Chapter 36

36

Fenn's eyes fluttered open, but the scene before him made no sense. Something dark brown and smelling faintly of feet filled his vision. His fingers twitched. Carpet.

He jerked his head back, which made his head spin as if he were in a G-force accelerator. He raised shaky fingers to his cheek, wiping away a dribble of saliva.

He felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Had he been hit by a truck?

His head pounded. His stomach churned. And the room spun crazily. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and slowly the memories started to come back.

The cookie. Jimbo's weird jumpiness. The way the room had tilted and gone black.

He groaned, rolling onto his side and doing a careful self-assessment, starting with his fingers and toes, then his hands, feet, arms, and legs. Nothing seemed to be broken or badly bruised.

A small miracle.

He climbed slowly to his knees, head pulsing with every movement. If he drank, he'd guess this was what the worst hangover in history felt like. Another reason he was glad he'd never touched alcohol.

As his head cleared, dread replaced the lightheadedness.

Kate. Where was she?

Adrenaline lit him up like a firecracker. He staggered to his feet and rushed to her room. Just the way she'd left it last night. No evidence that she'd taken a shower or repacked her things.

Hands pressed to the narrow walls of the hallway, he raced down to the lobby. One of the housekeepers, a tiny Inuit woman, was behind the desk. "Where's Jimbo?" he demanded.

The woman shrugged. "Dunno. I was told he had personal business to handle."

Fenn's jaw clenched. Yeah, he'd just bet Jimbo had personal business. And that business had something to do with Kate's disappearance.

Legs slightly less rubbery now, he raced back to his own room. His stuff was still there, but his M18 and his tactical knife were missing. Like that was going to stop him from going after Steele and his little clerk accomplice.

He kicked the bed, his frustration boiling over. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let his guard down like that?

He gulped in air, trying to calm himself. He could rake himself over the coals for messing up later. Right now, Kate needed a hero.

He crossed to the window over the tiny built-in desk, his mind racing. The moon hung low over the horizon, offering welcome illumination. The snow had subsided completely.

He dug in his duffle for the sat phone, lifting a plea to his Savior. "Please, Lord, tell me Steele overlooked this." If the man even knew Fenn had one.

His hand hit the blocky device. With shaking fingers, he dialed up help.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before Bridger finally picked up.

"Fenn? What's going on?" Bridger sounded tense.

"Kate's been taken. Jason was right about Consortium presence in the area. Kate's former fiancé, Hawk Steele showed up. A back-from-the-dead kind of deal. I'm certain he's Consortium. That hit on Jason that got us all to Endurance? I'll bet you anything that's his work. He wanted to lure Kate here and get her alone."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "We should have seen this coming," Bridger said finally, his voice low and furious.

It looked like Fenn wasn't the only person blaming himself. "I need reinforcements, bro."

"Jason clued us in that something was hinky out there. We're already on our way. We just touched down to refuel," Bridger assured him. "Should get back in the air within half an hour, but we're still two hours away."

Fenn groaned. "I'm betting he's got her out at an abandoned radio base an hour's snowmobile ride from the settlement."

Which meant Bridger and the team were three hours behind him. An eternity.

"Send me the coordinates," Bridger insisted. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Wear your comlink. As soon as we're in range, I'll contact you."

"Roger that." Fenn ended the call and slumped against the wall, his head in his hands.

How could he have let Steele drag Kate off like that? How could he have been so stupid?

He realized now the man had been lying all along. That radio station wasn't a place he was staying. It was a prison. To hold Kate, for some reason.

And then it hit him. The Consortium.

Hawk was going to deliver Kate to the Consortium.

Fenn paced the room, his mind racing. The team was coming to the rescue, but he couldn't wait for them. Steele already had a huge head start. No telling what he could do in three more hours.

He'd have to run this op on his own.

How many people would Hawk have watching his back? Jimbo, he had to figure, but there could easily be others. Maybe even people from the military base.

The abandoned lab was equidistant from the settlement and the base, which meant that anyone could be involved. Fenn's mind spun with the possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

He could use some serious help, but he didn't know the people in Endurance well enough to be asking folks to walk into a death trap.

And then there was the cookie thing. Who could he actually trust? He couldn't believe that Saila would have poisoned the cookies, but then again, he'd been wrong about just about everything so far.

He sank down on the bed, his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and prayed, his heart aching with the weight of his fears.

And then, suddenly, like every other time he'd been in crisis, his Savior reached out, offering wisdom. Inner peace.

Fenn knew exactly what he had to do.

He stood, his jaw set with determination. He grabbed his gear, suited up, and headed out the door.

Boots sliding on the slick layer of new snow, he made it to Rog's place as fast as he could and pounded on the door.

When the older man appeared, he didn't hesitate. "I need your help. Kate's been taken, and I need to get her back."

Rog's eyes widened. "Copy that. What do you need me to do?"

Fenn explained the situation as quickly as he could, his words crashing into each other. The older man listened intently, his brow furrowed with concern, asking only the most pertinent questions.

Fenn felt like he was talking to Graham. Rog had the same calm, quiet, deadly confidence.

Still, Fenn was all too aware of the risks he was asking the retired special ops soldier to take. "The guy we're up against is highly trained, well-funded, and completely soulless. This is gonna be––"

"A whole lotta fun," Rog interrupted him. "You got a ride?"

The empty space outside the hotel made his stomach sink. No. He didn't.

Rog waved a hand in the air. "My new beauty seats six. I got you covered. Gather whatever supplies you have. I'll meet you at the hotel in half an hour. We got this," Rog insisted and shut the door softly.

Fenn pulled his face mask back up, hunched down in his parka and ran back to the hotel.

Rog's last words echoed in his fuzzy brain.

We got this.

Yeah, they did.

"It's on." He challenged Steele, his words crystalizing in the frigid air. "I'm bringing everything I've got. You're going down. Hard."