Chapter 7

5:00 p.m.

Aidan O’Rourke shivered in the stormy winter night as he strode across River View Mall’s south parking lot. Freezing rain pelted the top of his head, the backs of his hands. The murky rows of mall windows, backlit by emergency lamps, were barely visible in the icy gloom. He dismissed the storm, just as he dismissed the threatening emotional whirlwind inside.

He assigned uniformed patrol officers to positions on the outer perimeter by the headlights of a patrol car. Until Captain Greene arrived, Aidan was high-ranking officer. Team leader and incident commander by default. He was too busy to think about anything other than the job. Too busy to worry. Too busy to feel. That’s what he kept telling himself.

Maybe, eventually, he’d believe it.

His exhaled breath fogged to white mist in the cold air as he studied the assembled Kevlar-suited SWAT team. The members of Alpha Squad…excluding himself and his younger brother Con. Con was trapped inside the mall with a crew of bank robbers. Unarmed and defenseless.

Aidan snorted. Unarmed, yes, but about as defenseless as a blowtorch in a dynamite factory. If there was any man in the world who could triumph over nasty odds, it was Conall Patrick O’Rourke. Aidan would bet his own life on it.

Con’s life was resting on it. As well as Bailey’s. And an undetermined number of hostages. Every man standing in front of him cared for and respected his brother. But Aidan loved him. With bone-deep, fierce, abiding loyalty. He and Con had forged a nearly inseparable bond since birth. A heart connection shared between all four O’Rourke boys that grew stronger by the day. No criminals were going to steal that from them. No matter the price, he would get his brother out alive.

Dozens of patrol cars poured into the parking lot. The massive war wagon rumbled across the asphalt, loaded with tactical weapons, specialized siege-and-breeching equipment and SWAT officers from other teams.

Aidan waited until the armored vehicle discharged its passengers before he continued giving orders. “Liam.” He pointed at O’Rourke brother number three. “Work Murphy around the inner perimeter sniffing for explosives. Scout building access and report back with all available intel.”

Liam and his ears-up German Shepherd hurried away. Baby brother Grady, part-time SWAT officer and part-time paramedic, was also present. Packing his MP5 submachine gun and his stethoscope, Grady was equally proficient with both. New Year’s Eve at the mall had become a family affair.

Aidan turned back to his ready warriors. “We’ll establish the command post…” He glanced across the street. The command post needed to be close in order to direct the action, but not close enough to endanger the occupants. A pink neon signed glowed above the door of one store, a small, cheerful beacon in the icy blackness. “At the Krispy Krunch doughnut shop.”

A wry grin slanted his lips. Con would appreciate the irony. Never one to take himself too seriously, his brother loved cop humor.

Aidan pressed the vibration mic of his headset more firmly over his vocal chords and spoke. “Command to Alpha Five. Ten-twelve, prelim status check. Over.”

“Alpha Five. Intel imminent.” Hunter Garrett, the team’s regular scout and sniper responded. Even after years living on the West Coast, a hint of North Carolina woods drawled in his slow, exact baritone. The tawny-haired man’s trigger finger was as even as his cadence, his cool, gunfighter’s eyes as precise. “Moving to high ground. Visual confirmation, ASAP. Over.”

“Ten-four. Command standing by. Over and out.” Aidan adjusted his earpiece and quelled his impatience. During an incident, not even the most minor detail could be rushed. Waiting the bad guys out was the one factor civilians, and sometimes even top brass, didn’t comprehend. The public and upper echelons often demanded immediate results. But a hasty, aggressive assault only made people dead. Both hostages and cops.

“Cain, reporting in.” The negotiator stepped forward, and gratitude trickled through chinks in Aidan’s internal shield. Wyatt Cain was a shrewd negotiator, with uncanny instincts and a cool head under fire.

“Wyatt, the suspects have popped the phone lines. Attempt to establish communication. Try to determine hostage count and condition, and obtain a list of demands. Get them talking. Keep them talking.” As long as they were talking, they weren’t killing.

“Ten-four.” Wyatt strode off.

“Excuse me.” An authoritative female voice demanded his attention.

He spun around and came face-to-face with a woman. She appeared to be a few years younger than his mother, tall, regal, with blue eyes as icy as the freezing rain pummeling his head. “I assume you are the person in charge?”

