Nowhere to Run - Chapter 14

Black Bart smiled at him.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Michael looked into the man’s deep-set, black eyes. Devoid of soul or emotion, they were the devil’s own. Blank and dangerous. The smile on Bart's face looked out of place, like it was forced and painful. Almost like it should never belong there. Bart’s gun was pointed at his heart.

“Evelyn has been waiting for you.”

     “What have you done to her, Bart?” Michael demanded, his hand tightening on the gun at his side.

     Bart’s nasty laugh echoed down the hallway as Michael’s anger surged.  He thought again of Bart touching Evie, of his filthy hands crawling their way across her body. Without a thought, he advanced on Bart.

     “Hold it.” Bart extended his gun toward Michael. ”We don’t want this to end too soon, do we? Drop the gun and get your hands up where I can see them.”

     Michael weighed the odds. He could still get them out of here in one piece if he played this right. The gun slipped from his grip and slowly he lifted his hands.

     “Kick it over here.” Bart ordered. 

     “What did you do to her?” Michael ground out angrily as he used one foot to push the Glock in Bart’s direction.

     “Nothing yet.  She started that weird chanting about an hour ago." Bart gave him a sardonic smile, "Think maybe she’s going crazy?”

     “Around you? I wouldn’t doubt it.”

     “It didn’t take long to crack her. Your little cookie was really no challenge at all.”

     Michael's voice was hard, edged with deadly promise, “If I find out you touched her, I’ll kill you.”

     “Dimitri, don’t you remember all the fun we use to have?” Bart asked.

     “Fun for whom?”

     “Ahh, you’ve gone soft. Life on the run has taken the spark out of you. I remember when you had so much potential. If only you stayed with us, I could have taught you a few things.”

     “So, what now? Are you going to kill me? Would you like me to turn around so you can shoot me in the back? I remember that was one of your favorite moves.”

Bart chuckled and Michael took a deep breath. They would be finding Janerone any minute and he’d be out of time. Looking to a point over Bart's shoulder, he nodded. “You certainly took your time.”

Feigning relief, Michael lowered his hands.

     Bart flicked a glance behind him and Michael took that split second to react. Leaping forward he grabbed for the gun. His full weight slamming into the Bart and sending him back against the wall. Using his forearm to brace against the thin man’s windpipe, Michael delivered an upper cut to his mid section. Bart pushed sideways and they crashed to the floor, wrestling for the gun. Michael rolling on top and grabbing Bart’s hand started lifting and hammering it back down against the concrete floor. One solid crack and Bart screamed as it went skittering away.

     All the fear and anger he had been harboring inside exploded as Michael unleashed it on Bart. Although taller he, was no match for Michael's more muscular frame.  Finally, levering himself above Bart, Michael drew back and hit him square in the jaw, knocked him out with one well-placed punch.

He stood, chest heaving, over the unconscious man, “Now do you think I’ve gone soft, you bastard?”

Tucking Bart’s Sig Sauer into his waistband he searched for more weapons. Taking a Glock 9mm and ankle holster from Bart’s leg, he strapped it on to his own.  A sliver handled stiletto was extracted from the man’s back pocket.

     “Ready for a war, were you Bart? You black hearted son of a bitch.”

     Picking up his own Glock, Michael went back to the room where Evie still lay on the mattress.  He eased open the door, allowing the dim light from the hall to fall across the crude bed. Her murmuring had ceased for now and for a moment Michael thought she might have been sleeping. Fear gripped his belly as his penlight revealed how motionless she lay. He stepped into the room and eased down next to her small, still frame. He would kill the bastards if they hurt her. Every one of them. Reaching out, he gently touched her shoulder.

     “Evie?”

     She shot back from his touch as if burned. Back peddling off the mattress until her back hit the cold cement wall. Her eyes squinting against the light in his hand.

     “Evie, it’s me. Michael.”

     “Michael?” her voice was a horse whisper of disbelief.

     “Yes, it’s me.” He raised the penlight to shine on his own face. "See?"

     "Michael? My Michael?"

     He smiled at that, "Come here, babe."

     Evie launched herself at him, almost toppling them both over. She was sobbing and laughing at the same time.

     “I was praying for you! Praying you wouldn’t leave me after how awful I treated you.”

     Michael hugged her close, running his hands up and down her body, assuring himself she was okay, in one piece.

     “Did they hurt you, Evie? Did they touch you?”

     “No, I’m okay. Get me out of here. Please, get me out of here.”

     “It's not over, Evie.” Michael whispered, “We have to get past them. Can you walk?”

     Michael felt Evie nod against his chest. “Good girl.”  Reaching up, he gently wiped away her tears. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He was just so grateful she was alive.

     Together, arm in arm, they rose.  Evie's legs were shaking so badly it took a moment before she could move to the door. Before rounding the doorway and stepping out into the hall Michael gave in to urge to kiss her full on the mouth. He turned and lifted her chin, bringing her lips to his and kissed her deeply. When he broke the away he rested his forehead against her’s for a moment.

“Thank God, you’re alright.”

He pulled Ned’s back up weapon, a 9mm Beretta, from the waistband of his pants and pressed it into her hand.

Evie balked. "No, Michael, no guns.”

     “No choice, Evie. We have to get out of here.  I’d feel better if you were armed. Just till we blow this joint.”

He curled her hand around the gun.

"Just point and pull the trigger."

