“SAS. Drop your weapon,” Hunter called out loudly. If the mark had thought about it, he’d have realised that he was better off staying exactly where he was. With a gun pointed at the vest, nobody could afford to take a pot-shot at him from a distance. But he reacted in the same way most people do when faced with a threat, the way we hoped he would. He raised his gun towards Hunter and fired. In the infinitesimal amount of time it had taken him to do it, I’d pulled my Sig Sauer P226 from the holster behind my back and fired a bullet at close range through his brain. Blood sprayed across the walls, and he flew back, taking my girl with him.
“Clear,” Hunter called out, and a chorus of affirmations came from each of the guys. I ripped off my mask and threw it to the floor as my fingers went to Sarah’s pulse. My heart stopped until I could feel hers beating.
“We need the bomb squad in here now,” Hunter ordered. The vest swamped her torso, but the blood seeping from beneath it was unmistakable. It soaked the lower part of her shirt and the top of her jeans. Seeing her, barely clinging to life, made me want to kill someone all over again.
“She okay?” Will asked.
“Her pulse is weak, but it’s there. I need to get her to the hospital,” I told him.
“Sorry, man. We can’t move her till the bomb guys get here. We’ve got a rescue chopper that can airlift her from the roof, but Davies won’t risk bringing them in until her vest is off,” Hunter explained.
“Then get them in here!” I shouted. He looked at me hard, and I willed the fucker to argue with me. Instead, he spoke into his secure sat phone.
“I want that fucking bomb disposal unit in here now. Fuck any more prep time. The biohazard team has secured and removed the package, so I want bomb disposal to take this fucking vest off in the next five minutes or I’m bringing her down with it on and we’ll see how quick they all move.”
Whoever was on the line was giving him an earful, but Hunter didn’t seem fazed.
“I appreciate that, sir, and I also appreciate the dangers of rushing this, but do you really want to have to explain to the world how we let Miss Tatem die in our arms when she was ten minutes away from the hospital? Because I’m looking at a man who’s a hair’s breadth away from going postal if this woman doesn’t get medical attention soon,” he argued. He went silent again while he listened to the response.
“Yes, sir,” he said finally, and hung up the phone.
“The unit isn’t ready, but one of the guys has volunteered to come up ahead of the rest of his team,” he told me.
I really didn’t want to move her and risk her losing more blood, but there was no way he could get to the vest with her on the floor. As gently as I could, I lifted her into my arms, pressing her against my chest and leaving her back exposed.
“Hey, buttercup,” I whispered, brushing her hair away from her eyes. “I came back from the dead because I promised you a lifetime with my ugly arse. So don’t you bail on me now. We’ll go home to the cottage and sleep in late, have that runny egg sandwich I promised you, and do all that shit normal people do when they grow old together, and I promise I will never leave you again, but you have to wake up for me now, okay?”
She didn’t answer, and I tucked her in close as I tried to keep it together. Her gentle, shallow breaths caressing my skin were the only sign that she was still with me.
“Hold on, baby. Hold on,” I begged, and in those moments that felt like an eternity, I prayed to whatever God was listening to leave me the one person in this shitty world I couldn’t live without.
“Can we clear the area please? I’d like as many nonessential personnel out of here as possible.” I presumed from the padded suit that the muffled voice belonged to the bomb disposal technician.
I could see my team were all reluctant to abandon us, but I gave them the nod to do as he said. As far as I was concerned, this guy could have the world as long as he got me my girl back. He wasted no time in bending down to examine the back of the vest where she was wired in.
“Okay, the good news is that it looks like they strapped her up but didn’t have time to connect her up to the remote detonator. I only need to cut one wire to break the circuit, then we can unsnap it and get it off her. The bad news is the wire is on the inside of the vest which is strapped pretty tight.
“I’m going to lose her if you don’t get her out soon,” I explained, and he nodded in acknowledgement.
“I’m going to have to pull out her vest as much as I can and try and hook the wire to cut it. But I’m working in a tight space with little light. If I cut the wrong one, we’re all going out with a bang,” he joked.
I rocked her backwards to give him as much access to the underside of her vest as possible. He lifted the helmet off his head and put it to one side, probably realising that it wouldn’t make a difference if the explosives did go off. Holding a pen torch in his mouth, he reached under her to hook the wire.
“Cutting now,” he mumbled around the torch as I closed my eyes and held my breath.
Sarah
I woke in a hospital bed to a bombardment of colour. The biggest stuffed Elmer the Elephant toy I’d ever seen was perched on the chair beside me. Every spare inch of the room was covered in balloons, cards, chocolates, and magazines. Groggy and slightly disorientated, it took me a few seconds to realise what I was looking at.
“Are you really here?” I asked, my voice sounding painfully cracked and broken. I was sort of fuzzy and a little out of it, but I could feel the tears running down the side of my face. The rush of pain at the thought that he might be some drug induced mirage, was acute.
