From the Heart

by Nora Roberts

  “How the hell did he get in there with a gun?” she demanded.

  Thorpe gave a quick, mirthless laugh. His eyes never left the building across the street. “It isn’t difficult for someone security’s used to seeing to pass through. He had it in his jacket, I imagine, or it was already in his desk.” He shifted impatiently. Liv could tell he wanted to move, wanted to do something. “I’d feel better if he were a professional. In the state he’s in, it’s too easy for him to make a mistake and take the hostages down with him.” He swore with a quiet urgency she rarely heard from him. “He wanted to make certain he was getting full media coverage.”

  “You don’t really think he’s doing it for the publicity, do you?” The thought appalled her.

  Thorpe shook his head. “I’ve dealt with him several times when I’ve set up meetings.” He took out a cigarette. “He’s a taut, hungry little man. A good mind, but the nerves show.”

  “Gambling, I’m told.”

  “So the stories go.” Thorpe drew on the cigarette and let out a quick stream of smoke. “Too quiet,” he muttered. “Too damn quiet.”

  Tension was palpable. It increased, almost visibly, as the minutes dragged by. How long, she wondered, could the taut, hungry little man Thorpe had described stand up under the strain? He’d taken an irrevocable step. How much further would he go? She waited, like the others, to find out.

  “Thorpe.” Liv recognized the man from the Secret Service, and frowned when he singled Thorpe out. “Chief Daniels wants you.”

  “Sure.” Thorpe crushed another cigarette under his heel. “Her too,” he added with a jerked thumb at Liv. “We’re a team.”

  Liv bit back a smile. That was quite a change. Without a word, she followed behind them.

  The communications van was set up well away from the press area. She glanced briefly at the equipment, the tape recorders, two-ways, phones, the men working in shirt sleeves. What could they want with Thorpe? she wondered. This had nothing to do with the press.

  Chief Daniels pushed his glasses back onto his weary face. “T.C., Morrow’s demanding to speak to you directly. You game?”

  “Sure.”

  “The tape’ll be running. Be careful what you say. If he makes any demands, don’t promise, don’t negotiate. Leave that to us.” He spoke quickly and without inflection, but Liv caught the undercurrents. He didn’t like this new twist. “You’re not in a position to give him anything he wants. He’s smart enough to know that. Whatever he asks for, you just tell him that you’ll check and get back to him. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  He glanced at Liv and focused in on her press badge.

  “She’s with me,” Thorpe told him easily.

  “None of this goes on the air until I give the word.” His eyes were hard, and close to hostile. “We’re not going to give him a media free-for-all.”

  “Understood,” Liv said calmly, then watched as Thorpe was handed a receiver.

  “We’ll ring.” Daniels signaled one of his men. “Keep him talking as long as you can. If things start to get out of hand, we’ll take over.”

  Thorpe nodded and heard Morrow pick up the phone on the first ring.

  “T.C. ?”

  “Yeah. How you doing, Ed?”

  Morrow laughed shakily. “Terrific. You going to do a report on me?”

  “That’s right. You want to tell me why you’re up there and what it’ll take to get you down?”

  “You remember that day we sat in my office and talked about the Birds when Wyatt was held up in a meeting?”

  “Sure.” Thorpe caught a glimpse of Daniels’s grim face as he held a headset to his ear. “End of last summer. The Orioles were fighting for first place.” He drew out another cigarette and flicked on his lighter. “Seen any games this year?”

  Liv could hear the echo of the frantic laugh come through the receiver. “I’ve already dropped twenty-five big ones on games this year.”

  “That’s rough. You need money?” Thorpe’s eyes were locked on Daniels’s now. “Is that what you want for Wyatt’s release?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it T.C., but just you. You come in and do one of your interviews right here. I’ve got an exclusive for you.”

  Liv could hear snatches, and what she heard was enough to have her grabbing Thorpe’s arm in panic. Ignoring her, Thorpe kept his eye on Daniels.

  “Too many hostages,” Daniels said in an undertone.

  “That’ll give you one more hostage, Ed,” Thorpe replied easily. “Doesn’t seem like a very good deal.”

