He couldn’t let her down. He used a button to roll down his passenger window. “It’s over, Forbes,” he yelled, though he doubted his boss and former friend could hear.
With a grin on his face that Cole wanted to eradicate with his fist, Forbes lifted his gun and pointed it at Alexa.
“No!” Cole yelled, at the same time he turned his steering wheel hard toward the car beside him. Toward the man who had betrayed him, who now threatened the life of the woman he loved.
With a shriek of grinding metal, the two cars collided. Cole watched as the front of his vehicle smashed into the driver’s side of the sedan and pushed the other car into the wall of rocks at the side of the road.
“Alexa!” Cole shouted. And then there was silence.
Chapter Sixteen
Ignoring the pain in his head and chest, Cole unhooked his seat belt and leapt from the car in one fast motion. He gripped his Beretta in his right hand.
“Alexa!” he called again as he ran toward the other ruined vehicle. He inhaled deeply. Although the area smelled of ground metal, there was no odor of gasoline, and he saw none on the road. At least the danger of fire seemed minimal.
Looking through the smashed windshield, he saw Forbes’s bloody face. The man was motionless. But that didn’t mean he was unconscious or dead. Cole had to make certain he was neutralized before he could take care of Alexa.
The side of Cole’s car still dug into the sedan, which was pressed, on the other side, against the face of the rocks. “Forbes, you bastard, look at me.”
The man didn’t move. His eyes were closed.
Cole took his gaze off his nemesis long enough to glance at Alexa. She, too, was unmoving, her head lolling back on the seat’s damaged headrest. Her loose honey-brown hair half covered her face.
Holding down his fear and panic, Cole circled to the back of the two vehicles. There, he was able to open the driver’s side rear door.
Forbes still didn’t move. But Alexa, her gorgeous, alert blue eyes open, turned her head toward him. “Cole,” she whispered.
“Don’t move,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.” He ignored the pounding of his heart that signaled his own terror for her. The side of her poor face that was visible was bruised, but she had never looked more beautiful to him. He scanned her quickly. Just a small amount of blood, on one leg. But she could still have internal injuries.
“I’ve called 9-1-1,” called a voice from outside the car. Cole glanced out to see the face of a frightened teenage girl, a kind passerby who had stopped to help.
“Thanks,” he called. She must have seen the gun in his hand, for she hurried out of sight.
Turning sideways, Cole snaked his body between the two mangled seats, his gun poised to shoot Forbes in the head if necessary, while he reached down for the other man’s weapon. Grabbing it from where it had fallen on the floor, he threw it behind him. Then he shook Forbes.
Forbes groaned. The corpulent older man no longer looked dangerous, but Cole knew better than to underestimate him…again.
Forbes’s eyes opened to mere slits, and he grimaced in pain. He glared at Cole. “I should have left you to die in that damn explosion.” His voice was garbled and weak.
“Why didn’t you?” Cole demanded.
“Too risky. Too many people around. Would have wondered why I didn’t try. Didn’t want suspicion—”
“I got it.”
But Forbes didn’t stop talking. “The new plot—you weren’t supposed to find out about it. When you did… Minos. He was my man. Ordered to kill you. Vane stopped him, damn him.”
“Shut up and save your strength,” Cole commanded. “I want you to survive, you son of a bitch. You’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum security prison, if you’re not executed for murder and treason first.”
He moved back in the car and put his free hand on Alexa’s shoulder for comfort. He also kept his gun trained on Forbes, although the man appeared not to be faking his injuries.
“Alexa, tell me where you’re hurt,” Cole said softly.
“I’m fine,” she said, but the weakness of her voice belied what she said.
“Just hold on,” Cole said, wanting to take her into his arms but knowing he did not dare move her.
This time, the wail of sirens in the distance could not have been more welcome.
THE “ACCIDENT” had been caused deliberately by Cole to save her, Alexa knew. It blurred in her mind with the arrival of the paramedics, the ambulance ride, the emergency room.
Now, she lay alone in her sterile, impersonal hospital room that smelled of the usual disinfectant. The television was on, but the news from the Los Angeles station was local and boring. She’d seen nothing about a newly discovered terrorist plot or an accident on the mountain road, or anything else she could relate to. Alexa kept the sound low.
She had a lot of time now to rehash what had happened, even though her recollections were fuzzy.
Although the police had been at the crash site, too, demanding answers from Cole, she had been aware enough to realize that he insisted on accompanying her to the hospital. As far as she could recall, he had flashed his credentials at the California Highway Patrol officers and insisted that he, and not Forbes, was in charge. After that, he refused to answer questions until he was certain she was all right. But the police had accompanied them as well, obviously unsure whether Forbes, who ostensibly had higher authority, or Cole, was the one to be believed.
He had gripped her hand, giving her comfort. He had stroked the side of her battered face and murmured words of love and courage.
She had assured him over and over that she was fine, but she could see the worry in his beloved face.
Now, her insides ached. A couple of ribs had cracked from the impact of the crash, her face hurt from where Forbes had struck her, and her right leg was cut and bruised. An IV dripped into her arm, and she had been given painkillers that she tried not to take. But she was going to be fine.
