Maya Banks - Whispers in the Dark

 He shoved a clip into a Glock and handed it to Shea. Then he reached into the back for another handgun and an assault rifle. He rummaged in his bag for a moment and then produced several extra clips for the guns. He handed two to Shea and she shoved them into her pocket.

 Then he turned to face her. “This is going to be a quick in and out. We go in, see what there is to see and then we’re getting out. Stay behind me at all times unless I tell you differently. If I tell you to shoot, start shooting. If I tell you to run, you get your ass out no matter what I’m doing. Understand?”

 She nodded, swallowing back her nervousness.

 “If for any reason we get separated, you get back to the jeep and haul ass.”

 He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

 “My brothers’ numbers are in there. Labeled Sam, Garrett, Donovan and Joe. You’ll be able to reach at least one of them. If things go bad, do not wait around for me. You run and you keep running and you call my brothers and tell them what’s gone down.”

 “I got it.”

 Nathan nodded and then opened his door. “Okay, let’s do this.”

SHEA led Nathan through the trees and into a particularly dense section of vegetation. She kicked aside a piece of camouflage netting to reveal the cap that sealed the tunnel entrance. Nathan handed her his rifle before squatting down to pry open the lid. He stared into the darkness for a moment before returning his gaze to Shea.

 “I’m going first and then I’ll call up for you.”

 He hopped over the side, his feet finding the rungs of the ladder and then he rapidly descended, his head disappearing from view.

 A moment later he called softly up to her and she lowered his rifle. She tucked the pistol into her waistband and then went down into the tunnel after him.

 When she reached the bottom rung, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the concrete floor.

 “Stay close,” he murmured.

 The pathway was illuminated by dim running lights on the left and right. The air was stale and musty as if the tunnel hadn’t been used for some time. Her gaze was riveted to Nathan’s back and her foot collided with an object on the floor, pitching her forward.

 She bumped into his back and he came up short, reaching a hand back to steady her.

 “You okay?”

 She frowned and looked down at the offending object to see it was a small, leather-bound book. She squatted to pick it up and leaned it toward the light.

 Her pulse ratcheted up when she opened it to the first page. It was her mother’s handwriting. The shock of seeing the familiar script wrenched her heart. She rapidly flipped through the other pages and realized it was her mother’s journal. Shea hadn’t known she’d kept one.

 Nathan bent down to look over her shoulder. “What is it?”

 “My mother’s journal,” Shea replied. “I’m unsure of how it got here. I didn’t even know she kept one.”

 How had it gotten here? Unease prickled up Shea’s spine. It seemed likely now that this was the way Grace had come just recently. Had she dropped it? Had she been pursued and caught? Had she left it for Shea to find?

 She rose and shoved the small volume in the front waistband of her jeans so that it was crammed against her belly. Then she adjusted her grip on the pistol and nodded at Nathan. “Let’s go. I’ll look at it later.”

 They continued down the long corridor until they reached the door leading into the panic room.

 Nathan examined the key pad and then turned back to Shea. “Do you have the code?”

 She stepped forward and punched in a series of numbers. “It’s 3272*4824. Just in case you need it and I’m not here to do it.”

 He frowned at that statement, but it would be pretty damn stupid not to plan for the worst.

 The lock snicked and Shea started to push the door open, but Nathan stuck his arm out and shoved her behind him. He entered the room, rifle up, his gaze rapidly scanning the interior.

 He motioned for her in a quick, impatient gesture. Feeling like a complete fraud and not at all sure of this stealth mumbo jumbo, she raised her gun and followed Nathan in. She just hoped to hell no one jumped out at them, because she couldn’t be entirely sure what would happen.

 She was a good shot. At the range. Which was entirely different from shooting at an actual person when under enormous stress. A paper target posed no threat. You could take all bloody day to aim. You could breathe normally. No stress. Just point and shoot.

 Not so much here.

 Everything was still online and working. There were video monitors mounted along one wall with a view of each room in the house as well as the front, back and side views of the exterior. What Shea saw made her gasp.

