by Cat Johnson
Others joined her. Just as frightened. Just as helpless as three rapid explosions shook the floor she pressed against.
Had they all survived the past week only to be killed during the rescue?
She didn’t know how long they sheltered there before the door opened and one of the commandos who’d come to rescue them shouted, “Come! Follow me.”
They moved as a group, but safety was still far away.
She heard the shots continuing outside the building. Saw perhaps a dozen flaming aircraft scattered on the airfield like broken toys.
The hijackers inside the building were apparently dead, but Amin’s troops were retaliating, still firing on the rescuers as they herded the hostages between armored vehicles in an attempt to shield them.
The passengers, Marty among them, literally ran for their lives toward a large aircraft parked just outside the terminal, while their rescuers took and returned fire.
The worst of the wounded had to be carried on board.
Marty helped one man who’d been shot climb the stairs as she braced herself for the impact of a flying bullet that thankfully, never came. But others weren’t so lucky.
The rescue was a success in some ways and a failure in others.
The body of the leader of the mission to save them was loaded onto the plane last, carried by the men he’d led, before they finally secured the door and took off.
In the air as they flew away from the hellish reality, she learned that in the end three hostages had been killed in addition to the one rescuer. And ten passengers had been wounded.
It was with mingled relief and sadness over those lost that they flew to Nairobi in Kenya, where they boarded another flight to Israel.
And then, finally, a full nine days after she was supposed to have been home from her dream vacation, Marty boarded an American military aircraft headed for Virginia.
She was the lone female and the only former hostage on the flight filled with what looked like American military.
“You all right?” The male voice had her jumping in the sideways-facing seat she was strapped into.
“This isn’t exactly the first-class seat I had going to Greece, but I’ll deal with it. Thanks.” She snorted out a laugh as she glanced up.
“No doubt.” The guy smiled as he held on to a strap on the wall.
A memory niggled at the back of her brain. She frowned. “Do I know you?”
“You know my best friend, Peter Greenwood. I was at the bar with him the night you two met. I’m Tim.”
The mention of Peter brought about an increasingly familiar flutter in her stomach, along with a clenching in the vicinity of her heart.
She missed him and she was no longer afraid to admit that. She’d made that realization during the past week when she’d honestly thought she’d never see him again.
“He must be worried,” she said.
Tim let out a huff. “I think that’s an understatement. I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but rumor has it some upstart legislative aide lied his way into the FBI offices in D.C. and wouldn’t leave until the hostages were safe. Wanna make a bet that was Peter?”
As surreal as the past week and a half had been, that story about Peter was even more so. So was this man’s presence on this plane with her.
“How are you here?” she asked.
Tim lifted a shoulder. “You just happen to be hitching a ride on one of our routine transports. We’re heading back to our base in Virginia.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, then glanced around. These didn’t look like normal soldiers or sailors or whatever. They had a look about them. Just like the Israeli commandos who’d rescued them had. She had a feeling she was the reason this particular unit of men happened to be in Israel in the first place.
“Is that the truth?” she asked him.
He grinned. “It’s the only truth you’re gonna get from me.”
Tim finally sat in the seat next to her and stopped making her have to strain her neck to look up at him.
He leaned forward. “So, do you like my friend Pete? Because I have to tell you, I’m not going to be happy if you break his heart.”
As the level of craziness on this flight increased, she angled as much as she could in her seat to face him. “I do like him. But I hate to have to tell you this, but you’re wrong. After only knowing him for a week before I left for Greece, I wouldn’t dare assume I’d even have the power to break his heart.”
Peter’s friend laughed. “Oh, sweetie. Trust me. You do. You definitely do.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was almost a four-hour drive to the Navy airfield in Virginia from D.C., but that didn’t matter. Peter would have driven all night and a thousand miles to meet Marty’s flight.
When the FBI had allowed him to leave, and after he’d finally been willing to go home to shower and sleep because the hostages were finally safe, and after he’d gone to work to see if he could salvage his job, the oddest thing happened—and given the past week, that was saying something.
A telegram arrived at his desk. It contained a date and a time and the name of an airfield in Virginia. It had been signed with nothing more than a T but that was enough. Peter knew who it was from and guessed—make that hoped—what it was. The arrival information for Marty’s flight.
He didn’t try to get inside and onto the airfield. He’d pushed his luck enough already this week by using his connections, ID and a few—make that quite a few—lies.
Instead, he’d pulled off the road and parked the car in view of the runway. Getting out, he walked until he hit the perimeter fencing and waited. He might not be on the tarmac to greet the plane, but he was there to see it land.
Peter was pressed right up against the fence, his fingers gripping the chain link, when the plane touched down just before sunset. He saw the ground crew push the steps up to the aircraft. He saw the bulkhead door swing open. Saw a few sailors exit, and then, finally, a lone female slowly descended the stairs.