  “No, no, I see your point.” Morrow’s voice shook with nerves. “Maybe I’ll send out the two aides for you. If you tell me you’re coming up. You’re as good as your word, aren’t you, T.C. ?”

  “Two for one,” Thorpe mused, watching Daniels steadily while Liv gripped his arm tighter and shook her head. “But then, the aides don’t mean much, do they?”

  There was a long pause. Liv could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down her back.

  “You come up, alone, no back-up, and I’ll send out Wyatt. How’s that for a deal? A one-time offer, T.C. You’re not going to turn down a scoop like this, are you?”

  “I’ll have to check back with the big shots at CNC, Ed. Give me ten minutes. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Ten minutes,” Morrow agreed, and cut the connection.

  Liv grabbed Thorpe’s jacket and turned him to face her. “No.” She shook her head frantically while her eyes mirrored her fear. “You can’t. You can’t think of doing such a thing. Thorpe, you can’t.”

  “Hold on a minute.” His voice was calm and practical as he set her aside. “Well?” he said simply to Daniels.

  “Number one, we can’t ask you to cooperate.”

  “So you’re not asking,” Thorpe countered. “What then?”

  “People I have to talk to before we consider making an exchange like his.” Daniels rubbed a hand over his mouth. He didn’t like the taste of it. But there was a senator involved. Touchy, he thought. Very touchy.

  “Then start talking to them,” Thorpe suggested.

  Daniels sent him a long look. “You’d better do some thinking while I do. It’s not going to be a cozy interview.”

  “Thorpe.” Liv’s voice quavered with panic. She knew that look in his eyes. “No.”

  Thorpe took her gently by the shoulders. “Liv,” he began.

  “No, no, listen to me.” She gripped the front of his jacket. “It’s insane. You can’t just walk in there; you’re not trained for this sort of thing. And who’s to say he’ll let Wyatt go when you do? He’ll—he’ll have more bargaining power then. You must see that.”

  “He wants to talk,” Thorpe pointed out, and started to lead her away. “Wyatt can’t get him national coverage; I can.”

  “Oh God, Thorpe, he’s not stable.” She was weeping now and unaware of it. “He’ll kill you, and the senator too. You don’t have to go. They can’t make you.”

  “No one’s making me.” He signaled a member of his crew and spoke in undertones. “Call the desk. Tell them I’m going to do an interview with Morrow in exchange for the hostages. Get a camera on the building in about ten minutes; some of them should be coming out. I’ll need a tape recorder.”

  “No!” Liv’s voice rose now, in direct contrast to his. She clutched at him as if she could hold him from what he intended to do. “You can’t. Please, listen to me.”

  “Liv.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “You’d do the same thing. It’s part of the job.”

  “Your life isn’t worth a Pulitzer.”

  He lifted a brow. “Some might disagree with that.”

  “Damn it, Thorpe.” She had to think fast; she had to be rational or he’d never listen. “It’s probably just a trick. He can let the two aides go, and with you and Wyatt, he’ll have two important people. He must realize that the network would negotiate for your release. It’s just the sort of thing he’s looking for.”

/>   “Maybe. Maybe not.” He kissed her then to quiet her, and then because he needed to.

  “Oh, please, don’t go.” She clung to him, knowing she had already lost and unable to accept it. “I love you.” Slowly, he reached up to take her shoulders and draw her back far enough to see her face. It was tear-streaked and desperate. “I love you,” she repeated. “It’s tomorrow, Thorpe. Stay with me.”

  “God.” He rested his forehead on hers and let the feeling seep through him. He pulled her close again, bruisingly close. “Your timing, Carmichael, is incredible.” When he kissed her again, he felt her lips tremble under his. “We’re going to talk about this later. We’re going to talk about it for a long time.” He drew her away and smiled at her. “You’d better give your station the latest developments or you’re going to find yourself scooped.”

  “Why won’t you listen to me?” She was angry now as well as desperate. Even her love hadn’t swayed him. “You can’t go in there. I need you.” She didn’t care if the words were unfair, as long as they prevented him from crossing the street.

