by Emmy Curtis
What? “No, she didn’t. What conversation?”
Janke hesitated for a moment, tipping his head to one side. “You told the general and Mr. Danvers that you’d seen Grove leaving your hangar and that you knew Eleanor had told him about it, because she told you about their conversation.”
He brain clicked one time, and everything fell into place. “Wait. All of this is because I told the general that Eleanor had told me about their conversation? No. She told me she was going to have a conversation with him. I barely saw her after that.” Only that one time after Missy had been with Conrad. God, she hoped Eleanor was alive.
He paused, then shrugged. “Under normal circumstances, I’d tell you that you need to work on your communication skills, but you probably don’t have time now.” He pulled out a length of paracord from his bag.
Was he going to tie her up? She tried to play for time…Maybe the real room service would come. “So why would killing me save thousands of people?”
“I take orders. I don’t need to see the fine print.” He beckoned her with the gun.
She got up slowly, her thoughts now only on Conrad. She should have stayed with him at Red Flag, but she was so eager to flee before she confessed her feelings to him. Her thoughts flittered away to a life a MacDill that she wouldn’t get to enjoy now.
Heat pooled in her gut as he poked her with the muzzle of his gun. “Stop doing that. Just tell me where you want me to go,” she snapped.
He backed away from her and opened the bathroom door, taking the fastest look over his shoulder to see what was in there. “This will do fine.” He beckoned her again, and when she reached the bathroom door, he handed her the rope. “Do you know how to make a noose?”
“I think she may have just forgotten that I was coming.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to flirt with the receptionist here, as he’d done at the airport. “She probably just checked in, booked a massage, and forgot all about me.”
It had taken Conrad an hour and a half to find the hotel she was checked into. She wasn’t in base lodging, so he had called every hotel, asking to be put through to her room. He knew she would be looking for a big hotel in the city, so he started with the top ten on a travel website. It had only taken him this long because the fancy-ass hotel she had picked was so expensive, it wasn’t even in the top twenty of the most popular hotels. Damn her for switching off her cell phone.
And now he was trying to chat up the receptionist to find out where she was. He’d started off by claiming that he was due to meet her in the lobby, and he had asked the receptionist to call her. But it turned out she had left a do not disturb notice on her phone line and her door. He tried her cell again. It went straight to voice mail.
So it was left to him now to persuade the receptionist to call her room anyway. “I absolutely swear she will not mind if you call through to her room.” He slid a folded $20 bill over the reception desk and immediately regretted it when he saw her expression. Yeah, even the most basic rooms here ran around $500, so $20 was probably the equivalent of slipping a maître d’ at a fancy restaurant a dollar.
“I’m so sorry. It’s all I have. I’ve just flown in from a war zone, and I spent all my cash on a taxi.” He wasn’t strictly lying; Red Flag had seemed like a legitimate war zone this year.
Her eyes gave off a suddenly interested air. “Are you in the military?” she asked.
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I am. I’m a pilot. I fly fighter jets, and so does my colleague, Missy Malden.” He nodded his head back to her computer screen. “I’m just a little earlier than she expected. I’m sure she won’t mind you calling.”
The receptionist blinked slowly, pushed the $20 back toward Conrad, and picked up her phone. He smiled, but his eyes were on the button she pressed—1856.
The receptionist frowned. “I think she picked up, but all I can hear are sounds.” She handed the receiver to Conrad and he listened. It sounded like a struggle. Jesus.
He sprang into action. He dumped his backpack in front of the reception desk. “Call security to her room. Call the police!” He sprinted to the bank of elevators at the center of the hotel. His eyes widened as the elevators stood resolutely shut.
He couldn’t just stand there while she was in danger. He looked for the stairwell, but as his gaze rested on the sign, the elevator pinged open. Two old people stepped out slowly, and Conrad got in. A couple with children tried to get in but he held his hand out to stop them. “No, sorry, emergency.”
