men asked.

  “Your worst enemy,” Rafe told him.

  “Naw,” Buzz Cut argued. “Our worst enemy is Deuce Fleming.”

  Enjoying his unexpected success Rafe cracked a smile. “Funny you should say that. He’s mine, too.”

  Leaving them prostrate on the bare floor, Rafe gathered up their guns and started away.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry, boys. I’ll lock you in and keep the key so you’ll be safe enough until this is all over.”

  And just like that there were two less adversaries to worry about when the siege began, he mused, locking the room and pocketing the heavy brass key.

  Stepping into a small alcove for privacy he opened his cell phone to check the schematics of the hotel that they’d been given. A kitchen and prep area lay on the other side of the opening he’d seen. Clearly, Hannah had found a way out and taken the other captives with her. For once he wished she hadn’t been clever enough to secure the second little door after passing through.

  Then again, nothing indicated that she’d stayed where she’d landed. She was too smart for that. No, she’d have led the victims to someplace she felt was safe, meaning it was highly unlikely they were still gathered in the kitchen.

  Nevertheless, he circled to one of the rear accesses and checked. Dust coated every surface except one section of stainless steel counter. That area showed overlapping foot and hand prints with places where bodies had landed and slid off. Rafe was elated. Hannah had done it. She’d freed the others just as he’d hoped and led them away. Good for her.

  He was turning to leave to search for them when he decided to pause long enough to disturb the dust in other places and use a dry mop to obliterate any footprints on the dusty floor. If he could tell which way the group had gone, then so could Fleming’s cohorts.

  By the time Rafe was finished, he’d left false trails to both outside exits and had swept the interior hallway. Then he backed away, dragging the dry mop behind him so whoever discovered his tracks wouldn’t be able to tell if he was coming or going.

  Satisfied, he stuffed the mop into the janitor’s closet with the spilled gasoline and went looking for the victims. Pride in Hannah made him smile in spite of the tenuous situation. Intel had shown that the kidnapped women had been held at the hotel for days, yet it took Hannah Lassiter to find a way for them to escape. What an amazing person she was. When all this was over he was going to make sure she was recognized for her heroism.

  Fond thoughts carried him further and he imagined being the one chosen to pin a medal on her or hand her a certificate for exceptional valor. His heart swelled with pride and affection. Awareness grew. If she had merely been lovely, as she certainly was, she would have been appealing. Knowing how brave and clever she was had taken his admiration to another level. He’d met and even dated pretty women in the past, yet none of them had impressed him this much. None had made his head spin and his heart race the way thinking of Hannah did.

  Rafe paused, listening to his earpiece and wondering why everything seemed quiet. The next words he heard were so softly spoken he had to strain to make them out.

  “Gram? Gram, can you make it?”

  Whatever the answer was, the tiny radio pinned on Thor didn’t pick it up. Thankfully, he could hear Hannah say, “Come on. We’ll help you.” Then a pause and, “Hurry.”

  Where were they? Had they left the building? Were they still inside, and if so, where?

  The schematics on his cell phone showed the main staircase where he’d last seen Deuce. Looking carefully at details of the kitchen area he noted a narrow, closed-off stairway meant for staff use. If he was Hannah, that’s how he’d have left the kitchen. The problem was, once she and the others reached the upper floors they were likely to run into Fleming and the men in his closest circle.

  Rafe reentered the kitchen and easily located the simple stairs behind a door. He wasn’t picking up sounds of movement ahead, but the disturbed dust on the worn, wooden steps was a strong clue. Not only were there shoe prints, the paws of a large canine had left clear marks along one edge. They were up there. And, if they weren’t careful, they’d stumble onto their captors.

  Moving as silently as possible, Rafe was about to start his climb when he thought he heard something in the distance. Sirens. He pulled out his cell phone and tried to call his superintendent. No service.

  At his wit’s end, Rafe took the stairs two at a time, paused at the door at the top to draw his gun, then eased it open and peered out.

  There was no sign of Hannah, but armed men were running past. In the background, Fleming was shouting orders that sounded as though he was dispersing troops to defend a fort.

  Anxious to find Hannah and the other prisoners, Rafe held himself back until the hallways emptied. Then he slowly counted to ten and eased the door open for a better look. All was quiet. He couldn’t have cleared the second floor more efficiently if he’d tried.

  “Speaking of answered prayer...” He cast his eyes upward. “Thank You, Father. Now where are the women?”

  Lacking a clear answer he turned right, away from the stairs, and made his way to the corner at the far end of the hallway. More closed rooms lay ahead. What he wanted to do was bang on each door in turn until Hannah showed herself. He would have if caution hadn’t been called for. Suppose all of Fleming’s men had not descended to the lobby. It would only take one sounding an alarm to spoil any chances Rafe had of getting to the prisoners and guiding them to safety.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello?”

  “Situation report,” his supervisor said without wasting time on polite conversation.

