by Geri Krotow
Not a blade. A blade went right where you stuck it. And the woman had her blade under Joy’s neck, against her jugular.
“It’s me you want, not her.”
“Call your team off if you want to talk to me.” Her eyes burned with hatred.
Team?
He looked around. Farid was gone from the hallway and there was no team here yet.
She hadn’t seen Farid; when she’d heard his voice, she’d probably thought he was one of the agents.
“Back off, guys!” he shouted as if there were a dozen agents in the living room. All the while he was trying to find evidence that Joy was still alive. Her face was so pale, and she hadn’t moved. There was no blood around her, and judging from Farid’s bleeding arm, the shot he’d heard had gone wild and hit him, not Joy.
But this criminal had had Joy alone for at least twenty, maybe even thirty minutes. What had she done to her?
“They’re gone,” he said. “We can talk.”
He silently willed the terrorist to get off Joy, to let him see her breathe. To be certain she didn’t have any other injuries.
Instead, the suspect grunted.
“What’s to talk about? You’re one of them. She’s going to die, and it’s all your fault.” She enunciated her words with great effort, her breathing labored. Brad couldn’t tell how she’d been injured, though.
“You don’t have to do this. Maybe you and I can cut a deal.”
“You’re just desperate. You know you’ll be dead next. I want to make you suffer before you die.”
“You’re already in a heap of trouble. I can help you get through this. You have information we need. Give me the knife and we’ll talk.”
“Get down here, closer.” Her voice was harder to hear. She was weakening, or pretending to.
Brad bent over, keeping a safe enough distance so that he could take her out with his pistol if he had to without risking injury to Joy.
“Leave your pistol on the floor. I want to see your bare hands.”
Fear, pure and lethal, flooded Brad’s awareness. Without his weapon, she could kill Joy with one flick of her wrist.
He placed the gun on the floor and showed her his bare hands.
“Closer. I need to see your face.”
Brad leaned in. “Why? What do you want?”
“I want to see your face when I cut the life out of her.”
“No!” Brad reached for her wrist at the same time a gunshot sounded. Her hand went slack under Brad’s.
Brad looked up into Farid’s steady gaze.
“I saw her drop the pistol when Joy kicked her in the knee. While you were talking to her, I picked it up.”
A soft moan directed Brad’s attention back to Joy. Her eyes were open, and she seemed to be in a lot of pain.
But alive.
Thank God, Joy was alive.
* * *
“WE NEED YOU to give us room, sir.”
The past half hour had been a combination horror show and medical drama as the Bureau team stormed in seconds after Farid had taken out Sameen, along with the EMTs who examined and now ministered to Joy. For a third time, the burly one told Brad to get out of the room.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Joy’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked at him. He wasn’t sure how cognizant she was. Could she be in shock? There was dried blood on her neck and the front of her shirt, which the EMTs had cut open to reveal her pale skin and bruising under her bra line.
“Go.” She said the word from behind her oxygen mask, but Brad refused to budge.
A heavy hand on his shoulder squeezed until he looked up.
“Mike.”
“I need to talk to you, Brad. She’s going to be okay—just a broken rib or two.”
“And a punctured lung.” He’d hung on every word the EMTs had said when they called in to the hospital. He hated seeing her struggle to breathe.
“Nothing life-threatening. Let them do their work.”
Mike all but dragged him from the area where the EMTs worked and led him into the living room. The front door was wide-open as another EMT, flanked by FBI agents, wheeled out Sameen on a gurney. She’d been shot by Farid but not lethally. He’d hit her shoulder.
“I was too late,” Brad muttered. “She almost got her.”
“You were just in time. Any sooner and you might have agitated her—she might’ve killed Joy then and there. Later, and yeah, it would’ve been too late. But she wanted you to see her suffer, you know. Wanted you to go through what she’d been through. It’s how she thought she’d get some kind of sick closure.”
“Was she involved with the cell I was in?”
“Yes, the analysts have confirmed that she helped the suspect you knew as Snake bring the other two into the cell. She’s the one who has the connection to Hasan. We knew there was at least one more, if not several, so the pieces have come together now that we have her.”
“She almost killed her, Mike,” he said again. “Joy, she didn’t, she—”
“Take it easy, buddy. Sit down.” Mike motioned toward the grass.
“I’m not sitting down.”
Mike pushed his shoulders until Brad was on his ass under the large oak tree in front of his house. Mike sat next to him, and they both leaned against the tree as if they were talking about the Mariners and not how close they’d come to losing Joy.
“Joy’s going to be all right. We have Sameen in custody—she’ll give us the answers we need about Hasan.” He paused. “Farid handled things well in there. It’s worked out, Brad. Stop beating yourself up.”
“Easy for you to say.” He ran his hand over his head, his face. His skin was on fire, and he felt an indescribable urge to run, jump or pound his fist into the tree. Or do it all at the same time.
“Joy won’t blame you for this.”
“She should.”
“No, she shouldn’t, and she won’t. She knew what she was dealing with. She had one of her heavy-hitting JAG friends do some research.”
“How do you know?”
