Trisha Telep (ed)

by The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance (epub)

  Mick had not doubted that what he’d witnessed in the car park was untoward. He trusted himself and his own instincts beyond anything else. But still, confirmation of his suspicions brought with it a fresh wave of worry. Amelia and his child were in danger. He was getting tired of not being able to assist them.

  When he finished his conversation with Brad Smith, he called his brother Nick.

  Mick walked past the two military policemen. They barely spared him a glance, so he continued calmly to the lift and then down to the hospital entrance where his mum waited in her car – a small, rusty blue number that did zero to sixty in about ten minutes, with a following wind.

  As escapes went, it lacked the dignity of a special forces extraction, but beggars could not be choosers.

  “Am I going to have to bail out your brother?” Colleen slid him a glance and ground the gears. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Mick shook his head. “When they realize Nick’s not me they’ll give him a stern talking to and send him on his way. They won’t waste their time with it.”

  He hoped.

  His brother had not hesitated when Mick had asked him if he’d swap places in the hospital – to see if he could sneak away. The idea had appealed to Nick’s troublesome streak. The one that had garnered him a criminal record.

  “And she’s worth it, this Amelia? She’s accused you of assault. It’s going to destroy your career.”

  “They’re going to kidnap her, Mum, and . . .” He hesitated. “She’s carrying my child. Your granddaughter.”

  To her credit the traffic light had only just turned red as she sailed through the intersection. “Bloody hell,” muttered Colleen, nodding as though he’d confirmed her suspicions.

  Mick left it at that. The full details of the events at the Maubara nunnery were going to come out eventually – they’d have to if he was going to clear his name – and Colleen could find out about it all then. God knows his brothers were going to have a field day. It’d been bad enough when the story of his patrol finding him stoned on opium in a nunnery had done the rounds of the Special Forces base in Perth. He’d had to put up with good-natured ribbing for weeks.

  His phone started to ring and his heart hitched in his chest as he saw the number. It was Amelia. Had something happened? Was he already too late to protect her?

  He answered. “Just tell me you are OK.”

  “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. I’m in the hospital car park. I just saw your brother in your hospital room after I had to argue with the MPs to get in there. What are you doing?”

  She sounded slightly exasperated.

  “Don’t worry about me. Are you in your car? Lock the doors and drive straight home. Don’t stop for anything OK?”

  “No, not OK. Don’t be ridiculous. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve had some humint. There’s a possibility that someone is going to attempt to kidnap you.”

  “What’s a ‘humint’? And nobody is going to kidnap me, that’s just ridiculous.” Her exasperation spilled over into outright irritation.

  Mick felt his blood begin to boil in response. How could she not take him seriously?

  “‘Humint’ is ‘human intelligence’ and it’s an extremely reliable source of information in Timor. Didn’t you see that black van yesterday? It nearly hit your car.”

  She hesitated for a tiny second. “No, I don’t know what you are talking about. Now get yourself back to the hospital. I’ll fix the assault charges and the problems with the government, it’ll only take me a couple of calls. But if you go AWOL then there’s nothing I can do for you.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” he growled.

  “Well, stop being an idiot then,” she snapped back.

  “You and my daughter are in danger. Just have enough sense to listen to me.” He was dangerously quiet.

  “Me and my daughter are perfectly safe, and if you don’t go back to the hospital then I’m calling your commander and telling him you’re absent without leave.”

  Mick drew in a slow breath. He’d been trained to not react emotionally in any situation – and anger had never been something he’d had difficulty with. However, even he had his limits.

  It was crystal clear that few people in Amelia’s life had ever told her what to do, and that ordering her around was only going to make her dig her heels in. He’d wanted to think she wasn’t a spoiled princess but it was becoming obvious that was exactly what she was.

  “Fine, Amelia,” he said, “you win. I’ll head back there right now. But only if you get yourself home immediately.”

  She paused, thrown by his capitulation. The silence lengthened between them, tense, uncomfortable, dripping with unspoken words and uncertain emotions.

  “You don’t really think I’m in danger?” she asked eventually.

  “All I am saying is that something’s up and that you should protect the baby.”

  “All right.” She sighed. “I’ll have Dad look into it.”

  Then there was nothing else to be said. Silence again.

  “I’ll talk to you soon, Amelia,” he said.

  “Oh, OK then. Bye.”

  He clicked his phone shut. “Does Nick still have that old car?” he asked his mother.

  “He’s hidden the keys so you can’t use it. He said there are some things he is not willing to sacrifice for his brother.”

  Mick snorted in amusement. “Keys have never been a problem.”

  He refused lunch at his parents’ house and, armed with a cordless drill and a screwdriver, headed outside to the front yard to hotwire his brother’s dark-green car. There was a sticky note stuck to the steering wheel, which Mike could read through the window: “Mick, you bastard. Put down that screwdriver and do NOT damage anything. The keys are in my room, bottom right-hand drawer. This car has no air conditioning. I hope you roast and die.”

