Late Night With Andres Page 4

  “You prickly old dickbag. The only event you can be sure of is that I’ll be digging so far into your past when this whole thing is over that I’ll be able to slap you coming out of your mother’s vagina. Every tax, every paper, every ticket you ever had better be in order. Plus, there are all the new charges I’ll be bringing you up for, including obstructing justice.” Brun had finally put his whole, considerable attention on Andres.

  Andres withered a bit but maintained, “The press has rights!”

  “Absolutely. I totally agree with that statement. But your hair? It has no rights. Joey, go get me the dog clippers from the canine car. We’re shaving this bastard’s hair to find out if he’s concealing any weapons in that rat’s nest.”

  Brun reached up and petted the top of Andres’ high-packed hair. It bounced like a crinkly bed.

  “No! Fine. I’ll tell you.” Andres flinched away from Brun’s hand. “He crawled in the air vent. I’ll show you where.”

  Brun nodded for the old man to walk and shook his head when Andres rattled his handcuffs.

  “If I fall? That’s on you.” Andres started off.

  “I think you should count your blessings if I don’t trip you.” Brun poked Andres in the back to speed him up.

  Two flights down, the entrance vent was flopped open. Price, a female SWAT team member pulled herself up into it, followed by her partner. Guns were passed to them.

  “Get him outside in a car. Stay with him and the other one until this is over.” Joey put his hand on Andres’ shoulder.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I deserve an exclusive. I want to be here when the hostages get out. Or at least have access to the room with the dead bodies!” Andres shouted in Brun’s direction.

  Rocco just gave him a dismissive wave and turned to the laptop one of the team members had propped open to watch the surprise assault. The video feed was clear, but not clear enough to tell if the perp really had a functioning bomb strapped to his chest.

  “O’hann. How is it I have to threaten a senior citizen instead of you doin’ your job?” Brun was back to doing a million things at a time again, including dressing down his crew.

  “Sir, this is a very old building. It makes no sense that the vent entrance is here, below the actual room.” O’hann looked embarrassed.

  “A random bodyguard off the street figured it out.” Brun held his finger up for silence. He listened to his SWAT team as they whispered their findings. The laptop glowed with a creepy green night-vision view of the inside of a very dirty air vent.

  “Almost to the top of this vertical vent. Going off com in three, two…” Price’s voice dropped off.

  A few minutes later the laptop screen seeped from green to full color. The conversation had turned deadly and heated. And it was now in stereo from the combined surveillance feed and Price’s microphone.

  “All the things will die!” The perp held a device connected to the bomb. “My girlfriend decided to leave, and now, to show her, I’ll take from her—the advice giver. You’ll think twice before you get involved in anyone else’s business!”

  A pale, slumped over Milla Kierce gave him the finger. “Fuck you, asshole. If you kill me I won’t be thinking at all. Crap, you’re a dimwit. Best thing she ever did was leave you.”

  Brun analyzed the room, watching his bomb squad for any indication on the type of explosives they might be dealing with, but a part of his brain gave the girl a round of applause. Thatagirl. The rock star wisely covered the sharp-tongued woman’s mouth, whispering in her ear. He watched as the expert mouthed, It’s real. Brun shook his head and motioned with his hand to pull out, also giving the command in Price’s ear. His vent SWAT team backed out a hell of a lot quicker than they went in. Price was mad when she stood in front of him again, as usual.

  “Brun, I can get him. One bullet ends this thing. I’m going back.”

  “Price.”

  She paused.

  “We can’t tell if the bomb goes off when he pushes the button, or when he lets go of it.”

  “So we just leave? That’s it?” She turned and faced Rocco.

  “Yeah. We leave. I can’t risk my people. I’ll continue negotiations by phone from outside.” Brun hooked his thumbs in his pockets. He noted her reluctance. “It’s an order. I save your life, and you keep your job. It’s a win-win.”

  She cursed under her breath and pointed up to the room in question. “Not for them it’s not. This sucks.”

  Price stomped out the door. Rocco looked at the vent hanging open. A few years ago he would have jumped right in, but it made the most sense to leave.