They looked angry, but they didn’t try to force themselves on the elevator with him. His worst nightmare would have been sharing the elevator with a kid who’d think it was funny to hit all the buttons.
It felt like it took five minutes to get to the eighteenth floor, but it was probably only seconds. Long enough, though, for him to think about someone hurting Missy. Or worse, his life without her.
The elevator pinged, and he was out in the corridor before they fully opened. He stopped only to check the location of her room. None of the doors were open, which meant he wouldn’t be able to get in. He ran in the opposite direction, looking for a maid. He found one, and with the very force of his expression probably, made her run with him to Missy’s door.
He put his finger to his lips. “Shh.” He took the card from her and quietly slid it into the lock. He made a sign of a telephone. “Call the police.”
She paled and nodded, backing down the hallway and taking out a walkie-talkie from her uniform pocket.
Conrad took a breath and crouched on the floor. With one hand he steadied himself on the doorjamb; with the other, he slowly pushed open the door.
The main room was empty, but all the noise was coming from the bathroom. The door was open and the light was on, and he could see shadows moving and loud bangs. He had planned on closing the door quietly so he could take whoever it was—Janke, he supposed—by surprise. But when he heard the groans and thumps, well. Fuck that.
The door slammed behind him just as he appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. His eyes boggled at the sight. Missy was hanging from the corner of the built-in shower. Rope was wrapped around her throat. She was struggling, trying to get purchase on the glass with her bare feet. Her face was bright red under the pressure. She croaked when she saw him.
Every molecule in his body demanded he save her, but Janke had a gun trained on him.
Conrad just had to get him to lower his guard for a second. Then he realized that his hand was on a towel that was hanging on a hook on the wall. He took it without looking and threw it over Janke’s head. In his surprise, he slipped back against the towel heater and slid to the floor, his gun clacking against the tile floor as he braced himself. In the moments it took him to scrabble free from under the fluffy towel, Conrad lifted Missy free and dropped her on the floor of the bathroom.
Janke leveled his 9 mm at him again. Fuck no. He wasn’t going to let him get away with that shit. He jumped on him, and the gun, and using the full weight of his body, pinned him to the floor. He could feel Janke trying to wrestle the gun out from under him.
He held him as long as he could, trying to look over to see what state Missy was in. It killed him that he couldn’t go over to her. Janke was wrestling so hard that he couldn’t even see if she was breathing. Red infused his brain and vision. He punched Janke in the head with one hand while holding his gun hand out of the way with the other.
He rammed his fist down on Janke’s wrist and the gun clattered away. Missy moaned, and Conrad spun his head to see her. She was alive.
He felt the rush of wind before he felt the blow to his chin. Conrad fell sideways, fighting the blackness that speckled the edge of his vision. No. He would not pass out. He refused to leave her.
The bathroom was too damn big, with too many sharp corners. He dragged himself up using the door frame, and Janke did the same using the basin. Except his foot slipped in a patch of water.
As soon as Janke went down, Conrad caught hold of his pant leg an
d dragged him out of the bathroom, wanting to get as much space between him and Missy as possible.
Janke leapt up as soon as he was on the carpet. Conrad deflected two blows to his head, worried that if he took one more, it would be game over for Missy. Where the hell was security?
He stepped back from Janke and kicked him dead in the chest. Air rattled out of the man as he fell backward…onto Missy, who had just pulled herself up in the doorway.
She crumpled beneath him. Jesus.
With one hand, Conrad gripped Janke’s shirt and threw him off her. The colonel scrambled to stay on his feet, and like freaking Jason Bourne, he ran at Conrad, low and hard.
Son of a— Conrad shifted in place, and then sidestepped and threw a punch. Janke’s momentum brought his face in contact with Conrad’s fist at maximum velocity.
He went down, out cold.
