Storm Warning

by Allison Brennan

  A minute later, she started moving around the tree toward the bank. She reached out to climb up, but the ground was too muddy and she couldn’t. If she let go of the tree, she would be swept downstream. She was so close but so far!

  “Lucy!”

  She looked up. Nate was standing on the bank. She was at ground level—the creek was about to spill over into the fields. He tossed her a rope. She grabbed it and winced as the cuts on her hands stung. She wrapped the rope around her wrists in case she lost her grip but still held tight.

  Suddenly she was pulled out of the water. Nate had attached the rope to a truck and someone was backing up. Ten feet later she was on solid ground.

  Nate fell to his knees and unwound the rope. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

  “Bobby,” she said breathlessly.

  “We have him.” Nate awkwardly hugged her. “Dammit, I thought you were gone.” He held her for a second, then stood up. “Can you walk? Are you hurt?” he repeated.

  “I’m okay.”

  She would be. She took his offered hand and he pulled her up. Her legs buckled and he put his arm around her waist to support her.

  “We?” she asked.

  “Robert Thomsen. Bobby’s dad. He came with me.”

  Nate helped her into the cab. It was a tight fit with Lucy wedged between Robert and Nate. Bobby sat on Nate’s lap, and his dad turned around and drove back to his house.

  “The mother. Jacob Trembly.”

  “They’re cuffed and Thomsen’s girls have an eye on them.”

  “You left two teenagers to watch them?”

  “My girls will shoot if necessary,” Thomsen said. “But they’re secure. I’m sorry about back there, I didn’t know what was going on. Bobby left a voice mail about someone breaking into the house and I ran as fast as I could from the neighbor’s house, across the fields because to drive it would have taken longer.”

  “He’s your son,” Lucy said. “I would have done the same thing.” She turned to Nate. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

  “Trembly got the drop on me. The damn wind, I couldn’t hear him come around behind me. He plowed me on the head. I should have known. I should have had your back.”

  She took his hand and squeezed. “You did. But right now, call Leo—I slid my phone under the seat in their truck, Sean can give him the GPS code to track it.”

  Chapter Six

  Saturday Night

  FBI Headquarters, San Antonio

  Sean knew that Lucy was safe. That she was on her way into headquarters. But until he saw her—tired, wet, alive—he couldn’t truly breathe.

  And then there she was.

  “Lucy.”

  He didn’t know if he spoke, but she looked at him, and everything at once came crashing down. His fear. His anxiety. The knowledge that Lucy meant more to him than his own life. Without her, he wouldn’t be half the man he was today.

  He didn’t care where he was or who saw. He strode over to her and pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Held her.

  He never wanted to let her go.

  “Lucy.”

  He breathed in deeply. She was wearing sweats that were far too big for her, and her long, thick hair was still damp. She had some cuts and bruises on her arms and face, but she was here; she was in one piece.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He put his forehead against hers and breathed deeply. Truly breathed, for the first time in hours.

  Nate walked into the room with a slight limp and stitches across his forehead. Sean looked up at his friend. “Thank you,” he said.

  Nate didn’t say anything. He clapped Sean on the back and sank into a nearby chair.

  “Where’s Jesse?” Lucy asked.

  “When we knew you were okay, Zach went to get food for everyone. Jesse and Bandit went with him.”

  “Rachel let you bring Bandit into the office?”

  “He’s almost graduated from his search and rescue program. And he’s already an official service dog, so she really can’t keep him out. Besides, I think she’s a dog person. Bandit has her wrapped around his little paw.”

  Rachel came out of her office. “I heard that, Rogan.” She looked at Nate. “Agent Dunning, you’re supposed to be at the hospital. I gave Leo explicit instructions.”

  He shook his head. “I let the paramedics check me out. No concussion. Nothing broken.”

  Rachel turned to Lucy. “You need to talk some sense into him. And why are you here? You were also supposed to be at the hospital.”