“Don’t cry Buttercup,” Tom said, perching to sit on the edge of my bed. “I’m real.” I shook my head in denial as my stupid, confused brain scrambled to sort out fact from fiction. As though he sensed my distress, he reached for my hand and laid it against the side of his face. Offering me solid proof of his existence.
“You died,” I argued, still crying.
“No love. I took a couple of hits to the chest, but I was wearing my body armour. I’m bruised up pretty good, but still here. I promised you a runny egg sandwich and I fully intend to deliver.”
I closed my eyes as I finally accepted that he was real, letting my palm memorise the heat of his skin and the bristle of his stubble. It was a touch I would have given the world for when I thought he was dead, and I intended never to take it for granted again. I moved slightly and winced, as my body reminded me just how badly it’d been abused of late.
“Don’t try and move. If you need something, just ask and I’ll get it for you.”
“Water?” I asked, and he reached for the glass on the table beside me, bringing the straw to my parched lips. Each long, slow sip was heavenly. With his free hand, Tom tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, and gently wiped away my tears with his thumb. He looked down at me with such love and sadness that my heart was breaking.
“I still can’t believe you’re really alive,” I croaked, as he returned the water to the table.
“I feel the same way. When I think of how close I came to losing you-.” He sounded so lost and broken. My throat hurt too much to console him, so I reached out for his hand, and he enveloped it between his own.
“Nan?” I whispered, and fear flooded my veins as I realised she might still be in danger.
“Don’t worry. She’s safe and sound. We got her out and she holed up with a friend. I called her from the waiting room while you were being treated, she wanted to come down but I told her you needed to rest and to wait a few days. Which probably means that she’s completely ignored me and is on her way.”
I smiled, knowing he was probably right. The tears had finally stopped, but I felt strangely vulnerable and more than a little out of it. My eyelids were drifting slowly shut and I fought to keep them open, not wanting to miss a minute of our time together.
“It’s okay Buttercup,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me gently on the forehead. “You’re on a lot of painkille
rs so you’re bound to feel a little tired and groggy and after what you’ve been through, I think you deserve a little rest.”
“I don’t want to waste time sleeping,” I admitted, still fighting against my body.
“Sar, we have all the time in the world, I promise. You need to rest and you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“Lay down with me?” I pleaded. The look on his face as he ran his eyes over my body told me everything I needed to know about how battered and broken I looked.
“Please.”
I scooted over and he perched precariously on the side of a bed not built for two people. Carefully manoeuvring himself around the wires that were attached to various parts of my body, he wrapped his arms around me and settled me into his chest. The sound of his strong heartbeat all the lullaby I needed.
“I love you, Buttercup,” he whispered, moments before I drifted blissfully to sleep.
Tom was half right. When I woke for the second time I felt nowhere near as drugged up or out of it, but my entire body hurt like a son of a bitch.
“You are a hard woman to kill,” said a voice from the chair beside me. I turned to see the smiling face of Simon Masterson.
“Are you sure they didn’t succeed, because I’m pretty sure this is what death feels like,” I replied. The trials and traumas of everything I’d been through echoed in the pain that radiated through every part of my body. He sat up and pressed a call button on the wall behind me.
“Where am I, and what have you done with Elmer?” I knew I was in a hospital, though I no idea which one.
“Who’s Elmer?”
“My elephant. He was sitting there,” I explained.
“Do you mean that awful monstrosity over there,” he replied disdainfully, pointing towards my beloved cuddy toy that had been tossed on a bag in the corner.
“He’s not monstrous, he’s awesome.”
“You are a strange girl Sarah. And in answer to your question, you’re in a private room at the Royal London Hospital,” he replied. “You’re back under SAS protection, but more to preserve your anonymity than because you’re in any real danger.”
“So what happened? The last thing I remember was being forced into an explosive vest and dragged into a room full of angry terrorists.”
“So the CliffsNotes version,” he said, helping himself to a few grapes from an overflowing bag on my side table. “SAS stormed the building and the bomb squad deactivated the vest so we could airlift you here. The bullet wound in your side missed every major organ, but you lost so much blood it was touch and go there for a while. You had a lot of people worried. All of the terrorists were killed, the bioweapon was recovered and I’m getting a promotion,” he said, continuing to gorge on my food.
“Tom’s alive, isn’t he?” I asked. I knew in my heart that I hadn’t imagined it, but hearing him confirm it was reassuring.
“He is. Telling you he was dead was apparently Davies’s idea to get you into witness protection.”
“Where is he?” I asked, desperate to see him again. Hold him. Start our happily ever after.
“He’s been at your bedside for days, but he ordered me to ‘sit my skinny arse’ here and wait for him to get back. Apparently, he and Hunter Jackson are running an errand together.”
“An errand. With Hunter Jackson,” I said, my voice filled with disbelief.
“I was as surprised as you are. But don’t worry, they’ll be back soon. Besides, you have three anxious SAS boys and one irate and slightly scary lady outside, all waiting for you to wake up, so I don’t think you’ll be short of company until Tom gets back.”
“What’s going to happen now?” I asked.
