by Dani Pettrey
Declan’s cell rang.
“You’re going to want to take that,” Luke said.
Declan lifted his phone and strode out of the room. “Grey,” he answered. “Yes . . .” His voice trailed off as a door opened and shut down the hall.
Luke shifted his hands in his pockets.
“What happened to you?” Kate asked. “Looks like you got into a battle with a curling wand.”
Luke lifted his hand to his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d been burned. “There was an explosion.”
“I’ve got some salve,” Kate said, striding to the room on his left.
Everyone stared at him.
“I’m going to . . .” He indicated he was going to join Kate and pushed through the swinging door.
In the kitchen, Kate opened and shut drawer after drawer, her cheeks flushing. “I know it’s here somewhere,” she said, looking up at him and then straight back down.
He moved behind her and reached his arms around her waist, placing his hands on hers, hoping to steady her shaking. It was the wrong move. He should maintain his distance, but once in her presence . . . he couldn’t seem to keep away. This was Katie. After more than seven long years, she was right in front of him, in his embrace.
Her skin was soft and warm, and she smelled of cassis. His brief assignment in France, where the flower bloomed, flashed through his mind, but he quickly shifted his focus back to her. He was indulging in a moment of his old life, even if it was the wrong thing to do.
Kate’s shoulders shrugged at his touch. He leaned in, lowering his face flush with hers, cheek nestled against soft cheek. She needed to know the pain he felt. “I’m sorry, Katie,” he said, his words hoarse and throaty, nearly a whisper, though he hadn’t intended them to be. She felt so good, so right in his arms. All he wanted to do was . . .
She stiffened in his embrace. “For what?” Anger and hurt mingled in her cracking voice. “Leaving in the first place or showing back up?”
Ouch. He’d endured bullet wounds that stung less.
“For everything.” He swallowed, his throat still burning from the effects of the explosion. Why had he been foolish enough to hope for anything other than her anger? He shouldn’t have come. He was only causing her pain. “I’m sorry I ever left. I thought it would be a short, grand adventure. I never imagined we’d be standing here seven years later. I know none of this can be easy for you, but we’ve got a crisis and I need Declan’s help.”
She turned in his hold, facing him, her chin tilted up, her gaze a mix of wariness and defiance. “Why?”
He bit back the urge to kiss her, to feel her soft lips against his, and he quickly reined in his thoughts. “Because there’s an imminent threat on U.S. soil, and I don’t have jurisdiction here.”
The kitchen door burst open.
“How on earth did Ebeid get ahold of six ounces of anthrax?” Declan roared.
Luke lowered his head and exhaled. The brief reprieve from the demons he battled was over. He straightened. “He must have someone on the inside.”
“At which end? CDC or Fort Detrick?”
“I don’t know, but I could use your help determining which one.”
“This is the Bureau’s jurisdiction.” Declan raked a hand through his brown, spiky hair. “But I’d be a fool not to take advantage of your knowledge and intel. You clearly know Ebeid.”
“Yes, I do—far more than I’d like to. So . . . it appears we’re in this together.” The word together sounded foreign on Luke’s lips. He’d worked alone for so long, his contact with anyone other than targets severely limited. How would he function in a dependent dynamic?
“Excuse me,” Kate said, shifting under Luke’s arms, which were still wrapped around her. She slipped out of his hold as easily as he’d let her go the first time. He’d left her and his friends behind for a purpose—to stop this terrorist threat to America. There still was a purpose, but it was one he was ready to be done with, ready to face down once and for all.
He looked to Declan as the door swung shut behind Katie.
“She’s never going to forgive me, is she?”
“Would you?” Declan asked.
No. He wouldn’t, and he couldn’t expect Katie to either. He couldn’t be the man she wanted, not anymore.
“Let’s head back into the front room and get started,” Declan said, moving for the door. “You have a lot to catch us up on.”
Luke nodded and followed Declan out to the curved sofa that the gang was seated around. There was an open spot beside Katie, but he leaned against a wooden post instead, Declan beside him. Everyone was present except Avery, who Parker said would be right back. She’d just run to grab something from their office down the hall.
Luke exhaled. “Where do you want me to start?”
Declan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s start with the anthrax.”
“I know—” Parker paused and smiled at Avery as she entered the room and passed between him and Luke.
A shot pierced the glass. Shock paled Avery’s face, and Luke lunged forward, knocking her to the ground. “Everyone down!”
Another round of shots cracked the windows along the back wall above the sofa, shards of glass cascading around them.
Parker army crawled to Avery, horror on his face. “Avery?”
Her breathing was labored, and blood seeped from her shoulder.
“She’ll be okay,” Luke said, having made a rapid but sure assessment. “Someone call 9-1-1. We need an ambulance.” That was a luxury he often couldn’t afford when undercover in the field. He’d self-bandaged more wounds than he could count and removed two bullets from his own flesh.
The shots stopped.
“No one get up. Not yet,” Luke instructed. The sniper could just be waiting, though it couldn’t have been a professional sniper taking those shots. Luke was almost positive he had been the gunman’s intended target.