Great, just what he needed. A curious bystander or, worse, an irate neighbor complaining about all the noise. “Yes. You need to vacate the premises immediately, ma’am.”

The brunette clutched her fur coat more tightly to her chest, and fear slashed her arrogant mask. “I’m Dr. Ellen Chambers. My daughter Bailey works in the mall. I’ve been trying to reach her for hours.” She paused to clear the tremor from her voice. “You just mentioned hostages. What’s happened?”

She had his immediate attention and sincere empathy. They both had loved ones in the hot zone. “Dr. Chambers, I’m Officer Aidan O’Rourke. Let’s move across the street to the command center. You look like you could use some hot coffee, and the family liaison officer will update you on what we know so far.”

“O’Rourke?” Her voice frosted over, colder than her eyes, as she studied him. “The resemblance is unmistakable. You’re related to Conall.”

“Yes, ma’am. My brother Con is dating your daughter. He’s also inside the mall.”

“I might have known.” Dislike hardened her sharp features. “Trouble sparks in that boy’s wake. Along with a lot of dangerous pheromones. If I were a betting woman, I’d wager my Russian fox coat Conall O’Rourke got my daughter into this mess.”

“Command, this is Alpha Five.” Hunter’s transmission broke over Aidan’s headset. “Snipers in position. Ready with that ten-twelve. Over.”

About damn time. Aidan held up a hand that wasn’t as steady as he would have liked to Dr. Chambers. “Command. Go ahead, Alpha Five. Over.”

“I have a confirmed visual. Alpha One is signaling for all he’s worth.” Aidan heard the grin of pride in Hunter’s voice. “He might be flying solo, but he’s already taken out two suspects. Over.”

“Ten-four. Continue surveillance.” Sweet relief streamed through Aidan. He closed his eyes and breathed a brief, silent prayer of thanks. Then he confronted Dr. Chambers’s antagonistic gaze. “No, ma’am. Con did not get Bailey into this mess. But he will get her out.”

Inside the mall, crouched behind the One Hour Photo booth, Bailey watched Con’s capable hands begin to execute a graceful, complicated ballet. “What are you doing?”

“The red dots…the laser sights fixed on us? They’re coming from the parking lot. Alpha Team’s snipers can see us as well through their night vision scopes as if we were standing right in front of them. I’m telling them what’s going on.”

“How do you know it’s them, and what they’re doing?”

“For one thing, if bad guys were behind those rifles, we’d already be dead. As far as knowing what SWAT is up to, we’ve set up incident sites together so many times, we could all do it in our sleep.” In response to Con’s hand motion, the red dot on her chest bobbed back and forth, and he grinned. “Wave to Hunter, sweetheart.”

Hunter Garrett. The wide-shouldered, soft-spoken cop with a golden mane of hair and the menacing grace of a stalking lion. His sharp, blue-gray eyes didn’t miss a trick, and his southern-bred manners were impeccable. He had a face as beautiful as an angel and the unerring trigger finger of the devil. If Hunter had his rifle trained on her, she had nothing to worry about. She sent him a wave, along with a wan smile.

“The boys in black are on site and ready to kick bank-robber butt.”

Wild hope cut through the dulling edge of pain and terror. “Will they break down the door, storm in and rescue us now?”

He laughed. “Only on TV. When engaged in a standoff, usually the longer the scenario drags on, the better.” He shook his head. “No, we’re in for a wait.”

“What about Syrone and the hostages? Syrone needs a hospital, and this kind of stress can’t be good for Nan or the baby.”

“We need time for the suspects to relax and climb off the razor edge of reactive behavior. Time for SWAT to plan and rehearse a dynamic entry if needed.” Con rubbed his hand over his hair. “Time buys lives, darlin’.”

Her emotions seesawed from high to low for the millionth time. “Feels like we’ve been trapped in here forever.”

He moved as if to take her in his arms. His expression unreadable, he checked himself. “I know it’s been tough, and you’re feeling rocky. But the cavalry is here. We’ll get you out to them, and then you can stand down.”

Shame washed over her. She’d reacted badly to the fight, and Con was suffering the effects. Yet, as always, his thoughts were focused on her safety. If only they had time to work things out. “Con, listen…I—”

“No time to talk.” He pivoted away from the doors. “Let’s go.”