Relief washed over Conrad as his body started to complain at the abuse it had taken. He shook the hand that had taken Janke down and dived for Missy. He took off what was remaining of the cord around her neck and hands and lay her on the bed as gently as he could.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. “Don’t say anything. Your neck…” He took a second to get his emotions under control. “It’s damaged, probably badly. Just…don’t talk.”
Her neck was red and black and was bleeding from what looked like scratches. She’d probably been trying to loosen the coil to give her some breathing room.
His heart clenched at the sight, knowing he had so nearly lost her. She’d been seconds away. It was only the adrenaline forcing itself around his body that prevented him from bawling his eyes out.
He got a wet towel from the bathroom and put it over her neck, hoping the cold water would help with the inflammation.
There was a noise at the door, and four men dressed in black burst into the room. “Stand back from the bed, sir,” the first man said. Conrad was going to resist, but the sight of a Taser on the man’s hip persuaded him otherwise. “Please call an ambulance for my friend and the police for this guy, who tried to kill her.” He nodded to the still-unconscious Janke. Security put a plastic tie around his wrists.
Missy’s eyes were wide and bloodshot, her expression fixed. “Missy. Can you see me?” he asked gently.
She moved her head just a tiny bit up and down. “Okay, it’s all over. Janke’s in cuffs, hotel security is here, and the police and ambulance are on their way. Okay? It’s all over.”
A tear leaked out of her eye, and he squeezed the top of her arm gently, not knowing where else she had been hurt. He looked for her wallet and ID and tucked them into his pocket. “I’m going to come with you to the hospital. I’m not going to let you out of my sight, okay?”
She nodded again and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When Missy woke up in hospital, she had an irresistible urge to run. But she was in so much pain, she couldn’t. It took a while for her eyes to focus in the bright light of the room.
Conrad was sitting next to her, reading a magazine. Her heart calmed immediately. She closed her eyes again in relief. He was here. She loved him.
She opened her mouth to speak but was unable make a sound. Her eyes watered at the pain.
Conrad dropped his magazine at her attempt at speaking. “Don’t do that. Your larynx and trachea are really badly bruised. It could take weeks before you’re able to speak properly. But I got you this from the shop downstairs.” He showed her a My Little Pony notebook and pencil. “It was all they had. But I’m reliably informed that the pencil will write in the colors of the ponies.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what that means.”
Her heart swelled at the thought of him taking advice from a store assistant. Missy was sure that the woman would have suspected that he was buying it for a daughter. She closed her eyes and dreamed for a second about what it would be like to have a daughter with Conrad. Exasperating, amazing. She managed to stop a tear that threatened to escape her eye.
“Anyway. This is what’s happened since you lost consciousness. We have a new commander in chief. Man, you’ve slept through two whole presidents! Also the Dolphins won the Super Bowl and we’re in the middle of a war with France. I’ve been deployed twice! The wine and cheese made me consider defecting.”
Her eyes widened in shock. How the hell long…? And then she saw the twinkle in his eye.
She scowled at him and then opened her hand in a question.
“Only a day. You woke up last night, but they sedated you so they could look down your throat. You can go home today. You just have to do some follow-ups—but I’m sure you can sort that out on base.” He’d read her mind. He did exactly what she had been doing to him all these years.
She reached for the paper and pencil.
JANKE?? she wrote, nodding approvingly at the pink and purple letters.
Conrad hesitated. “Swore he was a lone wolf, like Grove. They questioned him and put him back in his cell. And by morning he had hanged himself.”
Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what to say, or write. She wasn’t sorry for him at all, and she supposed she should feel bad, but he had tried to hang her, so…
“I know it’s a bit weird, but I suggest you don’t feel bad. I suggest you don’t feel anything. After all, if I hadn’t followed you on a long flight, then saved your life like a goddamned hero, he would have hanged you too,” he said.
She wanted to laugh at him, but she couldn’t.
She breathed out of her nose, as her throat was so sore.
“Open wide, I’ve got something for that.”
She goggle-eyed him.
