Acceptable Risk

by Lynette Eason

  A security officer stepped closer to her, and she heard something about fire trucks arriving on the scene from his squawking radio.

  “My son! I can’t find my son! Someone help me find my boy! Jackson! Jackson!”

  Sarah stopped and spun, pulling Gavin to a halt. “We can’t just leave. We have to help.”

  She darted toward the distraught father. Gavin gave an exasperated grunt and stayed on her heels. Two others had also stopped to help.

  “How old is he and what does he look like?” Sarah asked.

  “Six. He’s got red hair, green eyes, and freckles. I was holding his hand and someone bumped me. I lost my grip and then he was just gone!” He swiped a hand down his face. “My wife is going to kill me. Jackson! Jackson! Where are you?” He swung back, eyes pleading. “Please help me.”

  “Fine,” Gavin said. The smoke drifted lower and Gavin coughed. “What’s your name?”

  “Jonathan.”

  “We want to help too,” a young man said, pointing to himself and a girl who looked to be the same age.

  “We need to notify the hospital,” Gavin said. “Do you have a picture?”

  “Yes, yes. On my phone.” Jonathan snagged it from his back pocket and tapped the screen. A redheaded Opie look-alike popped up. His gap-toothed grin tugged at Sarah’s heart.

  “Okay,” Gavin said, “show it to the security guy and let him know what’s going on.” He turned to the teens. “You guys start going room to room.”

  They left and Jonathan beelined for the security officer who was at the exit, directing people down the stairs.

  “Stay with me, please,” Gavin said. “I’m not feeling good about this whole thing.”

  Gavin wasn’t kidding when he said he was antsy about the fire. It was too much of a coincidence that he and Sarah were in the hospital when it broke out, but he couldn’t just walk away from helping a father look for his child. He and Sarah followed the man to the security officer, who directed them to the stairs.

  Jonathan flashed the phone at the man. “Did you see this kid come this way?”

  The officer leaned in to take a look while the father looked straight at Sarah. All of Gavin’s alarms clanged warning signals. He’d had that happen way too often in Afghanistan to ignore. He gave Sarah’s hand a squeeze and motioned to her to back away. She frowned, but something in his eyes must have signaled her and she nodded.

  Two steps back and the man named Jonathan stumbled, went to his knees.

  With Sarah behind him, Gavin reached down and grabbed the guy’s bicep. The man jerked, throwing Gavin off-balance at the top of the stairs. He shot over the guy and the first step, his shoulder hitting the edge. Pain radiated. A kick to his ribs stole his breath. Someone screamed. Sarah? More cries from those around him. Hands reached to help, but he was rolling bowling-ball style down the stairs, crashing into those unfortunate enough to be in his path.

  He finally came to a painful stop at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment lay there, stunned and hurting, mentally yelling at himself to move. He noticed a young woman beside him, bleeding from a gash on her head.

  Sarah. Gavin rolled to his feet and glanced at the top of the stairs. She was gone.

  And so was the father of the missing child.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  The gun pressed into her side, and while fear was very present and real, anger burned a path through her gut. She was very tired of being shot at, kidnapped, held hostage, and threatened.

  When Jonathan had given Gavin a kick in the ribs and sent him tumbling down the stairs, Sarah had started after him, only to have the man yank her back by the arm and jam the weapon into her still-healing side.

  When he pulled her away from Gavin and she realized he had the weapon, she struggled for a brief moment until he twisted her arm hard enough to make her gasp.

  “Try to get away and I won’t shoot you, I’ll shoot someone else. Understood?”

  “Understood,” she said through gritted teeth.

  They’d slipped away from the security guard and he’d led her back onto the floor, past the nurses’ station, down the hall, and to the next stairwell also flooded with people.

  Sarah decided it was either a genius move or a brilliant color of stupid she wasn’t familiar with. Unwilling to risk him being serious about hurting someone, she didn’t try to resist, but one thing she was certain of—she wasn’t leaving the hospital with him. “How did you know we’d be here?” she asked, dodging a young mother and her toddler.

  “We’ve been watching you for a while. We know everything about you. It was only a matter of time before you showed up to visit Wilmont in the hospital. Now, keep going.”

  We? The firm grip on her upper arm didn’t hurt, but sure had the potential to do so. She was more worried about the weapon pointed at the base of her spine—and keeping her terror under control so she could think. “So, Wilmont was working for you?”

  “No. He was just an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But how do you know him?”

  “Because of his association with you.”

  Her association with him? Her only association with him was when he held her hostage and put a gun to her head. Who were these people?

  “If you’re doing this because of my father’s decisions in Afghanistan,” she said, “the joke’s on you. He couldn’t care less about me. He never wanted me, and if you kill me, it will probably be some weird relief for him. In fact, he’s already disinherited me, you know. Wrote me right out of the will. Why? Because I joined the Army and he didn’t want me to.” She really needed to shut up, but chattering seemed to help. Help her anyway.

  “I don’t need the sad details of your relationship with the man,” he said in her ear. “Just shut up and keep going. Down to the parking garage.”

