Page 41 of Breached

“This isn’t up for negotiation, Nicole. Move your ass,” he barked, and I almost jumped, but absolute terror of the bomb had me frozen to the seat. I slowly shook my head. He looked away, then turned back and pulled the trigger. The window next to me shattered, and I screamed. I quickly reached for the handle and awkwardly slid out of the vehicle on rubber legs.

“Hey,” he called, “remember, just walk, because if you think of running,” he held up a phone, “this thing has a five-mile range.” He waved his gun again. “Now, get going.”

Somehow, I began to move my legs and started in the direction he pointed. Bruno’s compound was ahead of me, and it was either the bomb or a fate worse than death. I could see no way out.

“Nicole!” I turned to see Frank standing next to the Jeep holding a shotgun. “I’m used to having my orders followed, so do as you’re told and get moving.”

I shook my head and lifted my sweater, exposing the vest. “Please enlighten me on what kind of a general sends a civilian to their death wearing explosives.”

“One who has to win.” He flicked his hand for me to get moving.

The materials strapped to my torso restricted my breathing, but in some sick way, it carried a sense of comfort. It felt like Chase was in his sling again with his little legs against my sides, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair, and his head was tucked under my chin. I imagined he’d reach or cry for me, and a part of my soul echoed him. I knew what it was like to long for someone to hold me—to make me feel safe. I squeezed my eyes shut as my words screamed inside my head. Chase is Paul’s son! I stopped that thought. I couldn’t do that now. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I refused to leave this world with a sense of defeat. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin and continued to take steps toward my death the way a storm rolled in—slow and inevitable.

I hadn’t gone very far when I heard an engine roar behind me. I turned to see a truck racing through the weeds along the side of the road. I looked back at Frank and saw him get into position. He had a shotgun propped up on the hood of the vehicle.

The door flew open, and Paul jumped out with his weapon drawn. “Nicole!” As if in slow motion, I saw Frank cock his gun.

“Stop!” I shouted and held my hands up. “Please, Paul!”

He dug his heels into the ground and froze as he tried to understand. I saw Mark behind the wheel.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I heard a shot, and⁠—”

I wildly shook my head. I was nowhere near okay.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Frank.” I swallowed a sob and then slowly reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it up to show him the vest.

“What the…” His hand went to his mouth, but he quickly recovered and jumped into military mode. He looked at Mark, who nodded in disbelief as he shut off the vehicle and stepped out. I saw him look over at Frank. Then Paul began to walk toward me.

“Stop! He’ll set it off,” I screamed. “Just go.”

“Paul!” Frank shouted from where he stood with his shotgun. “Stand down.”

Paul ignored him as he continued to walk and didn’t stop until he was right in front of me. He put his arms around me, and I held myself rigid, waiting for the blast. Mark didn’t hesitate and moved to the other side of me.

“Think about what you’re doing, Frank,” Paul shouted at him.

Mark had his phone in his hand and hit record. He held it high toward Frank.

“I’m recording this, Frank, so Mia and the family will know how you treat our own. Are you going to kill all of us?” Mark pointed the camera at me and ran it down my front to get a video of the vest then panned it back to Frank.

“Step away from her!” Frank yelled. Then he moved around the protection of the Jeep’s door, keeping the detonator in one hand. “Enough, Mark! Stand down. That’s an order!”

“Go,” I hissed, pleading with them. “Please don’t do this, guys. He’s unhinged. You have families and people who love you.”

“So do you,” Mark muttered, still recording.

No, I don’t, it’s why I chose a career as a war correspondent.

I looked over my shoulder toward the compound and contemplated making a run for it. I wondered how far I could get so the guys wouldn’t get hurt. Paul must have predicted that and tightened his grip on me.

“And I thought York was the traitor!” Mark tried again, and I remembered Savi once shared that there was a guy named York who lived at the house and had been on the team when she first arrived. He’d tried to give up her location to the Cartel.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way!” Frank took a few steps toward us. “This has to be done.”

“No, Frank.” Paul kept me tight to his side, tucked under his arm. Mark wrapped his free arm around us.