Free A Father's Sacrifice by Mallory Kane Page A

outside.
    “What’s going on?” she whispered.
    He shook his head and rubbed his stubbled cheek. “I can’t reach Alfred. After the excitement this afternoon and the news story tonight, it’s probably another reporter trying to force his way past the guardhouses. I don’t know what the explosion was. Usually one of the night guards would have turned off the sirens by now.”
    She wished the guard would hurry up. The noise was grating on her nerves and hurting her ears. Her neck and shoulders ached with tension, and her head was beginning to pound.
    Clenching her jaw, she pushed through the two sets of glass doors that formed a small foyer just beyond the atrium. Dylan followed right behind her.
    Hector was standing with Robby, another guard she’d met when she’d arrived. They held their weapons at the ready, and stared up the long drive toward the front gate.
    Robby turned at their approach. “Dr.Stryker, someone hit the gate. You can see the smoke above the trees. Mintz told us to stay here and guard the front entry to the house.”

    “You don’t know who’s responsible?” Dylan asked.
    “No, sir. We haven’t heard anything since Mintz went out there.”
    Natasha jogged several steps up the driveway until she spotted the obelisk silhouette of the massive gates. Above them, rising up to obscure the stars, was a growing mushroom of thick black smoke.
    She broke into a run.
    “Natasha!”
    Dylan sprinted up beside her and grabbed her arm. She was forced either to slow down or lose her balance.
    “Whoa. What are you doing?” His fingers tightened, burning her flesh.
    “My job.” She panted in rhythm with her steps. She tried to twist out of his grasp. “You should get back inside until we know what happened.”
    “Me? What about you?”
    Irritation flared inside her as she rounded on him. “I’m an FBI agent. You’re unarmed.”
    Dylan’s sharp gaze glided over her from head to toe and his mouth turned up. She sent him a disgusted look. She was aware of how she looked, dressed in a black cotton sweater over pink cropped pajama bottoms with lacy hems, wearing hiking boots and a leather fanny pack, and carrying a Glock.
    Light flared against the black smoke as something caught fire. Dylan headed toward the gates.
    This time Natasha stopped him. “Dylan, wait. Whatever happened out there is aimed at you and your son. Ben is probably terrified and wanting his father—especially after his scare this afternoon.” She gestured back toward the house. “Why don’t you go be with him? We can take care of this.”
    He glanced back at the house, running a hand across the back of his neck. His expression reflected his struggle. He wanted to be with his son, but he also wanted to see for himself that his estate was still secure.
    She remembered what she’d thought the first time she’d seen him. He was burning himself out. A wave of compassion caught her off guard.
    Just then the mobile radio clipped to the waistband of his jeans crackled. He unclipped it and listened.
    Natasha only caught a couple of words. Truck. Explosives.
    “Alfred, open the side gate.”
    “No.” The word cracked like lightning through the radio.
    She agreed with Mintz. Dylan was the last person who should be on the other side of that gate right now.
    Mintz said something else.
    “Then you come in here and tell me what’s going on,” Dylan snapped. “Now!”
    He clipped the radio back on his hip and muttered a curse. He paced, flexing his right hand, doubling it into a fist, then flexing it again.
    “Dylan.”
    A heated frown was his only response.
    “Dylan.” She laid a hand on his tense forearm. “You shouldn’t pull Mintz away from the scene right now.”
    He ran a hand over his face. “He’s not in charge anymore,” he said bitterly.
    “He’s not? You mean my agents have taken over?”

    “They aren’t in charge, either. The scene has been taken over by the police. Apparently, not only must I have the FBI