My Spy

by Christina Skye

  Howe staggered as Sam got one shot off. Howe knocked Donegal to the floor as he fell.

  He fired wildly, splintering the parquet floor. Outside the window came the chatter of automatic weapon fire, followed by the flare of headlights.

  A helicopter roared out of the darkness.

  Howe's ride. As Sam crawled toward the door the wind gusted hard and a branch hit the huge picture window, shattering the glass. In the moment of confusion that followed, Sam charged forward, tackling his enemy.

  There was an odd quality to his movements in the darkness, a sense of time both compressed and infinitely stretched out as he grappled for Howe's gun. A second blow to the shoulder knocked him backward, and when he staggered upright, Howe was running toward the corridor.

  Sam blocked out the agony at his shoulder. Annie, he thought fleetingly, but there was no time to find out how badly she was hurt.

  He came across Weaver's body slumped on the floor, blood matting his face and neck. Grimly he forged ahead, hesitating outside the kitchen.

  A knife hissed past his head and sank into the doorframe. His instinct for caution had been dead on.

  He felt his shoulder bleeding again, thanks to Howe's last carefully aimed kick. Howe had exploited every weakness in the system and he had played to win, every step of the way.

  Wounded or not, Sam was going to stop him.

  Crouched low, he made his way along a row of wooden cabinets. He saw that Donegal was right beside him, weak but mobile. Before they could cross the room, bullets struck the breakfront, shattering the glass.

  The back door banged open.

  Howe, moving fast.

  Sam ran for the basement. The kitchen door would take him out into a killing zone.

  As he emerged at the storage shed, he saw a helicopter hovering above the hillside, with Howe struggling against the wind barely twenty yards away. Ignoring the agony it caused him, Sam tugged away a wallboard and took down the rifle concealed inside. Time seemed to stretch out as he crawled outside, taking cover behind a low stone wall.

  The helicopter's rotors kicked into high speed.

  “Circle,” Sam ordered Donegal, and the dog slipped away, heading up the slope above the chopper, sent out as backup in case Howe tried a last-minute retreat toward the cars parked in the upper driveway.

  The chopper began to lift, barely a meter off the ground, and Howe sprinted closer. Sam took a breath and sighted, watching Howe's arms pump as he leaped aboard the chopper. The big blades chattered, beginning a swift ascent.

  Sam fired.

  The fuel tanks ignited, bathing the chopper in flames. Three dark figures struggled for an instant inside the orange-red fireball before the chopper exploded.

  Chapter Forty-five

  ANNIE HEARD THE SOUND OF A GUNSHOT, FOLLOWED BY AN Earsplitting explosion. Izzy reached the window before her, clutching his right arm tightly, his face grim.

  Through the glass came the furious glow of a fire, all that remained of the helicopter they had heard near the lower slope. Black-clad men ran up the hillside and car lights flashed from the road.

  Annie tried not to consider the possibility that Sam had been near that helicopter when it had exploded.

  “Get to cover,” Izzy said.

  As they moved through the kitchen, Annie grabbed the heaviest iron frying pan she could hold. Not that it would be much use against an assault rifle, but it made her feel safer.

  Looking at Izzy's harsh features, she realized that no one would be getting past this warrior alive. Moving swiftly, he pulled a tall display of crystal glasses away from the wall outside the pantry. Amazingly, not a single piece shifted.

  “They're glued on.” Izzy stood back, revealing a staircase leading down into darkness. “There's a bunker down there where we'll be safe.”

  “I don't know who your architect is, but I'm glad he has a good imagination.”

  There was a sound behind them in the kitchen. Instantly, Izzy swung in front of Annie, weapon raised. The door opened, and in the hellish glow of the burning helicopter, Annie saw a tall silhouette.

  She bit back a cry.

  Sam's field jacket was streaked with dirt and drying blood. He struggled to hold Donegal in his good arm, while the dog licked his face weakly.

  “The area is secure,” Sam said, trying to avoid Donegal's tongue.

