Deadly Force

by Misty Evans

  For a second, Bianca couldn’t process how Jonathan had betrayed her. Betrayed his country. How had she missed that crucial connection between him and Haley? And here Bianca had ruined their plan.

  And then she looked at Tephra’s face.

  Oh no. Nononono.

  “It’s still going down!” she said into her comm unit.

  Then she tore off for the stage as fast as her legs would carry her.

  “Bianca!” Cal reached for her, but came up with air as she jetted down the balcony stairs, yelling at the top of her lungs.

  It’s still going down. There was no way Lugmeyer had made it past all of them.

  Unless…

  In all the years he’d known Bianca, he’d never known her to be wrong about anything other than his intentions.

  Protect.

  Cal ran.

  He jumped down the balcony stairs, avoiding the security guard who was chasing after Bianca anyway. The crowd was thick, on their feet still clapping, and Bianca was fast, losing the security guard and dodging in and around people, yelling over their cheers. “Get down! Get down!”

  He was on her heels when she bumped into a woman and the woman teetered in front of Cal. He couldn’t do anything but push the gal aside, and as she fell, jump over her.

  The first shot rang out and Cal’s heart squeezed. He looked up in time to see Rory Tephra, on stage, fall in front of the vice president.

  Screams erupted, more gunfire. As people ducked and ran toward the exits, Bianca charged the stage.

  Secret Service agents rushed to surround the president and V.P. Another shot. The back of Jonathan Brockmann’s head shattered.

  Cal froze. The man had been hit from the back.

  The stage. The assassin was behind the curtain, shooting at them from the back.

  Lugmeyer.

  Bianca reached the bottom of the stairs to the stage. A female agent stationed there was ducked down, gun raised. At Bianca’s frantic approach, the agent didn’t hesitate. She charged Bianca and took her to the floor.

  Anger exploded inside Cal’s head. He had to move. Had to save Bianca.

  Save the president.

  “Don’t touch me! I’m one of you!” Bianca shouted, wrestling with the agent. “I’m NSA!”

  The agent tried to flip Bianca onto her stomach and secure her hands. Bianca ripped her hands away and cold-cocked the agent in the face with her elbow.

  That’s my girl.

  Agents were scrambling, shouting orders. Guests continued to scream and fight their way to the exits. He pushed past fleeing people, aiming for Bianca, then heard another series of shots ring out.

  Bianca gained her feet. She was about to take the stairs onto the stage, but he couldn’t let her. Running for all he was worth, he caught up to her, shoved her aside hard, and ignored the raging pressure in his head. Reaching down, he grabbed the dropped agent’s gun on the way by. “Stay the fuck down!” He took the stairs two at a time.

  Startled, Bianca let go of a yip, but he didn’t have time to see where she fell, his attention one-hundred percent on the horror that met him on stage.

  Four Secret Service agents were down along with Tephra and Brockmann. The V.P. was crawling across the stage floor, past the president, who stood statue still over the body of his unconscious, and probably dead, wife. His terrified eyes were glued to the hidden assailant off stage.

  Time folded backward on Cal, taking him back to that cold night in Afghanistan. The noise of the crowd fell away, the only sound a steady drone inside his head. He lived the scene with his SEAL unit over again in his mind. His men, the gunshots, the blood…

  “Cal!” Bianca screamed, and instantly the present world came back to him—the here and now in a whoosh. If he went left, he could jump in front of the president and stop the bullet destined to kill him. If he went right, he could sneak behind the curtain and stop Lugmeyer before he fired.

  Defend.

  Over the noise in the auditorium, he heard the distinct click of a trigger, saw light bounce off metal behind the curtain.

  But there was no shot, no falling president. Had the gun misfired or had Lugmeyer ran out of bullets?

  Either way, Cal knew he didn’t have time to get backstage. He leapt toward the president, shielding the leader of the free world.

  And making himself a target.

  As he slammed into the president, he heard Lugmeyer’s gun explode, felt the bullet hit him in the left shoulder as he fell to the ground with Norman. They hit the floor, a pain, sharp and penetrating bursting inside Cal’s chest as the bullet buried itself deep.

  He rolled, releasing Norman and coming around to the other side. Catching the movement of a shadowy figure from the corner of his eye, he shifted, raised his pistol, and fired into the curtain.

  For half a second, nothing happened, then he saw Lugmeyer’s face, eyes wide, mouth frozen open, emerge from the shadows into the light. The forward motion of his body slowed, seemed suspended for a moment, and Cal caught the sight of the man’s rifle pointed right at him.

  Without hesitating, Cal fired again.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Twenty-four hours later

  Bianca sat next to Cal’s hospital bed, her brain in total shut-down.

  Since the moment she’d seen him jump in front of the president and take a bullet for him, her mind had been blank. Totally locked up.

  Cal had come through surgery with no complications. The bullet had missed his heart by a quarter of an inch. He’d need rest and physical therapy, the doctor had told her, but he was in great shape and should recover and be back to work in no time.

  Back to work. She didn’t want to go there. Of course he would go back to being a SEAL. The way he’d jumped in front of the president, saving him, and taking out Justin Lugmeyer, even with a slug in his chest, only proved that Cal belonged in the heart of the action. He was a hero, and his country needed him.