There was no doubt in his mind it was Marty. Her blonde hair whipped around her face from the wind. Even after what she’d been through she held herself tall, with confidence.
His heart pounded at the sight of her, even from this distance. He watched a uniformed sailor on the ground walk to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.
She and a few men loaded into a vehicle and then that was it. She was gone from his view.
Shaking, he turned and leaned back against the fence. He wasn’t even angry he’d driven three and a half hours to see Marty for about thirty seconds. It had been worth it.
Sighing, he pushed off the fence and crossed the strip of dry scrubby grass, heading for his car.
Maybe he’d find a payphone and try calling Tim while he was here. Thank him for the tip. See if he wanted to grab a bite or a drink. He could sure use one.
With that plan in mind, he glanced down at the keyring in his hand and jostled the keys to find the one for the ignition. When he looked up, it was to see a military vehicle pulling up beside his car.
He braced himself for a reprimand for parking there and prepared to whip out his senate ID and throw the senator’s name around one more time to get out of a ticket, when the door of the vehicle swung open and Tim stepped down. Followed by Marty.
The air whooshed out of Peter’s lungs. Surprise had him momentarily frozen by the trunk of his car. But Marty starting toward him knocked Peter into action.
He strode to meet her halfway, catching her as she jumped and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tight, relishing the feel of her against him. Something that, over the past week, he feared he’d never feel again.
She was soft. Warm. Wonderful.
He felt her shaking and set her feet down on the ground, leaning back far enough to see her face. Her tears had his own eyes getting misty.
Brushing one hot wet drop off her cheek with his thumb, he bent low and pressed a kiss to her mouth.
He leaned back and swallow
ed the emotion from his throat, trying to find words. He failed.
All he managed to get out was her name.
She drew in a stuttering breath. “They tell me my family is here. Waiting somewhere inside. So I have to go. They’ll probably want to take me home. To Maryland.”
“Okay.” He fought the disappointment he wouldn’t be taking her home with him.
But she was safe. Alive. And at first glance, unscathed. At least physically.
And he’d gotten to see all that firsthand. He had to be grateful for that, not disappointed he couldn’t have more.
“I’ll be back in D.C. tomorrow. The next day, at the latest. I’ll call you.”
He nodded. “Please do.”
Christ, he sounded like a girl, begging a guy to call before sitting around waiting for him to do it.
“I will. I promise.” She turned to glance over her shoulder.
Peter followed her gaze to where Tim stood, hovering close but far enough away to give them at least some illusion of privacy.
He met his friend’s gaze and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Tim tipped his head and then very pointedly opened the passenger door.
It was time for her to go.
She turned back to Peter and wrapped her arms around him for one last hug before she moved back a step. “See you.”
“Yeah. See you.”
She climbed up into the high vehicle and disappeared from his view. Tim delivered a small, quick wave and got in after her.
Then they were gone and Peter was alone on the side of the road with nothing but the turmoil of emotions to keep him company.
He arrived back at his apartment sometime after midnight and barely got his clothes and his glasses off before he was sound asleep. Exhaustion could finally take over now that he knew Marty was safe. That was all he needed, even if she wasn’t there with him.
Morning came too soon and in a daze he got himself to the office on time. Early actually.
He’d be toeing the line for a while to make up for his extended absence.
Thank God the senator had been out of the office traveling for the entire time Peter had been missing in action.
As for the rest of the staff, he’d made his excuses to them, peppered with a liberal amount of lies and half-truths.
Most were too busy to question him or care. Or maybe they were just happy he was back and promising to work extra hours to get through the mounting workload.
He didn’t mind the overtime. He didn’t have anything else to occupy his time while he waited for Marty’s call. He needed to keep busy so he wouldn’t think. Because when he had time to think, he considered how it would be when she did call, if she did call.
Would it be just so they could get together again for a night of casual sex? Was that all they were to each other? And why was he so disappointed by that prospect? Any man would give his right nut to enjoy what he had with her. What he’d hopefully have again.
Peter didn’t want that with her. Just sex. He wanted more. Much, much more.
Given what he knew about Martha Vanderbilt, about her need for independence, coupled with the fact she didn’t invite him to meet her family at the base, he should probably brace himself for disappointment.
He sighed, and then jumped to reach for the phone on his desk as it rang.
“Hello?” he answered breathlessly and a little bit too fast.
“Relax. It’s only me, lover boy.”
Peter blew out a breath. “Tim.”
Tim let out a short laugh. “Don’t sound so excited.”
If it couldn’t be Marty on the other end of the line, Peter was happy it was Tim. He had something to say to him. “Thank you for last night.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry it couldn’t be for longer.”
“No. It was fine. I just wanted to see she was all right.”
