A tense hush fell over the room. “Okay then, never mind,” Lacey muttered, wishing she’d never opened her mouth.
“You’re right to ask,” Thando assured her. “Everyone needs to be clear and comfortable with every aspect of this plan. Any other questions?” When no one spoke, he continued. “After the building has been swept, we move into place. We want a highly visible police presence outside, so Hardy thinks that’s where we’ve concentrated our efforts. In fact—and this is a change from previous scenarios—we’ll have the majority of our tactical operators inside, hidden throughout the building. The other major revision in today’s protocol is that Miss Cross will have personal guard, someone whom Hardy will have to get through before he can touch so much as a hair on her head.”
Thando let this sink in, and waited until everyone had stopped writing before he went on. “Detective Harris is in charge of our office sweepers and the external, visible team. Agent Carver will install his operators in the building’s interior. Sergeant Mason will be with Miss Cross, and I’ll act as point to him. Everyone understand?”
Amidst a roomful of obedient nods, Lacey felt the words erupt from her mouth before she’d even realized they were forming.
“I want someone else.”
If the silence after her previous question had been tense, this one was lethal.
“What do you mean?” Thando asked gently.
She raised her chin defiantly. If there was ever a time to stand up for herself, this was it. “I want a different guard. I don’t want Bron—I mean, Sergeant Mason.” She looked pleadingly at Thando, who she was beginning to believe was her only hope in this situation. “Can’t you do it?”
He glanced at Detective Harris, who was glowering at Bronnik, who was staring back at her with eyes like glaciers, his jaw set in a tight line.
“Dismissed, everyone,” Thando said to the room at large, and the officers began reluctantly gathering their things, eager to see the conclusion to this discussion.
He waited while the room emptied. “You too,” he said sharply to his partner, who hadn’t moved from his chair. Bronnik rose slowly and deliberately, his eyes narrowed as he made his way outside.
When it was just the two of them left, Thando sat down on the bed beside Lacey.
“I know why you don’t want Sergeant Mason with you this evening,” he said without preamble, his tone reasonable and patient. “He told me what happened. And in my opinion, I think he was wrong to take things where he did. He’s a professional who should know better, and you have every right to be pissed off at him.”
“But?” Lacey asked miserably, already seeing where this was headed.
He smiled. “But I also want you to be safe, and like it or not, Mason is the best one to keep you that way. He’s younger than me, he’s quicker, he’s stronger, and he’s one of the best operators I’ve seen in fifteen years with the Task Force. I know his judgment wasn’t great with you yesterday, but in a combat situation, I trust him to make the right decisions.”
Thando gave her knee a reassuring pat, and she looked at the gold wedding ring that stood out against his smooth, chocolate-toned skin. She thought of his three daughters, and knew then that she couldn’t ask him to take Bronnik’s place. Whatever her discomfort may be, Bronnik was right—of the two of them, Thando had the most to lose.
Lacey heaved a sigh. “I understand. I’m being petty. Thank you for sitting down with me, Thando.” She smiled up at him. “I really appreciate that you listen to me.”
He laughed—a warm, hearty sound. “I live with four women. All I do is listen.”
Lacey followed him out to the corridor, where the officers were getting organized and discussing plans for each team. Bronnik stood apart from the cluster of blue uniforms, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. His expression clearly broadcasted that his temper was still simmering.
She had to walk past him to reach her room, and as she did, he said her name. When she ignored him, he grabbed her arm to halt her progress. Although his grip was featherlight, it was enough to set her rage boiling over again.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, wrenching free.
“Of course, I forgot you’d rather put yourself at risk than have me anywhere near you. For your own sake, try to be sensible.”
Lacey laughed bitterly. “For my sake! Gosh, you really are dedicated to my protection and security. Let’s just hope that when Hardy’s in the picture you don’t change your mind halfway through and walk out.”
His eyes narrowed to slits, but before he could speak Lacey poked him in the chest, indicating the screen-printed writing on his sweatshirt. “This is news, by the way. I didn’t even know you went to college.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Exactly. And after last night, I’m not sure I can trust what I do know. I’m not sure you’re even half the man I thought you were. For all I know, you wore this to spite me, to show me you’re a fancy college grad and I’m just a pathetic dropout.” Her voice cracked on the last word as she realized she was expressing something buried deep within her, something that came from somewhere much darker than her anger about the night before.
Dammit, not here. Not now—not in front of him.
She sucked in a breath, desperate not to cry in a hall full of policemen.
Following her gaze to the crowd down the corridor, Bronnik turned so his back faced the officers, shielding her in the process.
“Lacey, that’s insane.” His voice was hushed but fractionally warmer. “It’s just a sweatshirt. Why would I care that you left college?”
“That’s the problem,” she exclaimed, her voice becoming shrill and desperate, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “You don’t care. Maybe you tried this time, but in the end I’m going to be just like all the other girls Hardy killed. Alone, unloved, a photo in the newspaper next to a sad story that people cluck their tongues at and forget five minutes later.”