“That, is entirely up to you. Did you know that your Aunt was assassinated?” he asked. I shook my head no. Perhaps there should have been some sense of loss that the last of my family was dead but honestly, all I felt was relief.
“Vasili Agheenco shot her when he abducted you. He was probably tying up all loose ends before making a run for it.”
“Do you know where he is?” I asked, anxiously, as memories of what he’d almost done to me came flooding back.
“Don’t worry. We know exactly where he is and he’s being handled. You’ll never see him again.”
“And the Company? With Aunt Elizabeth being dead, what will happen to all the people who depend on it for jobs?”
“You amaze me Sarah. Your face looks like you’ve gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson and you’re worried about how some guy you’ve never met will pay his mortgage.” My hand rose automatically to my face, and I winced as I felt the cuts and swelling there.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
A nurse strode into the room, and reached across me to turn off the call button.
“It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” he asked me.
“I’ve been better,” I admitted, with a pained chuckle.
“Well let’s check your blood pressure and get you some water, then I’ll sort you out with some pain killers. The doctor will be along to check on you shortly.” I let the nurse do his tests and dutifully downed the painkillers he gave me, but when he left the room I reminded Simon what I need to know.
“Tatem Shipping?” he rolled his eyes at my tenacity.
“I’m no expert but the market dropped slightly all over when news of the attempted bioweapon attack broke, although shares in Tatem Shipping are holding for the moment. I don’t know what will happen now that you’ve lost the Russian money, but hopefully you’ll have enough time to do what you need to secure jobs for the people who work there.” I nodded gratefully, satisfied that I’d have time to do what was right by the employees of the company before starting a new life with Tom.
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “For everything.”
“Miss Tatem,” he replied, reaching for my hand and kissing the back of my knuckles. “It was an absolute pleasure.”
“They’re here,” I murmured, kicking Hunter’s ankle. Near soundlessly we moved into position. The day was relatively mild, but the slight breeze carried with it the rumble of a distant convoy. Adjusting my posture carefully, I pulled the 228 calibre L96A1 rifle tight into my shoulder and pressed my eye to the Schmidt and Bender telescopic sight. A crackle indicated that Hunter had activated his throat mic.
“Call ’em as you see ’em,” I said.
“Target sector bravo deep. We have two, make that three, Land Rovers heading our way,” he murmured quietly.
“Range it.”
“Nine hundred and fifty yards and closing. Wind three quarter value.”
“Ready,” I said, indicating I had the shot lined up.
“Whenever you are,” he replied.
Taking a deep breath, I held it as I gently squeezed the trigger. The gun popped, and the recoil bounced it against my shoulder as a bullet, a single bullet, flew through the air with the majesty of an arrow of justice. Vasili Agheenco, his terrorist payment firmly in his back pocket, was fleeing the country. At least he was until I put a hole between his eyes. His sleek black car swerved and careened into a barrier, flipping it in a crash that would have been fatal if he weren’t already dead. With the final combat mission of my career a success, we hauled arse. In less than an hour, it would be like we were never there. When we were back on the road, I could finally relax, knowing it really was well and truly over.
“You think you can handle retirement, old man?” he asked me. The guy still pissed me off most of the time, same as Masterson, but I’d never forget that he was willing to take a bullet in order to save Sarah, and that gave him enough brownie points for me to tolerate his shit. At least for a while.
“I’m running the counterterrorism training programme at Hereford,” I replied. “It’s hardly fucking retirement.”
“No more active duty.” His tone suggested he hated the idea.
“Yeah, well, I’ll remember your bitching when I’m enjoying a Sunday morning
in bed with my girl and you’re squat shitting in the middle of a jungle somewhere.”
“Spoken like a true old man. Maybe I’ll start thinking like that when they put me out to pasture,” he joked.
“Well, princess, enjoy the spotlight as Alpha Team A group commander. Your time as my understudy is over.”
“Fuck you,” he said, but it was good-natured. In the end, we all got what we wanted, courtesy of one of the most successful operations in SAS history. At some point, there would likely be medals as well, but none of that mattered to me. The only thing I cared about was lying in a hospital bed. And five hours later, I got my reward.
She was asleep when I arrived. So I sat there, brushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes and taking comfort in the peaceful look on her face as she slept. Eventually, her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled.
“So, I guess I’m stuck with you now then, huh?” she said, reaching across to tangle her fingers in mine.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” I replied, gently raising our joined hands to kiss the back of hers. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
R.J. Prescott was born in Cardiff, South Wales, and studied law at the University of Bristol, England. Four weeks before graduation, she fell in love, and stayed. Ten years later, she convinced her crazy, wonderful, firefighter husband to move back to Cardiff where they now live with their two equally crazy sons. Juggling work, writing and family doesn’t leave a lot of time, but curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate for family movie night is definitely the best part of R.J. Prescott’s week. Her debut novel, The Hurricane, became a USA Today best seller and was a finalist in the Goodreads Debut Novel of the Year. She loves to hear from her readers so contact her at:
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