“She’s a tough one, your girl.”
This time, Peter didn’t correct Tim when he called Marty his girl, even if he was doubting the accuracy of the statement in his own mind.
“Yeah. She is,” he agreed.
Sometimes a little too tough.
Peter remembered how her confinement could have been cut in half if she’d just gotten on the damn plane with the rest of the released hostages in the first place, instead of waiting to be rescued.
She could have been killed in that firefight. He felt his pulse race just at the thought.
“So the reason I’m calling . . .” Tim began.
“Yes?” Peter prompted.
“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of this but I’m going to anyway. Yesterday didn’t happen. Neither did that phone call you got last week. Understand?”
“Yes. I even burned the telegram, since it didn’t self-destruct on its own like on Get Smart.”
“I’m not joking, Pete.” Tim’s tone was flat and, honestly, a bit intimidating.
“I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t have tried to make the dumb joke. This was too serious. “I do understand how much risk you took for me. And I would never do anything to put you in jeopardy.”
“I know.” After a pause, Tim continued, “So, what the hell happened between that night in the bar when your girl couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and now, when she’s running to jump into your arms? Please tell me, because I’m dying to know.”
Peter smiled and leaned back in the desk chair. “How much time have you got?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Marty, this is . . .” The editor glanced up from the typed pages he held in his hand and shook his head. “It’s unbelievable.”
She felt the swell of pride in her chest. It was the best, possibly the only compliment the editor had ever given her on one of her pieces in the year she’d been working there.
“I mean, with all that happened to you.” He tossed the pages onto the desk in front of him. “Why are you even here right now? You only got released a couple of days ago. Go home. You should take off some time to recover.”
Her mood deflated. He wasn’t complimenting her writing or her exclusive insider coverage of the event. He was commenting on her being taken hostage.
“I’m fine. I wanted to get the hijacking story to you as soon as possible.” She’d thought it would be a slam dunk that her article would be placed prominently in the next issue.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“Do you think you can fit it in?” She hated the doubt she heard in her own voice as she eyed her pages amid all the many others on the cluttered desk.
“Yeah, sure. We’ll fit it in somewhere.”
She pressed her lips together. If she had a penis, or if her name was Woodward or Bernstein, she had no doubt her story would be printed on the front page.
But she was just the new girl who probably got hired because of her last name. And it didn’t matter that she’d worked her ass off for the past year to do the best job she knew how, that’s how they would always see her.
Something clicked inside her brain. Suddenly she didn’t want to keep banging her head against the wall trying to break through in this business. At this paper.
She’d done her best work, had unprecedented behind the scenes access to the biggest news story of the month. Maybe of the year. And her editor’s only concern seemed to be that she rest up after her ordeal.
Marty drew in a breath. “You know. I think I might take the rest of today off. If that’s all right.”
“Yes. Of course.” His concern for her personal welfare was obvious.
She only wished he had shown even half as much concern about getting the biggest, most important story of her life good placement in the next issue.
But she was done worrying about it. There was nothing she could do now about the article. There was something she could do about something else, the other most important thing in her life, even if she did just recently realize that.
She pushed out of the chair. “I’ll be in tomorrow morning.”
“Take as much time
as you need,” he said.
“Thank you.” Hell, maybe she would, since he was so anxious to give it to her. And as she headed out the door, she knew exactly who she wanted to spend that time with.
For the past year, this paper had been her life. She’d been living for work. Now it was time to start living for herself. She could have died in that terminal. But she hadn’t. She’d survived.
Maybe it was time to celebrate that.
And time to give in to her feelings for Peter. She’d fought them. She’d tried to ignore them. But they were still there, stronger than ever.
Walking away from him at that airfield, after finally feeling safe again in his arms, had been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. She wasn’t going to walk away from him ever again.
Her press pass got her inside the building and even though she never had, and had never wanted to visit Senator Scott’s office, she found it easily enough.
Some young intern was manning the desk.
Marty flashed her credentials and asked to see Peter Greenwood, making it sound like a very official matter even if her only goal for being there was to kiss him. And then maybe make plans for that dinner they’d never gotten to have.
She got directions to his desk and found her heart was pounding as she walked through the open doorway and saw him sitting there.
He was so engrossed in whatever he was reading, he didn’t notice her. She smiled as he pushed his glasses up his nose, a slight frown on his brow as he flipped a page and continued reading.
Even though she would happily watch him for hours, there was still the matter of that kiss she’d come for . . .
She cleared her throat and saw when the sound penetrated the fog he was lost in.
His eyes came up from the page and then widened when he saw her standing in the doorway. He jumped up from the chair, whacking his hip on the corner of the desk as he came around it to meet her where she stood.
He stopped a good foot away from her and said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” she returned, taking a step forward to close the space between them to a more acceptable distance.