His warm grasp steadied her trembling hand, with a gentle squeeze he released her and turned to the door. He checked the corridor. Bart was still unconscious on the floor.  Motioning her to follow he stepped into the hall, but once she recognized the man sprawled on the floor she froze. 

"I can't…"

"Yes, you can. Don’t think. Just move."

"No, Michael. That’s the man…the man…who…"

"Shhh, Evie, don't." He couldn't resist pulling her into his arms once more for just a brief moment. "Keep moving."

     Taking her hand, he tugged her along behind him. Once they were out of sight of Bart's prone body, she was better. Letting go of his grasp, she kept one hand on his back as they slowly made their way down the hall till they reached the stairs.

     “This is where it gets tricky.” He warned, “Aim for the center of the body if you have to shoot.”

     With eyes, large and frightened, Evie nodded. “Okay.”

     Michael hesitated then and pressed another quick kiss to her lips. “We’re going to get out of this, I promise.”   

He started up the stairs with Evie at his heels. When they reached the landing, Michael stepped into the kitchen, swinging the Glock in first.  Janerone was gone.  All his instincts went on full alert. If they found Janerone, why didn’t they come after him? Why just send Bart?  

Michael motioned to Evie to be still and made his way through the kitchen. Janerone couldn't have just left. Someone had to untie him. So where are they now? What the hell was going on?

     Evie followed Michael into the kitchen. Keeping her back to the wall as she sidled up behind him and put a hand on his back. It felt better just to be touching him. She tightened her grip on the gun. Keeping her index finger on the outside of the trigger guard, she felt awkward and clumsy with it. She didn’t think she would be able to shoot to kill. She just couldn’t.

     Michael tried the back door. Locked.  He twisted the locking mechanism and tried again.  Still locked, from the outside. The small hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

      He led the way into the living room.  Careful to watch for the ambush he knew had to be coming.

Nothing.  No one. If he didn’t know better he would swear the house was deserted. He tried the front door. It too, was locked from the outside. He moved to the window beside the door and cautiously lifted the curtain. The two cars that had been in the driveway were gone. The brown Ford Bart had been driving sat in the street. His line of sight drifted down to the front porch and he saw it.

A box the size of a small suitcase with a wire running in one side and out the other sat a few feet away.  A couple of yards down the porch the wire ran into another box and around the side of the house. With a sinking feeling, Michael realized that the whole house was wired to explode with them locked inside. Rats in a trap.  No wonder the house was deserted. This must have been the plan all along. Get them both inside and ka-boom. Bart's presence down stairs was probably just an unfortunate inconvenience to the Team. No one was irreplaceable. This place wired to blow sky high they had to find a way out.

“Damn!” He grabbed Evie’s hand and headed for the back of the house. “We have to get out of here.”

“But what about those men?”

In the dining room, he pushed Evie into the corner and picked up chair.

“Close your eyes.” He said, as he heaved it through a large bay window.

     Evie let out a shriek as he used another chair to clear the remaining glass from the frame.    

“Out!” Michael ordered, leaping up onto the wide windowsill.

Evie ran to him and he dragged her up onto the ledge.

“Jump!” He took her hand and together they leaped out into the yard, hitting hard, slamming into the ground and broken glass. Michael was on his feet in seconds, pulling Evie up and propelling her forward.

     “Run!”

     Without question, she ran, following him blindly, as if demons nipped at her heels. When they reached the haven of the woods that ringed the yard Michael pulled them behind some thick bushes and Evie collapsed in his arms.   

     “It’s okay, babe. We’re safe.” He said, but wasn’t sure it was true. Janerone and his grunts could be anywhere.

    Michael turned back to look at the house, Bartholomew Long appeared at the broken window. He looked out into the night and then down, seeing the wires that ringed the house.

     “DIMITRI!” He screamed just as the bombs went off. 

     Evie's head snapped up at the blast, just in time to see Bart’s face disappear behind a brilliant wall of flames. In an instant, the house was engulfed in fire and Black Bart was just a dark shadow behind the flames. His scream echoing into the night.

     “No, don’t look” Michael pulled Evie’s face down into his chest, “You don’t need to see this.”

     “You knew...” Evie whimpered, “You knew that place was gonna, was gonna...”

     She shuddered at the thought of what might have been had Michael not spotted the bomb so fast.

     “Shhh, it’s okay, we got out. We’re okay.”

     “But, Michael...”

     “We got out. That's all that matters.”

     “I lost the gun.” she said, holding him tight.

     “That’s okay.” he laughed now, “We’re okay.”

     As the flames leaped high into the night and sirens went off in the distance Michael and Evie huddled together and watched.  The house went up quick. A ball of fire that would certainly take it to the ground before the firemen could even set up their hoses. When it was finally over, Michael was sure there would be nothing left, but cinders.  He was sure that was the way the Team figured it. No evidence.  With nothing but ashes remaining, they could blame it on a gas stove or something like that. Probably just a sad story on page three of the morning paper.

Michael and Evie waited, hidden in the bushes until the fire department came and a crowd had gathered. There was no sign of Janerone or his crew. They must be assuming that the explosion would be the end of him and didn't want to leave any suspicious characters lurking about for the witnesses to identify.

     Michael wondered if Janerone knew Bart had been in there. What would they say when they found out? Bart had never mentioned any family, but then a lot of them had no family. Was this another screw up for the Team or had Bart's demise been part of the plan, too?

     Once the fire department was doing their best to put out the fire, Michael decided it was time to leave. Arm in arm, they blended with the throng of people who came out to watch the fire and strolled down the street, away from the chaos.