  An hour later Mick was parked outside Amelia’s house under a large shady tree and out of view of the mansion’s surveillance cameras. It was late afternoon, the time when the heat of the sun always seemed to intensify as it hit the horizon. But Mick didn’t mind, he’d worked under much worse conditions. Frankly, just having a car to sit in, rather than lying in a bug-infested swamp, was a luxury.

  Amelia noticed the dark-green car parked near the entrance of the mansion as soon as she drove out. She was going to the Opera House for a performance of Carmen. Three hours. She didn’t know how she was going to make it from one interval to the next with a bladder that held less than a teaspoon. Amelia had been a patron of the opera since she was sixteen, but lately she didn’t enjoy it as much as she once had.

  She glanced back several times as she left the driveway, but the car didn’t move, and though she kept an eye out through the traffic across the Harbour Bridge she didn’t notice anyone following. The double helix car park of the Opera House was busy and Amelia had to drive down the ramp to find somewhere to park.

  Mick’s warning had unsettled her and she could feel the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. Though she checked behind her again and again, there was never any good reason to be afraid. She parked her car, and then hurried to the lifts, keenly aware of the sound of her heels echoing dully. Keenly aware that she was alone.

  The lift arrived promptly and she stepped in, relieved. As the doors slid shut she leaned back against one wall and slipped off her shoes, hoping to relieve the pain in her back for just a second. Clearly any shoe with even the smallest heel was soon going to be a thing of the past.

  Her heart flew up into her mouth as a hand appeared through the small gap left between the lift doors and with a click they slid open again. She shrank back against the lift wall, hands wrapped around her belly.

  “Mick,” she gasped.

  He didn’t smile. “Don’t be scared. No one would be dumb enough to snatch you here. Far too many surveillance cameras and only one exit which you have to pay to get out of.”

  “Oh,” she said shakily, pressing one ha
nd to her heart. The fright he’d given her swiftly morphed into anger. “What the hell are you doing? Are you following me? Why aren’t you in hospital like you said?”

  “I think – if I remember correctly – you said I’d be in hospital.”

  She scowled at him. “Don’t be obtuse. Was that you in the green car outside my house?”

  He nodded but didn’t explain further. The lift doors slid open at the main floor and she stalked out, trying to gather together her shattered composure.

  “You forgot your shoes.” He scooped them up in a hand and followed her. “Are you sure someone in your condition should be wearing heels this high?”

  “My condition is none of your business,” she snapped.

  He grabbed her wrist, stopping her from snatching the shoes and storming away. On the concourse outside the car park crowds ebbed and flowed enjoying the early evening. “Your condition is entirely my business. I am not letting your selfishness put my child in harm’s way.”

  “Let go of me immediately.”

  He released her without hesitating and handed her the shoes. “Just reminding you.” Though his tone was pleasant enough, there was steel beneath it. Goosebumps prickled along her arms and she shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Damn him. He knew full well she wasn’t cold. It was a blissful balmy evening and it was uncomfortably warm standing at the pedestrian entrance to the car park.

  “No, I’m late. So you can—”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He folded his arms across his chest. An extremely immovable object.

  She slipped on her shoes and walked away. Arguing with him was a waste of time. After a minute or so, with the hair prickling on the back of her neck, she turned to see if he’d followed. But the crowd moved around her. He was nowhere to be seen amongst the people.

  She met her usual opera buddies for a light dinner, but was distracted throughout the meal, scanning the crowds passing the restaurant on the concourse, looking for Mick or alternatively someone who might be planning to kidnap her. She tried to be chatty and interested in the conversation, but the sideways looks of her friends told her she was doing a poor job of it.

  By the time they’d got ten minutes into the performance, Amelia knew she wasn’t going to make it to the interval. The baby had started to stamp on her bladder and her lower back felt like someone was digging a knitting needle into it. Still, leaving the opera mid-performance was unheard of. She glanced towards the end of the row. Eight seats. It might as well have been eight hundred. The baby kicked hard again and she stifled an involuntary yelp. Several people turned to stare.

  So, as Carmen came to the end of her first aria, Amelia girded her fidgeting loins and made her move. A hiss of disapproval followed her progress as she tripped over bags and trod on people’s feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she muttered as she went along.

  “Madam,” intoned an usher who hurried out into the foyer after her. “I’m sorry but you won’t be allowed back in. I mean—”

  “Oh get a life,” she snarled and stalked down the stairs and out into the Opera House forecourt.

  The sun had set completely – though heat still radiated from the ground – and the breeze drew her over to lean on the railing and watch the brightly lit ferries dart to and fro as the darkness of the night overwhelmed the vast harbour. She could hear Carmen, echoing tinnily off the Opera House’s concrete surfaces.

  She heard nothing else, no breath or footfall, when suddenly Mick materialized beside her, as if that was where he’d been all along. He didn’t even startle her.

  “This beats a patrol in the jungle anytime,” he said, gazing at the harbour. He leaned both arms on the railing and cocked his head towards her. “Haven’t been here for years though.”

  “I should be getting back inside,” she said, turning away.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you until the interval. Luddite that I am, even I know it’s really bad form to leave the opera early. Unless you’re the King of Austria or something.”