Frustration and unhappiness churned inside her. No time for anything but endless flight, unceasing fear. Another crouching sprint up a gloomy corridor. Though the sinking pit in her stomach already told her the answer, she had to ask. “Are you coming out with me?”

“SWAT needs eyes and ears inside. I’m elected.”

She couldn’t leave with everything unresolved between them. What if the worst happened and she never saw Con again? She didn’t want his last thoughts of her to hurt. She drew a shaky breath. “Too bad you can’t decline the nomination.”

“Other than the fact we won’t be together, I don’t want to. This is what I do.”

Yes, it was. She’d learned in the last few hours exactly how capable he was at his job. And how hard and gritty the work. Bailey stomped down her roiling emotions. She could not, would not, think about how awful it would be walking out that door without him. She refused to be further hindrance. She’d have to snatch a few seconds to tell him her feelings before they separated. Once outside, she could indulge in a nice, quiet, private nervous breakdown. For now, hold it together. “What’s the plan?”

“A couple of armed team members will be waiting for you outside the access door. The negotiator will create a distraction, and you’ll be free before you know it. Run to them. Don’t hesitate, don’t stop and don’t look back.”

Another sprint up the mall, another fifty-yard dash toward freedom. Panting, she leaned against the shoe store. Running with the heavy vest on was exhausting her rapidly dwindling resources. The going was also slower and tougher now that the floor was wet. Behind her, Con was barely breathing hard.

She shivered and rubbed her arms through the thin silk blouse. The chill was growing more bone-rattling by the moment. She hoped the robbers spared a thought to Letty’s age and were keeping her warm. Of course, if Con was right and they didn’t plan to let her go, they wouldn’t care. Bailey squelched the horrible thought. Concentrate on here and now.

“No talking from here on. We’ll have to use hand signals.”

In order to reach the hidden access panel, they again had to cross the wide open space by the back doors. Logically, one would think that after hours of constant terror, a person would get used to it. Maybe grow numb.

She could testify that wasn’t the case.

Bailey in front, Con behind, they crawled on hands and knees under the bank windows. Rustling sounds, rapid footsteps and the sharp tang of cigarette smoke drifted out the open doorway.

“Filthy habit, smoking,” Letty’s calm soprano reprimanded. “It’ll kill you one of these days, young man.”

Bailey wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. Her friend was alive, and still very much in possession of her indomitable spirit.

“Pipe down, Grandma.” The graveled Bronx accent belonged to the man she’d encountered in the parking lot. “I got enough problems, I don’t need any more grief from you.”

“I need to use the restroom.” Nan’s soft request was also calm.

“We’re kinda busy at the moment, lady,” Bronx snarled.

“I really can’t wait very long.”

“I can escort her,” Mike supplied, sounding a lot shakier than the women.

“Oh, right. Like that’s going to happen in this century.”

“Hey, Tony, you were right about the C-4.” A second man’s voice, steeply pitched with excitement broke in. “Popped that vault slicker than snot on a banister. As soon as we get the dough loaded, we can finish it and get the hell out of here.”

C-4? That must have been the explosion and first crash they’d heard. The robbers had grown desperate and blown the vault open. Finish it? Did that mean what she suspected? Bailey shivered again.

“Attention, in the bank!” Wyatt Cain, the hostage negotiator, shouted from outside. He must be using a megaphone because his mellow baritone echoed through the deserted mall, loud and clear. “This is Riverside PD. The SWAT team has the mall surrounded. There is no way out.”

A chorus of vile epithets spat from the men inside the bank.

“Dammit! Doesn’t it just figure?” the man identified as Tony swore. “My last, biggest and most brilliant job. My farewell bash, and there have to be mouse turds in the punch bowl.”

“Put down your weapons and surrender,” Wyatt continued. “Nobody will get hurt, and we’ll all go home.”

That was the signal. While the robbers were distracted by the announcement, Bailey and Con crawled around the corner of the bank.

“Surrender this, pig,” a different man’s voice challenged, and rough male laughter sounded.

Con and Bailey ran past the fountain to Santa’s sleigh, which had tipped on its side. Water droplets beaded the intricate metal runners. Fallen reindeer lay drunkenly in the soggy cotton batting that was supposed to resemble snow. She peeked around the reindeer toward the access panel.

Oh no!