  “The hostages have escaped and are at large in the hotel,” Rafe reported. “Fleming may not know they’re gone yet. Right now he’s acting more worried about how many of our units are closing in. I know he’s posted snipers on the roof and probably other places, too. Tell our people to assume everyone is armed and dangerous.”

  “Copy that. Where are you?”

  “At the moment, on the second floor. If I don’t locate the victims here, I’ll go on up to three.”

  “Advise when you have them and we’ll give you cover as best we can.”

  “I think we should hold off trying to move anybody until you have the gang disarmed. We’ll have casualties if we don’t.”

  “Copy.”

  Rafe heard him broadcasting to the cars making their approach. Sirens wailed louder, closer. He opened one of the first rooms he came to and hurried to the window. The glass was barely clean enough to see through but flashing red and blue lights helped him tell what was transpiring in the twilight below.

  Someone fired the first shot. A volley of gunfire ensued. Rafe ducked just in case a stray bullet came his way. Men on the floor below were shouting and cursing. Deuce Fleming’s voice rose over the din. “Go get the women. We’ll use them as human shields.”

  Rafe held his breath. As soon as they discovered their prisoners had escaped they’d begin a frantic search. There would be no place to hide. Not with a dozen armed thugs searching for them.

  He fisted his phone again. “They’re about to find out the victims aren’t locked up where they left them. I’ll make a stand at the top of the main staircase but I don’t know how long I can hold them off.”

  “Do your best,” his superintendent said. “We’ll make entry ASAP, but I can’t guarantee how soon that will be.”

  There was nothing more to say. Rafe took up a defensive position at the corner facing the top of the stairs, laid out the extra guns he’d taken from the men he’d overpowered in the ballroom and waited, knowing he might be living his last moments on earth.

  The urge to pray was strong but he had no words, no sensible pleas, not even a remembered verse from his childhood.

  That doesn’t matter, he thought soberly. It didn’t take flowery words or complicated prayers to reach out to God. A simple, heartfelt “Jesus,” was more than enough. So that’s exactly what he whispered. Over and over.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Hannah had shepherded her group as far as they could go without actually stepping out onto the roof. She knew there had been snipers up there before and likely still were so she chose a room at the farthest point away from that access. The plan wasn’t foolproof. Nothing could be under such desperate circumstances. But anything was better than staying locked in that ballroom and waiting for their captors to come for them.

  It had occurred to her more than once that she could have remained outside when they’d arrived at the hotel. Maybe it was foolish to have offered herself as another victim, but she still couldn’t see any other feasible way to contact these poor girls and let them know help was on the way. Plus, she and Thor had managed to free them from that room where they’d been held, providing an added buffer against the explosive temper of Deuce Fleming. If he acted impulsively as he had before and decided to shoot them or use them to facilitate his own escape, he’d have to find them first. And that would take time, time he might not have once the police assault on his hideout began in earnest.

  The hotel room smelled musty and was even dirtier than the common areas. Several of the women chose to sit on the edge of the bare mattress, but many preferred to stand. Lucy stood at one of the windows peering out through slits in the vertical blinds.

  “What do you see?” Hannah asked.

  “A full-on assault,” her grandmother answered. “The command van we saw before just pulled behind the carriage house where I parked. Police cars are driving around this building. I can’t see them all but it reminds me of a siege. It looks like Fleming is trapped.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll feel better once they’ve made entry and taken the gang into custody.”

  “It shouldn’t take long. Deuce is going to be furious when he opens the ballroom and discovers we’ve escaped. I have high hopes that that will unhinge him enough to give the police an added advantage.”

  “Works for me.” Sighing, she leaned her shoulder against the edge of the window. “Chances are good that most of their potential escape routes are covered. I suppose he could bring in a second chopper, but that takes time.”

  “Very true.” Hannah patted Kristy on the shoulder. “As far as you know, are all the latest victims here with us?”

  “Yes.” The teen smiled slightly. “I can’t believe anybody found us. I thought for sure we were goners.”

  “I know what you mean,” Hannah said. “The more I learn about how so many people came together for your rescue, the more impossible it all seems.”

  “I just wish I could tell my dad,” the teen said.

  Hannah gestured at Thor. “I’m pretty sure Andy knows by now.” A smile blossomed in spite of the still tenuous situation. “My dog is wired.”

  Hearing that, many of the victims gave a subdued cheer and gathered closer to pet the brave K-9. Hannah warned them off. “Easy. Thor isn’t as socialized as most dogs. I haven’t had him long enough to be sure he won’t get scared and bite.”

  “This big teddy bear?” Kristy asked, embracing the shepherd with her arms around his shoulders. In response, Thor gave her chin a slurp.

  “Maybe I’ve been underestimating him,” Hannah said, amused. “He was picked up as a stray so I can’t tell what hang-ups he may have. I do know he’s very protective.”

