Jackson was going over his own plans in his head as he drove. He knew that Trace wanted him to keep out of whatever it was they were walking into, but he also knew that there was no way he was letting Trace handle this by himself. He had the training for situations similar to this and depending on the layout of the place, he might just be able to get in without being noticed. He wanted to share his thoughts with Trace, but knew that the other man would shoot him down and want him to stay out of it.
Trace called the chief a couple of different times to get an update and was assured that they already had the barricades up and had called in the swat team. They were simply waiting for Trace to get there before they moved in. He had watched Jackson as they drove and was beginning to suspect that he had something up his sleeve.
"Whatever you're thinking, stop," Trace told him.
"What are you talking about?" Jackson asked, wondering what he had done that had given himself away.
"You're planning something," Trace told him. "You need to understand that this is my problem and I'll deal with it my way."
"You'll deal with it your way, gotcha," Jackson answered, knowing he was going to have to wait for the perfect opportunity to slip away.
By the time they reached the city, Trace had himself and his emotions under a tight fist of control. He had Jackson pull over so they could switch places since Jackson didn't know the city. Trace took them through the familiar streets and tried to push down the dread that filled his gut. The pulled onto Mitch's street and even from that distance they could make out the glow of the red and blue lights flashing. Trace pulled over and cut the engine a few houses away from Mitch's.
"Don't do anything stupid," Trace warned as they climbed down from the cab of the truck.
"I won't do anything stupid," Jackson promised. He was surprised when Trace took hold of his hand to lead him through the conglomerate of police vehicles with Hercules hot on their trails.
"Anything new?" Trace asked as he reached the chief.
"No, we're not even sure at this point how many are inside or exactly where they are. Who's this?" the chief asked as he pointed to Jackson.
"He's with me," Trace informed him as he released Jackson's hand.
"You should have known not to bring a civilian here," the chief reprimanded before turning to Jackson. "Just make sure you stay the hell out of the way."
"Maybe I can call and talk to them," Trace volunteered, "it's me they want anyways."
"You can try to talk to them, but just so we're clear, you are not going in. We've already got one of our own in there, we don't need another one."
"Gotcha chief," Trace answered as he pulled out his cell phone. He walked back to his truck and climbed in with the chief and Jackson right behind him before he dialed Mitch's number. He motioned for the other two men to be quiet and put the phone on speaker.
"You here yet?" the voice that answered asked without preamble.
"Almost," Trace answered, hoping to buy just a little more time. He really needed them to by that he was still on his way, which is why he'd left the truck running. Now he just needed to know that Mitch was okay. "Let me talk to Mitch so I know he's okay."
"You're in no position to make demands," the man told him.
"You're right, but I'm the one you want, so why should I show up if you've already killed them?" Trace waited impatiently to see if the man would put Mitch on the phone and sighed in relief when he heard his friend's voice.
"Trace?"
"Yeah buddy, it's me. Everybody okay in there?"
"We're fine. Stay away from here Trace, don't give them what they want," Mitch warned, only to let out a grunt of pain as one of the men socked him in the gut.
"Mitch? You okay man?" Trace asked. He could hear voices in the background and cringed at the words he was hearing.
"You'd better hope he comes, he's the only chance you have," said the same voice who had originally answered the phone. Seconds later Trace heard the voice back on the phone. "You have one hour to get your ass here."
Trace fought down the fear that threatened to choke him as he heard the click signally the other man hanging up. He slammed his fist down on the hood of the patrol car in front of him and barely felt the pain that resonated up his arm. He turned tortured eyes to the chief in a what now look.
"I don't know Trace," the chief told him as they got back out of the truck and made their way back to the patrol cars.
"There's got to be something," Trace commented. Despite his resolve, Trace turned to Jackson. He knew that these were the exact scenarios that Jackson had been trained to hand in the Marine's, but when he turned to his lover he found him gone.
"Where'd your friend go?" the chief asked with a pointed look behind Trace.
He was silently cussing as his gaze scanned the immediate area, hoping to see Jackson's familiar face. He realized the futility of his actions when he heard a whine from Hercules and looked down to find his four legged companion's gaze focused on Mitch's house.
"God damn it," Trace swore and tried to move towards the house only to be stopped by the chief.
"Where do you think you're going? You're not going in there, remember?"
Instead of answering, Trace turned his attention back to his dog. Over the last three weeks, Hercules had bonded with Jackson. He had no doubt that if he sent the dog in, he would go directly to Jackson and protect him just as he would himself.
"Find him boy," Traced ordered before anyone could realize his intentions. He watched as Hercules sprang to attention and darted through the maze of police cars. He lost sight of him for a moment when he disappeared into the bushes. It took a minute for the dog to reappear and when he did, Jackson was by his side. He wanted to scream out to Jackson, but bit his lip, the last thing he wanted to do was call attention to Jackson.
It was a tense five minutes that seemed more like hours before he heard shouts coming from the house. The shouts were immediately followed by the sound of a single report from a firearm. Before anyone could react, the front door opened and Mitch appeared with his daughter sobbing in his arms and his wife clinging to his side. The only thing that still worried him was that there was no sign of Jackson or Hercules.
Later that Night
"I should have let them arrest your ass," Trace groused as he glared across the seat of the truck at Jackson. "I told you not to do anything stupid."
"I didn't," Jackson told him. "I did exactly what I've been trained to do, it wasn't stupid."
"Were you armed?" Trace asked him.