  She’d been about to walk coolly back inside and take her chances with the irate usher. She knew that one snide remark from him and she’d start snapping again, though. Frankly, she wasn’t in the mood. But Mick’s comment stopped her.

  “You’ve been waiting for me? Do you really think I’m in that much danger?”

  “Or am I using it as some lame excuse to stalk you and control your every movement?” He grinned. Teeth white and even, a dimple flashing in his tanned cheek.

  A slow burn uncoiled itself in the centre of her chest. Damn heartburn.

  “If the shoe fits . . .” she said lightly. “Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me, but it sounds about right.”

  “I would not be wasting my time if I thought the threats against you weren’t serious.”

  “And you’d sacrifice your career, to look after me?”

  For a moment he said nothing. A ferry, reversing out of its berth in Circular Quay behind them, sounded its horn three times to warn other boats, and the echo ricocheted off the Opera House’s walls.

  “My career bit the dust the moment there was an accusation of assault against me.”

  “But I would never have—”

  “Not even to get rid of the troublesome army lout from the blue-collar background?”

  “How can you even suggest that?” The moment of warmth had evaporated, leaving growing anger.

  “I have no idea if it’s the truth or not, Amelia. All I know is that you are carrying my daughter.”

  “Yet you trust me about that? How convenient.”

  “Well, no. But once the baby is born we’ll have the DNA tests done to find out for sure, and until then I’m not taking any chances.”

  “You prat.” Hot tears gathered and, terrified he’d see her cry, she walked quickly away in the direction of the car park.

  “Running away, Amelia?” His taunt followed her.

  The next morning Amelia had a board meeting at the AustraTimo Oil headquarters in the city. She’d been up the moment the sky had begun to lighten, cursing the fact her little house did not have a clear view of the road outside the high walls.

  Was Mick still keeping watch out there in his car?

  She hoped if he’d spent the night there that it’d been really horribly uncomfortable.

  Despite resolving not to look, as she drove out of the gates she glanced to see if the green car was still there. It was not. She couldn’t decide if she was glad he’d gone or if she was just a little disappointed.

  The journey to her father’s lavish company headquarters in Gold Fields House did not take long, and she was early. Rather than head upstairs to the meeting rooms where she’d be trapped all day, she wandered to one of the small cafés that lined Circular Quay. The morning was beautiful and she wanted to sit, watch the people go about their business and carefully consider how she was going to handle her father.

  He’d got back from Noosa late the night before, but after her conversation with Mick, she was so keyed up that any confrontation with her father would’ve ended with her beating him to a pulp. Exertion like that could not be good for the baby.

  Instead she resolved to spend the day needling him, while he’d be forced to remain polite in front of the other board members. She smiled slightly at the thought and sipped the peppermint tea she’d ordered. She was going to make her father’s life hell today.

  She scanned the area for any sign of Mick – it was turning into a nervous habit. No sign. Maybe he really had taken her advice and gone back to the hospital. She’d held off making any calls to his superiors herself. Afraid she’d make things worse for him. But she’d make sure that her father had done no damage to his career. The very thought of that made her feel ill.

  She finished her tea and it was time to go to the meeting. She wandered slowly back to Gold Fields House.

  A black van emerged from a side street. She glanced nervously at it then quickened her pace slightly. Didn’t you see the blac
k van? Mick’s warning came back to her. The vehicle swung across the road directly towards her, but then accelerated harmlessly past. She slowed slightly, feeling like an idiot and walked into the cool shadow of the rail bridge that crossed over the top of the road.

  The traffic lights in front of Gold Fields House changed to red as she came to the kerb. She stopped to wait for the pedestrian walk signal. The black van had been stopped by the lights as well, but she didn’t spare it a glance until its side door slid open. She gasped in horror when she realized that two men, both in balaclavas, were coming at her.

  One lunged. She had a split second to shriek before he grabbed her around the neck and clamped a piece of fabric over her mouth. She kicked and struggled as together they manhandled her back into the van. There was no thought in her mind except that she must not get in the van.

  Suddenly the men froze with her half in and half out of the vehicle.

  Then they dropped her.

  It was so unexpected that she didn’t even have time to put out a hand to break her fall. She hit her face on the van’s running board and landed heavily on her pregnant stomach. Pain lanced through her, and she curled into a protective ball on the pavement. Despite the agony, her only thought was that at twenty-six weeks there would be little chance for her daughter if she went into labour now.

  “Amelia.” Mick’s voice penetrated the haze. “Amelia, get away from the van. Crawl if you must.” There was something about the tone of his voice that made her do as he asked without question.

  Mick was here. Everything would be all right now.

  On her hands and knees she crawled away from the van. Sirens wailed close by and she could hear uneasy voices muttering. A train roared overhead, thundering into Circular Quay station. She came to a low wall, which bordered the pavement. She glanced up briefly at the gathering crowd, but her attention was focused inwards. She ran her hand over her belly, the baby hadn’t kicked, hadn’t moved. Was she OK? She felt winded and nauseous. The pain was intense and she leaned forwards. A woman, an ambulance officer, appeared next to her.