  If only she didn’t need him too.

  Jonathan was dead. Command and Control was shut down. The First Lady was still in surgery but her prognosis was good. Tephra was not as lucky. He’d taken two bullets to his spine. He was alive, but would most likely be paralyzed.

  Director Dupé and Cooper Harris were still behind closed doors with the heads of several agencies, including Homeland, the FBI, and the Secret Service. All had been dealt a crushing blow.

  Bianca and the other taskforce members had been interviewed and cross-examined in the hours following the shooting. Their testimonies against the vice president had been met with shock and disbelief, but as the hours wore on and the circumstantial evidence grew, Bianca was allowed access to the NSA databases. While Cal had been in surgery, she’d been forced to focus on doing her job one last time. For Jonathan. For Rory Tephra.

  For her husband.

  She’d been able to systematically connect the dots she knew were there and show them to the team now assigned to sorting out this mess. And miracle of miracles, Nelson Cruz, back in Sacramento, had hunted down and arrested Killer Kathy. Kasia was now singing like a bird against Haley Banner in exchange for a lighter sentence.

  Vice President Banner was under house arrest at the White House. The directors of the nation’s security organizations were doing their best to keep a lid on things, but between the assassination attempt, the dead agents, and the fact Justin Lugmeyer, a SEAL team leader was the gunman, the media had plenty of wild theories to keep them busy for days.

  Cal’s chest rose on a deep inhale and his hand moved jerkily, then fell again to the white sheet.

  Bianca’s heart, the stupid thing, had the opposite problem of her mind. Emotions flooded her chest in a constant stream, as if she were the one hooked up to an IV. She couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop the intense need to crawl into the hospital bed with Cal and hang onto the only steady, constant, and loving thing in her life.

  Please don’t die.

  Illogical. He wasn’t going to die, the doctor had said so.
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br />   Cal’s hand jerked again. She grabbed it and gave it a squeeze. Seeing him pale, injured, and immobile in this bed was breaking her heart into a million pieces.

  Worse, there was nothing she could do for him.

  Failure. A rare situation for her to be in.

  His eyelids fluttered, stayed half open and focused on her. “B?”

  His voice was rough, his eyes cloudy from the drugs. Platitudes that came easily to others escaped her, so she said the only thing she could. “You saved the president. You’re a hero.”

  His thumb rubbed lightly against her hand. “Are you okay?”

  He’d been shot and had major surgery and the first thing on his mind was her? How sweet and…well, that’s just wrong. He was in a hospital bed and she was sitting beside him with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises and he was worried about her. Her heart threatened to cave in on itself. “Are you in pain?”

  “No.” He closed his eyes again. “Woozy though.”

  “The doctor said you’ll have another scar, but you’ll live.”

  His thumb continued rubbing her hand. “I tried…”

  “You did great. Don’t worry, just rest.”

  He shook his head, licked his lips. “I tried to…protect you. I promised her…”

  Cal’s words cut a path through the fog in Bianca’s brain. “Promised who?”

  “…I’d protect you no matter what.”

  Her. The thread of what he was saying was right there. All she had to do was pick it up and run with it. She didn’t want to.

  But she had to. “Promised who?”

  “…mother…”

  A sick feeling bloomed in her stomach. “My mother?”

  His eyes were still closed. He seemed to drift toward sleep, then snapped back. His eyelids cracked open again and he looked at her, but his eyes were still unfocused. “She made me promise.”

  Were the drugs making him delusional? “My mother made you promise her you’d protect me?”

  He gave her a small nod, closed his eyes again. “Before she…”

  The sick feeling spread, up, up, up, right into her overwrought heart. “Before she killed herself?”

  “She…hated…her life. Wanted to be free. Wanted you…to be free of her.”

  Bianca swallowed the bile pushing its way up her throat. “She made you, a seventeen-year-old kid, promise to take care of me?” Horror and disgust hit her hard. “That selfish bitch.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “She loved you. In her own…way.”

  Bianca pulled her hand away from his. “And she showed me that very clearly when she blew her brains out in front of me after she made you…oh, my God. Wait. Did you know she planned to kill herself that day?”

  He shifted, grimaced. “I thought it was another play…for attention.”

  Her mother had attempted suicide multiple times before she actually got the job done. Pills, crack, meth…there had always been a drug involved. Never a gun, until that day. She’d finally been serious.

  Bianca jumped up, knocking her chair over. “All these years, you’ve been honoring your promise to a sick, mentally unstable woman. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  But she knew the answer. He was a good guy. One who’d felt sorry for her and took her under his wing. One who’d given his word to her mother to take care of her and protect her so she wouldn’t be alone in the world.

  “Because I…love you,” Cal said.

  Love. Lust. Loyalty. Somehow they’d gotten all mixed up in his generous, incredible heart. He didn’t love her. He felt the need to protect her.

  Backing up, her foot caught on the metal chair leg, sending it banging into the wall. Cal opened his eyes and frowned when he saw the tears rolling down her face.

  “B?”