  Goose bumps pebbled her skin and she shuddered. Paused.

  He gave her a harder shove. “Go.”

  Most of the people who were being evacuated from the hospital were directed out of the stairwell at the street level. It looked like Gavin was right. They were evacuating the entire building. Helicopters thumped overhead, probably waiting to take surgical patients to a nearby hospital to finish the surgery.

  If she continued down, no one would even notice. She obeyed and took the next flight of stairs down. “What is this all about?”

  “We’re going to go to your place and get the package your brother mailed to you.”

  “The package? What package?”

  He hesitated a fraction. “The one your brother mailed to you.”

  “I never got a package.”

  “Right.”

  He didn’t believe her. “It will turn up eventually.” Dr. Kilgore knew Dustin had sent her a package. Was he the one behind all the attacks against her? But how would he even know what Dustin had mailed? Unless Dustin had said something to McCandless and she had passed the word on to Kilgore?

  The list of people she could trust kept getting shorter and shorter. And the parking garage door loomed closer and closer.

  Time was running out and she needed to do something fast. Defense moves flipped through her mind and she picked a series she hoped—prayed—would work.

  Sarah pushed through the door and chose the moment the pressure of the weapon disconnected from the base of her spine. Still gripping the bar of the door, she twisted and swung her leg in a round kick. Her heel landed on his forearm and her would-be kidnapper cried out, losing his grip on the weapon. It clattered to the concrete floor.

  Sarah spun and palm-heeled the guy’s chin. His head snapped back and he stumbled sideways, landing on the bottom step in the stairwell. He recovered and dove for the weapon at the same time she snagged it and scrambled back. “Stop! Don’t move or I’ll shoot you!”

  He froze. Then laughed. “You? Shoot me?”

  Terror raced through her and she said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve killed one man, what’s another?”
<
br />   The deadly chill in her voice stilled him and his eyes narrowed. Slowly he raised his hands while he worked his jaw. “So, what now? This stairwell isn’t going to stay empty for long.”

  True enough, but she needed answers. “You tell me what this is all about. Did you set the fire?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “It’s not so much a fire as a distraction. They won’t even shut down the whole hospital, just a couple of floors.”

  In order to allow him to keep access to the parking garage for his escape. With her in tow. “Did you shoot up the truck? Because if you wanted me alive, that wasn’t exactly a brilliant plan.”

  He scowled. “That didn’t exactly go as we’d hoped.” He dropped his hands. “You’re going to take me to the package, Sarah, and we’re going to go now or someone’s going to get hurt.”

  She really didn’t like him using her name like he knew her.

  Footsteps clattered on the stairs. “And that’s my cue,” he said. He bolted toward her. Sarah pulled the trigger. He screamed and grabbed his shoulder even while he stumbled for the door.

  “Sarah!”

  “Gavin!” Gun still gripped in her hand, she spun to go after the man. “He’s getting away!”

  Gavin raced down the stairs and hit the door, pushed through and into the parking garage. Security was right behind him. If it hadn’t been for the guy on his heels and his lightning-fast action with the security cameras, Gavin never would have located Sarah and the imposter who called himself Jonathan.

  Sarah’s footsteps pounded across the concrete parking garage in pursuit of the man who’d attempted to kidnap her. Heart in his throat, Gavin raced after them, noticed the blood trailing, saw Jonathan stagger, then fall to his knees.

  Sirens sounded and cruisers pulled into the garage. Sarah didn’t stop. She slammed into the man’s back and knocked him facedown into the concrete. He let out a yell and tried to roll, but Sarah planted a knee into his back, grabbed a handful of hair and jammed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

  He froze.

  Gavin skidded to a stop just before he reached Sarah.

  “Doesn’t feel so great, does it?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Put the weapon down!” The security officer aimed his gun at her. “Put it down!”

  Gavin held up a hand. “Let me deal with this, please?”

  “I’m bleeding,” her prisoner ground out between clenched teeth.

  “That breaks my heart,” Sarah said. “Tell me why you’re after me. What’s in that package you’re so desperate to get your hands on?”

  “I like breathing, so I think I’ll keep that to myself.”

  Keeping an eye on the man, Gavin inched forward. “Sarah.”

  She jerked and swung her gaze to meet his.

  “Give me the gun. It’s okay. You did good.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I want answers.”

  “And we’ll get them, but not like this. Come on, give me the gun. Hurry before anyone else gets here. Cops are on the way.”

  She hesitated, muttered something about letting the guy off easy, and released the gun into his outstretched hand. Gavin passed it to the security guard, who lowered his own weapon.

  “I had to shoot him,” she whispered.

  “I know. We saw the footage.”

  The guard had been able to access it on his iPad, and they’d simply tracked them through the hospital, to the stairwell, then down to the parking garage. With all of the commotion in the hospital and the partial evacuation, there hadn’t been a security guard close enough to get to her, so Gavin had to race against the clock. And he’d almost been too late.

  “Everything’s been recorded. It won’t take long to rule it self-defense. You’re okay now.”

  Officers ran into the garage as the security guard clicked cuffs around the bleeding man. Paramedics joined the scene.

