Going to Extremes Read online

  “A substantial bounty has been placed on each of the fugitives, but I’ll be honest with you, men. It’s not about the money for me. This one is personal. I intend to bring Boone Fowler in by any means necessary. If any of you have a problem with that, now’s the time to speak up.”

  No one said a word. They all knew of the bitter history between Murphy and Fowler. The brutal militia leader had killed Murphy’s sister in the government building bombing five years earlier, and very nearly murdered the woman Murphy had eventually married. In return, he’d hunted Fowler and his followers down and sent them to prison for life.

  Fowler had sworn revenge on Murphy and his family at the trial, and now he was out. If he could find a way to get to Murphy’s wife and daughter, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Which meant the bounty hunters would have to get him first, by any means necessary.

  If Kaitlyn Wilson was somehow involved, God help her.

  “All right, that’s all,” Murphy said, drawing the meeting to an end. “You each have your assignments. Good hunting and Godspeed.”

  As the men filed out of the room, Murphy called Aidan aside. He walked over to the table where the colonel still stood.

  “Is there anything else I should know about your rescue mission yesterday?”

  “What do you mean?” Aidan asked warily.

  “You left out a few of the details when you briefed us earlier. I talked to Powell last night while you were still at the hospital. Sounds like things got a little dicey out there.”

  Aidan shrugged. “There was an equipment malfunction, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “That’s what Powell said, but I’m glad to hear it from you.”

  Aidan knew what the colonel was getting at, but he wasn’t buying it. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said flatly.

  “Doesn’t it?” One brow rose slightly. “I’d say it changes everything. No matter how hard you tried to kill yourself before I found you six months ago, yesterday proves you’ve still got what it takes.”

  Aidan’s voice hardened. “And no matter how many people I drag out of a canyon, Elena Sanchez is still going to be dead.”

  Elena would continue to be the one who haunted Aidan’s sleep every night. The one who woke him up in the darkest hours with her screams and her terrified pleas.

  “Don’t let go of me! Please, Aidan! I don’t want to die!”

  She’d been so young and so beautiful. An innocent pawn caught up in the ravages of war but somehow managing to cling to that elusive dream of a better life for her and her family.

  And she’d loved Aidan as no woman had ever loved him before, or ever would again.

  Chapter Five

  “She’s alive.”

  Rage exploded like a mushroom cloud in Boone Fowler’s chest, but he kept his head bent to his work. He knew how to control his emotions. Nine months of solitary confinement had taught him that.

  Somewhere deep in the abandoned mineshaft, he could hear the steady drip-drip of water, and the sound, for the past half hour or so, had become a torturous monotony. He would have to tune it out, he supposed. So many things to tune out…

  “Did you hear what I said?” his visitor demanded indignantly. He shoved a lantern aside and placed his hands flat on the table. “That reporter…Kaitlyn Wilson. She’s still alive.”

  Fowler looked up then. The cavern was full of shadows, and for a moment, he thought he saw one of them move. But it was only his imagination. Or a draft causing the flame inside one of the lanterns to shift. He had sentries posted at the mine entrance. No one who didn’t belong could get in without his knowing.

  “That’s impossible,” he finally said. “It’s a hundred-foot drop to the floor of that canyon. There’s no way she could have survived a fall like that.”

  “Well, apparently she did. And somehow she managed to sustain only minor injuries. Two of Cameron Murphy’s men found her yesterday afternoon huddled on a ledge halfway down the canyon.”

  At the mention of his nemesis’s name, Fowler’s hand curled around the pearl-handled knife he’d been sharpening. But when he spoke, his voice remained measured and calm. “You should have let me take that bastard out the minute I got out of stir.”

  “And risked everything we’ve worked so hard for? I don’t think so.” His companion straightened and began to walk around the cavern. His looming shadow followed him to and fro. “We didn’t go to the trouble and expense of breaking you out of the Fortress just so you could pursue your own petty vendetta.”

  Fowler wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner, and he didn’t like it one bit. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though. The time for settling old scores would come soon enough, and until then, he would bide his time. If there was anything he’d learned in prison, it was patience.

  He bent to his work again. “What about the woman? Has she talked?”

  “Not yet. It seems she’s suffering from short-term amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything prior to her fall, but her condition could change at any moment. We can’t let that happen.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Fowler laid aside the whetstone and carefully tested the blade with his thumb. Satisfied that the edge was razor sharp, he closed the knife and slipped it into his pocket.

  “You’ll take care of her?” At Fowler’s nod, the man placed a briefcase on the wooden crate they’d been using for a table and snapped open the lid to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills. “Your first installment, along with instructions for the next job.” He handed Fowler a large envelope. “You’ll get the rest when the mission is completed.”

  Fowler opened the envelope and, after extracting the contents, rifled through the information that included aerial photographs of railroad bridges, maps of the area and copies of itineraries.

  “You’ve been as thorough as usual,” Fowler remarked. “Some of this stuff didn’t come cheap.”

  “That’s not for you to worry about. You should know by now that money is no object. But there is one thing that does concern you. The next job needs to look like an accident.”

