A/N: Quick question/note - I've noticed that some writers put warnings in their A/Ns when there is "coarse language" present in the coming chapter. Well, there is some coarse language in this chapter (and the last one), but isn't that implied by the 'T' rating? If you're interested in weighing in with your opinion on whether or not warnings should be supplied, feel free to share in a review!
THANK YOU for reading and ENJOY! :-)
"Damn it!" Chris Wilson swore as he slammed his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He'd called his second-in-command, Mike, three times, and each time the call had gone to the anonymous voice mail message that was making Chris' anxiety multiply fast. He paced the kitchen, ignoring the questioning eyes of the rest of his team, and ran an impatient hand through his shoulder-length chestnut hair.
"We're going to need to move the hostages," he muttered, forcing himself to stop beside the kitchen table. "Damn it, Mike," he added again, under his breath. This op was going to Hell, and Chris was fast starting to regret that he had ever agreed to take it on. He almost hadn't; he'd almost walked away from the sketchy intel, the precarious, overly-elaborate plan and the glint of mad desperation in Daniel Wayland's eyes, but Chris couldn't make himself turn his back on the multi-million dollar pay out.
"I'll call Wayland. Get the van ready," Chris ordered, staring down two of his remaining men until they nodded, got to their feet and slouched out of the room. Pulling his cell phone back out, Chris hesitated before dialing the number. Every time he called Wayland, the man seemed closer to losing his mind. It was a potent mix of bloodlust, grief, fury and desperation that drove the 60-something owner of one of the largest law firms on the East coast, and Chris was smart enough to know that strong emotion and successful ops didn't usually mix. He was half-tempted to take his men and walk out, but God only knew to what lengths Wayland might go to punish the breach of contract. No, escape at this point was not an option; victory was the only way out of this mess. Chris made the call, and, as usual, Wayland picked up on the first ring.
"We've got a problem," Chris reported without preamble. "Our location may have been compromised. Where can we move the hostages?" The three men who had remained inside with Chris watched intently as their leader snatched a piece of paper and a pen and began scribbling furiously against the table.
"I haven't been able to reach Mike," Chris snapped suddenly. "That's why I'm calling you." Pulling the phone slightly away from his ear as Wayland launched into an angry tirade, Chris gestured to the men who had remained in the kitchen with him. "Check on Hal and Jim," he mouthed. "Then get the hostages." Obediently, the men headed towards the front door.
"Wayland!" Chris said sharply, hoping to interrupt the lawyer's rant. "If you want me to get your assets out of here, I've got to go. I'll call you when...fuck!" Chris flinched and swore when the report of a gun echoed through the cabin, followed quickly by a spurt of additional gunfire.
"I'll call you," Chris spat into the phone, before pushing it into his pocket once more. Grabbing two automatic weapons off the kitchen counter, he crouched and hurried for the front porch, a long string of expletives slipping off his tongue as he readied himself for battle.
* * *
"Three-to-two looks a Hell of a lot better than six-to-two did," Agent DiNozzo said grimly, as he waited for an opportunity to take another shot at the remaining kidnappers. Without answering, Gibbs leaned around the edge of the dark van they were sheltered behind, drawing the fire and attention of the two men who were still shooting at them. Taking advantage of Gibbs' diversion, Tony ducked around the opposite side of the van and took two shots, swearing under his breath when both men managed to dodge his bullets and take cover behind the woodpile that was just off the front porch.
"Let's hope it's only six," Gibbs frowned, signaling Tony to divert attention to himself. Tony did so, but the kidnappers were learning fast. When Gibbs leaned out for his shot, he was forced to yank back immediately to avoid the bullets that were fired in his direction. Impatient, DiNozzo peeked around the edge of the van again, and he threw himself back in surprise when his appearance drew a burst of machine gun fire. Gibbs, too, swiftly side-stepped further away from the edges of the van.
"Sounds like they're upgrading their fire power," Tony said.
"Ya think, DiNozzo," Gibbs hissed. Another burst of weapons fire cut off Tony's response, accompanied by the sound of bullets imbedding themselves into the far side of the van.
"Shit," Tony muttered to himself. "Just shit!"
* * *
Chris cursed when he saw one of his men fallen on the porch, just outside the front door. He quickly caught sight of two others, Paul and Jack, sheltered behind the woodpile and exchanging shots with the NCIS Agents who seemed to be taking cover behind their van - which no doubt meant that they had already taken down the men he'd sent to prepare the vehicle. Chris waited for a short respite in the gunfire before hurrying across the porch and ducking behind the woodpile with what remained of his team. Thrusting one of the automatic weapons into Jack's hands, he quickly peered over the woodpile and let loose a barrage of fire at the barely visible Agent near the front side of the van - Anthony DiNozzo, if the man matched the photos Wayland had provided them with.
