Seven Days to Forever

by Ingrid Weaver

  Chair legs gritted across the cement floor. Flynn looked past Rafe and saw Jack Norton pulling up a seat beside them. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

  Jack winked. "Same thing as you and Rafe. I wanted to get a look at our new recruit."

  Flynn didn't find Jack's interest in Abbie amusing. Normally he enjoyed talking about women. He liked flirting with them and he had no problem when other men did the same. But not with Abbie. He wanted to protect her, shelter her, keep her as safe and innocent as she was before. And he didn't want anyone else to discover the passion she kept behind those private smiles. "Dammit, I just talked her into joining us. You two scarecrows are liable to frighten her away."

  Jack chuckled. "Do I need to point out that you were the one she was running from?"

  "The woman has taste," Rafe said. "I think Glenna would like her."

  "With any luck Abbie won't be staying around long enough to meet her," Flynn said. "The LLA could set up the drop tomorrow."

  Rafe's expression sobered immediately. "Any word on that yet?"

  "Not yet." Flynn tipped his chin toward Esposito. "The chief said the Vilyas phone line has been silent all night."

  "This doesn't feel right," Jack said. Like Rafe, he'd become all business the moment the subject had turned to the mission. "What's the LLA waiting for? The longer they delay, the better the chance we'll learn where they are."

  "Makes you wonder whether the money is all they're after," Rafe said.

  "Esposito thinks they're doing this to harass the Ladavian government." Flynn paused. "What's the latest on those three men we're sitting on?"

  "That LLA cell hasn't moved from their rooming house since they were followed from Miss Locke's apartment," Jack replied. "They would know their security could be compromised, so it's unlikely they'll be used again."

  "We could bring them in for interrogation if things go sour," Rafe said. "They'd be a link to the organization."

  "Yeah, but the LLA cells operate on a need-to-know basis. Those men might have no idea where the kid is stashed." Jack returned his gaze to Abbie. "I hope she's got the guts to go through with it."

  Flynn's chest tightened when he noticed that Abbie's knuckles were white again. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her system since she'd awakened would be wearing off by now. She was going to crash soon. He hoped Redinger was perceptive enough to realize that.

  Apparently, he was, since the briefing concluded a few minutes later. Redinger and Esposito headed for the equipment storage area. Flynn was out of his chair and striding to Abbie's side before she had the chance to stand. He cupped her elbow to help her to her feet. "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I think so."

  "Abbie's going to be bunking in the office with me, Sergeant," Sarah said, waving toward the partitioned-off area at the back of the tent. "So if something comes up, you'll know where to find us."

  Flynn let go of Abbie's elbow and picked up her suitcase. "I'll give you a hand getting set up."

  "I've got it covered, Flynn," Sarah said, taking the suitcase from his grasp. "Why don't you get some rest? Your watch starts in two hours."

  "Yeah, O'Toole," Jack drawled. "You know how you need your beauty sleep."

  Flynn saw that Jack and Rafe had approached while he'd been talking. He moved closer to Abbie, unconsciously angling himself protectively between her and his friends.

  Jack was undeterred. He stepped to the side and held out his hand. "Hello, Miss Locke. I've been wanting to compliment you on your handiwork."

  Abbie looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand."

  Jack cocked his thumb toward the spot where he'd bandaged Flynn's arm. "I'm Jack Norton, the team's medic. You're a dead shot with a screwdriver."

  Two spots of color appeared in her cheeks as she shook his hand. "Oh, no."

  Jack grinned. "I've always admired a woman who's good with tools."

  "Take a pill, Jack," Flynn muttered.

  Rafe nudged Jack aside, then stepped forward as Jack regained his balance—even a gentle nudge from Rafe could flatten a man who was unprepared for it. "I'm glad you agreed to work with us, Miss Locke," he said. "I'm Master Sergeant Rafe Marek."

  Abbie hesitated a beat before she took his hand and returned his greeting. "Would Rafe be short for Rafal?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "I thought so. Your family must be Polish."

  "That's right," Rafe replied. "My grandfather was born in Krakow."