She didn’t know about Forbes Bowman, didn’t care. But she knew his survival mattered to Cole. Not, however, because the man was a friend and mentor, a life-saver.
He was a spoiler, a terrorist, and Cole wanted him to pay.
In the ambulance, as weak as she had been, she had managed to explain the rest of the plot to Cole: the terrorists’ goal of using the U.S. coup as a diversion to take over one or more oil-rich Middle Eastern countries. He had immediately gotten on his cell phone and called someone, though she didn’t know who.
Apparently whoever it was believed him, for Cole was not taken into custody by the local police, even after they had reached the hospital.
She heard a sound now, and looked toward the door to her room, expecting another nurse wanting to check her vital signs.
“Alexa?” It was Cole. He strode into the room with the rule-the-world stride she recognized and adored.
She grinned, ignoring the way the movement of her facial muscles hurt. “Have you come to see the damage you inflicted on me, Rappaport? You’d better learn to drive one of these days.”
For a moment, a flicker of pain crossed his luminous dark eyes, and Alexa regretted her teasing.
But then he flashed her one of his cockiest grins. “You know I’m a military weapons expert, don’t you? And everything turns into ammunition in my hands, even cars.”
She laughed and held out her hands. She saw him glance at the line to the IV and wince. “I’m going to live, Cole,” she said, again teasingly. And then, more softly, more seriously, she added, “Thanks to you.” She hesitated. “And Forbes?”
“He’ll live, too, though it’ll take him a while to recuperate enough to stand trial.” Cole’s edgy voice was curt. “Don’t worry about him, though. Don’t worry about anything but getting better.”
In a moment, he was sitting on the side of her bed, and she was in his strong, welcome, gentle embrace. For the first time in months—no, years—she felt alive and protected and wonderf
ul, notwithstanding her physical pain. She laid her head against the hardness of his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the steady, soothing beat of his heart.
“I thought I’d lost you, Alexa.”
His whisper against her hair was hardly audible, but she felt the caress of his lips on her forehead.
“I’m a hardy soul, Rappaport,” she countered, though her voice was hoarse. “And I’d haunt you forever, you know.”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I know.” He hesitated, then said softly, “My sky.”
She turned her head to look into his face, the face that belonged to the new Cole who had the same invincible heart and soul of the man she had first fallen in love with. She touched the cleft in his chin, his straight brows, his wide and loving mouth, his hair that was much longer than the regulation military length he had previously worn. “I liked you before, but I can deal with your looks now, too,” she said.
“That’s good.”
“I love you, Cole,” she told him.
He bent so his lips met hers, very gently.
The kiss felt wonderful and comforting. But Alexa wanted more to remind her that she still was alive. She deepened the kiss, drawing him closer. She felt the bandage beneath his shirt, knew the bullet and his vest had cracked his ribs. Her tongue touched his mouth and delved between his lips, and he took it in, testing and tasting it with his own. She felt a stirring of desire down below that had no place in a hospital room, where she was hooked up to tubes and bottles, and where someone could walk in at any time. Oh, how she wished she were someplace else with Cole. Someplace very private.
But she wouldn’t be here for long. The doctor had said so. And then—
“Alexa, I’m here to say goodbye.” Cole dashed her erotic and romantic thoughts with his soft but incontrovertible words.
She drew back as quickly as if she had been slapped. “Oh” was all she could manage to say. She stared in his face. His expression had turned remote, as if he had already put distance between them.
But he had told her he loved her, too, in the ambulance. Had called her his sky once more.
“It’s not that I want to,” he said.
She wanted to capture his lie in her hands and throw it back in his much-too-handsome new face.
“But Forbes’s betrayal has left a big void at the head of the Unit. Since I’d been reporting only to him before, he had sent no one to follow and capture the infiltrators, so they have to be rounded up all over the country—there were some in training in other locations, too. Plus, there are other terrorists waiting for the signal to hit Washington, D.C., and we have to find out who was giving Forbes his orders. And we also need to alert our overseas allies about what’s going on, make certain that the Middle Eastern nations are protected—”
“Yes,” she said calmly, “you do.”
Last time, when he had exited her life, it had been abrupt and, she had thought, final. But she had believed it had been involuntary. Now she knew better. He had claimed it was to protect her. In his mind, perhaps it had been.
But it had also been because he loved his country, and his job, more than he had ever loved her. And now he had even more important work to do.
He had already done what he could for her, saved her life. She had no choice.
She had to let him go.
He cupped her face in his hands. She wanted to turn away so he wouldn’t see the moisture that leapt into her eyes.
But she also wanted to stare at him, make sure she had memorized every one of his features, from the length of his dark hair with its vague silvering at his temples, to the strength of his broad jaw and cleft chin.
“I’ll be in touch,” he promised her.
“I know,” she said. A brief phone call here, perhaps an e-mail there… “Take care of yourself, Cole.”
He bent down and kissed her hard and fast. And then he stood. “You, too,” he said.
And then he was gone…again.
Chapter Seventeen
“How are you, Alexa?” Marian Shelton, her fiftyish, curly-haired neighbor from two houses down, met Alexa at the inn’s front door three days later, after she’d been released from the hospital.
