Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,84
first firefight. Bailey must have gone willingly with Tony’s men. Even zonked out by the head injury, a struggle would have awakened Con. She had protected him. At great cost to herself. Maybe the ultimate price.
He clenched his fists against the slap of grief. Hold it together. Bailey’s life depended on his actions in the next few minutes. He sucked in a breath. He had hard choices to make. Fast.
He exchanged walkie-talkies and called Command. Aidan’s voice transmitted into his headset. “I was just about to contact you. Alpha Eight snagged a visual on the crew leader through his scope. We’ve ID’d him. DiMarco, Anthony C. Six foot one, two hundred pounds, age fifty-five. He owns a security company in town. Appears squeaky clean on the surface, no rap sheet. His business trains and supplies guards to banks and armored cars.”
“And acquires inside intel to pull bank jobs. Nice setup.”
“Ten-four. Unsolved crimes in Denver follow the same MO. When Denver got too hot, he moved to the Pacific Northwest. Here’s another news flash. He joined the army about the same time as Pop. They attended basic together, and were both in the twenty-fifth infantry. They were stationed in Hawaii for three months before Pop was injured and mustered out, and Tony went to Vietnam.”
Con’s intuition twitched. Their mother had also been in Hawaii, working as a civilian nurse at the army hospital during the war. Coincidence? Not on your life. “There’s more to this story.”
“A lot more.” Aidan paused. “DiMarco did two tours of duty. Black Ops. He’s a trained killer.”
Con would bet his right arm DiMarco had murdered his father. Now he’d captured Bailey. Hot anger welled in his chest. When Con finished with him, the slimeball’s war years would seem like the freaking Mardi Gras. “So am I.”
“Not like DiMarco, bro. He did things the military doesn’t even want to know about. You’ve seen the crime-scene photos on those unsolved bank jobs and home invasions. He’s a butcher. One who enjoys his work.”
“I’m canceling his butcher’s license. Now.” Con briefed Aidan on the current scenario, and his quickly formed plan.
When Con finished, he didn’t have to see his brother’s face to know Aidan was scowling. “Going kamikaze won’t help anyone.”
“I don’t intend to crash and burn.” Unless I have to.
“You’re breaking every damn protocol, and you know it. Greene will skewer your ass for shish kebab.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Aw, hell.” Aidan’s gusty exhale oozed frustration. “For what it’s worth, I’d do the same.”
Con grinned. “I know.”
“The weather is hell on wheels out here. We’re having trouble getting the equipment situated. If the timing doesn’t click, if you don’t catch the right break…” Aidan’s voice deepened with suppressed emotion. “No. We’ll do it. Come back breathing, bro.”
“That’s the plan.” Con ran his hand over his hair. “Listen, if…well…Just tell Mom…” He shook his head. “Tell her I know I was always her favorite.”
“You wish.” Aidan’s chuckle sounded ragged. “Good fortune be yours.” His brother invoked their grandmother’s Irish blessing in a not-quite-steady voice. Gran had said the blessing over them each time the family had departed the Emerald Isle after a visit. “May troubles ignore you each step of the way.”
Con swallowed the lump in his throat and finished the blessing. “May the saints protect you. And your joys never end.” He set his jaw. “I’m glad you’ve got my back. All of you. Give my regards to Alpha Seven and Doc Holliday.” With the final farewell to Aidan, Liam and Grady, Con signed off. “Over and out.”
His hands now rock-solid steady, Con removed the blue unit from his belt and stowed it in the pack beside the loaded squirt guns. He wouldn’t need to contact the team again. Palming the pistol, he made sure there was a round in the chamber. The clip held twelve more. He released the safety and slid the gun into the pack. Ignoring the pain clamoring for attention in his temples, he tossed a tab of cinnamon gum into his mouth and strode into the mall. A walking weapon.
Locked and loaded.
Keeping to cover, he sprinted toward the multiplex. A frozen, greasy ball churned in his stomach. Fear. Not for himself. For Bailey. His woman. His soul mate. He’d never been afraid before a mission. Sure, a part of him always knew he might not come back. Cops died every day in the line of duty. He didn’t dwell on it. You couldn’t. Not if you were gonna survive.
He made a wide circle