  She smiled. "One of my brothers-in-law is from the Krakow region. His coloring is identical to yours."

  Flynn regarded Abbie more closely, but her smile appeared to be genuine. The men of Eagle Squadron were accustomed to Rafe's disfiguring scars, but not many strangers could look him full in the face without flinching. The flesh on his right cheek was a network of white ridges and gullies from his eye socket to his jaw. Although his pale-blond hair and piercing blue eyes were remarkable, that wasn't what most people noticed first.

  Yet Abbie seemed unimpressed by appearances. Flynn was fully aware that most women considered his own features attractive. It wasn't vanity—he couldn't take credit for something that was merely an accident of genetics—but most of the time Abbie didn't seem to want to look at him. Why was that? Was that part of her appeal to him, because she was a challenge?

  Still, she wasn't indifferent to him. She hadn't minded kissing him or pulling him into bed with her….

  But she was part of the team now. If he kissed her again, he'd better be damned certain he knew what he was doing, because next time there would be nowhere to run.

  For either of them.

  Chapter 6

  Abbie stored her toothbrush in her suitcase and sat on the edge of her cot. It was so low to the floor, her knees came up to her chest. She grasped the edges and swung her legs up carefully, afraid the frame might tip over, but it was sturdier than it looked.

  Sarah toed off her shoes and dropped down cross-legged in the center of the other cot. "Think of this as a camping trip," she said.

  Abbie glanced at the canvas wall beside her. A few snores and the low murmur of masculine voices came from the other side of the partition. She kept her own voice just above a whisper. "I haven't gone camping since I was ten. I got poison ivy."

  "You're perfectly safe here, Abbie," Sarah said. "You're surrounded by a team of the best-trained commandos in the United States Army."

  "I'm well aware of that." She pulled up her feet and wrapped her arms around her legs. "They all seem to be—" she searched for a word "—in excellent condition."

  Sarah smiled. "Their size can be a bit intimidating at first."

  When Abbie had been brought here before, she'd been restricted to this room—she hadn't seen much of the rest of the tent or met the other soldiers. She understood it was because of their concern over security. She was only now beginning to grasp the scope of what she had stumbled into. "It's not just their size," she murmured. "It's the way they move. They're so…"

  "Male?" Sarah suggested.

  Oh, yes. They were definitely male. The introductions tonight had begun gradually, when that lanky medic named Norton and the big blond man called Rafe had approached to say hello after the major had left, but within minutes practically every man on the team had drifted over to introduce himself and say a few words to her. Flynn's presence by her side had made her pulse trip anyway, but being surrounded by so much rampant masculinity was…stimulating, to say the least. Not something that would happen during the course of a typical day at Cherry Hill Elementary School. "It's difficult to ignore."

  "Believe it or not, you get accustomed to all that testosterone after a while."

  Abbie smiled crookedly. "Is that what it is? I thought it was the smell of canvas."

  "You'll get used to that, too." Sarah tugged her sweater over her head and stripped off her pants, leaving her in an olive-colored undershirt and shorts. She grabbed a hairbrush from the duffel bag she'd stored at the foot of her cot and leaned
over her ankles, flipping her hair forward so she could brush it from the roots. "Don't let the men's appearance fool you," she continued, her voice muffled by her hair. "They're all extremely bright. Their brains are just as impressive as their brawn."

  Abbie watched Sarah's easy movements and marveled at how relaxed she seemed. Sarah appeared to have a comfortable camaraderie with the men. She treated them with a combination of the authority of a ranking officer and the protectiveness of a sister. Her manner toward Abbie had warmed considerably after their brief chat with Rafe—Abbie suspected Sarah's manner would have cooled just as quickly if Abbie had shown any sign of revulsion to his scars.

  "Are you the only woman in Eagle Squadron?" Abbie asked.

