The one who waited patiently at the edge of the dance floor, his blue eyes on her, always, making her remember things they’d done in the darkness and even in the light.
She couldn’t wait to get out of here, get out of these clothes, then get him out of his.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our last song of the evening.”
Jane searched for Bobby, who was already weaving through the throng in her direction. She moved toward him. Someone grabbed her elbow and yanked her back, a little too hard, and she stumbled.
“Doctor, forgive me.” Greg Wylie released her. “I just wanted to beg the last dance.”
Jane stared at her mother’s pet. At one time or another she must have lost her mind and confided to Raeanne the type of man she preferred, because Greg appeared to have been cloned from the description. Yet she had no interest in him at all.
“That would be my dance, Wylie.” Bobby had reached her side.
Bobby took Jane’s hand just as the other man reached for it. Greg wasn’t happy to discover he’d been beaten.
“She can’t dance with the help,” Wylie sneered. “Buzz off.” He took her arm and tugged. Bobby held on to her other hand. Jane felt like a wishbone.
“Hey! You mind?”
She pulled away from both of them. Bobby let her. Greg held on.
Bobby stepped in front of Jane and murmured, “I will break every finger in that hand if it isn’t off her arm in one, two—”
Wylie lifted his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Jeez, pal. Relax. A little gung-ho?”
“You have no idea.” Bobby twirled Jane away from Wylie toward the center of the dance floor.
His body was stiff; he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then took another.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Fine. You?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“That was unpleasant.”
“No. Unpleasant is being at this party when I’d rather be at the hotel with you. That was merely annoying.”
The tension seeped out of Bobby’s shoulders. Jane rubbed her palms over them. “Relax, soldier boy. No one to fight here.”
“I like it when you call me that.”
“Really? What about when I call you…”
She leaned in and put her lips near his ear.
“Bobby,” she whispered breathlessly, as if he were buried deep inside her.
He choked and jerked back. She laughed. He didn’t. What was wrong with him?
“I’m sorry you had to stand around all night while I danced.”
“That’s my job.”
“Couldn’t have been fun.”
“Fun is in the eye of the beholder. I was beholding you. Great time.”
She wasn’t certain if that was a compliment or sarcasm.
“I’m tired,” she said, and laid her head on his shoulder. He was just the right height.
She’d danced all night, with twenty different men, and she’d done fine, because he’d taught her. But she couldn’t dance this well with any of them. She didn’t want to dance with any of them.
“Did you know your mother wants you to get a job in D.C., marry a politician and have two point five children?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And what do you say about it?”
“I say that point five child is gonna have it rough.”
He let out a burst of laughter, and she leaned back to watch the amusement flow across his face, then settle in his eyes.
The lightheartedness faded slowly, replaced by something darker, stronger, more dangerous. Their steps slowed, and she caught her breath as the whole world fell away.
At last, she thought when his mouth touched hers.
She’d waited for this, longed for it, during every passionate night. She’d begun to think he didn’t care for her at all, begun to fear she was nothing more than a brief interlude in Washington. And Mexico.
Maybe that was still true, but at least he’d kissed her. At last he’d kissed her.
Bobby’s kiss had been worth the wait.
His lips were soft as they feathered over hers. When she responded with a sigh, he delved deeper, tasting her even as she tasted him. His mouth both demanded and claimed.
Perhaps because she’d been injured and was now healed, the embrace was more intense, the kiss an explosion of sensation. She couldn’t think beyond the moment, knew nothing but him and her, together at last in a way they’d never been together before.
He tugged her closer, continuing to move them in time with the music. His body hard, his hands firm, yet he held her as if she were a life-size crystal woman, as if she would shatter into a million sharp pieces if he dropped her on the marble floor.
She clutched his shoulders as the music played, and the dancers swirled all around them. In the distance a clock struck midnight.
People had to be watching; her mother would have a stroke: there’d probably be a picture in tomorrow’s paper of Jane and Bobby making out. She didn’t care.
Bobby lifted his head. Tentatively he touched a finger to her lips. “Did I hurt you?”
She couldn’t speak, she could only stare at him mutely as the whole world seemed to shift, even though everything was still the same.
The band stopped playing. Guests started clapping. The clock continued to chime as she and Bobby stood at the center of the universe alone.
Between two chimes there was an odd pop. At first Jane thought the clock had broken. But when Bobby’s eyes widened and he tackled her, throwing Jane down and covering her body with his, she understood.
It was a good thing she wasn’t a crystal woman, because she’d have shattered. If not from being tossed to the ground and leaped on by a couple of hundred pounds of pure muscle, then by the gunshot that had no doubt been aimed at her head.
PANDEMONIUM ENSUED WHEN one of the tuxedoed men fell to the floor, blood flowing from the wound in his shoulder.
Bobby glanced up, gauging the trajectory. He didn’t know who that guy was—maybe the shooter had been after him—but Bobby didn’t think so.
The shooter had been after Jane.