"Get the girl," Chris hissed at Paul, pushing the other man towards the porch roughly. Jack barraged the van with gunfire to keep the feds from interrupting Paul's return to the house.
Leaning his shoulder lightly against the woodpile, Chris stared Jack in the eye for a moment when the other man ducked down for a quick pause in the shooting. "This is gonna be a piece of cake," Chris assured the other man, pushing himself back up to put an eye on the van. "Paul'll bring the girl up here, and DiNozzo and Gibbs are going to surrender to save her life. That'll be that."
For good measure, he loosed another round of fire at the two men behind the van. No sense in giving them the opportunity to think, and there was always the off chance that a bullet or two would penetrate the vehicle.
* * *
Ziva startled into hyper-awareness at the sound of the first gun shot, scrambling to her feet awkwardly when one gunshot turned into an all out fire fight.
"McGee!" she hissed, fighting down the slight dizziness that accompanied her sudden movement. "Something is happening up there!"
"I hear that, Ziva," the other Agent replied, working his own way to his feet. They were quiet for a few moments, Ziva listening intently to the sounds of the battle going on above, trying to discern a story from the pattern and frequency of shots. She tugged half-heartedly at her binds once more, starting the raw skin of her wrists bleeding again.
"How many shooters do you think?" McGee whispered.
"Not many, four to six. I can't be sure." A burst of automatic fire made Ziva catch her breath.
"It could be on our side," McGee murmured optimistically. Ziva would have glared at him if they hadn't been tied back-to-back.
"It's not," she said, pulling at her binds again. The action had become something of a habit by now, and she barely even felt the pain anymore. If Tony was up there - and she had no doubt that he was - then she should be up there with him, watching his six. Just the thought pushed a stab of fear through her chest, fear that still felt new and overwhelming to her; it was more difficult than she had ever imagined, having things to lose.
The unmistakable sound of someone rushing down the stairs interrupted her concern abruptly. She felt McGee stiffen behind her. The fire fight continued on above them, dominated by the report of the automatic weapons now, and Ziva could only hope that Tony and whoever was with him had found solid cover. Focusing her thoughts on the present situation, Ziva leaned against the pole behind her as one of the kidnappers entered the basement, doing her best to look non-threatening and inconspicuous. The light-haired man crossed the space to the far door without so much as a glance at Ziva or McGee, and Ziva felt a thrill of anger and anticipation run down her spine. The man was in a hurry, he was stressed and scared, and he was a fool. He'd come for Adi, a predictable solution to resolving the situation upstairs, and the most direct route from the stairs to the room Adi was being held in had taken him within reach of Ziva's unbound feet. Ziva shifted her weight slightly and prayed that he would make the same mistake twice.
When the man re-emerged from the back room, pulling Adi roughly by her arm, Ziva worked hard to keep her focus strong without giving away her intention. Too much energy, too much intensity, might alert her target to the danger. She spared a half-instant to scan her daughter, relieved to find that the girl looked uninjured, even if her dark green eyes were bright with fear. Ziva rebalanced minutely, and felt McGee shift behind her - he, at least, had sensed that something was up.
Ziva's prayer was answered, and, at precisely the right moment, she lashed out, catching the kidnapper in the neck with her right foot. The feel of the impact we all she needed to know that she had struck her mark with perfection; the sight of him collapsing unconscious before her was an unnecessary confirmation of her success. Adi, who had been dragged half-way to the floor when her captor had fallen, quickly scrambled to her feet and threw herself into Ziva's side, wrapping her arms around her mother's legs and burying her face in the side of her hip. Her daughter's body shaking with fear against her made Ziva wonder if her heart would be torn in two by the mix of gratitude, anger, fear and sheer love that raged within her. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs and half-closing her eyes, Ziva fought to stifle the emotion at least long enough to get them out of here alive. What now?
"Ziva!" McGee interrupted her internal race for a next step. "I have a knife."
"Where, McGee?" Ziva said urgently, eyes widened with excitement and sudden hope.
"Concealed in my belt," McGee replied. "Tony gave it to me for my birthday last year."
Taking an instant to bless the chain of decisions had led to this small bit of fortune, Ziva then turned her face to her daughter and spoke gently to her. "Adi-love," she murmured. "Look at me." Obediently, the girl raised her eyes to Ziva's face. "My brave darling, I need you to get Uncle Tim's knife." Adi nodded slowly, pulling her small arms away from Ziva and moving to stand in front of McGee, looking into his face questioningly.