  “I need you too, Liv. That doesn’t have anything to do with me doing my job, or with you doing yours.”

  She didn’t want logic; she only wanted him. She clutched at him fiercely. “I’m going to marry you.”

  He smiled again and kissed her nose. “I’ve known that for months. You’re just a bit slow.” Glancing up, he noted the camera pointing in their direction. “And now several hundred thousand people know it too.”

  “I don’t care.” Her penchant for privacy seemed suddenly absurd. “Thorpe, you can’t ask me to face losing you.” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket in hands that were damp with fear. “Damn you, I can’t face it! I can’t face it all again. I won’t.”

  His grip was firmer now, and his eyes intense. “You listen to me. I love you, more than anything. Don’t you forget it. We live with risk every day; if we don’t, we’re already dead. It hurts to be alive, Liv.”

  Pale and calm, she faced him. “I’ll never forgive you if you do this. I never wanted to love you. Now that I do, you’re asking me to stand by and wait to lose you. I won’t forgive you for that.”

  He watched her steadily. He saw the pain and the panic. He didn’t want to hurt her. He would have done anything in this power to keep that look from her eyes, but he couldn’t alter who he was or what he was. “Maybe you should think about who you fell in love with, Olivia. I haven’t changed. I’m exactly as I was, and exactly as I’ll be tomorrow. Now I’ve got a job to do. So do you.”

  “Thorpe—”

  “Come on.” He cut her off and began to lead her back. “Daniels should have finished talking to his people by now.”

  Liv stood back and watched, helpless, as Thorpe, Daniels and Morrow made the final negotiations for the exchange. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do to stop him. He had told her she would do the same thing. She understood it, but it didn’t matter. He was her love, her life. Everything that was important to her was bound up in him.

  It’s not fair! she thought on a fresh surge of desperation. She’d been given her second chance. Now she had to stand back and watch while it was put on the line. Myra’s words played back in her head: life’s not short, but it’s never long enough. Thorpe! Her whole being cried out to him while she dug her teeth into her lip to keep silent. Don’t go! I have so much to say to you. So much time to make up for. She wanted to tell him what he meant to her, how he had opened up everything she had closed.

  Thorpe was checking the tape recorder as he listened to Daniels’s instructions. Liv watched them, her eyes blinded by tears. Oh, Thorpe, she thought, I can’t face the emptiness again. Not now that I know what it is to have you. I need to know you’re there when I reach out. I want to love again, to hold your child in my arms. Oh, please, don’t shut me off when I’ve just started to feel.

  With a deep shuddering breath, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. She watched him again—the sharp athletic profile, the deep, intense eyes. Is he frightened? What’s going on in his mind? Is he remembering that none of us is indestructible? But you have to be, Thorpe. For me. For us.

  What does he need from me? Not this, she realized abruptly. He needs support, not a hysterical woman pulling at him, begging him to think of her. He needs his wits about him now . . . . If only I could go with him. But I can’t. I can’t go with him, but I can send something with him.

  As she watched, the two aides were hustled out of the building and out of range. So Morrow had kept the first part of the bargain. There was only Wyatt now. Thorpe for Wyatt.

  Drawing on all her strength, Liv stepped up to him. “Thorpe.”

  He turned to her. There were still tears on her cheeks, but he recognized the control.

  “You always did go out of your way to scoop me on a story,” she managed in a reasonably steady voice. “I hope this one’s worth it. You better do a hell of a job in there. I need the copy for my broadcast.”

  He grinned as he kissed her. “Just don’t step too close to my turf, Carmichael.”

  Liv clung for one last moment. “Catch my report at five-thirty.”

  “I’ve always been fond of you, T.C.,” Daniels commented. “And it seems this lady is too.” He gave Thorpe a long look. “You’ve still got time to back out.”

  “Thorpe walk away from an exclusive?” Liv pulled back and ordered herself not to shake. “You don’t know him very well.”

  “You.” He pulled Liv back a last time. “Think about where you want to spend your honeymoon. I lean toward Paris.”