  “We’re okay,” Lucy said. “Really. Just cuts and scrapes, and frankly, I’m exhausted. But we wanted to come in and find out what was going on. Leo said they found their truck abandoned.”

  “That was quick thinking on your part, leaving your phone behind,” Rachel said. “Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, they were gone. No surveillance cameras in the area, and it looks like two vehicles had been parked—by the time the ERT unit got there, there were no usable tire treads, but they’re working with what they have.”

  “They had this well planned, except for stealing the car at the Thomsens’ ranch,” Nate said.

  “They thought the family had left for the weekend,” Lucy said. “Amanda Trembly saw them packing up. I asked Thomsen about it—he said they’d brought extra supplies to their church for people who were displaced because of the flooding. Food, sleeping bags, extra clothes, stuff like that. They were gone all morning.”

  “It was a good place for them to regroup—there were several back roads that they could use to escape, and difficult for the search because with no air support, it would be impossible to track them,” Nate said. “They were lucky to get across the creek. They could have been caught up in a flash flood.”

  Lucy shivered, and Sean tightened his arm around her. She’d told him what had happened, and he suspected she’d sugarcoated the details.

  Lucy said, “They knew every place where they could cross, what kind of bridge was there. Most were practically wooden planks, because most of the roads just went through the creek, which is dry most of the year.” She gratefully took a bottle of water from Rachel, then said, “We told Leo and Agent Crutcher what we know. Bobby, the little boy, heard a lot when Trembly was in the house. Nate and I took his statement—he’s a smart kid. He said they have something planned for tomorrow night. They never said what or where, but he heard Sam Trembly talking about sticking to the plan, that once they got through tomorrow night, they could retire. That was his exact word—retire. Their take from the last few robberies was good, but not enough to live on for years. I read the reports—quarter of a million estimate in cash and jewels, and jewels are hard to get rid of.”

  “Sunday during a storm? They have something planned?” Rachel shook her head. “We already have our analysts working double-time trying to figure out what would be big enough for them to hit. Because they seem to have access to heavy-duty equipment and some knowledge of engineering—based on their escape—we’re specifically looking at any bank or jewelry store that might be vulnerable. But we’re dealing with hundreds of potential targets in the greater San Antonio area alone.”

  “We can—” Lucy began, and Rachel cut her off.

  “You and Nate are off duty for the rest of the night. I know it’ll be impossible to keep you home for the next two days, and honestly, with this situation coupled with the storm we need all hands—but not tonight. You already sent in your report, and that’s all I need right now.”

  Zach and Jesse walked in with two boxes of food from The Rib House. It smelled amazing. As soon as Jesse saw Lucy, he put his box down and ran over to her. He gave her a tight hug and said, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Sean blinked back sudden tears, then wrapped his arms around both of them. “Me too,” Sean said. “Let’s eat, then go home.”

  Bandit ran over to Nate and ran around in circles. Nate got down on the floor and let Bandit love all over him.

  “You
really have ruined my dog, Dunning,” Sean said. “When he sees you, all obedience training goes out the window.”

  “He loves me more,” Nate said.

  Sean suspected that was true. “But he respects me.” He went over to the boxes and started unpacking them, with Zach’s help.

  “There’s enough for an army,” Rachel said.

  “We have an army,” Zach said. “All the analysts are working overtime, and I told them it was Rogan’s treat.”

  “I’ll let everyone know,” Rachel said and walked down the hall.

  Sean turned to Nate. “Come home with us.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “It’s not open for discussion, buddy.”

  Nate almost smiled. Sean had chiseled away at Nate’s shell over the last two years, but he was tough. In some ways tougher than Kane, because at least with his brother, Sean knew he was a hard-ass. Nate could be fun and socialize and seem almost normal, but Sean had been around enough military folk to know that Nate was still a soldier at heart, and his outward appearance was mostly an act. He harbored a lot deep inside and didn’t let it out. It couldn’t be good for him. Sean had talked to Kane about it, but Kane was hard to talk to. He simply said Nate was solid, not to worry about him.