  Chapter 10

  Bad News

  GAGE CURSED HER in his head as she bit his hand—hard. She was half passed out and still fighting against him and the crazy man with the bomb. She might be a big pain in the ass in the real world. She sure wasn’t helping here.

  He caught Sydney’s eye. The big bodyguard looked calm and sedate. Gage knew he was anything but. They locked eyes again, and Sydney scratched his head with four fingers. Gage knew they would move after a countdown of four. They were tensed and ready by the three. But Sydney was a liar. He took off by himself on two. Gage started after him immediately, but the big man was in the way. A gunshot didn’t stop Sydney’s forward movement, but the second shot took his leg out from under him. Gage tripped and fell on top of his friend’s body. He would have continued on, finishing what Sydney started, but the crazed man was not pointing the pistol in Gage’s direction. He had it trained on Milla.

  Gage looked from the woman struggling to stay awake to the crazed man. This was a horrible standoff. He eased off of Sydney’s back and turned his attention to his friend. The bodyguard’s deep brown eyes fluttered open.

  “How bad?” Gage had to know.

  “Bad.” Sydney’s voice was flecked with pain.

  “I’m not losing you. Not today.” Gage’s mind cried at the blood pooling under his friend. He expected a smart-ass remark, but instead there was silence.

  The psycho man started laughing. “God, that felt so good! I just love that!”

  The man turned his back on Milla and scrunched down so he was eye level with Gage. “Maybe I’ll just kill you guys and see how many more I can take out.”

  Gage was trying to decide when to lunge, praying the whole time that Sydney was still alive, when the air shifted. He kept his eyes still, but the girl was up and ready to do something. She was wobbly, but quiet. And really, really pissed. Gage focused on the bomb’s button. Just as the girl swung, he jumped, pressing on top of the crazy man’s finger. The gun was level with Gage’s face as he worked to place his own finger on the button. The girl rained punches on the gunman’s head.

  “Harder!” Gage screamed.

  With her last punch, the man went limp. She gasped and pulled the gun away from him.

  Staggering backward toward Sydney, Gage looked at his finger. He was pressing the button. All he had to do was not let go. “This must be a release trigger or a fake,” he said, mesmerized by it.

  “Don’t let go,” Milla suggested.

  She was bleeding from her foot again, but she was too busy checking on Sydney to care.

  “I won’t let go.” Gage tried to clear his mind of the worry, the concern.

  “Don’t let go,” the girl ordered again before checking for Sydney’s pulse. “He’s still got a heartbeat. Don’t let go.”

  “I won’t let go.” Gage hoped all his guitar playing gave him an exceptionally sturdy grip. “Is he breathing?”

  She laid her head on the man’s chest. “Yeah, it’s shallow, but it’s there. Don’t let go.”

  Gage felt grateful tears rim his eyes. “I won’t let go. Apply pressure.” He kept an eye on the gunman, making sure the man wasn’t coming to.

  “Pressure hurts. Maybe you should kill the Devil’s Fart.” The girl scrambled for a blanket and held pressure to Sydney’s knee.

  “What did you just say?” Gage wondered if she was
delusional.

  Through the broken door came a guy wearing a suit who looked pretty damn scary.

  “Don’t let go, dude.” He busted through the rest of the door and made way for two more of his buddies to enter.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” Gage really didn’t want to die this close to some other guy’s nuts. “My friend has been shot. He needs help. And the girl has a toe wound.”

  “Well, you hang on there for a minute while I figure this thing out, and we can all leave. I’m Brett. Nice to meet you.” The bomb guy wisely did not offer to shake hands.

  The two other bomb squad members prepared Sydney to be moved.

  “Hey, Ms. Kierce, do you think you could make it over here?” A handsome police officer motioned to her.

  “What about that guy?” She pointed at Gage.

  He tried not to be angry. They had kissed, they had sweated together in this room for God knows how long. And she called him that guy?

  “I’m Detective Brun, Ms. Kierce, and my men will take good care of the singer.” He motioned for her to come through the door.

  “Call me Milla.” Her gaze caught Gage’s. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Go.” He tried not to feel jealous as Brun moved in and scooped her up in his arms.

