Secret Service Setup

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Shall we?” Evan asked.

  “We shall.” Jody opened the door and they stepped inside.

  “Sam?” Evan called as they headed for the kitchen. “Got the coffee. Sam?”

  Evan looked around. “You hear that?”

  “Shower. That’s odd. He knew we were coming over.”

  Evan’s hairs rose on his arms and he drew his weapon. “I don’t like it.” He crept down the hall. “Sam?” He put his hand on the doorknob. “Cover me,” he whispered.

  Evan slowly turned the knob. Two clicking noises sent a wave of nausea through his system.

  Jody sniffed. Sniffed again. “I smell something. Can’t place it.”

  “I can.” Evan’s throat turned dry.

  Lawman1 was once again a step ahead of him. Used the old lady to make him and Jody feel safe to enter. Ran the shower as a ploy. He knew Evan would try to open the bathroom door. But who’d tipped him off?

  “Jo, I need you to get out of here. He knew we were onto him.”

  “Why?” She looked at the knob. “Why aren’t you letting go of that?”

  He didn’t need to answer. The sheer terror in her eyes told him she already guessed.

  If he moved or let go, the bomb would detonate and they’d both be dead.

  FIFTEEN

  Jody’s body went into rigor mortis.

  Evan had activated a bomb!

  He stood statuesque. “Jo, get out of here. I don’t know how big this thing is. Call SWAT, but do it from outside and stay out there. Cell signals might trigger it.”

  What? He wanted her to leave him? Now? “I’m not going anywhere, but we don’t have time to fight about it. Beckett’s a bomb expert. I’ll find him and call SWAT.” She ran outside, her fingers trembling as she made the necessary calls, then she ignored his wishes and came back inside the apartment.

  “I thought I told you—”

  “Save it. You’re not going to stand here alone. Beckett’s suiting up. He’s down the street so it’ll be a minute. SWAT might make it here first.”

  How long did they have? Her stomach knotted, dipped and dived. When she’d said they were done with each other, this wasn’t what she had in mind. He’d still be alive and well.

  Sweat dotted Evan’s forehead, but he kept his hand in perfect position, holding the knob in a halfway turn. If he moved even a millimeter... “If you ever loved me, Jo, you’d leave.”

  “Not fair,” she said. “Beckett’s coming. He can get you out of this. The bomb squad will get you out of this.”

  “We don’t know what this is, hon. But if you refuse to leave—” Evan’s breath was shaky “—you can listen.” His voice cracked. “‘Dear Jody...’”

  What was he doing?

  “‘I gave my heart to Jesus this morning.’”

  The letter she’d destroyed—he was reciting it from memory. “Evan, you don’t have to do this. I forgave you.”

  He sniffed. “‘I had no idea how unsettled my life was...how much I was missing until this amazing peace washed over me as I knelt at the altar. And I cried. For the second time in my adult life.’”

  Jody bit the inside of her bottom lip.

  “‘The first time was the morning you were let go from the Secret Service. When I was supposed to be there with you. By your side, like I promised. But something you probably don’t know about me, Jo, that I’ve tried to hide well, is that I’m a coward.’”

  Her lip trembled and she chomped down harder. He was not a coward.

  “‘That fear has always been a part of me. Fear of becoming my father. Fear of failing the people I love like he did. Fear of never being good enough. Fear of what people thought about me.’”

  “Evan,” she breathed, and glanced at the door. “Beckett should be here soon.”

  “‘That fear kept me from coming to your aid. I convinced myself that you’d lose your job anyway and so would I. But mostly, I kind of hoped you’d leave me. Every time we argued about marriage—part of me thought you’d leave and then I wouldn’t be able to repeatedly hurt you like my dad hurt me and my mom... I can’t be that husband or dad. But every time you continued to stick by me. To love me anyway. You’re the real hero, Jo. Everything I’ve ever wanted to be.’” His eyes filled with moisture. “‘You’re fearless.’”