  “About time. Get over here and let me look at that shoulder.” Izzy pulled a high-beam flashlight from his jacket pocket. Annie closed her eyes as she saw how much blood darkened Sam's jacket.

  “You first.” Sam sank awkwardly into a chair at the counter, Donegal wriggling against his chest.

  “No way.” Izzy managed a cocky grin. “Age before beauty, pal.”

  “Will you two stop being idiot macho heroes,” Annie hissed. “Fix yourselves up. You're both bleeding like pigs. Even Donegal has more sense than you do.” Hearing its name, the big dog barked excitedly and pushed up to lick Annie's face.

  All efficiency, Izzy cut off Sam's jacket and rolled back the blood-soaked sweater. When she saw Sam's wound, Annie had to bite her lip to keep from throwing up right there.

  Glad of a distraction, she patted Donegal. “They're idiots, aren't they, Donegal? Both of them are so full of testosterone that they can't see beyond their own stubborn pride.”

  Donegal's tail banged against her ribs, and Annie winced, feeling her own bruises, courtesy of Peter Howe's gun.

  Izzy frowned. “You next. Just let me finish with this hard case.”

  “Your next job is to look after your own elbow,” Annie said tightly.

  “Just a scratch.” Izzy probed Sam's wound gently. “It looks clean, ace. Everything's ripped apart again, but there's no sign of foreign matter. I'll shoot you with something for the pain and give you an antibiotic until we get you cleaned up in a real hospital.”

  “Forget about a hospital.” Sam's face was pale, streaked with dirt and blood.

  Annie crossed her arms. “Let's see your elbow, Izzy,” she ordered. “Then you're both going to the hospital. Right, Donegal?”

  Donegal barked twice.

  “Two means yes,” Sam muttered, just before he passed out on the kitchen table.

  “I WANT A STEAK. ”

  Sam was propped up in bed, his shoulder covered by a heavy bandage.

  Sunlight streamed through Annie's big windows above the coast, and Izzy watched from the doorway, a smile on his handsome face. His right arm was in a sling, but he bore no other scars of their desperate night on the mountain. After a week of recuperation, things were finally settling back to normal.

  As normal as things could be with two government operatives in residence.

  Donegal was in dog heaven, running from one man to the other, punctuating his trips with visits to Annie for lavish petting and vast praise.

  “That dog's going to be spoiled beyond any hope of recovery,” Sam muttered. But his eyes glinted with pride. “Not that you don't deserve it, Donegal.”

  The wolfhound barked twice.

  “You did a great job, didn't you, pal?”

  Donegal barked twice again.

  “Come to think of it, this could be some kind of program. What do you think, Izzy? Maybe we should set up a canine support team.”

  Izzy looked thoughtful. “Could be a real asset, if you had the right animals.”

  “Enough shop talk,” Annie said. “You're both supposed to rest.” She gave a slow grin. “After that I have exercise programs planned for both of you.”

  Sam looked tired, but he managed a crooked grin. “I love it when you talk tough. Are you going to get out the leather and handcuffs?”

  “Just keep any exfoliating masks away from me,” Izzy muttered.

  “Did someone mention exfoliating masks?” Taylor bustled in with her big leather purse draped over one shoulder. Mouthwatering smells emanated from the hamper in her other hand. “I figured you two macho men would be tired of oatmeal. Since I know Annie and her health regimens too w
ell, I decided some real food was in order.”

  “Steak?” Sam asked hopefully.

  “You got it.” Taylor set her hamper on the table, pulled back the cover, and began removing dishes. “Skewered steak with mushrooms in sesame-jalapeno sauce. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Fresh corn and black bean salsa. For dessert we have chocolate tacos filled with hazelnut-mocha mousse. They're to die for, believe me. Zoe's been working like a wild woman.” Taylor held up the last bowl. “And for my special friend, I have steak tartare and a nice big bone.”

  “That dog is definitely going to be useless,” Sam muttered.

  “If he is, you can loan him to me.” Taylor patted Donegal's head. “I think I'm going to put him in a book. In fact, I might put all of you in a book,” she said thoughtfully.

  Sam stiffened. “This is sensitive information, Taylor. I can't let you do that.”

