The Guardian
Page 30
The car phone rang. Marcus reached for it. “Yes?”
Shari looked over at him when the silence lasted. Something had happened. The distant look was there in his gaze. “How?”
She reached over and touched his knee. His hand came over and firmly grasped hers.
He didn’t say anything after he hung up the phone. “Marcus?”
“Connor was just killed at the jail as he was being processed back into solitary.”
She started. “He’s dead?”
“It looks like an ordered hit: Titus just killed his son.” Marcus leaned up to speak with the driver. “Tell our escorts to pull in tight. And get me every cop car in the area converging on us, now!”
* * *
Shari didn’t think she would ever get accustomed to Quantico. After what had turned into a tense drive to reach the safety of the compound, she had found herself joined by a group of very grim bodyguards.
It was a fascinating if intimidating place. She had been there three days when she came down from her room to the cafeteria for lunch to find Marcus waiting for her. She didn’t care who was watching. She wrapped him in a hug and kissed him.
He didn’t let her go. “I think I’ll show up for a welcome again.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Feel like sleeping in your own bed tonight?”
Emotions washed over her—relief, hope, intense joy that this long nightmare was over. “You’re serious?” she whispered.
“Titus has been arrested. The FBI came down on his organization like a hammer, and people beneath him are already rolling, giving evidence against him to get an easier deal themselves. There are strong rumors there is now a contract out on him. There are a lot of people in the world who fear what he might say. He’ll cooperate eventually, if only to get the government’s protection to prevent his associates from reaching through the prison doors to kill him.”
“He’s reaping what he sowed.”
“Yes.”
“Watch how fast I can pack.”
They were on a private plane flying to meet her mom and brother who were arriving in New York an hour later.
“Who’s this?” A rather beaten-up raccoon sat in one of the plane seats, a big red bow around his neck.
“Rugsby. He’s about to reappear. I was dispatched to Rachel’s home to retrieve him.”
Shari picked up the raccoon, delighted with it. “No ransom?”
“It has to be paid next week. And you’ll notice I just kidnapped you from Quantico to pay my part.”
She grinned. “True. Kate mentioned there was an O’Malley dinner scheduled.”
“I thought you might like to join me.”
“I would.”
She relaxed in her seat and watched the ground become smaller below them.
“What are you thinking about?” Marcus asked.
She looked over at him and went out on a limb. “The future.”
He leaned back, folded his hands across his chest, and lazily looked back at her. “So . . . do you want to run for state legislator or go straight for what you really want, a congressional house seat?”
“You’re determined to get me to go for it.”
“It’s your dream.”
“You have to be married to run for congressional office,” she reminded him.
He quirked a grin. “I guess that means you’ll just have to marry me before the elections.”
She blinked. He just proposed.
“I love you, minx, with all my heart.”
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
“I know.” His warm smile curled around her heart. His foot nudged hers. “The O’Malley family thinks you should run for the open house congressional seat. Lisa wants to be your field manager; she sees it like running a military campaign. Kate will organize your volunteer staff so she can boss around Jack and Stephen, and Dave volunteered to handle transportation. Oh, and Jennifer thinks we should make the wedding be the event of the Virginia social calendar so everybody will love you, and they’ll vote for you because they adore you.”
His entire family was saying welcome. She loved them all. “What do you want to do?”
“Elope.”
Shari laughed.
“But since the O’Malleys will never let us get away with that, a social event of the year sounds like a good second choice.”
“My mom will love it.”
“I know.” His expression became serious. “Shari, I’m not threatened by the idea of a smart wife with great ideas and a passion for her job. You have to dream big if you’re going to fit with me.”
“You’re serious.”
“You’re one of us now. So start defining your dream, and we’ll help you get there. Kids, a political career—we are a family that believes in fulfilling dreams. And Shari . . . we don’t believe in small dreams.”
She knew that was true. She considered him. “What’s your biggest dream?”
“I’ll tell you on the honeymoon.”
She blushed but didn’t mind. “I’ll probably convince you to sleep in.” She laughed at the look he gave her. She was going to enjoy the permanence of a marriage with him. Just getting to tease him would fill her days with laughter. She picked up the aged raccoon. “I like your family.”
“You’re fishing for compliments. They love you.”
“It’s important that they feel like I’m joining your family and not taking you from it.”
“They know it,” Marcus reassured. “You want to surprise them at the family gathering?”
“How?”
He nodded toward Rugsby. “While he was gone, he found himself a lady and they had baby raccoons.”
She burst out laughing. “He did?”
“Start thinking of names.”
“I like the fact you encourage the silliness.”
“It’s called smart family management. The O’Malleys unoccupied just come up with trouble.”
“Good try, but you’re really still a kid at heart.”
“Maybe true too.”
She set down the raccoon, looked over at him, smiled, and came around to a subject she had meant to mention to him. “You know, I realized something the other day when I was sorting out what was in my purse.”
“What’s that?”
“I still have the slip of paper with the pager numbers you asked me to memorize. I never had reason to page you with my private code.”
“You will in the future,” Marcus noted, watching her.
“I think I’ll have to. I noticed something about the private code you assigned me.”
“Did you?”
“I should have noticed it before . . . ”
He slowly smiled. “Yes, you should have.”
“225-6469 spells CAL-MINX.”
“Well, what do you know . . . ” He laughed at her expression.
“I only saw it because I was bored and was doodling. You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I love you too.”
They shared a smile. Shari tilted her head to one side, considering him. “I’ll need a private code for you, for when I want you to call me back immediately . . . ”
“Why do I get the feeling you thought of one?”
She had a hard time containing her joy. “484-8463.”
He pulled out his phone, looked at the keypad, putting letters to the numbers. He laughed softly as he figured it out. “Minx, I like the way you think.”
“Not too subtle?”
“I’ll remember it,” Marcus promised.
“Can you use the phone while we’re flying?”
“Briefly.”
She unclipped her pager from her belt to see the display. “Page me.”
He smiled at her as he dialed. “Just wait until we get on the ground, Shari.”
The numbers flashed on the pager.
HUG TIME.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading this book. I appreciate it. This was one of the most fascinating books I have written to date. I fell in love with Marcus O’Malley while writing The Negotiator, and I knew this man who leads the O’Malleys would have a powerful story. He blew me away with his story and surpassed my expectations. This is the book I look back on and think, I wrote that? Some stories are gifts. This was one of them.
Prayer is such a rich topic to explore, both from the viewpoint of someone strong in their faith and someone who walked away from faith years before. One has concluded prayer is answered by chance as much as by a caring God; the other believes God is answering prayer despite the fact the answers are hard to accept. But they are both struggling with the conclusions they’ve reached. I found myself able to defend the conclusions of each one of them. I think they both made rational decisions—yet only one of them made the right one. Understanding why was a rich journey through my own beliefs.
I have found in a lifetime of prayer that Jesus really does love me and know me, and best of all likes me. His answers eventually work out to my good. Even those I do not understand yet, I continue to trust will be good answers . . .
As always, I love to hear from my readers. Feel free to write me at:
Dee Henderson
c/o Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
351 Executive Drive
Carol Stream, IL60188
E-mail: dee@deehenderson.com
or on-line: http://www.deehenderson.com
First chapters of all my books are on-line, please stop by and check them out. Thanks again for letting me share Marcus and Shari’s story,
Sincerely,