  Jody covered her face with her hands, holding back strangled cries. She was standing here helpless. Fearless? She was scared to death. Tremors ran through her skin.

  “‘I hope becoming a man of faith will change me. I fear it won’t. So I’m not coming back for you. In case it doesn’t stick. But even if I never see you again, know that I’m thinking of you with every single breath and working to be a man you’d deserve. A man you can be proud of.’”

  The mountain in her throat ached and burned, growing tighter by the second. “Evan...”

  “‘I hope someday you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me for what I did. I’ll regret it every day.’” Evan closed his eyes, slowly inhaled. When he opened them he gave her a smile that held sorrow and more sincerity than she’d ever seen from one person. “‘Always yours, Evan.’”

  But he wasn’t hers. She’d pushed him away for fear of getting hurt once again.

  “Jo, I can’t go to my grave—”

  “No one is going to their grave!” He wasn’t dying. They would make it out...and then what? She swiped tears away. Wished to wipe his away, too, but they dripped from his chin onto his shirt.

  “Jo, I love you. I have always loved you—the best I could with what I had. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you in the hospital. I should have been. You were right. I was thinking of me even when I was thinking of you. And I do think of you. I use the laundry detergent that reminds me of you. I even keep a jar of vapor rub by my bed... I’m pitiful.” He half laughed and eyed the knob.

  “Evan,” she managed to say, and bent at the knees.

  “Please go. Live your life and live it with someone who will make you laugh and never hurt you.”

  That wasn’t possible, was it? People hurt and hurt people. No one was perfect. Evan had done what he thought was best and it had been a mistake. Instead of offering him grace, she’d cocooned her heart, her previous fears and insecurities holding her back. She moved toward him.

  “Stop!”

  She froze.

  “I can’t chance you coming any closer.” He closed his eyes. His hand shook. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this position. My hand is sweating and cramping.”

  “You hold on! Do you hear me?” He couldn’t give up. Blood whooshed in her ears. Time was literally ticking.

  “Jody?”

  Beckett. In full SWAT gear. “I got here fast as I could. You need to leave the premises. SWAT ought to be here—”

  Here now.

  “Evan?” Beckett asked. “How many clicks did you hear when you turned the knob?” He glanced back at Jody. “Go right now or I’m going to personally remove you, and I won’t be nice or gentle about it.”

  “Ma’am, you need to leave,” the SWAT commander said. “Marsh.”

  “Reed.” Beckett nodded. Did the man know every bomb expert?

  “Where’s Wilder?” Jody asked.

  “He’s on the hunt for Vanhatter. Go help him.”

  Leave now? It might be crazy, but she wanted to stick this out. To whatever end it may be. “I’m fine right here.”

  Beckett growled and turned to Evan. “Clicks?”

  “Two,” Evan answered.

  The SWAT team members were already cutting out the wall into the bathroom.

  Beckett frowned. “Sounds like one click activated the bomb. The second click set a timer in place.”

  Metal, iron and drywall dust reached her nose as they continued to drill. Evan mouthed for her to leave, but she shook her head.

&
nbsp; “We’re in.” A SWAT team member stepped into the bathroom.

  “What do we have?” Beckett asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen anything like this before.” Beckett and the SWAT commander stepped into the bathroom for several seconds and then stepped out.

  “Okay, Evan. We have something new,” Beckett said. “The first click set it in motion and the second click recorded your body temperature. And that temp, 99.2, is our regulator. I can’t be sure how far above or below it can go before it blows. Maybe one degree. Maybe it has to stay regulated. I’ve never encountered this.”

  The world tilted. How were they going to keep his body temperature regulated?

  “And if you let go of the knob or twist it at all from where it is now, it blows.” Beckett’s grim expression sent a ripple of terror through Jody’s bones.

  “Building is cleared,” a team member said over the radio.

  “My hand is sweating.” Evan held Beckett’s somber gaze.

  “Somebody get me some cooling packs!” Beckett barked. A SWAT member returned with one.