  "That's a tricky question. Officially, the only women in Delta Force serve in the support squadrons, not the assault squadrons, because of the rules restricting us from combat roles. I'm an intelligence specialist, part of what's affectionately known as the Funny Platoon. When Major Redinger was putting together a team from Eagle Squadron for this mission, he needed someone who could speak Ladavian, so I'm on temporary duty." She chuckled. "Actually, I've been 'temporarily' assigned to the Major's teams on and off for over three years now."

  "You must be very courageous to have chosen a career in the military."

  "I grew up in the military, so it was a natural choice. This is my family." Sarah straightened up, pushing her hair back from her face so she could look at Abbie. "I understand this whole experience must be tough for you, Abbie. We really do appreciate your cooperation. It's a lot to ask."

  "I couldn't refuse."

  Sarah smiled. "Sergeant O'Toole does have a way with words. He could charm the hairs off a camel if he could speak Arabic."

  "Flynn's charm has nothing to do with why I'm here. It's the child. Matteo Vilyas. How could I refuse to help?"

  "Yes, it's a sensitive situation. Ladavia is a small nation, but its location makes it crucial to our government. It also has untapped oil reserves that several countries besides us are vying to develop."

  Abbie frowned. "I would have agreed to help if he was only an ordinary boy from Baltimore. Am I the only one who realizes he's still just a kid?"

  Sarah stored her hairbrush. She was silent as she twisted around to draw back her blanket. "No, you're not the only one, Abbie. It's easier for us to function if we maintain our objectivity, especially in a situation like this. We have to focus on the mission."

  "I'll try."

  "You're doing fine so far."

  "I don't seem to be doing anything."

  "That's all you need to do for now. Just like the rest of us, we wait for the LLA to make the next move."

  "When do you think that will happen?"

  "It should be soon. With any luck we'll have you back home within a day or two. You'll be able to pick up where you left off."

  "I hope so."

  Sarah punched her small pillow and stretched out with a sigh. "You must be exhausted, Abbie. You should try to get some sleep. It's going to be daylight soon."

  "I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

  "Sure, you will. I can see your adrenaline high has already worn off. Your hands stopped shaking ten minutes ago."

  Abbie held up her fingers and saw that Sarah was right. She twisted her wrist to check her watch. She stared. That couldn't be the correct time, could it? Where had the night gone? It seemed like only minutes ago that she'd awakened with Flynn in her arms.

  Her gaze went to the canvas wall. Where was he now? Was he sleeping? Was he thinking about her?

  Idiot, she told herself. She was here because of the mission. As he'd said once before, it was nothing personal. She tugged out the scrunchie she'd used for her ponytail and fluffed out her hair. She grasped the lower edge of her sweater and had started to pull it off when Sarah's voice stopped her.

  "By the way, you'd better yank the chain on that light bulb before you undress, Abbie. The way your cot's positioned, it would throw your shadow on the wall next to the men." She yawned. "No point yanking their chains, too."

  Abbie dropped the hem of her sweater and stood up to reach for the chain that dangled from the lightbulb. The cubicle went dim and she stumbled against the edge of her cot. Somehow she managed to get back on without tipping onto the floor.

  * * *

  The coffee was strong enough to dissolve a spoon, but this was all there was, so Abbie held her breath and took another swallow. She didn't expect special treatment, and she wasn't about to complain. Considering the lack of amenities, she was grateful to have found real coffee in a real mug rather than freeze-dried rations or cans of beans or whatever it was that soldiers in the field usually ate.

  Propping her elbows on the mess table, she looked around the tent. Everyone seemed to have a job to do except her. Sarah was working at a computer. The pit-bull-like Chief Warrant Officer Esposito was fiddling with the wires that led from what looked like a small radio. Sounds of metal scraping on metal came from the far side of the tent, where she spotted the pale gleam of Rafe Marek's hair as he bent over some kind of machinery. Other men came and went, saying a few words to her or nodding courteously as they passed by, but no one stopped.

  Normally, at this hour on a Saturday morning, Abbie would be reading the paper while she took her time over a second cup of coffee. She'd planned to go to the library today, since her books were due. She'd also planned to work on the crib blanket she was knitting for Ellie's baby shower. This would be her sister's third child. Ellie was only twenty-seven, but she and her husband, Tomasz, hadn't wanted to wait to start their family. Their first had been born nine months after their wedding night.