She had taken a cab home. With Cole gone, there was no one she had wanted to call for a ride.
“I’m fine,” Alexa lied. Then, wincing, she stooped to give Phantom, frisking at her feet, a gingerly hug. Cole had let her know he’d asked Marian to take care of the pup until Alexa’s return.
“That nice Mr. O’Rourke was so concerned about you,” Marian continued, pulling the edges of her yellow windbreaker down. “We all were.” Her expansive gesture encompassed the entire neighborhood. “That crazy man coming here and shooting people, then taking you hostage—why, I don’t know how you stood it.”
Alexa slowly rose again, ignoring the way her ribs and leg ached. “I’m not sure, either,” she admitted. That had been the story eventually released to the media: a maniac had run amok at the inn, killed four people, including Vane, and kidnapped Alexa. Purportedly, the police had saved her, but not before the car in which she’d been taken had been wrecked, injuring her in the process.
Parts of the story, at least, had been true. Forbes Bowman’s identity had remained classified. So far, Alexa had been captured by an “unidentified gunman” who was killed during her rescue.
“It’s scary that such a thing could happen in our quiet neighborhood.” Marian hesitated, then said, “I suppose it was the same fellow who shot at Mr. O’Rourke and you last week.”
Alexa nodded. “That’s the police’s speculation.” How easily lies came to her. But there was no sense in scaring Marian or anyone else about terrorism and international intrigue.
This story was something the neighbors could believe. And Alexa was certain that if Cole’s Special Forces Unit could have easily hidden the existence of four bodies, not even this much would have made it into the news.
“Anyway, Mr. O’Rourke told me all about what happened and how sorry he was he had to hurry back to work before you were all better.”
“Yes, I’m certain Mr. O’Rourke was very busy.”
Something odd must have come through her tone, for Marian squinted quizzically at her, deepening the crease between her brows.
“I suspect,” Marian said confidentially, “that after all that happened, he was too scared to stay here.”
Alexa nearly laughed at that.
“In any event,” Marian said, “I’m sure you were sorry to see him go.”
Alexa threw a sharp look at Marian. Was her sorrow at losing Cole written on her face?
“I mean,” Marian said hastily, “I couldn’t help noticing that all your guests seemed to have left around the same time.”
“Yes, they did,” Alexa said, annoyed that her neighbor had noticed. “But they were friends of Vane’s. I’m going to throw myself into keeping the inn going.” She voiced her inner thoughts, speaking more to herself than to Marian.
Her neighbor nodded sagely. “Yes, it’s best to keep busy to get over the grief. Poor Vane. I’m sure it was very hard for you to lose your dear fiancé that way.”
If you only knew, Alexa thought wryly. “Yes,” she said, then opened the inn’s door. “If you’ll excuse me now, I need to rest. But I can’t thank you enough for watching Phantom.”
Inside, she quickly locked the door behind her. Phantom rubbed against her legs, obviously glad to have her home again. “I’m glad, too,” she said, bending just enough to pet the dog’s smooth and furry head. Phantom. Her other phantom was off once more, disappeared from her life so he could rout the bad guys. In this case, the bad guys were really bad. Cole was brave. A true hero.
Her hero.
But not really hers.
She sighed, then straightened. “Come on, Phantom,” she said. “We have work to do.”
There were a lot of messages on the inn’s answering machine, including one from her parents. Alexa had called them from the hospital first thing
to let them know what had happened, without going into detail. She had assured them she was fine.
They had wanted to come to be with her, but she insisted that they stay home. Her inn was, for now, the center of a sensitive investigation. It was better that her parents remain far away. That way, not even the tiniest shred of suspicion would land on them—especially after the way Vane had threatened to destroy them.
She had kept in telephone contact with them while she was in the hospital. Now, standing behind the tall, familiar reception desk, she returned their latest message.
“Oh, honey, we’re so glad you’re out of the hospital. We were worried you hadn’t told us all about your injuries, since you didn’t explain everything that happened.” Her mother’s shrill voice sounded upset yet relieved. Alexa pictured her slender mother, salt-and-pepper hair snipped short in a pixie cut, clutching the phone in their office at the Tucson Kenner Hotel, the only hotel in their chain that they hadn’t sold off to a conglomerate. “The news here today was full of that horrible situation. I know you said you were a hostage, but we didn’t understand the details.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Alexa said. Cole’s group had been able to keep a media lid on what had happened for a couple of days. But Alexa had known something as exciting as deaths and a hostage situation in a quiet mountain community couldn’t be kept quiet forever.
“The media blew it all out of proportion,” she told them, “as they always do.”
“Yes, they certainly do.” Her father must have gotten on an extension. His wry, sad voice indicated that he was recalling how their alleged participation in planting terrorists all over the country had been leapt on in the news, until the furor had died down for lack of evidence.
Before the accusations, her father had been round-faced and plump. Now, he was gaunt, with haunted eyes.
Vane had helped to clear them before. Now, Alexa knew it had only been to get into her good graces so he could use her to restart his appalling scheme…and seek revenge on Cole.
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