“I called 9-1-1,” Griffin said. “Two minutes out.”
Luke slid off his jacket, bunched it up, and pressed it to Avery’s wound. “Apply pressure,” he instructed Parker. “She’ll be okay. No organs hit and straight through.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Parker said, kissing her brow.
Luke surveyed his friends, his loved ones crouched low on the ground, glass shards in their hair, anger and concern marring their brows. It was surely his fault. He’d brought this on them. If Avery hadn’t walked in front of him at just that moment, he’d be dead. Ebeid not only knew he was in town but knew where he was and, far more frightening, knew who he was with.
3
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer in sync with the pounding of Luke’s heart.
How had Ebeid found him so quickly? Or . . .
Maybe the shots were in retaliation for Declan stopping the Bay Bridge attack.
Declan had been standing right next to him. What if that shot had been intended for Declan?
Either way, Ebeid had just knocked on their front door, and from this point on they had to ramp up security.
Parker held Avery in his arms, keeping pressure on her wound, whispering words of love to her as she grew paler, all color leaching from her cheeks.
She was going to be okay, but he was sure that didn’t make this hurt any less for her or Parker.
Sirens howled out front, and soon the stomping of boots filled the room as SWAT swarmed in, their own snipers no doubt already in place.
The team moved quickly, medics taking Avery to the waiting ambulance, Parker going with her. He glared at Luke as he followed the medics out.
Kate stood, glass shards still clinging to her hair, shock blanketing her face, though she moved with purpose and spoke with the agents questioning her with a steadfastness few possessed in such crisis situations.
Declan strode over to him as he stood back and watched Declan’s FBI cohorts handle the situation valiantly.
Declan cleared his throat. “You think that was intended for you or me?”
Luke swallowed. “I was just wondering the same thing.”
“Either way, Ebeid just declared war on us.”
Luke nodded. That was one way to put it.
“We’ll give our statements and then head to the hospital for Avery,” Declan said.
Luke had forgotten what it was like to have a group of friends be there for him. Of course they’d go to the hospital and he’d go with them. Whether the bullets were intended for him or Declan, he was not letting Kate out of his sight.
Luke drove alone to the hospital, keeping a close eye on Kate’s car. He hadn’t been to the University of Maryland Medical Center since his sophomore year in college, when he’d broken his leg playing rugby, but entering the sterile-smelling building brought a rush of memories flooding back.
A nurse directed them to a small peach room off the larger waiting area, and they found Parker pacing. The furniture was covered in a green-and-peach tropical print, the palms and winding vines reminding him of the jungles of Thailand. He blinked back the awful memory of that place, of his mission there. Dark eyes haunting him. A bullet wound to his thigh, nearly hitting his femoral artery . . .
“Any word?” Tanner asked, a frantic look in her deep brown eyes.
Parker raked a hand through his hair. “Not yet. She’s in surgery.” He turned to Luke, his eyes bloodshot and his countenance fierce. “You had to bring whatever world you’ve been living in to our doorstep.”
“Hey.” Declan quickly stepped between them. “I know you’re upset. We all are, but that assault could have just as easily been aimed at me for my role in stopping Ebeid’s Bay Bridge attack.” He swallowed, the stark reality of that possibility washing over his face.
Parker looked at Luke and then Declan, and then took a step back. “If anything happens to her . . .”
“I know.” Declan clamped his hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Let’s pray.”
They all circled up, and Tanner pulled Luke into the group.
“Father, we lift Avery up to you. Please bring her through surgery with no lasting harm. She’s a fighter. Help her to be strong, and be with Park too. Let Ebeid pay for what he’s done and guide us to finally stop him,” Declan said.
A chorus of “amen” rounded the room.
Luke swallowed. How often had he taken time to pray—really pray—for guidance? He’d called out in anger and frustration, begged God to spare his life, but true, heartfelt, intentional prayer outside of a crisis? It’d been far too long.
An hour and a half passed before the surgeon finally appeared at the door, a nurse at his side. “Mr. Mitchell?”
Parker lurched to his feet. “Yes?”
“Miss Tate did beautifully.”
Relief washed over Parker, the tension in his jaw and shoulders loosening with his exhale. “She’s okay?”
“She’ll need some recuperation time and possibly some physical therapy to regain her range of motion, but that just depends on how she heals. But yes, she’ll be fine.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s still out from the anesthesia, but as soon as she’s awake and they’ve had a chance to check her over, they’ll call you back.”
“Thank you.” Parker shook the surgeon’s hand.
“You’re welcome. I’d tell you to get some rest, but I have a feeling you’re not that type of man.”
“No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.” The surgeon smiled as he and the nurse left the room.
“I hate to leave,” Griffin said. “But now that we know Avery is okay, Finley and I better get some sleep. We have to be up for our flight to Texas in a few hours.”
Griffin is a husband. A guy he’d known since they were four. It was surreal.
“Arriving two hours before the flight is the stated suggestion for BWI,” Finley said, rolling her eyes as Griffin shifted her toward the door. “For a flight at six, that means four in the morning. It’s not natural.”
