by Karen Kirst
A car door slammed outside, followed by loud voices. They looked at each other.
“That sounds like Brady.”
Resuming their positions at the window, Audrey felt as if she might crumple to the floor and not get up for years. Brady was indeed down there. His flight suit gave him authority and presence as he spoke rapidly to the officer and agent.
“He’s good,” she murmured. “No outward sign of nerves.”
“Takes nerves of steel to do what he does miles above the earth.”
“He’s also got incredible timing.”
A thorough explanation later, he’d satisfied the others’ concern and waved them on their way. Julian and Audrey met him at the top of the stairs.
Folding his aviator sunglasses and sliding them into his breast pocket, he planted his hands on his hips and regarded them both with relief.
“You’re fortunate I skipped breakfast and decided to take an early lunch.”
Julian gave him a hearty hug. “Mahalo, brother.”
“No need to thank me.” Striding to the kitchen, he peered through the blinds. “I’ve got fresh sub sandwiches in the car. Let’s give it another five or ten minutes, and I’ll go get them.”
“What did you say to them?” Julian asked.
“I produced my military ID and my door key. Explained that I sometimes stop here for lunch instead of driving home.” Sunlight glinted on his shorn blond locks. “Makes sense. I only have an hour break.”
“What about the sleeping bags? They didn’t mention them?” Julian asked.
Letting the blinds flick into place, he shrugged. “I told them I let a friend crash here for a few days while he searched for more permanent housing. I didn’t know Uncle Randall had hired a real estate agent. Next time it happens, you can hide out in the attic.”
Julian shook his head. “That was too close. I have to go to PMO.”
“The military police?” Brady’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You sure that’s wise?”
“We can’t run forever.”
His gaze locked with hers. Audrey’s heart sank. She’d gotten to know him, could read his moods and guess the gist of his thoughts. Julian had decided to sacrifice his freedom in a bid to spare her. He wouldn’t be dissuaded by arguments or tears or threats. She feared that, if she refused to cooperate, he’d reach an agreement with Brady behind her back and disappear in the middle of the night. In his view, that would be the noble choice.
“Before you turn yourself in, let’s go to my dad.”
His forehead creased. “We agreed he’s better off left out of it.”
“He knows you, Julian. He trusts you. How do you think your reception will be if you drive through the main base gate alone?”
Brady snorted. “Choice words. Weapons drawn. Tan on the ground eating concrete.”
She suppressed a shudder. “Exactly. Now consider this—Gunnery Sergeant Trent Harris making a few phone calls and arranging for PMO to come to us.”
“No drama. Private, personal escort.” Brady nodded. “I like it. What do you say, Tan?”
Thrusting both hands through his hair, he paced the length of the room. “I’d rather not involve you at all, Audrey. If they see you, they’ll report it.”
“I can remain out of sight.” Or she could go with him, she thought.
The air in the room thinned as Julian considered her suggestion. Brady leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed at the ankle, alternatively watching her and then his friend.
“Let’s do it.”
Amid the dread of the unknown, Audrey experienced a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they’d survive this ordeal and be stronger for it.
* * *
Brady arranged the meeting. He chose a lesser-used section of a public park located smack in the heart of Jacksonville. The sun hovered above the treetops in the bleary sky. It was a brisk winter evening, which meant only the hardiest of outdoor enthusiasts would brave the cold.
“How did he sound?” Audrey asked again, one big bundle of nerves.
“Like a worried father,” Brady patiently replied. “He’s anxious to see you.”
Julian’s gaze did a thorough inspection of the parking lot, restrooms and picnic tables. Scrubby pines and spindle-limbed trees formed a natural border on their right, extending far into the distance. Another thick copse on their left hampered their view of the rest of the park. Layers of dead leaves and pine needles formed a carpet on either side of a wide stream. Beyond the tables, playground equipment on a bed of mulch stood silent, and farther still was a covered pavilion. The stark serenity of the scene was in direct opposition to the turmoil inside her.
She looked at Julian again. He hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d left the storefront. To the casual observer, he appeared tranquil and in control. She’d spent enough time with him to see past the mask. His neck was stiff, his jaw like granite and his eyes narrowed, the skin around them tight.
Why wouldn’t he be on edge? He was about to see his superior and answer for his absence, then be taken into custody.
Her stomach rolled. This was a better alternative to Gerald’s form of punishment, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
She wasn’t going to emerge unscathed, either. The authorities, civilian or otherwise, would take her in for as long as it took to ascertain her innocence.
Seated beside her in the backseat, Julian eventually noticed her intense scrutiny. His eyebrows lifted slightly. His mouth softened, and his beautiful, tawny eyes warmed to liquid gold. He was looking at her as if she was the only person in the world that mattered.
Audrey’s breath caught. He was the most important person in her world. His opinions, his hang-ups, his kindness, his sacrificial mind-set—she wanted it all. Julian. The whole man—the tough warrior with the guarded, tender heart.
