Chapter 12 - Blood and Dust"Where is she?" Taylor asked, stopping ten paces away from me. The four armed men stood rigidly behind her, their fingers resting dangerously close to their triggers.
"Lily is safe," I yelled back, holding up my hand. Pinched between my fingers was a small, silver USB drive. "Far away from you and your mother."
Taylor let out a sharp, condescending laugh. "Oh, Mark. You always were so dramatic. Do you really think you can outplay us? My mother owns half the state. Arthur is already back in Crestwood, sitting in your favorite armchair, telling the police how his manic wife kidnapped their daughter. By morning, you’ll be a nationwide manhunt, and I will be the tragic, victimized mother."
My stomach turned. Arthur had survived the glass shard and made it back to New York. The timeline was accelerating.
"I have the vault data, Taylor," I said, my voice projecting loud and clear across the canyon. "I have the trust documents. I know about the Lily Crestwood Trust. You don't own anything. This whole empire belongs to my bloodline."
For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. Taylor's eyes flared with a raw, ugly hatred. But she recovered quickly, smoothing the front of her coat.
"Which is why you are going to hand over that drive, sign the conservatorship papers I brought, and then tell me where my daughter is," Taylor said coldly. "If you do, I'll make sure your death is quick. If you don't... my men will shoot out your kneecaps, and we will peel the information out of you piece by piece."
"You really think you're walking out of here?" I asked, a dark smile creeping onto my face.
Taylor smirked. "I have four trained mercenaries, Mark. You have a USB drive and a bleeding heart. Kill him," she ordered, turning her back to me.
Crack.
The sound of David's hunting rifle split the night like a thunderclap.
The mercenary closest to Taylor spun violently, his rifle clattering to the dirt as a high-caliber round shattered his shoulder. He screamed, dropping to his knees.
Chaos erupted.
"Sniper!" one of the men yelled. The remaining three raised their rifles, blindly firing into the darkness of the canyon walls. Bullets sparked against rusted machinery and shattered old wooden beams.
I didn't freeze. I dove forward, rolling behind the rusted chassis of an old mining cart just as a spray of bullets tore through the air where I had been standing.
"Flash 'em!" I yelled into the radio clipped to my collar.
Up on the catwalk, David hit the remote detonator.
The flashbang grenades we had rigged along the perimeter exploded simultaneously. A blinding, magnesium-white light eradicated the darkness, followed immediately by a concussive shockwave that rattled my teeth and temporarily deafened everyone in the clearing.
The mercenaries screamed in pain, dropping their weapons to claw at their blinded eyes.
I vaulted over the mining cart, charging blindly through the smoke and dust. I wasn't going for the mercenaries. I was going for Taylor.
I tackled her around the waist. We hit the gravel hard, rolling into the dirt. Taylor fought like a wild animal, her manicured nails clawing at my face, but I grabbed her wrists and pinned her down, driving my knee into her stomach.
"It's over, Taylor!" I roared over the ringing in my ears.
Suddenly, a heavy combat boot caught me squarely in the ribs.
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I was thrown off her, gasping for air as pain exploded in my side. I rolled over to see one of the mercenaries, his vision clearing, aiming a pistol directly at my head.
Before he could pull the trigger, the deep, mechanical groan of the abandoned mine shaft echoed behind us.
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