  Abbie's older sister, Martha, had needed Caesareans with both of her sons and had no intention of having any more. She spent most of her weekends shuttling her boys from piano lessons to soccer practice or whatever new activity had caught their attention. She often joked it was the only way she could escape from the chaos of her husband's never-ending renovating projects, but anyone could see that she and Barry were as deeply in love now as they had been ten years ago.

  Abbie and her sisters had learned by example what a good marriage was like. Their parents had weathered more than thirty-five years of life as a team. They were both strong, competent individuals on their own, yet together they became more. It wasn't surprising that Abbie had hoped to find the same for herself someday.

  Sarah had said that the military was her family. Was it the same for the other soldiers of Eagle Squadron? Only three of the men Abbie had met so far had been wearing wedding rings: Chief Warrant Officer Esposito, the sergeant named Lang and Major Redinger. Were the rest of the men unmarried because of the demands of being a Delta Force commando?

  Or was it because the type of man who was drawn to becoming a Delta Force commando preferred to remain unmarried? With the excitement and danger that filled their lives, settling down to a home in the suburbs would seem tame. Someone like Flynn would have too much testosterone to be a good candidate for domestication.

  On the other hand, he'd be an excellent candidate for stud service. Just think of the beautiful babies he would make—

  Abbie choked on her coffee. She set the mug down on the table and pushed to her feet.

  "Are you okay?"

  She started. For a large man, Flynn could move in complete silence when he wanted to. She hadn't heard him approach, even though she'd been watching for him.

  Yes, there was no point denying it, she'd been watching for him. He'd been the first person she'd looked for when she'd emerged from the cubicle at the back of the tent, and why shouldn't she? He was the one who had brought her here, he was her link to her normal life.

  He was also far more effective than even this dissolve-a-spoon coffee when it came to kick-starting her pulse.

  Damn. She knew better than this, didn't she?

  "Abbie?" He put his palm between her shoulder blades and rubbed gently. "Do you want some water?"

  "No, I'm fine, thanks
." She turned to face him. She cleared her throat and kept her gaze on his shirt. He was wearing pale-blue chambray today. A few fine, dark hairs showed at the base of his throat where he'd left the top button open. "Has there been any news?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing from the LLA. We did get a call from Ambassador Vilyas."

  "The poor man. He must be beside himself with worry by now."

  "Yeah, he's strung out. He said he wants to meet you."

  "Of course. When?"

  "Now."

  That was something else that was different between her normal life and Flynn's world, Abbie thought. There was no room for hesitation here. When these Delta Force soldiers decided to do something, they simply did it. It spoke of the confidence they had in themselves, that straight-ahead self-assurance that seemed to color every action.

  Like the way Flynn kissed.

  Abbie's gaze rose to his chin. He must have just finished shaving. There was no beard stubble to darken the lines beside his mouth. She caught a whiff of lime aftershave and the earthy freshness that was pure Flynn.

  "In case anyone asks why you're at the embassy, keep the lies simple," he said. "Say your class is doing a project on Ladavia."

  Lies. Right. That's what Flynn was good at. "Wouldn't the embassy staff know about the kidnapping?"

  "Someone had to have tipped the LLA to the kid's movements before the snatch," Flynn said. "Vilyas doesn't want to trust anyone except the immediate members of his family. He's afraid there could be terrorist sympathizers at the embassy."

  "How awful."

  "If he could trust his people, Delta Force wouldn't have become involved in this in the first place," he said. "We'll be taking my bike this time, so you'll need a jacket. Did you pack one?"

  "Yes, I did, but why would we take your motorcycle again?" she asked. She wasn't accustomed to traveling by motorcycle. The men of her acquaintance used more sensible, conservative modes of transportation, something that would hold a child safety seat. Like the boxy Volvo station wagon Peter Hedgeworth drove when he picked up Bradley from school. "Why can't we use that van you were driving yesterday?"