She loved him, and she would’ve told him if Brady hadn’t been in the car and they weren’t about to run the gauntlet.
She didn’t know if he loved her back. She hoped. Prayed. Because if he didn’t, if he walked out of her life, she wouldn’t recover. He’d walk away with her heart.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and, for a charged moment, she thought he might kiss her.
“Gunnery Sergeant Harris is approaching the tables.” Brady’s announcement shattered the moment.
Audrey twisted toward the door. Through the glass, she recognized her dad’s confident stride. Her eyes smarted. He was wearing the blue-and-white ball cap she’d bought him years ago, when they’d left California and relocated in North Carolina.
Julian’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
She climbed out of the backseat, with Julian close behind. Brady slowly drove away. He’d offered to stick around in case trouble arose, but they’d agreed the risk wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t be caught helping them.
They started across the grass crisscrossed with sidewalks. A chill breeze swept through the park, tugging wisps of hair from her braid and sneaking beneath her pink sweatshirt. The treetops rustled. Trent hadn’t seen them yet. He sat with his back to the parking area, his elbows propped on the wooden table and his head bowed.
She found herself instinctively reaching for Julian, needing the reassurance of his touch. Their fingers threaded together, their palms aligned and she squeezed three times. She intercepted his side glance and smiled.
He didn’t know the meaning behind the secret signal. Someday she’d explain. Somewhere along the way, between the murder attempts and evading the authorities, she’d rediscovered her courage. She’d stopped being afraid of love.
When they got within a few yards of the table, she spoke. “Hi, Daddy.”
Trent’s head popped up. Beneath the cap’s brim, his eyes were a tornado of mixed feelings. He stood up and
held out his arms.
She was engulfed in his familiar embrace.
“My baby girl.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
His hold loosened. Peering down at her, he said gruffly, “What’s going on, Audrey? The captain was frustratingly closemouthed.” His gaze widened. “And what have you done to your hair?”
“Temporary disguise,” she said, grimacing. “Brady’s been a lifeline. I don’t blame him for not offering an explanation.” Pulling away, she took hold of Julian’s hand. “We’ve been through an ordeal. Let me warn you—it will sound like something out of a thriller.”
Trent’s brows snapped together and his eyes spit nails. “I thought we had an understanding, Sergeant. You were supposed to stay away from my daughter. Instead, you embroil her in a public scandal and force her into hiding.”
Julian heaved in a breath. She didn’t give him a chance to speak. “What do you mean you had an understanding? Dad, please tell me you didn’t warn him away like some rigid-minded Victorian aristocrat.”
“He’s not for you, Audrey.”
“I’m not a teenager anymore, and I don’t need you orchestrating my life.”
“He meant well,” Julian said quietly.
“Don’t defend him,” she retorted. “We can hash this out later. Dad, you have to understand that I’m the one who pulled Julian into the demented world of mob bosses and black-market medicine.”
Trent’s disbelief plain, he stared hard at them. “The news claims you assaulted a police officer. Is that true?”
“Yes and no.”
His nostrils flared. “Start from the beginning, will you?”
“You should sit,” she urged.
She noticed his tight-lipped frown when she chose to sit beside Julian. It was important they form a united front. Besides, their time together was growing short. After her dad made his calls, it wouldn’t take long for PMO to show up.
As the story poured out, he became less angry and more apprehensive.
Taking off his cap, he rubbed his hand down his face. “This is some predicament you’ve gotten yourselves into.”
Reaching across the table, she rested her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry.”
He patted it. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. I’m proud of you. You stood up for what was right, even though it was difficult.”
In her peripheral vision, she noticed a truck entering the lot and parking near the restrooms. A jogger and his yellow Lab crossed the street and, using the sidewalk, headed toward the other side of the park and the basketball courts.
Giving her dad a challenging stare, she said, “You should apologize to Julian.”
Julian shifted on the seat. “That’s not necessary.”
She turned her head. “You saved my life so many times I’ve lost count.”
“You saved me, too.”
Audrey fell into his luminous gaze. The moments they’d shared together—both good and bad—scrolled through her mind. The silence stretched between them until Trent cleared his throat.
“We need to clear your names,” he said.
“I pray it’s not a lengthy process.”
Julian stiffened. “Gunny, we may have a problem.”
Trent turned on the bench seat. “Restrooms?”
“Guy in jeans and button-down.” Julian rose to his feet.
Audrey thought the man in question resembled Gerald, but he preferred pricey suits and loafers. Besides, he wasn’t the kind to carry out orders. He gave them.
“Audrey, get under the table.”
Before she could move, wood splintered near her thigh.
“Shooter in the trees!” her dad barked.
Another bullet whizzed through the air, catching Julian off-guard. He went to his knees. Blood soaked through his shirt. Screaming, Audrey scrambled off the bench seat.
“I’m fine. Just grazed,” he panted, reaching for her. “Take cover.”