  “Oh, don't worry. I've changed most of the details—not that you've told me anything significant. No, my story revolves around stolen biotechnology. And of course, I'll have an incredibly handsome and rugged male lead. I'm thinking he's probably a SEAL.”

  Sam looked somewhat mollified, but Annie glowered. “Taylor, if you write so much as a word about this—”

  “So sue me.” Her sister waved a hand, reaching for the silverware. “Now, since I'm in the mood for dessert first, who wants a chocolate taco?”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Washington, D.C.

  Sam pulled stiffly at the cuffs of his white dress uniform as a black limousine cruised toward him.

  A gorilla came around the corner. Two witches with pointed hats crossed the street, escorted by a leering pirate with a peg leg.

  Halloween was Sam's favorite time of year. Every time a horde of tiny goblins and pirates thronged to the door, he turned into a kid again, tossing out candy and pretending to be terrified.

  Right now he wasn't pretending. He really was terrified.

  He tugged stiffly at his collar. Beside him, Izzy crossed his arms, handsome in an Italian silk jacket custom-made to fit his broad shoulders. As they stood in the October sunshine, the rugged men drew stares from a dozen women.

  Neither noticed.

  “Something wrong, McKade? You look like you just saw your own ghost.”

  “Maybe I did,” Sam muttered. He frowned, watching the limousine slow. “Why couldn't they send a normal car?”

  “Face it, pal. You're a hero. In D.C., heroes get limousines, not Ford Escorts.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says just about every official in the District of Columbia. Word is, they're fighting over who gets to have their picture taken with you.”

  Sam shrugged. Photo opportunities and handshakes left him cold. “What about Annie?”

  “She's our first stop. We'll swing by the Four Seasons and pick her up. You can give her the news about Marsh. He should be behind bars for at least five years.”

  “Not long enough,” Sam growled. “Where's Admiral Howe?”

  “We pick him up right after Annie.”

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “How's he doing?”

  “About as bad as you predicted, not that he shows much. The man's spent his whole adult life in the service of his country. How can he forgive himself for a son who so completely sold out, who made a mockery of everything he holds dear?” Izzy shook his head. “Their network was amazing. And at the same time, the admiral is grieving the loss of a son.”

  Sam's face hardened. “Peter Howe had money, education, and a career that was on the fast track, but he spit on all of that, along with his country. Now his father is left to sort through the wreckage. That's got to be painful as hell for a man like Admiral Howe. And I've got to carry the memory of firing the shot that killed his son.”

  “There was no choice. Never doubt it.”

  “I don't.” But Sam knew the memory would continue to haunt him. He put away the anger and focused on the future. Having memories could hurt as well as heal, he'd discovered.

  Izzy studied Sam. “You're sweating, McKade. You didn't look this upset when you went to have dinner at the White House.”

  “That was business. This is personal.”

  The limousine stopped. The door opened, held by an expressionless chauffeur.

  “Let's get this show on the road,” Izzy muttered, sliding across the spacious leather seat and making himself at home.

  Sam shook his head. “What am I doing in a limousine?”

  “Getting honored, pal.” Izzy grinned. “Better get used to it.”

  SAM DIDN'T THINK SHE COULD BE MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN HE remembered.

  He was wrong.

  Sunlight dusted Annie's hair with gold as she stood in the lobby of the Four Seasons. She was wearing some kind of soft blue sweater and matching skirt with a single strand of pearls that faded before the radiance in her eyes.

  Get your heart out of your throat, he thought grimly. You're not supposed to let her see you sweat, remember? Her eyes widened as he approached, and he was glad that her look was appreciative.

  “You look wonderful,” he said gruffly. “That blue reminds me of your cove at Summerwind.”

  Annie touched his collar. “You look pretty amazing yourself. At least four women turned to stare when you walked in.”

  “They must have been looking at Izzy,” Sam muttered. “I'm guessing that's Armani.”

  Annie straightened her pearls. “I, on the other hand, had no idea what to wear. You still won't tell me what's planned?”