Stunned, she turned to Con, widening her eyes into a what now? look.

He peered around her. She watched disbelief, frustration and anger chase over his face as he saw the North Pole workshop had tumbled to the floor. The sides and roof of the twenty-foot cottage had split and collapsed. Giant shattered toys and dismembered elves littered the floor like war casualties. Candy Cane Lane leading to the cottage had fallen like dominoes, and ten-foot candy canes lay stacked across the end of the mall. A snarled fortress of cracked support platforms, torn, tangled strings of lights and wet, broken plaster. Sealing off the panel. Blocking their escape.

The display must have become unstable when soaked by the sprinklers, and then the concussion from the vault explosion had knocked everything down. That explained the smaller, secondary crashes. There was no way around the piled debris, no path through it, and no way to quietly move it aside.

They had no choice. Con signaled to backtrack.

Another long, cold and exhausting duck-and-run through the dark. The hunted feeling on the back of her neck was growing eerily familiar. With the heavy vest weighing her down, she barely made it up the escalators to the third floor. Con had to boost her with a hand in the small of her back the last ten steps.

“I have to catch my breath.” Shivering with cold, and nearly too weary to stand, she leaned against the balcony railing.

“Hang on just a few seconds longer.” He steered her into a craft store and behind the sales counter.

Her legs gave out and she sank to the damp floor.

“I need to go let the team know the number and position of hostages and suspects.”

“You saw? How are Letty and Nan holding up, and Mike? How did they look? Are they scared? Are they hurt?”

“They looked tired and stressed, which is to be expected. But healthy and all in one piece, sweetheart. And nobody is freaking out. That’s the most important thing right now.”

She heaved a relieved sigh. “How many bad guys are there?”

“At least four in the lobby. There might have been some in the vault and one or two more could be out hunting us and Syrone.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll go signal SWAT from the sky bridge, scout around up here for unfriendlies and be back in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most. Okay?”

“Okay.” He slipped out, and she stacked her forearms on her raised knees, pillowed her head on them and closed her eyes. The bleak, silent third floor felt far removed from the bank robbers, like a protective cocoon. An illusion Bailey willingly indulged. At the moment, she could not handle one more minute of fear, one more stint of running, one more dashed promise of rescue.

She might even have dozed off, because the next thing she heard was Con’s gentle voice.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

She looked up. Con stood with his muscled arms spread wide, and a wary yet hopeful expression on his handsome face.

She pushed to her feet and went willingly into his embrace. In spite of the fact that his clothes were soaked and his skin chilled, the hug was warm and reassuring. She rested against his broad chest, letting his solid strength restore her flagging spirits. “Con, I’m sorry for the way I acted after the fight.”

“There’s nobody on this floor but us. While we wait out the next phase of the plan, let’s get some food into you. Then we can talk.”

The brief nap had recharged her batteries slightly. “No, first you change into dry clothes, then we eat. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

“You’re wet, too, from crawling on the floor. We both need to change.”

Figuratively speaking, she thought he was fine exactly as he was. She, on the other hand, was changing by the moment.

Keeping one arm around her, he guided her into JCPenney. He extracted a flashlight from his pack and shone the beam over racks of clothing. Cloaked in shadow, everything looked creepy and weirdly out of proportion.

She’d fantasized about being alone in the mall, able to shop at leisure with no crowds, noise or distractions. The real thing didn’t quite pan out. She visually tracked the light, trying to get her bearings. “I’m disoriented.”

“A combination of shock, hypothermia and lack of nourishment. When you’re dry and fed, you’ll bounce back.” He grabbed unisex black jeans, black turtlenecks and black sweatshirts in his size and hers from a bottom row of wooden cubbies sheltered from the sprinklers. “We’ll layer to stay warm.”

He opened a bag of thick wool socks and retrieved women’s lightweight lug-soled boots from a shoebox underneath the boot display to replace her sheer hose and feminine leather slip-ons. “You’ll not only be warmer, but able to move faster in these.”

Dry undergarments were also a necessity. Embarrassment tweaked her, but Con’s matter of fact attitude in the men’s department banished her self-consciousness. Until they headed to women’s lingerie and he plucked a frothy, pink silk teddy from a rack. “It’s your favorite color.”

“That doesn’t look very warm.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, wearing this little number, you would not be cold. My personal guarantee.”