  She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t look at him and not feel horrible guilt at the way her sad, pathetic life had chained his hands. How her mother had tied him to her, knowing that even as a kid, he was responsible and honorable and would do the right thing when she couldn’t.

  Coward.

  Annabelle had played them both, right up to the end. The ultimate manipulator.

  A sob broke from her lips. Her life was a lie. She’d been damaged goods then and she still was. Everything she touched, she ruined.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. “But it’s time you had a life without me. A real life, where you don’t have to worry about me. You fulfilled your promise, Cal. Now go find a woman you can love with no strings attached.”

  “What?”

  With her heart shattering into a million pieces once more, she bolted for the door. There she stopped and looked back at Cal. He looked too big for the bed, his gypsy eyes confused. “But I’m taking the dog. Go adopt a cat instead.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  San Diego

  Six weeks later

  The doorbell rang, Maggie barked, and Bianca looked up from her book. The sun was setting and the living room had grown dark without her noticing. She’d been so absorbed in JD Robb’s Reunion In Death, she hadn’t noticed her eyes were straining.

  She rubbed her eyes. Her new contacts took some getting used to. She never read fiction, especially suspense or mysteries, since she could figure out the bad guy from the start. Most were filled with plot holes so big she wanted to throw them across the room.

  In fact, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind sat open on her coffee table where she’d left it. Next to that, was What To Expect When You’re Expecting.

  She was late with her period. Sick to her stomach as well. After two pregnancies, she knew the signs, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the test sitting in her cabinet.

  What were the odds? Even if she were pregnant—the universe sure had a sick sense of humor—her track record of carrying a pregnancy to term sucked. Although, after the last miscarriage, her gynecologist had discovered an abnormality with her cervix and corrected it with same-day surgery. Her odds were better now of carrying a child to term.

  And her heart, oddly enough, wanted one.

  Listening to her heart came easier these days. She’d found a way to shut off the logical side of her brain—she’d had to in order to stop thinking about Cal and what she should have, could have done to save their marriage—and Ronni had loaded her up with paperbacks that now consumed her when she wasn’t working. After finishing the last In Death book, she’d tried diving into Bicameral Mind, but her brain had craved more fiction. Reunion In Death was number fourteen in the series and there were many more to go. A lot of chapters in the baby book to read too.

  The doorbell rang again. No one but Ronni ever came to visit and she always texted first. Hope jumped in Bianca’s chest. Illogical. No one knew where she lived except for Ronni and the taskforce. She’d changed her name, created a new identity for herself with the help of Bobby and the blessing of Victor Dupé. The secrets in her head made her a target for some very bad people and she wasn’t about to leave herself an easy target.

  Even so, it wouldn’t be impossible for a good hacker to find her location. She’d anticipated as much. Slipping her hand under the sofa pillow, she drew out her handgun and flipped off the safety.

  Making a mental note of her place in the book, she tossed it on top of the baby book and headed for the door. Maggie followed.

  A check of the peephole revealed a familiar face on the other side. Not the one she’d hoped for, but odds were, she’d never see that face again.

  And that was fine. That was what she wanted.

  At least the logical side of her thought so.

  Logic insisted the truth had set them both free. Bianca had no doubt Cal had felt a huge relief after he got used to her not being around and needing him. He’d probably run with his freedom to the nearest “normal” woman he could find. He was living a happy life with a healthy relationship.

  And good for him. He deserved that.

  On the other hand, the emotional side of her—which r
efused to go back into its hole—wanted Cal to realize he actually did love her, heart and soul, with no promises or personal codes of honor hanging over his head. She wanted him to break down the walls of heaven and the gates of hell to find her.

  So far, logic was winning, just like always.

  She unlocked the door and cracked it open, gun out of sight but still hanging by her side. Maggie rushed out between her legs and greeted the visitor, jumping and licking him, and making him laugh.

  When the dog settled down to simply wagging and panting, their visitor looked up with a smile on his face and met Bianca’s eyes. “Hey, Bianca. How’s it going?”

  “It’s Bronwyn, now.” Of course, he knew that if he’d found her residence. “Wyn for short. How’d you find me?”

  Emit Petit wore his usual—black everything—and feigned shock at her question. “You doubt my skills?”

  She doubted his intentions. This was no casual visit. He was Cal’s friend, not hers. “What do you want?”

  “Right to business. Some things never change.” He patted Maggie’s head. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Nope.”

  He waited as if she might be kidding.

  She wasn’t.

  He lifted one brow and smiled, hoping she would feel pressured and change her mind.

  She didn’t.

  “Okay, okay.” He stuck a hand in his coat and rustled around. “Two things actually. First”—he pulled out a pale blue envelope from the inside pocket—“we’re having a birthday party for Austin next weekend. He’s turning one. Lori and I would like you to come.”

  A social event. People, kids, food, and fun. Something she’d always hated. Something she might still hate, but she was working on that. Ronni and Thomas were helping her learn real world social skills. She’d already survived a party at Cooper and Celina’s. It had only included the taskforce members but it had been nice. Not as overwhelming as she’d feared.

  There were a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t go to the birthday party, but only one that mattered. “Will Cal be there with his new girlfriend?”