  “And smart,” Lucy added. “We’d never have thought to look behind that heavy cabinet if he hadn’t alerted us.”

  “True.” Gazing at the dog with affection, Hannah saw him tilt his head to one side, then rise slowly and take a step toward the closed door to the hallway. “Uh-oh.”

  “Maybe the cops are already inside and coming for us,” Lucy said.

  “And maybe not.” She pressed her index finger to her lips. “Everybody hush.”

  In a heartbeat, the only disturbance inside the room was the sound of humans breathing and Thor panting. He put his nose to the carpet and returned to the exit.

  Hannah followed. Pressed her ear against the door. Listened. Didn’t hear a thing and peered through the tiny peephole.

  There was nobody out there. Not a soul. Yet the dog had reacted to something, hadn’t he? Her fingers closed around the knob. Did she dare open the door to take a better look?

  Before she could decide, Lucy called to her. “Something’s up. Something has changed. Look.”

  Hannah left Thor sniffing at the base of the closed door and returned to the window. Gram was right. Not only had the string of police cars stopped moving, five of them had gathered directly in front of the hotel with their headlights pointing toward the entrance. Uniformed officers were climbing out and donning riot gear as if they expected to encounter violent resistance. Sadly, they were probably right.

  * * *

  Peeking from his vantage point at the top of the ornate staircase, Rafe could see a lot of what was happening below. He didn’t get to watch when Deuce unlocked the ballroom and discovered that the young women were missing but his verbal response was loud enough to echo through the whole hotel.

  “Where are they?!”

  Rafe heard a scuffle, more shouts and curses, then two shots in rapid succession. He hadn’t intended for the men he’d captured to be killed, but that couldn’t be helped at this point. He’d given them a chance when he’d left them both alive and able-bodied. Momentary guilt assailed him until he reminded himself that he’d acted for the good of innocent victims.

  “You and you,” Deuce yelled, “go outside and look for them.”

  “But Boss...”

  Rafe expected more shots when whoever Fleming was trying to send hesitated. Because that didn’t happen he figured the thugs had obeyed despite their protest.

  Bracing himself for others to start up the stairs soon, he leaned a shoulder against a sturdy newel post and aimed low. He didn’t have long to wait. Fleming wasn’t leading the assault, as Rafe had hoped, but he got off a couple of accurate shots that found their targets and stopped the rest in their tracks.

  If there had not been so many armed men milling around the wounded ones on the first floor, Rafe might have gotten off a shot at Fleming, himself.

  Someone yelled, “Kill the lights,” and in seconds the only illumination of the lobby came from the setting sun and headlights of the patrol cars.

  “Smart,” Rafe murmured, not at all happy about losing clarity. He could have shot into the shadowy group and would likely have killed or wounded some, but that wasn’t the right thing to do. If he intended to fire fatal shots they needed to be aimed and purposeful. Fleming’s men might be random killers but they couldn’t all be as bad as their leader. Capturing the bulk of them for intense interrogation was the goal of the strike team. It wasn’t enough to merely end this facet of the operation here and now. They needed to take down the worldwide network, or at least as much of it as possible.

  Shadows moved. Shifted. Rafe peered down. Several armed men had formed a line along the curve of the staircase and were climbing in a crouch.

  “Stop. Police,” Rafe shouted. “Hands up.”

  Nobody obeyed. He hadn’t expected them to. They did, however, back off and regroup in the lobby. That would do. Anything that delayed the gang’s escape gave the multiagency strike team more time to get into position for a coordinated assault. That was enough. He wasn’t hoping for more.

  Excitement had caused him to breathe rapidly. Suddenly, his throat itched, then burned. He coughed. His pulse leaped and stayed accelerated far beyond normal, even for a tense situation like this standoff.

  Rafe gasped. Was it...? Would he really...? The obvious answer was, Yes. Fleming or one of his men had lit the hotel on fire, probably by igniting the spilled gasoline in that janitor’s storage room.

  “There was no other way to disable those gas bombs,” Rafe told himself. There were too many of them to have carried them outside to empty and, given more time, the liquid would have evaporated rendering it useless. When he’d closed the door to keep his countermeasure a secret he’d inadvertently delayed the dispersal of the volatile vapors. Now, anyone inside the hotel was poised to become a victim.

  No one stayed at the base of the stairway after the first cry of “Fire” echoed. Climbing away from easy exits would be foolish and these criminals were, for the most part, clever. Fleming was the worst, of course, but he was also teetering on the edge of losing self-control so there was no telling what he might do next.

  Only one goal remained for Rafe. He had to find Hannah and the others and rescue them. Without getting himself killed, he added. Acrid smoke stung his eyes, made them water. Every breath, however shallow, made him cough. Fire on the ground floor was sending smoke and sparks up the open stairway as if it were a chimney. With no way to close it off, Rafe was helpless to stop or divert it.