“It’s wet.”

“In some cases, that’s not considered a disadvantage.”

She smirked at him. “Take my word for it, Irish. I doubt you’ll need any help there.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk naughty, slugger.” Laughing, he extracted a package from a bin, tore it open and brandished a pair of tiny black lace panties. He stretched them across his hands. “Hmm. These feel…comfortable. Look sexy, too. I can picture you wearing them. Great picture.”

The erotic sparkle in his eyes made heat bloom in her cheeks. He caressed her with his glowing mahogany gaze and the heat spread, tingling through her limbs. The man smoldered. It was impossible to remain disheartened bathed in the light of his open appreciation. Not to mention the uplifting effect of his flying quips and flashing grins.

She snatched the underwear from him. “Get your hands out of my pants.”

He laughed. “Spoilsport.”

She found a packaged black stretch lace camisole to go with the panties, and Con expressed his enthusiastic approval.

Arms piled high, they entered a fitting room. Con propped the flashlight on a chair so it partially illuminated the first two cubicles. He shot her a mischievous grin. “Need any help?” He flexed his fingers. “All the better to undress you, my dear.”

If only he knew how tempting his offer was. How overwhelming the desire to have his hands on her. “Remember what happened to that wolf.”

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow—” He snorted. “Nuh-uh. I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.”

“Braggart. Anyway, you’re mixing up your wolves. That was a whole other story.”

“I’ll reenact any story you want. I’ve always been partial to the Kama Sutra.”

“Have you seen some of the impossible positions…” Flushing, she trailed off.

“So you have read it.”

“I consider myself a well-read person in every area of life.”

“Glad to hear it.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Now, about those positions…care to name your top five?”

She’d seen a few that looked intriguing. Had imagined her and Con entwined in intimate, exciting love play. Adventurous O’Rourke would take her anywhere she wanted to go. And then some. “I’m game if you are. I do yoga exercises every day, so I’m pretty flexible. Think you can keep up?”

“Just try and keep me down, darlin’,” he drawled.

When Con looked at her like that, all sparkling mischief and smoky sex appeal, she wanted to pounce on him. Gobble him up like a hamster on a Cheeto. Unfortunately, this was the wrong time, wrong place. Arching a brow, she returned his grin. “Maybe you can show me that upstanding flexibility later.”

He tweaked one of her curls. “You’re racking up quite an account, you know.”

“I’m good for it. I have excellent credit.”

Chuckling, he strode into the second cubicle, leaving the first for her.

She struggled out of her damp clothing. With only a thin, three-quarter partition between them, she could hear the rustle of fabric as Con also stripped. Her stomach dipped and her knees went weak, and not from lack of food. The knowledge of him so near, naked, sent longing spiraling through her. If only they could escape. Talk things out. Laugh and love together like other couples on New Year’s Eve.

Instead, they might die together.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and she staggered.

“Hey, you okay over there? I was teasing before, but if you really need help…”

If he joined her in the cubicle, she’d wrap her arms around him and never let go. The last thing he needed was a clingy, whiny woman. “I’m doing fine.” She wiped off the vinyl bench with her blouse, then sat and tugged on the jeans, turtleneck and sweatshirt. She loosened the black velvet ribbon securing her hummingbird charm and retied it over the turtleneck, and then donned socks and boots. “What should we do with our wet stuff?”

“Leave it. We don’t need anything else to haul around.”

They exited the fitting room. “Except for these.” Con grabbed three comforters sealed in vinyl bags on the way out of the store. “We need something dry to picnic on.” He reached for her hand.

Her chilled fingers tucked securely in his big, already warm ones, she walked beside him toward the food court. “I feel so small and insignificant in this huge, eerie bubble of silence. Just the two of us, trapped inside, like caterpillars in a jar.” A tremor shivered up her spine. “Only there are praying mantises on the loose.”

Con squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. Dozens of patrol cars will respond to the call-out. They’ll import an army of cops.”

But up here, they were alone. At least she hoped they were. The eerie thought sent goose bumps prickling along her skin. “Are you sure no one else is up here?”

To her left, a sudden movement, followed by a resounding crash sent her heart leaping into her throat.

Before she had time to form coherent thought, Con dropped the blankets, shoved her to the floor and flung himself on top of her. “Don’t move!”