  Sean worried about his friend more than anyone.

  At first, Nate looked like he was going to argue with him. And Nate’s way of arguing was to remain silent and do whatever the hell he wanted. Now he said, “Bandit gets to sleep with me.”

  “You really have ruined my dog,” Sean said. “He’s not supposed to be on the furniture, but dog hair on the guest comforter doesn’t lie.”

  Nate grinned. “You’re a hard-ass, Rogan.”

  * * *

  Lucy was so glad to be home.

  She burrowed under the comforter and let Sean check the house and secure them for the night. She was so glad that Sean had asked Nate to stay tonight. He’d felt so guilty for something that simply wasn’t his fault. They were in an impossible situation, and lucky that they weren’t all dead. The Trembly gang could have killed them during the original breakout—bulletproof glass wasn’t really bulletproof. It would break with enough force. And they could have easily killed Officer Riley, who was hospitalized after surgery to remove buckshot and glass from his neck. He was extremely lucky that the wild shot didn’t hit a major artery.

  Robert Thomsen had his children home safe. Monica Trembly was in the hospital under guard, and Jacob Trembly was in a Bexar County jail cell after being treated for minor injuries. Crutcher had interviewed him tonight and gotten nothing—and would go back at him tomorrow, now that they were narrowing down the possible targets. It had stopped raining, but the winds were fierce, howling around the house.

  Sean came in and said, “Jesse’s out like a light, Bandit the traitor dog is sleeping with Nate—on the bed—and it’s just you and me, finally.” He dropped his pants and pulled off his MIT sweatshirt. Lucy smiled. He looked so good standing there in boxers and a threadbare gray cotton shirt.

  “What are you smiling at, princess?” he asked.

  “I can’t say, you already have a huge ego.”

  He mock frowned and climbed into bed next to her and pulled her close to him. At this moment, she wanted to stay here for days. She sighed into his chest and held him close.

  He kissed her head, her forehead, her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay? You have some nasty bruises.”

  “I’m going to make you turn off that light if you keep pointing out my flaws.”

  “They’re not flaws. They’re badges of bravery. And I know you’re sore.”

  “The hot bath felt amazing. I’m waterlogged.”

  “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her. “Nate told me the truth about what happened.”

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “You skipped some important details.”

  “I didn’t want you thinking about it while we were still out there. I know you, Sean—you would have risked the storm to come up to Fredericksburg when you wouldn’t have been able to do anything. I feel beaten up, but it’s all just superficial. I’m more worried about Nate because he took a major hit to his upper back. I talked to the paramedics and they think he should get X-rayed, but he refused. And Nate knows his limitations, even if he regularly exceeds them. I’m glad he’s here so we can keep an eye on him.”

  “Nate and Kane, two peas in a pod.”

  Lucy squirmed closer to Sean. “Enough about everything. I just want to be here with you.”

  “You are.”

  Lucy kissed Sean’s neck. His chest. His biceps. His body relaxed against hers and she continued to explore. She had been scared today. Terrified, really. Not just that she would die—she’d faced her own death more than once, had accepted her mortality. But she had been terrified for little Bobby, an innocent kid caught up in violence that wasn’t his making. Terrified of losing her family—Sean, and now Jesse. She didn’t want to die—she had no death wish—but she mostly didn’t want to leave the people she loved. The people who loved her. She had more now than she ever thought she’d have. More to love. More to lose.

  She ignored her aches and bruises; she ignored her own discomfort. And as Sean gently held her, sweetly kissed her, pain disappeared as a wave of desire swept through her. It surprised her on one level and soothed her on another. That she could be here, love this man, make love to her husband.

  “Lucy,” Sean whispered as she ran her hands under his shirt, felt the heat radiating from his body. Her own personal furnace.