  “An accident?” Fowler slid the documents and pho tos back into the envelope and glanced up. “You don’t think the authorities will get a little suspicious after what we did to the other guy?”

  “What we did was necessary to garner some of the information contained in that envelope. Besides, with any luck, his body won’t be found for days, maybe even weeks.”

  “Yeah, but the feds are going to be out looking for him. That’ll make our job a lot riskier,” Fowler warned. “A man like that can’t just disappear without all hell breaking loose.”

  “I told you before, we’ve planned for every contingency. Herr Schroeder was a player. He liked fast cars and beautiful women, and he frequently traveled without bodyguards to accommodate his married mistresses. The word has gone out in certain circles that he’s off with his current paramour, the wife of a very prominent diplomat. He won’t be missed for at least another week.”

  “That all sounds well and good, but I still say the feds won’t believe an accident.”

  “And I say you need to stop buying trouble,” his companion snapped. “If there’s no evidence of a terrorist attack, then the National Transportation and Safety Board will conduct the preliminary investigation. The FBI’s hands will be tied, and by the time they untangle themselves from all the red tape, it’ll be too late. The only thing that can derail us now is the woman.”

  Fowler glanced up with a smile. “You need to stop buying trouble,” he taunted. “Because that bitch is as good as dead.”

  SOMEONE WAS TRYING to kill her!

  Kaitlyn let out a scream, but the sound was muffled by the pillow pressed tightly against her face. She couldn’t breathe! Dear God, she was going to die!

  With every ounce of her strength, she fought off her attacker. The intensity of her defense must have caught him by surprise, because she heard him grunt as he lost his grip on t
he pillow and she knocked it away.

  For one split second, Kaitlyn found herself staring up into the face of her would-be killer. He wore a ski mask to hide his features, but she could see his eyes. Dark and gleaming, they were staring back at her.

  She recognized those eyes…she had looked into them before.

  And then he stuffed the pillow over her face and pressed with what seemed like superhuman strength. Kaitlyn still fought him, but the battle was useless. She could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from her….

  KAITLYN WAS STILL GASPING for breath when the nurse came running into her room. “Did you see him?” she panted.

  “See who?”

  “He was here just a second ago.” Kaitlyn searched the room as her hand flew to her throat.

  The nurse hurried over to her bed and pushed her gently back against the pillows. “Just take it easy, honey. You had a bad dream, but you’re fine now.”

  Kaitlyn’s heart was still pounding as she looked up at the nurse in confusion. “Bad dream?”

  “I’ll say. I heard you scream all the way down at the nurse’s station.”

  Kaitlyn grabbed the woman’s arm. “Someone was in my room! He tried to kill me!”

  “Tried to kill you? Oh, goodness me, that must have been one doozy of a nightmare,” she said with a chuckle.

  “It wasn’t a nightmare!” Kaitlyn cried frantically. “Someone came in here and tried to smother me with a pillow! I think…I think it was Boone Fowler.”

  “Boone Fowler! Oh, honey, that awful man is long gone from around here. You just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

  Kaitlyn brushed off the woman’s hand. “Please, you have to believe me. We need to call someone…the police…”

  The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. “No one was in here, sweetie. Not Boone Fowler or anyone else. I’ve been at my station for hours. I would have seen someone come in and out of your room. The whole floor has been as quiet as can be all night.”

  “But…he was here. I saw him.”

  The nurse tucked in the sheet and smoothed out the wrinkles.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but he was here,” Kaitlyn insisted. “I know what I saw, and I think we should call the police.”

  “Let’s not go dragging the police over here at this hour, okay? I’d just have to tell them the same thing I’ve been trying to tell you. No one has been in or out of your room all night. Except for Dr. Becker, of course.”

  Kaitlyn’s eyes sharpened. “Dr. Becker was in here?”

  “He was called back to the hospital for an emergency, and came by a little while ago to look in on you. He does that a lot. He’s a very good doctor. You’re lucky to have him.”

  Kaitlyn wasn’t sure why, but she found the idea of Phillip Becker coming into her room while she slept more than a little unsettling.

  “I think he’s still in the building,” the nurse said. “Why don’t I page him? Might make you feel better to talk to him.”

  “It would make me feel better if you’d call the cops,” Kaitlyn muttered.

  “Just talk to Dr. Becker first, okay? It won’t take me a second to find him. Try and stay calm until I get back.”

  Stay calm? Boone Fowler had come into her room and tried to kill her. How was she supposed to stay calm about that? Kaitlyn wondered.

  But…what if it had been a dream?

  Now that she thought about it, why would Fowler, or anyone else, want to kill her? She might have rubbed a few people the wrong way in her career as a reporter, but she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her.

  But it had seemed so real.

  Her door opened, and Dr. Becker strode in, followed by the now-anxious-looking nurse.

  “Hello, Kaitlyn. Hattie tells me you’ve had a restless night.”

  That was putting it mildly, but Kaitlyn didn’t quibble with his choice of words. She was beginning to feel a bit foolish. What if it really had been nothing more than a bad dream?

