A Father's Sacrifice by Mallory Kane

don’t care.”
    How much more death was there going to be because of him? He’d give his life to make his son whole, but he’d never imagined that his dream of creating a computerized connection between the brain and the body would drive people to murder—or suicide.
    “When I developed the capability of stimulating nerves artificially, I envisioned it giving paraplegics the ability to walk, providing nerve-damaged patients witha way to be free of wheelchairs and braces, maybe even some day replacing damaged ears and eyes.” He rubbed his face. “I never considered creating supermen who could wage superwars.”
    He met Natasha’s gaze and saw understanding in her green eyes.
    Alfred glanced back toward the house. “Ben with Charlene?”
    “Yeah,” Dylan said. “Natasha told her to get him into his braces, in case we needed to move him.”
    Natasha’s expression changed to alarm. She turned to Buckram. “Detective, what purpose did the bomb at the gate serve?”
    Dylan heard the controlled concern in her voice. What purpose? He looked at Alfred, who was rubbing his palm over his short-cropped hair. He was worried, too, and that scared Dylan.
    “That’s what I was wondering,” Alfred said. “That truck’s not big enough to do any damage to speak of. We’ll probably have a couple of marks on the gate and some burned grass, but that’s it.”
    “So what was the point? A demonstration? A publicity stunt for their warped cause?” Natasha’s tone sharpened. “Don’t these guys usually sacrifice their lives for something? Not just for show?”
    Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her weapon. “There’s something else going on.”
    A metallic voice from the two-way radios drowned out the end of her sentence. Mintz grabbed his. “Mintz, here.”
    “This is Robby. You need to see this, sir.”
    “What is it?”
    “A breach, sir. A section of fence on the west side has been cut.”

    “Did he say breach?” Dylan’s pulse hammered and a stinging sensation crawled across his skin.
    Alfred stiffened. “Put guards on the fence,” he barked. “Get a search organized. Account for everyone.”
    The gruff words ripped through him. “Oh, God! Ben.” His heart froze.
    Natasha’s face drained of color.
    “Ben!” He took off running back to the house. He pumped his arms, reaching for more speed. His damn loafers slipped on the pavement.
    He heard the crunch of gravel over his shoulder. Someone was running behind him, catching up. Natasha.
    By the time he reached the covered drive in front of the front doors, the two-way radio crackled with the sound of Alfred’s voice, barking more orders.
    A guard spotted them and threw the doors wide. Dylan and Natasha entered shoulder to shoulder. They turned toward the living quarters and burst through the doors.
    Dylan skidded to a halt in front of Ben’s door and put out a hand to stop Natasha. She bumped into him from behind.
    He struggled to pull oxygen into his lungs. If Ben was in there, and unharmed— please God —he didn’t want to scare him.
    Natasha hung back, instinctively understanding his brief pause. He wiped his face. She was waiting for him to make the first move.
    He turned the knob and pushed open the door. Nothing. The room was empty.
    “Ben!” he shouted as his heart shattered. “Ben!”
    Natasha pushed past him and swept the room. She nudged open the closet door, then swung her weapon around.
    She caught his gaze and nodded toward the door that connected Ben’s room with Charlene’s.
    Dylan acknowledged her, then stepped over to the door. He opened it, standing aside so she had a clear shot if she needed it.
    She moved like a cat as she stepped silently through the door, her weapon ready.
    Dylan followed, flipping on the lights.
    “Empty,” Natasha said. Her gaze went to Charlene’s closet. She nodded at Dylan, who eased along the wall toward the door.
    The door to Ben’s room burst open.
    Natasha jerked around, aiming her