She was sobbing now, three days’ worth of tension and worry spilling out of her. Without a second’s hesitation Bronnik pulled her against his chest. She stiffened and tried to push him away, but he held her tightly, and after a moment she relaxed against his hard body, drinking in the scents of chlorine and clean laundry.
“This isn’t about college, is it?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant. “You know I don’t care about that because I’m more interested in the rest of you—the things that matter, that you don’t get by turning up to classes for a few years. Your strength, your bravery, your determination.”
She sniffed and pulled away forcefully this time, holding him at arm’s length. “You can’t flatter me into forgetting about last night. You walked out on me with zero explanation.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, putting a definite physical distance between them. “Maybe we can talk about that after this is over. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Lacey, but today I need to be a cop. I need to do my job. I hope you understand that.”
She didn’t, not at all, but she also sensed they were nearing the end of what he was willing to say on the subject.
“I can’t promise that,” she told him honestly. “I can’t divide this situation into two parts like you want, splitting it into personal and professional.”
His only reply was to hold up his palms in a gesture of futility.
She sighed, resigned. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
He nodded. “You will.”
Lacey spent most of the day drifting listlessly from one end of the hotel room to the other. She checked her e-mail and read the news online, carefully avoiding the links to the videos of Bronnik. More than once she picked up her cell phone, began to punch in the phone number for her brother Wade or one of her old friends from high school, then put it back down again. If anything happened to her, they’d find out soon enough. No need to worry anyone unnecessarily.
Lacey flicked through the TV channels unseeingly, and after poking listlessl
y at her room-service lunch she crawled into bed and managed a few hours of heavy, dreamless sleep. She was awakened briefly when the phone rang in the room, but it had been patched through to various police officers’ rooms so it stopped almost as soon as it registered through in her drowsy awareness. She knew who the caller was, and she knew what the call signified, and she was certain the flare of anxiety that set her heart racing would conclude her daytime nap.
Lacey rolled over and the next thing she knew the clock screeched that it was midafternoon. She hauled herself up and into the shower, disoriented by such a long stretch of sleep, then spent a long time considering what to wear. Dressing for an appointment with a serial killer wasn’t exactly a regular feature of the fashion makeover shows she sometimes watched, and she didn’t know where to begin. In the end she decided to go for function over form, pulling on jeans, a long-sleeved knit top and her running shoes, which were the sturdiest footwear she owned.
At five o’clock there was a knock on her door. “Showtime,” she muttered grimly, and opened it.
“They’re ready for you,” Detective Harris announced, and beckoned her across the hall to Thando’s room.
Inside, Agent Carver and three other FBI agents were dressed in black SWAT gear, alongside a few uniformed policemen from the local force. Thando had undergone a complete transformation, having ditched the conservative suits for full camouflage fatigues, topped with a helmet. She swallowed as she caught sight of a bulletproof vest resting ominously on a bedside table, realizing instantly that it was intended for her.
Her eyes found Bronnik last. He was at the back of the room, pulling the Velcro strap of a Kevlar vest tight over his broad chest. In a black T-shirt and gloves and camouflage trousers tucked into high-laced combat boots, with a radio headset draped around his neck and a long, mean-looking knife strapped to his thigh, his sun-kissed good looks were eclipsed by his obvious readiness for battle.
He looked every inch the lethal weapon she supposed he was.
His eyes met hers as he buckled the Beretta’s holster around his lean hips, but he didn’t smile. His face was as remote and stony as if they’d never spoken.
Thando gave an updated version of the earlier briefing, with additional details on the layout of the dental office and what the sweeping team had found that afternoon. Lacey struggled to focus on what he said, lapsing instead into a waking daydream about how she planned to change her life once this was all over. She’d sell her house and move away from Topeka, to somewhere warm, like Texas or Florida. She’d take college classes part-time and in the evenings while she worked, so by the time she finished her degree she’d also have amassed enough savings to start her business. But first she’d give herself a graduation present by heading off for a few months’ travel, probably in Europe and Asia, and who knew where else. She’d always been interested in Australia, and maybe she’d even find her way to South Africa. It did seem like a fascinating country, and if Bronnik wasn’t seeing anyone…
The mere thought of him snapped her back to reality. She cautioned a glance in his direction, but he was staring fixedly at his partner, his face set and serious. Despite herself, she suppressed a sigh.
Thando finished what he had to say, there were a few questions, and then it was time to roll out. When he reached her he had the bulletproof vest in hand, which he draped over her shoulders and fastened in place with a final, reassuring squeeze on her upper arm.
“Sergeant Mason will take you in his car. Don’t worry about a thing, Miss Cross. You’re in good hands.”
She managed a weak smile. She wasn’t sure who—or what—to believe at this point.