  “Sorry, Milla, but my men have to get through here with that victim. Best you don’t walk on that foot anyway.”

  Gage squeezed the button a little too hard as he heard their fading conversation.

  “Call me Rocco. You’re one hell of a brave chick. Ever think of joining the force?”

  A bomb squad member interrupted Gage’s eavesdropping when he shot the gunman in the neck. He smiled at Gage through a clear mask. “Just making sure this guy stays down. Little tranquilizer never killed anyone.”

  They lifted Sydney through the remains of the door, and Gage took it as a good sign that no one was doing CPR on the bodyguard.

  “Too bad. This asshole could use a little death.” Gage tried to stretch his tense muscles.

  Another bomb squad member came in bearing protective clothing for Gage. They covered him as best they could while the lead man inspected the device.

  “So, am I going out with a bang or what?” Gage expected a smile from the little crowd.

  “Okay, Gage, I have some bad news and some really bad news. Which do you want first?”

  Chapter 11

  Honey

  MILLA HUGGED THE NECK of the policeman. He wore just a black T-shirt and a pair of pants with lots of pockets. Mentally she thanked the designer of this new Friday-casual style for cops. Because it was really working for this guy.

  “Will the bomb go off?” She spoke into his neck.

  His chest rumbled as he answered her. “Hasn’t yet. So I hope not. How’re ya feeling? The foot?”

  As if his words dissipated the adrenaline that had kept her foot from killing her, it was instantly white hot and throbbing again. She glanced over his shoulder and noticed the drops of blood she was leaving like a Goth version of Gretel. “Hurts.” She could barely make the word come out of her mouth. Then she felt like a baby because obviously, Sydney was so much worse off.

  “My paramedics will get you cleaned right up and get you some painkillers.” He turned his face to give her a sympathy smile with his totally white freaking teeth.

  “Can they inject it right into my eyes? I feel like my foot’s on fire.” She started to wiggle and struggle against the pain.

  The policeman took the stairs like he carried girls around for a living. He only stopped once to adjust her. When they hit the side door, Milla took a deep breath of the fresh night air. Instantly her vision was blown apart by cameras flashing. She buried her face in Rocco’s chest out of instinct. Then she thought of her ass. Her ass was most likely hanging out of her underwear.

  “My ass.” She wiggled again.

  “On it. Can I get a blanket?” A cover was thankfully draped over her.

  “Why are they here? Oh, wait, Gage. ”

  Milla tried to look at the crowd she could hear mulling around. Rocco used his chin to keep her in place.

  “They like you too. This whole thing has been broadcast live.” Rocco stepped into an ambulance and set Milla down on a gurney.

  The doors closed and she was finally able to take stock of her surroundings. The paramedics were comforting with their quick actions, though Milla recoiled from their touch a few times.

  “Brun, did you grab her toe?” a female EMT asked.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see it, and they were doing the dismantle. You think there’s anything worth saving? I thought it would’ve been blown to bits.”

  Rocco worked his way past Milla. “I’ve got to get back in there. If I see any toes, you get ’em. ” He smiled and patted her shoulder.

  Milla frowned at the callous attitude toward her baby toe. She heard the back door open, and in rushed a million questions all running together: “SheDyingWillShePoseForPlayboyGageDaxsonDying?” The door slammed shut, trapping the questions outside. Milla interrupted the paramedic readying a vial of injectable drugs.

  “How’s Sydney? How’s Gage? Did someone call my mom?”

  He answered while he tied off her arm with a strip of rubber. “The bodyguard’s going into surgery soon, I’m sure. His vitals were good. He’s a brave guy.”

  He slid the needle into her vein, and soon she felt cloudy and fuzzy. Milla slurred before she drifted off to a drug-induced sleep, “Daxson’s out, right?”

  Blackness claimed her before the answer came.

  “I’ll take the really bad news first.” Gage felt sweat trickle down the center of his back.

  Brett delivered the news in a chipper voice, like it was a weather forecast. “Well, this bomb is real. I can’t believe you’ve managed the tradeoff once already because this trigger is insane. So the really bad news is that we need you to hang on to the button. If you twitch or freak out, you’ll blow us all to hell.”

