Despite the danger, anger stoked inside her. How could anyone be this callous with these innocent children? Large moist eyes stared at her, tracking her as she searched the rooms.

Alone now, she no longer had to mask her emotions. Fear turned to fury. She used it, allowed it to spread like a fire through her belly. She had wilted under panic once before-but never again.

These bastards had stolen everything from her: her life, her brother, her friends, even Jack. This last thought sapped some of her will. If Jack could not stop them, what hope was there for her?

She searched the remainder of her confinement. Other than a small lavatory and bathroom, there was no other exit from the dormitory. She was trapped here. They all were.

Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the center of the room. The children gathered around her. Some clung to her legs, others sucked thumbs, a few softly sobbed. She settled to the floor with them.

A small boy climbed into her lap, joining the girl. The two clung to each other. The pair reminded her of the conjoined capuchin monkeys back at the lab. But she knew these two-the entire group, in fact-were merged at a level beyond mere flesh. More children nestled around her. Every pop and rattle of gunfire trembled through the group like a pebble dropped into a pond.

She did her best to reassure them. She reached out and touched each one. Where contact was made, they seemed to relax. Caramel-brown eyes shone at her. Tiny fingers clung to her, to each other. They smelled warmly of baby powder and sour milk.

Despite her fear and physical discomfort, a trickle of peace spread through her. She couldn’t say where it originated: from herself, from the children. It didn’t matter. The peace inside her was not one of slothful contentment, but of determined resolve, a steadying of her keel.

As panic drained, certainty grew.

“We’ll get out of here,” she promised, as much for her benefit as the children. “We all will.”

But how?

DUNCAN’S HEAD STILL rang from the rocket impact. Blood trickled from one ear and down his neck.

Moments before the blast, he had run out of the security nest and dove into the limestone tunnel that connected the command bunker to the villa. He had managed to slam the door behind him as the rocket struck the gun battery in the upper bunker. Still, the concussion had blown the door off its hinges and tossed him down the tunnel.

With his eyes burning, he fought through the smoke and back into the security nest. Glass crackled underfoot. Half the windows overlooking the bay had shattered into the room. He found the technician in a pool of blood on the floor. Duncan checked for a pulse but failed to find one.

He crossed to one of the broken windows. The chatter of automatic weapons echoed up to him, punctuated by grenade blasts. He spotted the fishing charter in the harbor, half obscured by smoke. The firefight continued to rage between the boat and the beach. It was a hellish barrage. Tracer rounds flashed through the growing smoke. Screams rang out.

Still, he sensed the fishing boat was playing a game of distraction, maintaining a holding pattern out there rather than launching a full frontal assault.

But why?

Duncan turned to the nest of monitors. Most were dark, but a few flickered with grainy images. Movement on one drew his eye. He shifted closer. The screen showed the fence between the two islands.

Also something new.

The black Zodiac raft from earlier had beached itself nearby. A stray round must have shredded one of the pontoons, deflating it. The boat wasn’t going anywhere now. The pirates were lucky to have made it as far as the beach-and luckier still to have missed the flechette mines buried in the seabed alongside the land bridge.

Closer to the camera, five men huddled by the fence. Nearby, two bodies lay on the sand in a growing pool of blood. From the black camouflage jackets, the dead bodies were Duncan’s men.

Anger curled his fingers into fists.

Who the hell were these raiders?

One of the attackers shifted closer to the hidden camera. He momentarily turned his face into full view, shaded by a ball cap. A jolt of recognition shot through Duncan.

That ball cap…

He’d seen it before and its owner. Out on the bayou road. The Cajun in the Chevy truck. Duncan struggled to comprehend how that man could be here. It made no sense. He’d watched the truck dump into the Mississippi. Even if the man had survived the river, why was he here? How had he tracked Duncan to Lost Eden Cay?

Answers slowly sifted through his shock.

The Cajun had mentioned something about a brother being at ACRES. That was why the bastard had been on the road so late, why he had stopped to ask for directions. If that bastard was here now, that meant someone else probably survived the assault on the lab.

Duncan realized he still hadn’t heard from the soldier he had left behind to canvass the area and clean it up. Had he been captured, forced to talk? Duncan knew better than that. His men would never talk.

Regardless, these bastards had found the island.

They would live to regret that.

As his initial shock faded Duncan digested this information. He watched the Cajun tilt his ball cap and stare across the fencerow toward the other island, as if expecting company. Duncan remembered the armed figures caught on camera earlier. Clearly this team was attempting to rendezvous with the other, to join forces for a surgical strike, to sneak in the back door while the firefight raged out front.

But what was their end goal?

It wasn’t a difficult question.

This had all the earmarks of a rescue operation.

Duncan unclipped his radio and called up his second-in-command. “Connor.”

“Sir?” His second spoke rapidly. “Bennett is headed up. I couldn’t stop him.”

Duncan didn’t care. “What about the woman?”

“I’ve got her holed up in the nursery. She’s not going anywhere.”

Not good enough.

“Go in there,” he ordered. “Put a bullet in her head.”

Chapter 53

Lorna sat with the children as muffled gunfire continued. Trapped here, she had to bide her time. She didn’t know which side of the fire-fight she should be rooting for: the devil she knew or the pirates who were attacking.

Suddenly all of the children went tense and glanced toward the dayroom’s main door, as if responding to a signal beyond her senses. They were all on their feet at once, rising like a startled flock of crows.

Their manner set her on edge, their tension contagious.

A loud bang drew Lorna’s attention to the exit. She recognized it as the outer anteroom door slamming shut.

Someone was coming.

The children retreated toward the back. She got caught in the flow of them and followed. Or maybe she was dragged. Small hands clutched her pant legs and drew her with them.

They reached the dark room with its rows of locking cribs. As they passed the threshold Lorna caught a glimpse of the inner anteroom door swinging open. But she didn’t see who entered as she ducked away.

The apprehension of the children continued to keep her heart pounding, her senses sharp.

A voice called out. “Where the hell are you?”

It was Connor. Something in his voice pushed her heart into her throat. Along with exasperation, she heard a distinct threat. The children continued to draw her away, as if they sensed the same, tapping into some empathic connection.

Lorna held her breath and continued with them. But there was nowhere to hide in the nursery, not unless she wanted to cram herself into one of the cribs.

At last, the tide of bodies reached the center of the room, and fingers released her. The children scattered in all directions, moving with surprising speed, obeying a cue beyond her. They ducked behind and under the heavy steel cribs.