Bronnik motioned for her to follow him, and she fell into step with the rest of the team as they made their way down to the parking lot. Outside the dimming sky told her sunset was imminent, and the quiet, crisp winter air seemed full of threat and danger.
She slid into the front seat beside Bronnik and they drove in a silence so complete, she could hear the creak of leather on his boots as he pressed the accelerator.
She stole a glance at him across the car. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, the muscles in his jaw tight and tense.
Suddenly she was overwhelmed by all she wanted to say to him. She longed to tell him how much her life had changed in only the few short days she’d known him, how she’d learned for the first time that she could respect a man as much as she was attracted to him, and that it was possible for her to be appreciated in return, not dismissed and tossed aside as a pretty, provincial girl who wasn’t worth much more than a night or two of playful distraction.
The words swelled up in her throat, choking her, as hot tears burned in her eyes. She could see the entrance to the dental practice up ahead and knew she didn’t have much time, yet she was paralyzed, hobbled by Bronnik’s insistence that she let him do his job and keep their personal circumstances out of it.
They pulled into the parking lot outside the office. It already teemed with squad cars broadcasting the police presence, their flickering lights distorting the shadows in the gathering dusk.
He switched off the car, unhooked his seat belt and looked at her expectantly.
His eyes were impatient and unyielding, and they were Lacey’s undoing. She crumbled under his gaze, choking out a sob before she clamped her hands over her mouth, furiously sniffling back tears.
Bronnik let his head fall back against the seat and scrubbed a gloved hand over his face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped furiously at her tearstained cheeks, her voice trembling. “I’m just nervous.”
He stared straight ahead, unmoving. She ached for him to offer her a kind word of reassurance, a squeeze of the hand, even just a soft look. She was desperate for a sign—any sign—that she was more to him than just the anonymous target he was tasked with protecting.
“Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
Lacey pulled together her composure with great effort. She slid out of the car and followed him shakily into the building.
Chapter Ten
The reception area of the dental office was silent, except for the occasional squeak when Lacey shifted position on her stiff plastic chair. Bronnik stood beside her behind the high-front desk, one hand resting on the butt of his gun, his whole body thrumming with tension and adrenaline.
He forced himself to conduct a systematic mental run-through of the entrances and exits to the building and the teams stationed at each one. It was partially an exercise in preparedness, and mostly an effort to keep his mind on the task at hand and not on the woman seated beside him, and how he’d feel if he couldn’t get her out of this alive. He let his eyes shut briefly at the thought, and then banished it from his brain before he could sink too far into the powerful, devastating emotions it stirred to the surface.
“Bronnik”—her voice was soft—“can I ask you something?”
“Not now,” he barked, instantly regretting the abruptness of his tone. But he had to concentrate, had to stay alert.
He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. 5:57 p.m. Any minute now.
Everything should be in place. The building had been swept, Carver’s men were covering the front door, there was another layer of FBI units and local police out back, and Thando was covering the interior layer, where the examination rooms led into reception. The building was locked down. Short of an underground bunker, he couldn’t think of anywhere safer.
Yet a creeping wave of anxiety lapped at the edges of his awareness. Things were never easy with Hardy, and they were never quite what they seemed. The possibility that he’d missed something threatened to topple his tightly reined calm, and his free hand clenched and unclenched at his side.
Lacey shifted beside him, and his vision blurred as memories swept across his mind like a sandstorm: her impossibly soft skin and spectacular breasts; the brave defiance with which she’d addressed a roomful of police officers making decisions about her future; her cr
umpled, tearstained face as she finally unburdened herself to him in the hallway. What an amazing woman.
Dammit, keep your head in the game. Bronnik silently cursed himself, rocketing back to alertness. This was not a practice run—this was as real as it got.
“Where is he?” he muttered aloud, checking the clock.
Becoming more impatient by the second, he was about to radio Thando for an update when one of the FBI agents came through one of the side entrances, which led in from the examination rooms.
“I’ve got a status report.”
Bronnik nodded impatiently. “Make it quick.”
“Oh, I will,” a familiar voice cackled, and when Bronnik turned with his weapon raised, Hardy had already dragged Lacey off her chair. He held a knife at her throat while his other arm wrapped around her to keep hers pinned at her sides.
Panic, dismay and pure primal rage surged through Bronnik in a dizzying rush. He kept his gun trained on Hardy.
“Turn that off unless you want to watch me open her neck right now,” Hardy told him, nodding at his radio headset. “Anyway, you already told the tactical team that you’d seen me heading south into the parking lot next door. Not that these stupid Americans would have noticed, but personally I think my imitation of your Western Cape country trash accent was masterful.” He grinned. “And before you ask, your partner will be fine—when he wakes up.”
“What do you want, Hardy?” Bronnik asked, keeping his voice cool and even as he tossed the headset onto the floor. Hardy stuck out his foot and brought his heel down on the plastic device. Bronnik stole a glance at Lacey’s face. Her eyes were wide and bright with fear, but her expression was resolute—she was a long way from giving up.
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