  Gage shook his head slowly. “All right. And the bad news?”

  Brett looked to the ceiling. “If we crap our pants, it’s going to be televised. Where did they hide that fucking camera? Damn.”

  “What do you mean?” Gage concentrated on keeping his finger still, keeping the pressure on.

  “Well, there’s, like, a fucking hidden camera in the fucking walls, and the whole world has been watching this whole fucking thing. Andres is an ass. If we say fucking a lot, it will totally fucking piss them all off. They will wear out their fucking censor button.” Brett winked at the ceiling.

  The other bomb squad member hadn’t said anything. He was focused on the device strapped to the gunman. He would refer to an iPad and then back to the wires.

  Brett assessed Gage again and fixed the blanket protecting his neck. “You let me know if you have a fucking itch. I’ll scratch it for you. Though if you have a fucking wedgie, you’re on your own.”

  Gage nodded and tried to smile. His hand was starting to shake.

  “So, Larson, any clue?” Brett watched the bomb as well.

  Larson’s voice was soothing and had a touch of a Southern accent in it. “No, I can’t decide if this guy was smart crazy or just crazy crazy.” Larson almost touched a wire and then pulled his hand away slowly. “How you fucking holdin’ up, Gage?” He watched Gage’s hand intently.

  “I wish I could say fucking awesome, but I’m fucking not. I can’t make my fucking hand stop fucking shaking.” Gage took a deep breath and exhaled with purpose.

  Larson placed a hand under Gage’s elbow to steady him and relieve some pressure. “You’re doing fucking great. This is not fucking fear but the exertion and fucking exhaustion.”

  Larson’s touch seemed to calm the shaking a bit. The Southern man spoke to the ceiling. “Hey, send fucking Einstein in here with a few fucking containment shields. Looks like this thing’s getting fucking detonated tonight.”

  When Milla came to at the hospital, it took her a minute to assess her situation. She had a n
urse checking her fluid bag, which was attached to her IV.

  “What’s going on?” She tried to sit up.

  “Hi, nice to see you awake. How’s your pain?” The nurse had short hair and a huge smile.

  Milla shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “Uh, my foot hurts. But it’s not as bad as it was. I have a headache, and I have to pee. How are Gage and Sydney?”

  “Well, I can slide a bedpan under you or help you to the bathroom.”

  Based on her response, it seemed the nurse had taken Milla’s sudden movement as a decision for the latter. She expertly maneuvered herself under Milla, trailing the IV pole like a sad dog.

  “Well, I can’t say anything specifically, but one is still in the building with the bomb, and the other is in surgery and doing well, as far as I know.”

  Milla spoke through the door when the nurse gave her a moment of privacy. “Gage isn’t out yet? How long have I been in here?”

  “You were admitted to the hospital about an hour ago. We bandaged your foot and are waiting to see if they can find your toe. You’re on fluids and a few awesome painkillers. You want to see the progress of your friend?”

  As Milla was tucked back into bed, she noticed the nurse’s hospital ID said Ann.

  “Your parents are on their way. They’ve called every ten minutes or so. They’ll be so happy you’re awake.”

  The phone next to Milla’s bed rang loudly. She jumped, and her IV needle shifted uncomfortably.

  Ann answered. “Yes, ma’am. She’s right here. She looks great.” Ann passed the phone with an encouraging nod.

  “Mom?” Milla watched as the TV displayed a very familiar room, but from a different angle.

  “Oh, honey! I was worried sick! Your father and I are almost there.”

  Milla heard her father yelling over her mother, “Baby girl! We’re almost there!”

  “Run the light, Steve! Run it like a gazelle! Run the light!”

  “Mom. Mom! Listen to me. Drive safely. I’m fine. I’m here.”

  Milla wanted to comfort her parents more, but she was riveted to the TV, which Ann had flipped on. Now that she was able to stare at it, the room took shape. Gage was draped with a blanket and wearing a helmet. He was surrounded by two tense bomb squad guys. One held a wire clipper and the other wrapped Gage in a huge hug. The censor button beeped almost constantly, making the conversation unintelligible.