  “I love you so much,” she said. She ran her hands down his boxers, over his ass, holding him as close to her as possible. “You’re all mine, and I never want to let you go.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  Sean maneuvered out of his boxers, then pushed down Lucy’s sweatpants. He was gentle because he knew she was sore and bruised; he’d seen the damage when she got out of the bath. He wanted to coddle and care for her, put her in a bubble until she healed; instead, he hugged her and kissed her, let her explore at her own pace. A pace that was quickening as he kissed her stomach; as he spread her thighs and kissed between her legs, touching her, tasting her, savoring her.

  Lucy gasped and held on to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles as he pleasured her. He knew exactly what she liked, exactly what would make her explode. And he wanted to give her that pleasure, each and every time they made love. He wanted her to know that love and sex were entwined deeply, irrevocably. He pushed down his own deep desire for her, his own sexual need, to make sure that Lucy had the first bliss. Because nothing on earth made him happier than when Lucy fully let go.

  “Sean.” Lucy could scarcely breathe; all she felt was heat pooling between her legs, hot blood filling her veins as she tightened her grip on Sean’s shoulders. Her back arched, sweat dripped from her face, and when Sean touched her with his tongue and fingers in just that right spot, the wave washed over her and she let go.

  He kissed her again, sending shivers through her body, and she came down off a peak that she knew would rise again soon. He kissed her thighs, her stomach, her chest. His hand teased one breast while his mouth teased the other.

  Then he kissed her slowly. But she didn’t want slow. She was already heating up again. She held his head to her and devoured his mouth as if she were starving. She loved this man, loved the way he made her feel, loved his heat, his passion for life. And when he fully entered her, she gave him her trust and her love.

  “Oh, God, Lucy, I love you.”

  Sean was moving slowly, she felt the tension in his muscles as he controlled his body. Every sensation was exquisite, every movement designed to give Lucy these intense feelings of passion. She whispered, “I’m not fragile, Sean. Let go.”

  The switch flipped and he held himself deep inside her; withdrew and penetrated deep again; held it. Even in his passion, he thought of her first, she realized as the second wave threatened to take her over. Sean’s arms wra
pped under her legs, giving them both maximum contact, maximum pleasure. Then they both went over the top.

  Sean lay on top of Lucy as his body relaxed. He kissed her over and over. “You okay? I didn’t hurt anything?”

  “Shh, I’m perfect.”

  They shifted, and Lucy spooned against Sean’s body. He pulled the comforter up around her, and in minutes they were both asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday Morning

  Bexar County

  “We should have killed them,” Kirk said as he poured coffee.

  “Just stop already,” Sam said. He was exhausted, and listening to Kirk bitch put him on edge.

  “What? You’re planning on killing that self-righteous bastard who shot Reggie, but shooting a couple of cops is immoral?”

  “It’s completely different and you know it.”

  Sam glanced at Amanda. It wasn’t his idea to target the guy who killed Reggie. But Amanda had it in her head that they had to avenge him, and honestly, he didn’t want to dissuade her. She had loved Reggie since they were all kids. But Sam also believed that as soon as they finished the score she would put retribution aside. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, and Amanda was smart. She’d see the truth, eventually.

  “Is not,” SueAnn sulked. She’d been in a real shitty mood since they arrived at the safe house, and Sam was getting tired of her attitude as well. Honestly, when Kirk and SueAnn had joined their operation, that’s when things started to fall apart. They didn’t listen. They went off script. They were the reason Reggie had gotten killed.

  Sam missed his best friend. Sure, Reggie had problems—like the fact that he trusted his no-good brother—but he was a good man. Loyal to a fault. He was funny and lighthearted, a great balance to Sam’s moodiness.

  He could go along with Amanda’s plan of killing the Good Samaritan who had been treated like a fucking hero for murdering Sam’s best friend. He wouldn’t see it coming. After they settled in Mississippi and the heat died down. It was the only way it would work. He never should have told the others what the plans were. It was the week after Reggie had been killed and he’d been drunk. He didn’t handle his liquor all that well, and he didn’t drink much, but Reggie had been his best friend. Sam wasn’t handling his death all that well, either.