  “Didn’t we just do this at Brianne’s house?”

  “Yeah, but at least no one got hurt this time.” He glanced at the man being loaded onto the gurney. “Except the person who asked for it.”

  Sarah watched him while officers took the weapon as evidence, then took her into custody. “They have to cuff you, Sarah, you understand?”

  She sighed and put her hands behind her back. “I know how it works.”

  The officer who’d helped him find her nodded. “We’ll take you to the substation office in the ER and get your statement. You’ll have to remain in custody until the investigation is finished.”

  “I know.”

  He clicked the cuffs around her wrists and gripped her bicep. “The sooner we get this started, the sooner you can go home.”

  She glanced at Gavin. “Will you call Caden and let him know what’s going on?”

  “Of course.” He’d do that while he followed them to the holding area.

  Caden answered on the first ring, and Gavin gave him the condensed version of what had just taken place.

  “I’ll be right there,” Caden said.

  By this time, they’d reached the holding area, and the officer—who’d introduced himself as Clint Osborne—directed Sarah to a seat. Officer Osborne uncuffed her hands from behind and recuffed them to a steel loop on the table. Her shoulders slumped and she looked near tears.

  When he was ready, Osborne turned on his voice-activated recorder and asked Sarah to give her statement.

  Gavin noted the details she included in her recitation of the events that he and Osborne had watched play out on the iPad. No doubt it was the reporter in her.

  Caden had joined them and now paced the room while he listened. His jaw clenched tighter with each word she uttered. Finally, Caden stepped out of the room, phone pressed to his ear.

  Sarah looked up. “Where’s he going?”

  “Probably pulling some strings to get you out of here before tomorrow.”

  Three hours later she was cleared, and Gavin held the door while she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. “Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?”

  “I’m sure. I’m sick of doctors.”

  He could understand that. Wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but understood it.

  “I could ask you the same thing, though,” she said. “You look like you took a few hits.”

  “I’m okay. Bumps and bruises that will heal.” He shot her a tight smile. “Let’s get you back to Caden’s.”

  “No, I need to go to my house.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Gavin glanced at the sun getting ready to dip below the horizon. “All right, but we’ve got reinforcements coming with us.”

  “Who?”

  “Travis Walker and Asher.”

  “Who’s Travis?”

  “Another guy who works for the agency. From now on, I think we need to keep you surrounded.”

  For a moment, he thought she might protest, but she gave a slow nod. “I think you might be right.”

  As Gavin rounded the truck, he got on the phone and asked the two friends to meet him at the hospital. He climbed into the driver’s seat, but he wasn’t leaving until he had an escort. Sarah leaned her head against the seat rest, and Gavin thought she might be fighting tears.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching for her hand and threading his fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She sniffed and nodded. “I don’t cry,” she whispered. “Why am I crying? I think I’ve cried more in the last few weeks than I’ve cried in . . . ever.”

  “It’s okay to cry.”

  “No, it’s not. It shows weakness, and I feel like I’ve been weak ever since the Taliban walked in that school and took us.”

  Gavin huffed in disbelief. He cupped her cheek. “Sarah, you’re one of the strongest people I know. Man or woman. You’ve had experiences no one should have—and you’ve lived to tell about it. You have a beautiful heart and care about people. Strangers like Brianne who most people w
ould have walked away from. And Dustin. I know he’s your brother, but in your gut, you feel something’s wrong with his suicide and you’re going after answers. That takes a strength that’s rare to find. So, don’t beat yourself up if you shed a few tears. Because you and I both know you’ll brush them away and keep going. And that’s what real strength is. Pressing on when it would be much easier to simply give up.”

  A tear streaked toward her chin and she wiped it away. She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t mean to preach, but . . . yeah.”

  She laughed and palmed the wetness from her eyes. “Sounds like you have some experience with the pressing-on thing.”

  “A bit.”

  His eyes locked on hers. The vulnerability was there, but so was the strength he’d just praised her for. His gaze dropped to her lips. He leaned in while gently propelling her toward him, his hand still cupped around her cheek, and settled his lips over hers.

  Sarah wasn’t sure what to think. Not that she really could think. She knew that the first kiss they’d shared in Kabul had been amazing. The second one had been more of a peck than a real kiss, but this one was turning out to be just as good as the first. If not better. His lips were gentle, exploring, curious and slightly demanding. Musk and sweat and smoke mingled to tantalize her nose. She threaded her fingers through his short hair, the strands silky and soft, brushing her palms and adding another layer to the heady moment. She wanted to move closer but the large console in the middle prevented it.

  Before she could figure out a way around it, the kiss was over and disappointment flickered. He pulled back, eyes hooded, but still on hers. “I hope that was okay.”

  “More than,” she whispered while her heart pounded in her throat. “I didn’t want it to end.”

  He laughed. “I love your honesty.”

  She paused, then sat back and fastened the seat belt. “Well, mostly honest,” she muttered.

  He raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

  “I didn’t exactly tell the cops everything about that little incident.”

  “Like what?”

  “Jonathan—or whatever his name is—said he was taking me to my place to get a package.”