 She walked forward, her gaze riveted to the sheer destruction evident on the monitors.

 “My God,” she whispered.

 Nathan studied the monitors with her, his gaze moving over each one as if searching for any threat.

 The living room—all of the rooms—were a mess. Nothing had been left untouched or undamaged. The furniture was destroyed. Picture frames lay broken on the floor. Vases, artwork, dead plants, her mother’s beloved wildlife figurines and the glass curio cabinet where they’d been housed were all in pieces, scattered through the room.

 The entire house had been ransacked. Not just ransacked, but completely and utterly destroyed as if the person responsible had been in a rage. Or they hadn’t found what they were looking for.

 Was this what had happened after her parents had been murdered and Shea and Grace had fled? Or had this been done more recently? Had her parents been left to rot in the house or were their bodies disposed of to conceal the evidence of the crime committed?

 “Jesus,” Nathan muttered. “Looks like a damn war zone.”

 Shea froze when her gaze skittered across the monitor that had a view of the dining room. The carpet that had borne the bloodstains of her parents was gone. Someone had removed it. Why? But she still saw the pool of blood in her mind. Tears filled her eyes and she looked hastily away.

 In her mind, an endless loop played and she saw her father valiantly trying to protect her mother. Heard the intruders demand to know where the girls were. She saw him gunned down when he refused to give them any information on his daughters’ whereabouts and then her mother throwing her body over her husband as she sobbed and pleaded for their lives.

 She shut her eyes and viciously shoved the images from her head. She’d looked away then too, no longer able to bear to see what happened. Grace had called her a heartless bitch when Shea had dragged her toward the door and shoved her into the tunnel.

 But she’d known there was nothing she and Grace could do and she’d made a vow that her parents wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for nothing. She’d keep Grace—and herself—safe. Her mom and dad wouldn’t die in vain.

 Who had done this? They’d gone to great lengths to conceal the deaths, disposing of the bodies, removing the blood-soaked carpet. Yet they’d trashed the house and left it in shambles? It didn’t make sense, which was why she suspected that the house had been ransacked much more recently. Like when Grace had been here and had been frightened away by intruders.

 When Nathan spoke, she jumped. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him move toward the door leading out of the panic room into the rest of the house.

 “Same code?”

 She nodded. Her heart jumped into overdrive and her hands shook so much that she wrapped both around the stock of the gun in an effort not to drop it.

 The stock was slick and she took one hand away from it to wipe it down the leg of her jeans. Then she switched hands so she could rub the other one.

 There had been no sign that anyone was in the house. No sign of Grace. Had the house been that way when Grace had arrived? Or had this been done by whoever had startled Grace?

 Fear gripped her by the throat and threatened to choke her.

 Where was Grace now? And was she okay? Why the hell wouldn’t she communicate with Shea? Or was she unable to?

 That was what scared Shea the most. The thought of Grace hurt and unable to call for Shea was paralyzing.

 “Let’s move. I don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary,” Nathan said when the lock released on the door.

 She collected herself and moved into the hallway behind Nathan. Her gaze scanned each room, but what was she looking for? Everything was a complete and total mess. How would she even know if there was something missing?

 Then she remembered the journal tucked into her jeans. She looked down and fingered the edge. She was convinced now that Grace must have dropped it. What Shea didn’t know was if it had been an accident or if Grace had intended for Shea to find it.

 She forced her attention back to her surroundings. Nathan kept his head up as he crept from room to room. He toed through a few of the fallen items but quickly moved through the house.

 When they reached the kitchen, Nathan glanced into the garage and then turned back to Shea. “Try to contact Grace again. Everything is quiet here. I don’t see any fresh blood, and it’s hard to tell if there was a struggle. Too big of a mess.”

 Shea’s stomach dropped and she poured all of her energy into the effort to reach out to her sister.

 Grace. Please, talk to me. I’m here at the house. Things are a mess here. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. I’m safe now. You can be too.