  “You warned me you were a romantic.” Then he was turning, preparing to cross the street. “Thorpe!” Liv couldn’t prevent herself from calling out. When he turned she held back the plea and smiled at him. “If you get yourself killed, the deal’s off.”

  He grinned. “Tonight we send out for pizza. I’ll be back.”

  He was gone quickly, swallowed up by the building. The waiting began.

  Thorpe had a pretty good idea of what he should do. The questions were already forming in his head as he rode the elevator with an armed guard. The trick would be to keep Morrow pacified, at ease. Talking. Keep him talking. He fully intended to come out in one piece. Lebanon had taught him a few things.

  He’d ridden this elevator before, countless times. It was part of the routine. Hadn’t Alex Haley interviewed Rockwell while the American Nazi leader had played with a gun? And that had been a hell of an interview. Reporters couldn’t always choose the sane and the reasonable.

  The elevator opened and he started down the hall. The tickle at the back of his neck told him there were more guns. He ignored them and knocked on Wyatt’s outer office.

  “T.C. ?”

  He heard Morrow’s voice, strung out with nerves.

  “Yeah. I’m alone.”

  “Come in slow. I’ve got a good view of the door.”

  Thorpe did as he was instructed. Morrow stood in the archway to Wyatt’s inner office with his gun held to the senator’s head.

  “T.C.” Wyatt’s normally florid face was gray. “You’ve got to be crazy.”

  “How are you, Senator?”

  “He’s fine,” Morrow snapped, his eyes darting behind Thorpe. “Shut the door and step away from it.”

  When Thorpe obeyed, he signaled him with a jerk of his head to come forward. He eyed the tape recorder. “Set it down and take off your jacket.”

  “No weapons, Ed,” Thorpe said easily as he carefully stripped off his jacket. “Just the tape recorder. We made a deal.” He gave Wyatt an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse us, Senator. Ed and I have a private interview.”

  “Yeah.” Morrow stared at Thorpe a moment, then loosened his hold on Wyatt. “Yeah. You can go.”

  “T.C.—”

  “I said you can go.” Morrow’s voice lifted. So did the gun. “He’s here for me this time.”

  “Sorry, Senator.” Thorpe’s voice was calm and unruffled. His fingertips
were prickling as he watched the gun hand tremble. “Ed and I have a lot to discuss. We’ll set something up later.”

  With a nod, Wyatt started to turn.

  “No.” Morrow stopped him with the word. He licked his lips, then ran the back of his hand over them. “You back up, all the way out.”

  Thorpe waited as Wyatt followed Morrow’s instructions. There was fear in the room; he could all but taste it. It didn’t lessen even after the door closed behind Wyatt. Morrow stood a moment, staring at the door.

  Thorpe didn’t want him to start thinking too carefully. “All right,” he said, and took a seat. “Let’s get started.” He turned on the tape recorder.

  Outside, Liv watched the building steadily. Everything but her mind was numb. She couldn’t feel her hands, her feet. She knew there was activity all around her—in the communications van, in the press area. Things were starting to hum. Her mind was focused on one thing. Thorpe.

  Thorpe kept his questions brief. He wanted as little emotion as possible. “Ed, it might be more comfortable for both of us if you . . .” He made a gesture with his hand, palm lowered to indicate the gun. Morrow glanced at it, then shifted the revolver until it was no longer aimed at Thorpe’s chest. “Thanks. Obviously, you chose Wyatt’s office because you worked here,” he went on. “Did you feel the senator was unjust in letting you go?”

  “He’s clean as a whistle, you know,” Morrow answered. “Couldn’t blackmail him. God I needed the money. In deep, T.C.—too damn deep. I thought about juggling some funds, but I didn’t have enough time. He found out about the gambling, about the people I’ve been dealing with. Not the senator’s kind of people.” He laughed in a quick nervous giggle and shifted the gun again. It was pointed back at Thorpe, but Morrow didn’t notice. “I thought I’d get something for taking him hostage, but they’d never let me get away with it, would they?” The look he gave Thorpe was lost and fatalistic. “I’d be a dead man before I got my hands on the money.”

  Thorpe changed the line of questioning. A man with nothing to lose was the most dangerous. “How much are you in for?”