Had to be. If this was a random act or a terrorist plot, the bullets would have kept on coming. There were too many ducks in this pond to stop shooting unless the culprit had been aiming for a certain duck and missed.
Bobby hauled Jane upright and shoved her ahead of him toward the door, putting his body between hers and the gun. Unfortunately, everyone else in the building was headed for the same exit.
“Here.”
He grabbed Jane’s arm and hustled her down a narrow corridor. In his experience, hallways like this usually led to one place. Finding a door, he opened it just a little and sighed in relief.
“Loading dock.”
Which should be secure. The idea of what could be brought in through an unguarded loading dock boggled the mind. Nevertheless, Bobby stuck his head out first. No one shot it off.
No one called out “Halt!” either. He crept outside, telling Jane with a hand signal, to stay behind the door.
The guards lay dead on the pavement.
“This is not good,” he muttered.
And he knew in that moment he had to get Jane out of here now.
Quickly he checked the area. As far as he could tell, the sniper had left the roof. Probably went inside at the first shot.
Big mistake. But too late to fix now.
There was only one vehicle—a delivery van that must have been used to bring the caterer’s supplies.
Bobby leaped from the loading dock, sprinted to the van and hot-wired the thing in less than a minute. Then he backed it up to the door so Jane could climb inside.
As he spun out of the place, she made her way forward to the passenger seat. “Stay down,” he ordered. “Away from the windows.”
She sat on the floor. “Someone had a gun.”
“Looks that way.”
“How?”
“Excellent question.”
/> The only people who should have had a weapon were security forces. So which one of them had taken a bribe from the dark side to put a bullet in the good doctor’s head?
“Someone was trying to shoot me, weren’t they?”
He glanced at her. She didn’t seem shocky or hysterical, so he nodded.
Jane fiddled with a bangle on her silver sandals. Her expression was just a little bit pissed off. Good. He’d always found pissed off so much better than scared.
“Now what?” she asked.
Bobby wasn’t sure. They could go back to the hotel, which had been secure enough for the past week, but his instincts told him not to. He had to trust those instincts. They were all that had kept him alive on many occasions. He’d have to trust them to keep Jane alive, too.
“I think we should get out of Washington,” he ventured.
“Okay.”
Bobby turned the van toward the interstate.
“As soon as we get Lucky.”
He did a double take. “You can’t be serious.”
“Can. Am. If I leave her behind, she’ll end up in the pound or worse.”
“I’ll have the colonel take care of her.”
“I want my dog.”
“But—”
“Arguing is only going to take time. You’re some hotshot antiterrorist soldier, aren’t you?”
“Counterterrorist,” he corrected automatically.
“Whatever. You should be able to sneak in, snatch the dog and be out of there before anyone knows the difference.”
She was right, but he tried one more time to change her mind. “Lucky isn’t exactly inconspicuous. We’re kind of on the run here.”
“You plan on stopping for a stroll?”
“No, but Lucky will have to.”
“In the woods. Fields. Side roads. Jeez, Luchetti. Who taught you to be invisible?”
The best of the best. Except he’d never had to disappear dragging along a woman in a purple dress and her one-eyed dog.
Bobby turned the van toward the Jefferson Hotel. Moments later, he pulled up at its loading dock.
“Stay out of sight,” he said. “If anyone knocks on the doors, don’t answer.”
“Duh,” Jane muttered.
He chose to ignore that and jumped out of the van, locking it behind him.
Just after midnight and the hotel was still busy, though not horribly so. Bobby was continually amazed at how easy it was to walk into a place and not be stopped, as long as he behaved as if he belonged there.
Tonight was no different from any of a hundred others. He walked in, nodded to a few people and continued to the penthouse, where he grabbed Lucky’s leash and Lucky, as well as a few clothes for himself and Jane. He was climbing into the van before anyone knew he’d been there.
Lucky bathed Jane with Lucky love, and the two of them settled on a tablecloth out of sight, while Bobby settled in for a long night’s drive.
They’d need to switch vehicles soon. Once the hoopla died down at the museum someone would realize the van was gone. The FBI would think the shooter had it. Then there’d be bulletins, road blocks. He didn’t have the time.
“Where are we going?” Jane asked.
There was only one place in the world he could go that, no matter what, he’d be welcome.
“Home,” he said. “I’m going home.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BOBBY DROVE THROUGH the night. From Washington, D.C., to Gainsville, Illinois, was more than a seven-hundred-and-fifty-mile trip—at least twelve hours.
Once they got out of Dodge, they changed clothes and switched cars—a euphemism for hot-wiring one in a used-car lot, then exchanging license plates in a shopping mall—the colonel would make sure everything was paid for and tidied up later. Jane fell asleep with Lucky’s head in her lap, which gave Bobby plenty of time to come to a conclusion.
He no longer trusted Jane’s mother.
Deep down, he couldn’t make himself believe that Raeanne wanted Jane dead. That was too psycho even for her.
But why had she insisted Jane go to the ball? Why had she hired a bodyguard? If not because she knew something was going to happen there, then because she suspected something was going to happen somewhere, eventually.