  Dr. Becker came over to her bedside and looked down at her. His appearance was so different that Kaitlyn might not have recognized him if she hadn’t known he was coming to her room. He was in street clothes for one thing—dark slacks, a black leather jacket—and his five-o’clock shadow made him look a bit sinister. Which was not at all the way Kaitlyn remembered Phillip Becker. Studious, yes. Introverted, yes. Maybe even creepy, as Eden had said. But…sinister?

  When he picked up her wrist, she found herself wanting to recoil from his touch, but she didn’t know why.

  “Your pulse is a bit elevated,” he murmured. He measured it again, then glanced up from his watch. “Now what’s this about a nightmare?”

  Before she could speak, the nurse interceded. “She insists that Boone Fowler came into her room and tried to smother her with a pillow.”

  Blurted out like that, it did sound ridiculous, Kaitlyn thought bitterly.

  Dr. Becker’s brows shot skyward. “Boone Fowler? Isn’t he one of the fugitives we’ve been hearing so much about lately?”

  The nurse nodded. “She was watching the news when I came in here earlier. She probably saw Fowler’s picture or something. God knows, it’s enough to give anyone the willies, knowing those escaped convicts are out there somewhere.”

  Kaitlyn glared up at them. “I wish you’d stop talking about me like I’m not even here, and, yes, I did watch the news earlier, and, yes, Boone Fowler’s picture was all over the broadcast. But I don’t think what I experienced was a nightmare. It was too real.”

  “I’m not sure it was a nightmare, either,” Dr. Becker said slowly.

  Kaitlyn’s mouth dropped in shock. “You mean…you believe me?”

  “That someone came in here and tried to kill you? No. But I believe that you believe it.”

  Kaitlyn frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you had a hallucination. You didn’t dream your assailant. You actually saw him here in the room with you.”

  “A hallucination?” Kaitlyn said doubtfully. “How is that different from a dream?”

  “You were awake. That’s why it seemed so real to you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said weakly.

  “There are numerous medical and psychiatric causes of hallucinations, but in your case I believe it to be the result of PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “From my fall, you mean.”

  “Any fearful trauma can produce symptoms. Think of it as the aftershock of an extremely threatening event. In its acute phase, PTSD occurs directly after the trauma and is not only treatable but curable. The chronic phase can come along much later and is only treatable, but…I’m getting way ahead of myself here. It’s much too early to think in those terms. We’ll cross that bridge when and if we need to.”

  PTSD.

  Kaitlyn lay back against the pillows. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed.

  “The pain medication I prescribed for you earlier is quite mild, but it’s possible the hallucination was caused in part by a reaction to the drug. I’ll change your dosage—”

  “No! No more drugs.” From here on out, Kaitlyn wanted to keep a clear head.

  Dr. Becker hesitated. “Very well. But if the pain becomes too severe, I want you to call the nurse. I’ll have her check in on you hourly, and then I’ll come by in the morning when I make my rounds. In the meantime, get some rest. You’re still recuperating.”

  “I’ll try.” But Kaitlyn wasn’t making any promises. Hallucination, bad dream, whatever the hell she’d experienced earlier, she wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

  She lay back against the pillows, but it was a very long time before she closed her eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Friday, 0900 hours

  By the time Aidan got to the hospital the next morning, Kaitlyn was out of bed, fully dressed, and—except for a few bruises on her face and some scratches on the backs of her hands—looked amazingly fit for someone who had been through what she ha
d.

  He hardly recognized her, in fact. Dressed in pinstripe navy trousers and a white sweater, she appeared cool, calm and collected, nothing at all like the bedraggled woman he’d found curled in the fetal position on a ledge two days ago.

  Her hair had been tangled and matted with mud when he’d first seen her, but now it hung in a sleek sheet down her back, gleaming so pale in the morning sunlight that it almost appeared to glow.

  Aidan had known all along that she was an attractive woman. But he’d had no idea she was drop-dead gorgeous.

  He couldn’t get over how tiny she was and how fragile her features seemed. But he’d witnessed firsthand just how tough she truly was, both mentally and physically. She’d fallen—or slid—fifty feet into that canyon and she’d gone fighting, scratching, and clawing every inch of the way. Except for mostly superficial wounds—bruises, scratches and some torn fingernails—she’d come through the ordeal virtually unscathed.

  And later, when the clip had snapped on the hoist cable and she’d nearly fallen to her death yet again, she still hadn’t panicked. Now that took guts.

  Aidan had another memory of her, too, but he’d been trying his damnedest to banish that image. He didn’t want to keep picturing what she looked like without her clothes on. It didn’t seem right. She’d been at her most vulnerable at that moment, and Aidan wanted to remain dispassionate and objective about the whole thing, like a doctor with his patient.

  But who was he kidding? He was no doctor. He was just a man, and Kaitlyn Wilson was one hell of a woman.

  She’d been naked in his arms, for God’s sake, and vulnerable or not, there was no way in hell Aidan could forget that.

  Don’t let go of me, she’d implored him as he held her. I won’t, he’d answered, and Aidan suddenly wished that that was a promise he’d been able to keep. Because right now, he would have liked nothing more than to have his arms around her again.