“No, not that. Jeez. Get your mind out of the gutter. What kind of man do you think I am? It’s okay; you don’t have to answer that. Oh, I forgot, you can’t.” He held up a bottle of green fluid. “It’s a spray for numbing your pain.”
She motioned him to put it all over her.
“It’s for your throat. Open.” He sprayed the liquid down her throat, and most of the pain disappeared instantly. She could swallow without pain. It was a miracle.
Conrad sat on the side of her bed and held her hand. “It’s been a rough few days, but you’ll get through it okay. Where do you want to go from here? Back to the hotel?”
She thought about it. The hotel was lovely, although she wondered if she’d ever be able to take a shower there again. She shook her head.
“Base lodging? I made a reservation in case you wanted to go there instead.”
She nodded.
“Okay, leave everything with me. I’m going to go get your bags, and mine, come to that, and I’ll meet you back here to go to MacDill.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. He got up to go, but she grabbed his hand. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“You’re my wingman. I’m not going to leave you hanging. Oh, sorry, bad turn of phrase.” He winked at her, and she tugged his hand across her so that he bent over her. She kissed him on the lips and let him go.
Conrad went back to the swanky hotel and picked up all their things—the backpack he’d abandoned at the reception desk and Missy’s things from her room that a concierge had packed. They also comped her the room, which thinking about it was the least they could do after somehow allowing Janke access to her room. They still hadn’t figured out how he’d found her room, or known that she’d ordered room service. Best guess was that he had overheard her ordering when she’d checked in.
He was going to urge them to tell the police when they figured it out, but with Janke dead, he wasn’t sure anyone would be investigating too hard. But he did need to call Colonel Cameron and tell him that TGO just tried to kill another airman. He sighed. Not that being suspicious of military contractors was unusual. It just seemed that this company in particular had the wool pulled firmly over everyone’s eyes.
On his way back to the hospital, he called Cameron’s office and no one picked up, so he tried the guy from Special Investigations. He picked up on t
he first ring.
“Major Bowman. Have you heard about Colonel Janke?”
Bowman sighed. “No. What’s he got his shorts in a wad about now?”
In any other circumstances, Conrad would have ripped the major a new one for disrespecting a ranking officer, but since it was Janke, he let it ride. “He tried to kill Major Malden in Florida.”
“What the…?” Conrad could hear him scrambling for something to write on.
“He’s dead. The local Tampa police arrested him, and he killed himself in his cell.”
“Sweet Jesus. Is the major all right?”
“He tried to hang her, so she’s not doing much talking right now; in fact, I’m about to spring her from the hospital and take her on base at MacDill. But in case it helps your investigation at Nellis, Janke told her that he was working for TGO. He didn’t explicitly say he was under orders from them, but she strongly got the impression that he was charged with tying up loose ends,” Conrad said wearily, more than ready to leave all this behind.
There was silence on Bowman’s end.
“Did you get that?” Conrad said
“Yeah, I did. Thanks.” Bowman sounded defeated.
“What’s wrong?” Conrad frowned. He’d thought that Bowman would be ecstatic to get a bead on TGO.
“It’s all hearsay. All we have is someone who says a dead guy told her something. I can’t so much as get a search warrant with that.” He seemed to shake it off. “It doesn’t matter. At least I know what I’m looking for now and who to be suspicious around. Thanks for the info. If I need anything else, I’ll get in touch with your local Office of Special Investigations.”
No time soon, he hoped as he ended the call.
While Missy had been sleeping off the anesthetic, Conrad had Googled TGO and looked at its board of directors and the think tank that it operated in DC. There were a lot of people way high up in the government that were entangled with TGO, including senators, congressmen, and people in the White House. He wondered how much money TGO paid for those board positions, because all those people also had full-time jobs. Seems like either they weren’t doing their jobs as government servants, or they were taking money for doing nothing—except maybe directing Pentagon funds their way.