Which meant Jane needed to be as far away from the senator as possible until Bobby figured out what was going on.
They should be safe in Gainsville. When a soldier entered Delta Force, he ceased to exist in the regular army. Personnel records were purged from the system and managed from then on by DASR, the Department of the Army Security Roster. Theoretically, no one should be able to find Bobby’s permanent address.
Of course, how hard was it to trace a Luchetti in Illinois?
Nevertheless, the family farm was easily defensible. It was in the middle of nowhere, and the land for miles around was flat. No one was going to sneak up on them.
Even if they did, every Luchetti owned a gun, and Bobby was familiar, through a childhood of hide-and-seek, with all the great hiding places on a dairy farm. He couldn’t think of a better location to disappear.
They made good time. Bobby used the interstate and stayed just above the speed limit. Too fast or too slow would make a deputy remember them.
He stopped only at very busy gas stations, where he bought coffee, doughnuts and bottled water. Just like every other traveler on the road. He made Jane and Lucky stay in the car. She might think she was plain, but he knew better.
Even without the dress, she was striking. Tall and athletic, she walked with confidence. Her accent was pure East Coast education. And if that wasn’t enough—her makeup had started to wear off and it was obvious in the bright sunshine that she was recovering from two recent black eyes. In this neighborhood, that could get Bobby’s ass kicked by just about anyone.
He did as Jane suggested, taking detours on side roads to allow Lucky quick trips into the bushes. Somewhere in Indiana, while Jane combed out the snarls in her hair, he called the colonel.
Bracing for a set down, he was pleasantly surprised to hear praise. “Nice job, boy. You saved her again. And snatched the dog, too. I am impressed.”
“What happened to supreme security?”
“No one knows. Everyone’s pointing the finger at the other guy.”
“The shooter?”
“Gone.”
“How could that be?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Loading dock,” Bobby said. “Killed the guards. I must have been right behind him.”
The colonel grunted, keeping what they were both thinking to himself. If Bobby hadn’t had Jane to worry about, he’d have gone after, and no doubt apprehended, the murderer. But Bobby’s job was protecting Jane, not chasing killers. At least this week.
“Where are you?” the colonel asked. “The senator is having a conniption.”
Bobby wasn’t surprised.
“Tell the senator Jane is safe with me.”
Bobby hesitated, not comfortable revealing over any phone where they were headed. Which was why they had a code for situations like these.
“I’ll be where no one knows me,” he said.
Translation—where everyone does. Home.
The colonel didn’t bother to acknowledge the hint. “Taking the mutt along wasn’t bright. Thing stands out like a one-eyed dog in a two-eyed world.”
Was the colonel trying to be funny? Bobby didn’t think so. Army commanders weren’t known for their sense of humor.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bobby said.
“Any news?” Jane asked as he climbed back into the car.
Bobby opened his mouth and she continued, “Besides my mother having a fit.”
He shut his mouth and started the engine.
“That’s what I figured,” she muttered.
They rolled into Gainsville around 3:00 p.m.
“Oh, how cute,” Jane exclaimed.
“Cute isn’t exactly the word I’d pick.”
She
glanced at him with a frown. “You don’t like it here?”
“Mayberry of the Midwest, what’s not to like?”
“I can’t decide if that means you like it or you don’t.”
Bobby couldn’t, either.
“I haven’t been here for…a long time.”
“How long’s long?”
He couldn’t quite recall.
“Years,” he said at last.
Jane’s eyes widened. “You haven’t been home in years?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So have I, but I go home more often than that. And you’ve met my mother.”
Why hadn’t he been home? Bobby wasn’t quite sure.
He liked his mother, even most of his brothers. Had no problems with his father or his sister. He didn’t want to be a farmer, never had. But it wasn’t as if he’d be handcuffed to a cow if he ventured into a pasture. He could leave any time that he liked. Unlike Dean, who’d taken over the family business, and by all accounts, was doing very well with it. The farm was all Dean had ever wanted, so there was no reason for Bobby to avoid Gainsville.
Just as he’d avoided calling and telling them he was on his way. They’d welcome him, whenever he showed up, with open arms, but he’d wanted to avert a Luchetti family reunion. He and Jane were supposed to be hiding out.
“The places I’ve been living lately make your hometown pretty appealing,” Jane said.
“I thought you liked it in Mexico.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss—” Her head whipped around so fast he nearly got smacked in the face with her ponytail. “A bookstore!”
Bobby blinked. Where had that come from? Now that he took a good look, he saw a new hair salon, a family restaurant sporting a family name he’d never heard of, and a great, gray building labeled Gainsville Memorial, growing from what he recalled as Mr. Conway’s cornfield.
He had been gone too long.
“How far is your house?”
Not his. Not anymore—not ever, really. Bobby didn’t have a house, which had never struck him as sad before.
“My parents live about five miles out of town. There.” Bobby pointed to three silos that rose toward the sky.
“Your father’s a patriot?”
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