  “And a lighter in case his temp drops,” the SWAT commander—Reed—added. “Evan, take deep breaths. Focus. Bring your body temp down.”

  “It’s 99.3...4...” the member monitoring the temperature gauge called out.

  “My heart’s racing, man.”

  “Breathe,” Beckett said. “Find something we can use as a pulley. If we can attach it to the doorknob and keep it twisted, we could tie it off on the bedroom doorknob and then maybe use a lighter...no...” He growled. “I need something I can use for heat but won’t turn off. A lighter isn’t going to do it.”

  “Hair dryer!” Jody said. “You can turn it on low. Use a thermometer to gauge how far back from the knob it needs to be to mimic 99.2. You can hang it on something to secure it.”

  “Good thinking, Jo,” Evan said.

  SWAT members scrambled for items. Beckett removed the ice packs from Evan’s hand. “Temp?”

  The SWAT member in the bathroom called back, “Ninety-nine point one.”

  “You can’t go below 99, Evan. I have a bad feeling,” Beckett said.

  “Found these exercise cords. We can use them as resistance to hold the doorknob in place.”

  “Here’s the hair dryer.”

  “So he’s going to be okay?” Jody asked.

  “We’re MacGyverin’ it here, Jode. I don’t know if this will work at all.”

  Evan’s expression curdled her blood.

  He knew he wasn’t making it out alive.

  “Okay, we got it all in place.”

  “Ninety-nine point seven...”

  “Cold packs!” Beckett barked. “Evan, breathe!”

  “Ninety-nine point eight...”

  The SWAT commander stepped up. “Everyone clear out.”

  Beckett heaved a breath. “When it’s clear, Evan, you won’t have much time. The hair dryer will increase the temperature. You only have a few seconds to let go so the dryer can hold the right temperature without your body heat raising it. You do that and get out.” They put a helmet with a face shield on his head.

  “How much time do I have once I let go?”

  “If the resistance stays the same and the hair dryer keeps the temp at 99.2, all the time you need. If it doesn’t...” He clasped his shoulder. “I’m praying for you, man.”

  Evan nodded.

  Beckett touched Jody’s shoulder, his voice low. “It’s time to say your goodbyes, Jody.”

  Goodbyes?

  “What? No!” Speech wouldn’t come. Spots formed before her eyes.

  The hair dryer hummed.

  SWAT members mumbled in muted tones.

  “Jo,” Evan whispered. “Go. Be smart. This time...this time it’s braver to leave than stay.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to be a hero. I want to stay here. With you.”

  Evan sighed. “Then come here. Kiss me.”

  She inched toward him and lightly placed her lips on his. Didn’t matter that Beckett stood watching. Didn’t matter a bomb was about to take them into eternity.

  She had right now. And she was going to savor his scent of cinnamon and citrus—the taste of their salty tears mixing together and the familiar taste of Evan.

  “I love you, Jo,” he whispered against her lips.

  She opened her eyes in time to see Evan give one resolute nod to Beckett. “Do it,” he said.

  Before she could blink, Beckett thrust Jody over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, her leg screaming in pain, but she ignored it as tears blurred her vision. She beat his back and hollered for him to let her go. “Put me down! You can’t do this!” Her throat ached and burned. “We can’t leave him! Evan!”

  Beckett didn’t speak. He toted her down the stairs and outside the hot zone. But he gripped her like iron. She couldn’t break free.

  “I’m fine. I am. You can put me down now.” Lies. All lies.

  He released her from over his shoulders but kept his grip around her waist, holding her in a prison from behind.

  “You can let go.” She couldn’t break free from his hold.

  “You’ll run right back in there for him if I do. Been there. Done that.” He gripped her chin and made her face him. “We’ve lost enough lives in the Flynn family. Do you understand?”

  Grandparents. Her father. Meghan. She understood. But still. “Beckett!” she pleaded. “Please!”

  He turned her toward him and buried her face in his chest. “Don’t watch this.”