"Unbuckle my belt, Adi" McGee prompted her, "and then pull on the buckle." Adi followed his instructions without delay, and her tug revealed the promised knife blade. Ziva blew out a huge sigh that was half disbelief and half plain thankfulness. Tony had told her how just such a knife blade had once saved his life from a mad waitress in the sewers of D.C. - when he was trying to explain to her why this belt-knife would be the perfect gift for McGee. She had laughed at his assuredly over-dramatic retelling, but she had also encouraged the purchase - amused by the excitement that the memory sparked in him. Little had she known that it might one day save her daughter, herself, McGee and Tony, too.
"Good girl," Ziva said softly, drawing Adi's eyes back to her own. "Can you cut me free?" With only the smallest of hesitations, Adi did so, the not-quite-sharp blade held in her shaking hands managing to eat its way through the plastic binds as her determination grew. As soon as her hands were free, Ziva twisted onto her knees, one arm finding its way around Adi's shoulders as the opposite hand seized the knife blade and sliced McGee free in one quick swipe. Dropping the blade to the ground, Ziva wrapped Adi into her arms, pressing her face into the child's curls as McGee hurried to search the fallen kidnapper.
"I love you," Ziva whispered against Adi's ear, holding the girl tighter for a moment before she released her, keeping a hold of one of Adi's hands as she stood and turned to face McGee.
Holding out the gun he'd found on the man's belt, McGee said, "You're the better shot." Ziva nodded, took the weapon, then pressed Adi's hand into McGee's.
"Stay with your Uncle McGee," she murmured to Adi, waiting for the girl to nod before turning her eyes on McGee. McGee nodded once in acknowledgment of Ziva's silent request, and Ziva tore herself away to rush up the stairs. Adi and McGee followed just slightly behind her, McGee holding Adi close against his side.
Stepping into the upstairs hallway, Ziva hesitated only long enough to discern that the source of the ongoing gunfire was outside the cabin. Staying close to the wall, she hurried towards the sound and through the small entrance room. Pressing herself against the wall beside the open door, she listened for indication of how many men she'd be facing.
"Where the Hell is Paul?" she heard someone hiss, and the voice made her anger flare. It was the man who had introduced himself as Chris, who had laughed at her attempt to save her daughter. Without wasting another moment, Ziva took one more step, pleased when the position offered clean and easy shots at the two gunmen that were crouched beside the front porch. She emptied her borrowed weapon into their backs without hesitation, and even when her bullets were spent, she couldn't bring herself to lower the gun right away. Shooting hadn't involved quite enough violence to quench her thirst for revenge.
"Ziva!" Tony's voice pierced her unsatisfied fury, and she turned her face to see him emerging from behind a bullet-ridden van parked in the driveway. Holstering his weapon, Tony sprinted the distance between them, leaping the porch stairs in one long stride and stopping an arm's length from Ziva to touch her gently on the arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, examining her frozen expression warily.
After a pause that was only slightly too long, Ziva began to nod, her eyes sliding to Tony's. "I am fine," she said. "Now."
"Daddy!" Adi's voice rang out from the doorway, and drawing his fingers across Ziva's skin, Tony took two quick strides and pulled his daughter away from McGee, wrapping her tight against his chest and burying his face in her curls.
Walking across the yard towards the cabin's entrance, Gibbs felt his chest tighten with a strange mixture of relief, love, pride and the ever-present regret as Tony lifted Adi into his arms. He watched Ziva put one hand on Tony's back, and stroke Adi's hair with the other. He saw Tony shift his daughter onto his left hip, freeing his right hand to greet McGee with a handshake and a one-armed hug before reaching for Ziva's waist and pulling her against his side. The retired agent felt a smile twist his face, even as a streak of ancient grief lanced across his heart, and then he climbed up the stairs to join his team.
* * *
Less than fifteen miles separated Daniel Wayland's Leesburg home from the isolated cabin he had purchased years ago for the entertainment of his two sons. The boys loved to hunt - and to party. To be honest, Wayland had never really paid much attention to what they used the cabin for, and they had used it often before enlisting in the Marine Corp. Wayland pushed his black Mercedes faster along the twisting, rural road, anger building in his chest when he thought of his boys. This damned plan had gone wrong from day one, and there was no way that he was going to rely on Chris to salvage what was left of it. At this point, Wayland was willing to admit that he wasn't going to have things exactly the way he'd wanted, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing what he could. Even one bullet - one death - would be better than none.
A/N: Reviews are WAY better than sliced bread! They're better than CityMarket's Gourmet Apple Berry Pie. They might even be better than chocolate! ... Yes, I have decided that they ARE better than chocolate. So won't you please press the magic button and let me know what you're thinking?
Only two more chapters and the Epilogue left, folks...we're almost there. I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that! (-:-(