Fine, they were as insane as he was. Roark kicked until the bottom panel gave in.
Behind him, Evie’s bubble lights popped on, playing through the darkness. She found a crouching position that had the tiny lights flashing through the hole he’d made. They bounced in sparkly rainbows off the conference room walls and illuminated the swinging chandelier. More shrieks and curses and a burst of gunfire. Yeah, right, good ol’ da, shooting at haints.
From behind the wall, Jax lowered the hand holding a powerful flashlight, shining it through the crawl hole into the larger room, blinding the occupants. Stooping down to see through the panel, Roark thought he caught a glimpse of Reuben with a small automatic and a handful of cable ties hidden by a credenza along the back wall. Cautious Reuben wouldn’t take down his da... yet.
The blinding light brought more screams and chair scraping. Over the chaos, Roark could hear his father bellowing, “Tais-toiyouputain de merdeand give me my son so I can whack his sorry tail...”
Mon dieu..! At least now he knew where the bastard was lurking.
“Stay back,” Roark ordered, before shouting through the hole. “Claude Roark LeBlanc, I damn your cretinous hide to a hell of your own making.”
Sure enough, his da swung around, blasting his pathetic automatic in the direction of Roark’s voice, except at chest height. Entering the office in a crouch, Roark rolled under the hail of bullets, jumped up, and flung the sharp-edged metal box of sarin at his father’s head. He’d had a mean pitch when he was a kid. He’d not practiced lately, but big box, big head, hard to miss. He heard Claude grunt. His father was out cold and not going anywhere.
Roark shouted into the uproar, “Sarin! The box is filled with poison gas! Run!”
Ursula’s screams resounded loudest, Roark noticed in satisfaction, swiveling in her direction. He tackled her before she could reach the door. He didn’t know where everyone else was, but he was personally taking down the murderous bitch.
Tinkerbelle lights played over the room. Chimes tinkled. Big police lights finally flashed on, spotlighting the board of directors cowering under the conference table. Obviously, the money-grubbers had no idea what sarin was and were hiding from Stupid Man with his gun.
“The whole damned lot of you are under arrest,” a voice of authority shouted.
Not him. No more prison cells for him. Roark slammed his palm under Ursula’s jaw, and she went limp. If he was lucky, he’d broken a bone. If he wasn’t, oh well, she was unconscious and not going anywhere. Keeping to the darkness of the floor, he slid backward and through the panel he’d crashed. Jax and Evie helped him up.
He wasn’t in the least surprised when Reuben crawled through after him.
Feeling more wiped than he ever had in his life because this time he had to think of others, Roark whispered into his mic. “Ariel,cher, bring the van around to the back. We’re going for ice cream.”
“Sarin, you crazy man!” Reuben whispered as he hit his feet running, joining Evie and Jax who had fled out the patio door ahead of them.
“Sarin deteriorates. If she stole that from the FSB, it’s been rotting for decades. And the box was pretty tight. They can’t say I didn’t warn them.” Roark dashed into the parking lot as the van turned the corner.
He opened the driver’s door, scooped Ariel out, hugged and kissed her, then handed her to an irate Jax. “Full house. Let’s get outta here.”
He hopped into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and didn’t wait for the rear door to close after the last person scrambled in back.
This was one shit storm his da wasn’t dragging him into.
* * *
“What the hellis Ariel doing here?” Jax shouted, slamming the rear door as the van rumbled into traffic.
“Helping.” Ariel hoped she’d helped, maybe just a little. She was shivering and wished she’d brought the raincoat with her. “Where are Pris and Dante?”
“Pris and Dante? They’re back there. Oh, hell.” Roark hit the brake. The van fishtailed on the wet road.
Ariel handed her phone to Evie. “Call?”
Evie pounced on it, hit Pris’s number, and put her on speaker. “Do we need to rescue you?”
Pris’s voice filled the car. “The Great White Savior is pontificating with a police chief and a federal agent. I have the car keys, so if he wants out, he’ll have to follow me. And I’m leaving. I do not want to know what just happened in there.”
“You do, too, but I’m not telling you unless you fix us lunch tomorrow. I want all the pretty spiraly veggies on crackers you fix for customers.”
“Those are for Loretta’s birthday party.” Pris clicked off.
Ariel took the phone back. The men were arguing. She clasped her hands anxiously. Were they mad at her? Jax probably was.
She huddled in a corner behind the driver’s seat, trying to make herself small while processing what couldn’t be processed. The phone... Her window on the world. She opened the screen to the cameras in the conference room and showed it to the others.