  Maybe it worked. Evan would come running from the apartment complex. Safe. Sound.

  Jody screamed into his vest as the sonic boom deafened her.

  The building blew with a fiery blast. Smoke clouded the atmosphere; debris showered down.

  And Evan was gone.

  * * *

  “We got something! Over here!”

  Evan couldn’t move. Something heavy weighted him down. He coughed inside the helmet. His throat was coated in grit. Ears ringing, he couldn’t make out the voices.

  Have. To. Move.

  Jody! Was she safe?

  The fuzziness in his head cleared some and he remembered letting go of the knob, the exercise band working to keep it twisted at the right degree. The hair dryer doing its job. He’d raced from Dylan’s apartment and down the stairs when the blast sent him sprawling into the air.

  Debris had rained down on him, then everything had gone black. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but it felt like he’d been hollering forever.

  “Evan! Can you hear me, man?”

  Wilder’s voice.

  “I’m...under... I’m here. Wilder!” Evan was pinned by whatever had landed on him. A door? Bricks. Railing.

  Remains shifted. “We got ya,” Wilder said, and grunted as the heavy weight was lifted from him. “Finally. We been hunting through the rubble for a while now.”

  First responders came to his aid. “Sir, don’t move.”

  “I’m fine.” He removed the SWAT helmet and surveyed the scene. The whole complex was gone.

  “Look a little on the bloody side to me,” Wilder said, and grinned. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  “Where’s Jo?” Evan asked as the paramedics took his vitals and annoyed him. He was fine. He just wanted to get to Jo.

  “Well, at first she tried to go back in after you, but Beck wouldn’t let her. Then she tried to claw through debris to hunt you down, but when Beckett dished out his tough love, her leg was reinjured.” He held up his hand. “She’s fine. We basically had to act as straitjackets to get her to the hospital. They fixed her up but pumped her with the sleepy pills.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s at your place. Snoozing. And probably dreaming of all the ways
she’s gonna kill us when she wakes up. Cosette and Beckett’s wife, Aurora, drove in and are with her now.”

  Evan stood. “Do I need stitches?”

  “No, minor scrapes and abrasions. You’re blessed not to have any major wounds,” the paramedic said. “We’d like to take you to the hospital for further evaluation.”

  “Nope. I’m fine.” Nothing a few ibuprofens wouldn’t fix. “I need to get home.”

  To Jody.

  “There you are!” SAC Bevin hurdled broken concrete and bricks and rushed to him. Terry Pratt was right behind him. “We’ve been going crazy looking for you.”

  Terry held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  Evan grinned and hugged him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’d have done the same thing, man.” Terry slapped his back and released him. Evan couldn’t say if he and Layla would pick back up—he hoped not. He hoped Terry would come clean and reconcile with his wife.

  “Got the call from Washington,” Clive said. “It’s yours, Evan. Assistant Director of Protective Operations. You’ve brought down three different criminal rings in one investigation. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

  Wilder gave him a sideways glance.

  “Thank you,” he said. But he wasn’t so sure he wanted or even needed that position anymore. His perspective had changed in the past several days. What he’d once thought was important didn’t have the same shine it had before.

  “Reporters are going nuts. We need to give a press conference and reinstate you publicly. Why don’t you get cleaned up and we can meet back in an hour at the agency. Let’s tell the world what you’ve done.”

  He’d be at that press conference all right.

  And he planned to tell the world exactly what he’d done. “Be there in an hour.” Evan hobbled to Wilder’s SUV and climbed inside. “He said three rings. Did they get Sam?”

  “Dylan Vanhatter, you mean?” Wilder asked. “Yeah. We got him. He was boarding a chartered plane heading to Morocco. Looks like Fenner’s team sent FBI to question the Vanhatters. They said Dylan lived with a girlfriend near Miami and traveled for his job. They only saw him occasionally.” He snorted. “Also living as Sam Bass in sweet digs a few hours from them.”