“I got a call from some higher-ups this morning. Navy Admiral Helen Bolling called in the information she’d figured out when Joy went to visit her. Joy couldn’t shake the feeling that the people controlling the cell were about to call the sleepers into action. Joy feared they were after you and Grimes personally.”
“She never told me. And you said nothing when I saw you earlier!”
“She was protecting you. She knew you’d go looking for Sameen if you knew.”
“Do you think anything would’ve made a difference with Sameen if we’d made the connection sooner?”
Mike sat there quietly for several minutes, mulling over Brad’s question. Brad thought of all the other times the two of them had hashed out missions together, pieced together the whos, the whys, the whens. Sometimes you didn’t walk away with a clear answer.
“I spoke with one of the profilers earlier. Sameen’s upbringing in a war-torn part of the world shaped who she is. It was only a matter of time before she snapped. Thanks to Hasan, she’d known who you were for quite a while. She’d already tracked you here, and the fact that you showed up in that cell as her boyfriend’s new recruit was a sign to her. She was intent on making you suffer and taking you out. And then when she realized you’d disrupted the SAM shoot-down of US aircraft, she was incensed.”
“How have you pieced all of this together?”
Mike pulled at a blade of grass. “The other suspects have revealed a lot since we took them into custody. And her boyfriend—he’s a spineless piece of shit. That’s why she could manipulate him so easily.”
“She’s caught, but Hasan’s still out there.”
“He is, and by this time next week I hope to hear that he’s been disabled.”
They shared another quiet moment. The terrorist behind what could have been the first anti-aircraft missile attack by terrorists in the United States would be captured by spec ops, most likely a SEAL team. T
hey knew the danger involved.
“What a mess.” While he cared deeply about justice for all concerned, his focus didn’t veer far from one woman. Joy.
“Have you told her how you feel yet, Brad?”
“I can’t.”
Mike turned to face him. He looked startled—as startled as Brad felt—that he hadn’t told his boss to go screw himself instead of answering so candidly.
Emotions weren’t their usual topic of conversation.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“It’s not fair to her. She never asked for this, and look what getting involved with me got her. If it’s not Hasan, it could be another bad guy we pissed off during our time downrange or in some FBI undercover op. It never ends.”
“You’re not God. Stop playing the part. If you’d wrapped up your undercover op the old-fashioned way, with little fanfare and all three suspects quietly arrested, would you have thought you’d dragged her into anything?”
“No, but I wouldn’t have gotten this involved with her, either.”
“Oh, really? What would you have done? Gone out for a few drinks, dinner, a couple nights in the sack?”
Brad stared at his friend. “It was never going to be casual with her.” His heart already knew that; it was his brain that had trouble catching up.
“They don’t call you an FBI agent for nothing.” Mike laughed, and Brad started to laugh then stopped himself.
“Screw you, Mike.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
IT TOOK TWO hours on Monday morning for Joy to be discharged from the hospital in Seattle, where she’d been since Saturday afternoon. But she was finally able to put the horrors of the past week behind her. She smiled at Emily and Ben, who’d come to take her back to Whidbey. Joy let Emily ease her into the car, and held her breath as her friend buckled her seat belt.
“Thanks, Em.”
“No problem, sweetie. Just happy to have you out of there and in one piece.”
“Ready?” Ben sat in the driver’s seat of the large luxury SUV, with Joy beside him.
“We’re ready.” Emily answered from the seat behind Ben’s.
“I feel like a third wheel here, folks. Not to mention an invalid.” She was thrilled for Emily that Ben was turning out to be more than just another man who tried to date her, but not completely comfortable around the two of them yet. She still felt hurt that she’d heard nothing from Brad since he’d held her hand on Saturday until the EMTs came.
“You’ll never be anything but our friend, Joy.” Emily spoke with sincerity, and Joy didn’t miss that she’d said our.
She’d expected Brad to come and see her. A huge bouquet of red roses had been delivered, unsigned. She assumed they were from him, but was she just kidding herself? Emily had insisted on putting the roses in the backseat for the ride back to Whidbey, and the car smelled like a florist shop. They sat next to a huge stuffed bulldog wearing a US Marine Corps outfit, a get-well gift from General Grimes.
Within minutes it was clear that Ben wasn’t driving toward Whidbey. He was, in fact, maneuvering his large vehicle through the streets near Brad’s neighborhood.
“Where are we going?”
“The best place in the world for you.”
She turned to look at Em, and a sharp pain sliced through her left side. “Ouch!”
“Shhh. Stay calm, Joy. No need to get upset. You’ll mess up that rib, and you don’t want your lung crapping out on you again.”
“It. Didn’t. Crap. Out.” She had to take a breath between each word, and a shallow one at that. A fractured rib and collapsed lung were a small price to pay for her life. Still, they were quite sore.
Believing her chance with Brad had come and gone, she was annoyed that they were bringing her to his place.
What the heck was this all about, anyway?
“Em’s right. You’re the lawyer here, and we’re the medical professionals. Trust us when we tell you we’re doing the best possible thing for you.”
She couldn’t find the words for a polite retort and besides, it hurt like hell to talk.