He pulled her to the ground beside him. Bullets dug into the earth, spraying bits of dirt and grass in all directions.
Trent returned fire. “I count two. You see any more?”
“Negative.” He twisted around. “I don’t like this. We’re wide open here.”
“Retreat to the playground.” Trent handed Julian a weapon—he’d come prepared—and jerked his head to indicate the children’s equipment. “I’ll provide cover, then join you.”
Audrey didn’t like that plan, but she wasn’t going to argue with two seasoned marines. Plus, she needed to get a closer look at Julian’s wound. If retreating gave her extra minutes to do that, she’d take them.
Julian seized her hand. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
They sprinted across the field. Behind them, Trent got off several more rounds.
Please, God in Heaven, protect my dad.
Pinging against the painted swing set rang in her ears. Bullets meant for them.
Protect us, too, Lord. Lead us to safety.
Julian urged her to speed up. They raced past bouncy animals mounted on metal springs. One of the plastic heads exploded just as she came even with it. A scream ripped from her lips. She flinched and ducked.
“Almost there,” Julian yelled, his grip tightening.
He tugged her around yellow stairs that led to a swinging rope bridge. They dove behind a fat, twisting tube slide.
The onslaught continued. How many were out there?
“This way.” Julian beckoned her to follow him underneath the structure.
“I imagined I saw Gerald. I guess he really is here.”
“If so, he’s gotten desperate enough to risk his own hide.”
Audrey quickly inspected his arm. “You’ll need stitches and antibiotics.”
“But it missed bone and major arteries,” he stated.
“You’re fortunate.”
Fired shots, followed by sudden movement at the other opening, startled them. Julian jerked his weapon into position.
“It’s me.” Trent scanned them from head to toe. “How’s the arm?”
Julian removed his finger from the trigger. “Nothing that won’t keep.”
He looked grim. “I spotted a third man, but there could be more. We can’t let them surround us.”
Audrey was aware of the silent communication passing between the two. “What now?”
“There’s a foot bridge not far from the open-air pavilion behind us,” Trent said. “It leads to a rental space and the other section of the park.”
“I’m aware of it.” Audrey had been inside once for a high-school dance, years ago.
“The two of you head that way.”
“And you?” she demanded.
“I’ll be the distraction. Draw them to the pavilion.”
“Dad, no.”
Hunched over because of the cramped space, he cupped her cheek. “This is the only way.”
She shook her head. “Julian, please. Think of another plan.”
His eyes were dark with apology. “Divide and conquer. It’s the best option we’ve got.”
The space beneath the platform grew dimmer as the sun dipped lower. Time wasn’t on their side. By now, the police had likely been notified of the disturbance and were on their way.
She took hold of Trent’s hand and kissed it. “I love you, Dad.”
“Stop worrying about me, young lady,” he said gruffly. “Tan?”
“I’ll guard her with my life.”
He nodded a silent thank-you and, gun at his side, darted into the open.
Her heart in her throat, Audrey followed Julian out the opposite way. They made for the trees. Gunfire didn’t immediately affect their progress, but she didn’t dare glance back. Running along the copse edge, they reached the wide, wooden footbridge spanning
the stream.
The pop-pop-pop riding on the breeze halted her in her tracks.
She spun around. Her dad was almost to the pavilion.
She watched him stumble and fall to the ground.
He didn’t get up.
She willed him to get up.
He was lying there, unmoving. Vulnerable.
A man in a suit advanced at a rapid clip. If the first hit hadn’t ended his life, the next one would. Gerald’s goon would make sure of it.
She started forward. Julian’s rock-solid grip locked onto her arms.
“Let go! We have to help him!”
“We’ve got trouble, Audrey.”
He jerked his chin at the man striding in their direction. Gerald.
She looked back at her father. The gun-for-hire stood over his prone form and aimed for his head.
TWENTY-ONE
It was the helo catastrophe all over again.
Helplessness choked him. He couldn’t reach Gunny in time. He was too far away to get off a clean shot, and Gerald was bearing down on them.
Julian had promised his superior he’d guard Audrey. She had to be his priority.
“We can’t stay,” he told her, urging her to move. Nothing good would come from her watching her father’s demise. He knew from experience how those last moments stuck with a person, available for infinite replay.
But she refused to budge. Grief and horror were stamped onto her paper-white features.
He couldn’t help another glimpse at the pavilion. He braced himself for the final shot.
It never came.
Gunny’s motionless body erupted into action. He kicked the gun from the goon’s hands.
A gasp of stunned disbelief vibrated through Audrey.
Surprise worked to Gunny’s advantage. He planted another foot into the goon’s sternum, knocking him backward. Gunny barreled into him.
They would’ve stood there, transfixed, if not for the bullet that dug into the railing near Audrey’s hand.
This time, Julian didn’t give her an opportunity to resist. He wrapped his arms around her waist and physically turned her toward their destination—a square building with far too many ceiling-to-floor windows and isolated on a manmade island in the midst of a lake.