Griffin wrapped his arm around her. “I know you hate mornings, but you can sleep on the plane.”
She looked less than pleased but followed him to the door.
Parker stepped toward Griffin. “If you come across anything you need my help on, just call. I’m happy to help you . . . to help Jenna . . . in any way I can.”
Griffin clapped him on the shoulder. “I know and I appreciate it. I’ll call if I need your input. You take good care of that lady.”
Parker nodded, clearly torn between the desire to find his first love’s killer and to be at his current love’s side. He’d made the right choice by staying, at least in Luke’s mind, but what did he know about relationships anymore?
After Griffin and Finley departed, Parker said, “It’s late. I appreciate you all being here, but it’s not necessary. Take Tanner home, Declan.”
Declan looked to Tanner and nodded. “Kate, how about you take my second guest bedroom? Tanner and I haven’t been comfortable with you staying alone since the shootout on the boat, and after tonight—”
“Shootout?” Luke could feel his eyes widening, his brows hiking. What were they talking about?
“It’s a long story,” Kate said.
“One I’m very interested in hearing,” he replied.
“One that can wait until morning,” Declan said.
“I’m fine,” Kate said. “I’ll stay on my boat.”
“Katie,” Luke said.
She gave him an are-you-kidding-me look of exasperation. “I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure, but . . . why don’t you stay with me?” Luke countered.
“What?” she and Declan said at the same time.
“I would feel best if we stick together. I have a motel room. You can take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
Declan looked at Kate.
She swallowed. “I’ll stay on my boat.”
Stubborn woman. “Fine, then I’m staying with you,” Luke said.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes. I am.”
“And we’re exiting this throwback to a decade ago,” Declan said, taking Tanner’s hand and turning to Luke. “See you at the office at nine. We have a lot of work ahead of us.” He left with Tanner, closing the door behind them.
“Shall we?” Luke said.
Kate looked at Parker.
“I’m going to get a cup of really bad coffee,” Parker said, leaving them to duke it out as they always had. There’d always been a strong love between them, but strong wills to match. It was addictive, really, the fire that existed between them, fueling the other until they ended up in a passionate embrace. They’d been a mess but a magnificent one. And he’d let it all go.
She linked her arms across her chest and stared at him.
“I’m coming with you whether you invite me or not,” he said.
“So you leave for over seven years, then suddenly I’m your responsibility?”
“You just got shot at.” He was trying to protect her. Didn’t she get that?
“It wasn’t the first time. Doubt it will be the last.”
“What?” What kind of PI jobs was she working? And what was the shootout at the boat?
“It comes with the territory.” She shrugged.
“Then even more reason for me to stay.”
She glared at him, but he held his ground. After a long stalemate, she finally relented. “Fine. You can have the couch,” she said as Parker entered with a Styrofoam cup of coffee sloshing in his hand.
“Just like old times, I see.” A shadow of a smile crossed his scruffy face. The kid who’d tried for years to grow facial hair now had a five-o’clock shadow. Times had changed.
According to Katie, they had really changed. Had he expected time to stand still?
4
Luke followed in his rental car as Kate drove to her houseboat, Barefoot. He hated that she’d insisted on driving alone to the hospital, but he’d followed her every inch of the way and would continue to stay with her until Ebeid and whomeve
r he’d hired to shoot at them was in prison or dead.
Though given the poor job the shooter had done, Luke bet he was either already dead at Ebeid’s hands or ready to take another strike before admitting his error to the unforgiving Ebeid. Either way, he or Declan was still in danger—more than likely, both of them. And that meant they were all in danger.
“I appreciate your offering to stay,” Kate said as they exited their cars and headed for her houseboat, “but—”
“It’s not an offer,” he said, pulling his sparsely filled duffel from the trunk and hitching it over his right shoulder. “I’m insisting.”
Kate cocked her head. “You really think that’s the best way to get me to respond positively?”
“No.” He inched the duffel strap higher up on his shoulder. “I know you hate it when people attempt to order you around.” He took a step closer. “It brings fire to your eyes.” Her beautiful, captivating eyes.
“So why go there?”
“Because you also know I don’t take no for an answer.” Never had.
“Fine.” She exhaled. “But just for tonight. We reassess in the morning.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, knowing full well there’d be no reassessing, but if that was what it took for her to let him stay the night, so be it.
Kate led the way and, after unlocking the sliding glass door, allowed him passage inside.
“You really ought to get a security system,” he said, stepping on board the small houseboat he’d first entered a few nights ago when following and then killing Ebeid’s right-hand man, Xavier Benjali.
Kate shook her head. “You sound like Declan.” Flipping a switch on the wall, she turned on the recessed lighting all along the pine-paneled ceiling. The galley-style living room decorated in creams, rustic oranges, and bright yellows showed her love of Tuscan-style interiors hadn’t decreased.
He was so incredibly thankful the guys had looked out for Kate while he’d been gone. They had been good friends to her, and it appeared—at least with Declan and Griffin—they were still his friends, too, despite the years they’d spent apart. Parker would come around eventually, after he got over the shock of his girlfriend being shot. Luke felt horrible about that.