She’d save it for Brad, because they’d just turned onto his street. If they were going to stop at his place, she’d have some things to say to him, all right.
* * *
“MR. BRAD, DO you think she’ll like the soup?”
Farid stirred the big pot of mystery stew he’d insisted on making for Joy’s return. Brad had to rely on Emily and Ben to get the medical lowdown on her recuperation needs. He’d wanted to give her space, and to give himself time.
When you were going to make such a big change in your life, there was no sense in rushing it.
“It smells good, Farid. What’s in it that’s supposed to be so good?”
“Special spices that will help sweat out the sickness.”
“She doesn’t have a sickness, pal, just a broken rib and a sore lung.”
“This will help, believe me.”
“Whatever you say.”
He pulled out sparkling juice for Joy, since her painkillers weren’t going to mix well with alcohol, and real bubbly for the rest of them. Hopefully, they’d have something to celebrate this afternoon.
Nervous as a teen on his first date, he checked the front window for the umpteenth time. The black Lexus SUV turning into his driveway had to belong to Ben, Emily’s boyfriend.
Sure enough, a tall man got out on the driver’s side and opened the door for a smaller woman he assumed was Emily. She gave Ben a quick kiss on the mouth before she walked around the car to open the front passenger door and help Joy out. The brief glimpse he caught of Joy’s face made his stomach drop with worry. She was pale and looked stressed.
Pain. She was in major pain. Because of him.
He opened the front door, forcing himself not to march down the steps and haul her into his arms. It would hurt her too much, anyway.
“Hi, Brad!” Emily was all smiles, and Ben stepped forward.
“Ben Franklin.”
“Brad Iverson.” They shook hands.
“Thanks for bringing her home.”
“We wouldn’t have let anyone else do it.” Emily kept her hand under Joy’s forearm for balance. Joy remained silent, her focus on his front porch steps.
“Can I help?” He held out his hand to Joy.
It felt as though it’d been years since he’d stared into her beautiful eyes. At her beautiful face. Her beautiful mouth.
“What’s wrong? Are my battle wounds that bad?” She grasped his hand, and he noticed that her words were clear but slow. He’d had his share of cracked ribs and knew the kind of pain she was in.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not feeling beautiful.” She started to smile at him but then faltered, as if remembering something. Anger sparked in her eyes, and his Joy was back.
“Where have you been these last few days?”
“I had some things to take care of. To get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Trust me.”
He knew she was a private person, knew that her friends and Farid were watching.
What the hell.
He leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. He refused to lift his mouth from hers until he got a satisfactory response.
* * *
THEY ALL REMAINED at the dining room table, much to Joy’s relief, as sitting in a firmer chair gave her more support. The thought of sinking into Brad’s sofa was appealing, but getting out of it, not so much.
“I still can’t believe you risked coming out of protection to warn Brad, Farid.”
“It was the least I could do. You both saved my life. When I saw the names of the suspects they arrested, I knew they were related to Hasan somehow, and that they’d try to find Brad. I was really worried when I saw it was near where you live. I found you on Facebook, but never tried to friend you.”
“Well, thank you. I’m so sorry you’re going to have to start all over again.”
; “It’s not so bad. I’m requesting that my girlfriend join me.”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“I’m hoping she’ll be my wife someday. And I owe it to you and Mr. Brad. And even to General Grimes. He wasn’t happy you two got me free, but his testimony didn’t hurt me.”
“I wouldn’t have let it.” Her chest muscles ached, and she realized she was getting too worked up.
“Do you need to rest?” Brad’s hand was on hers, his eyes full of what she’d always dreamed she’d see there—concern, caring and maybe more.
“I’m fine. I’m sure we’ll be leaving soon.” She caught Emily shooting Ben a knowing look and laughed.
“Now what do you have up your sleeves, Emily?”
Emily coughed. “It’s really not our place to say.”
“So you’ve tossed me the ball, eh?” Brad smiled at Em, and Joy felt her heart squeeze with happiness. Her best friend and the man she loved had met, and they liked each other.
“Joy, I need your full attention. After this, I promise you’ll get some rest.”
“You mean go home.”
“That’s just it. You’ll recuperate here. You are home. I mean, I want you to think of this as your home. As well as your place on Whidbey Island, of course.”
“Okaaaaay.” What was he getting at?
“Only one week together—even if it felt like a year—might not be enough time for you to know whether what we have is going to last. It’s more than enough time for me, however, and I’m willing to wait, Joy. For as long as it takes you to decide that I’m the one for you. Because I’ve already decided. It’s been in my heart since I met you. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Brad, I don’t think this is the place for this conversation.” The words were automatic as she tried to fully absorb what he was saying. What he was promising her.
“I’m not finished.”
He stood up and walked to the threshold between the dining room and kitchen.
“I wanted to show you something that would prove my commitment to a long-term relationship. I could tell you I’m leaving the Bureau, which I have.”
“You have?” Her voice squeaked.
“I could tell you I’m looking for a place on Whidbey to have my own office. I’m opening a private investigative service for the Whidbey, Fidalgo and Camano Island area.”