  “Not yet. I want it to be a surprise.” As Sam studied the gently clinging knit, his eyes narrowed. “Wearing any red lace under there?”

  “I guess you'll have to wait and see, won't you?”

  Sam took her hand and raised it slowly to his lips. “Finding out is going to be half the pleasure.”

  “Very impressive, Commander.” Annie's head tilted. “Something tells me you're going to have a long line of swooning women wherever you go.”

  “I'm only concerned with one woman, even though she's as stubborn as they come.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “Annie, we've got to talk. I want to marry you. I've given you time. Lord knows, we both needed time after what happened up in the mountains, but—”

  Izzy appeared behind them, clearing his throat. “Time to go, folks.”

  Annie gave him a quick kiss. “You're looking as handsome as ever.”

  “We aim to please, ma'am.” There was a twinkle in Izzy's eyes. “Your limousine awaits.”

  “So where are we going? Sam won't say a word.”

  “In that case, it will have to stay secret a little longer. But I can tell you this. It's someplace that you'll never forget.”

  “Important? As in—” Annie's voice wavered. “Don't tell me we're going to the White House?”

  “Like I said, it will just have to stay a secret.” Izzy glanced at his watch. “Better make tracks. The traffic's murder out there.”

  As Sam guided Annie out to the limousine, people in the lobby turned to stare, their eyes widening in pleased surprise.

  Everyone knew Sam's face, Annie realized. In his uniform covered with medals, he was handsome and utterly confident.

  She hadn't realized she could love him more, but she did, her heart jittering every time he looked at her.

  But marriage.

  That meant finding a house and picking out silverware. It meant babies.

  Right now they couldn't even figure out which coast they should live on, and Annie simply couldn't walk away from the resort that was her parents' legacy.

  Not that Sam had ever suggested it. But the differences between them were huge.

  “I know there will be some problems,” Sam said quietly. “But we can handle problems.”

  Annie looked down, assaulted by a familiar blend of desire, excitement, and raw fear. How could this possibly work? Their lives were too different. Sometimes it felt as if they lived on two different planets.

  And because she loved Sam
as much as she did, Annie refused to give him anything but the best.

  “We'll talk,” she said. “I promise we will. Soon, Sam.”

  “Tonight.”

  As he helped her into the limousine, a mummy strolled past, walking stiff legged with three witches. “Taylor's with me on this,” Sam said grimly. “So is Buzz.”

  “You spoke to Buzz?”

  “Damned right I did. He said you should marry me, even though I'm not a Marine. I'm marshaling all my support, I warn you.” Ignoring Izzy, Sam pulled a long box from his pocket. “Starting with this.”

  Annie opened the box, gasping when she saw a bracelet covered with silver charms. She smiled as she touched a tiny Jaguar, an Eiffel tower, a set of beach chairs, and a tiny pair of spa slippers, all the things that were part of her dreams. Then she saw the last charm. “I recognize this one.”

  “You should. It's in all the guide books.” Sam slid the bracelet gently into place on her wrist. “And you've got your private tour of the White House whenever you want. You've also got this.” He pressed an envelope into her hands.

  “Sam, I can't—”

  “Two tickets to Paris. The hitch is that I get to go with you.”

  “You're pushing. You promised that—”

  “To hell with what I promised. We've had enough time to think about this, Annie. Speaking for myself, I'm crazy in love and I'd marry you tomorrow. If we were going to back out, we'd have done it by now.”

  He pulled her against him and kissed her hard. When Annie was cross-eyed and breathless he pulled away. “Stop worrying about problems that may never happen. There are better ways to spend your time.”

  She took a jerky breath, trying to clear her head. “I'm trying to protect both of us, don't you see?”

  “I see perfectly. You're good at taking care of other people, but it's time you took care of yourself.”

  “We can discuss it tonight.” Maybe then her heart wouldn't be climbing into her throat. “How's your leg?”

  “I've got full range of motion back. They're going to put me through a few more weeks of testing at Bethesda to check the partial knee replacement, and they want to do something to my shoulder. Thermal capsular shrinkage, they called it.”