A muffled shout was followed by a loud crash that rattled the doors. Everyone turned toward the noise, which had come from somewhere down the hall.
“What was that?” Drew jerked up from uncoupling more cables from the computers. “Go find out what’s going on.” He shouted at the guards.
One of the guards left the room. The other took a position next to Mrs. Weston.
Allison heard a gunshot, immediately followed by two more. Hair on her neck stood and she held Mitchell close to her.
Mrs. Weston glared at Allison. “What did you do, bitch?” She wheeled around and shouted at her son. “I told you to watch her.”
Drew’s face turned dark red. “I did watch her.” He spun away from his mother’s accusing glare. “We need to get out of here. I can’t leave any evidence behind.” He grabbed the nearest computer and hefted it into his arms.
“Leave that stuff!” Mrs. Weston wheeled over to her son and grabbed a cable out of his hands. “Get me out of here.”
“Stop it, Mother. You’ll make me drop it.”
“What’s more important to you? Me or that damned computer?”
While Drew and his mother argued, Allison and Mitchell started toward the door.
The remaining guard withdrew his handgun and stepped in front of them, blocking their exit.
“Bring me the boy.” Mrs. Weston shouted at the guard.
“No!” Before Allison could stop the guard, he tore Mitchell from her grasp and ushered him to the old woman. Then the guard positioned himself between Mrs. Weston and the door.
From a pocket on the side of her chair, Mrs. Weston produced a pistol and pressed the barrel against Mitchell’s temple.
The weapon looked huge. Everything inside Allison froze. She swallowed. “Please…” She raised her hands. “Don’t hurt him.”
Although the pistol was actually smaller than Allison’s first impression, probably only a .22, if Mrs. Weston pulled the trigger, the bullet would kill her nephew.
Mrs. Weston released the gun’s safety.
Drew’s eyes widened when he saw what his mother was doing. “That’s not necessary, Mother. Let him go.”
Mrs. Weston ignored her son. The wild look in the older woman’s eyes scared Allison.
“Please.” Allison pleaded again. “He’s just a child. Let him go. I’ve done what you’ve asked. No one has to get hurt.”
A commotion sounded in the hallway. A collective hush fell over the room as everyone stared at the door.
If Allison’s message made it through, then the FBI was probably out there. Allison didn’t know their intent. To them, she was a fugitive. Was this a raid or a rescue?
“There are hostages in here!” Allison shouted, taking a chance it was the FBI. In her mind, she had no choice.
“Quiet, bitch,” Mrs. Weston barked.
Beyond the room, immediate silence followed her words. Inside, everyone froze. No one seemed to breathe.
Allison’s heart pounded out the seconds. She glanced at Mitchell. “Bushido.” She mouthed the word.
Mitchell’s eyes widened and he swallowed. Then he nodded.
“Bushido!” Allison yelled as loud as she could.
From the front of the room, the guard shouted a warning.
Mitchell stepped sideways and spun on the balls of his feet, breaking Mrs. Weston’s hold, and forcing her to drop her gun in her lap. He was running toward Allison just as the door crashed opened.
Allison barely registered the flash-bang grenade before it went off. Deafening noise and a blinding light disabled all her senses as she collapsed to the floor.
****
Allison’s ears rang. When she opened her eyes, smoke blanketed the room, making them sting. She coughed and rolled over, pushing to her knees. Her police training kicked in. She covered her mouth and nose to keep from suffocating and crawled to where she’d last seen Mitchell.
She called out his name, but couldn’t hear a reply. “Mitchell!” Unable to see or hear him, she shouted again. She couldn’t even hear her own voice with the grenade blast still reverberating in her ears.
“Please,” she prayed. “Let him be okay.” Tears formed in her eyes, making it more difficult to see. A sob burned in her throat. “Mitchell!”
A shadow passed in front of her. She shrank away, not knowing if it was help or Getty’s guard. Then the smoke began to clear.
Men in black tactical uniforms entered the room, dark shadows in the fading smoke.
A rescue. She hoped.
When she caught a glimpse of Mitchell, she scurried on her hands and knees toward him. As she crawled across the room, she thought she saw Drew Getty and the guard lying facedown with officers leaning over them. She ignored everything but her nephew and grabbed him close, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. His mouth moved, but Allison couldn’t hear any sound. She checked his head, chest, arms, and legs. Finally, satisfied he was unhurt, she wrapped her arms around him again. She kissed his forehead, cheeks, and ears over and over again.
“Yuk,” he protested.
Allison smiled, grateful her hearing had returned. She didn’t care if he complained. He was safe. She kissed his cheek again.
“I’ll take one of those, while you’re giving them out.”
Allison lifted her face. She thought her hearing was playing tricks again, except the sound of the dark-chocolate voice was like music to her ears. She stared directly into two compassionate eyes.
Sloan had come.
She smiled and pointed at her ear. “I can’t hear very well.”
Sloan knelt beside her, his smile tender as he touched her cheek and wiped away her tears. She turned into the gentle brush of his hand and more tears flowed. Her nightmare was over.
He reached under her arm and helped both her and Mitchell to their feet. As he pulled them close, Allison wrapped her other arm around his back and rested her head on his shoulder. Mitchell was safe. They were both safe. In Sloan’s embrace, she would always be safe.
Allison took a shuddering breath and surveyed the room. The S.W.A.T. team handcuffed Drew and Mrs. Weston’s guards. They were jerked to their feet and ushered out of the room. An officer walked behind the wheelchair where Mrs. Weston sat in a daze, her hands folded tightly between her legs as though to keep them from trembling.
Allison wanted to feel sorry for the old woman. Mrs. Weston had lived with so much loss and pain, and now this. Then Allison caught the glare from her eyes, bright with bitter hatred. Mrs. Weston couldn’t let go of the past, for that, Allison pitied her.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weston raised her gun and pointed it at them.
“Gun!” Allison screamed, jerking away from Sloan to grab Mitchell.
The gun fired. Her warning was too late.
She looked down at Mitchell and then her own clothing, but didn’t see any blood. She turned to Sloan just as he collapsed to the floor.
“No!” She dropped to her knees beside him, while from the corner of her eye, she saw an officer disarm Mrs. Weston and cuff her hands.
A red stain spread across Sloan’s throat and soaked into his collar.
She tugged at the Velcro holding his body armor. Impatiently, she discarded it and ripped open his shirt. The wound was at the base of his neck just above the vest’s protection. She pressed her hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. Fresh tears filled her eyes as the blood seeped through her fingers. “Stay with me, Sloan.”
Her nightmare was happening all over again. The image of Reggie’s lifeless face drifted before her eyes. She tried to push it away. Don’t lose concentration. Stay focused.
For Sloan.
“Sloan!” Mitchell knelt beside his friend.
“Don’t leave me, Sloan,” Allison whispered. “Please, don’t you die.”
Sloan’s eyes didn’t open. When she touched his face, he didn’t respond.
More tears coursed down her cheeks. She impatiently brushed them away and took a deep breath to start resuscitation. A hand
touched her shoulder and she looked up to see an officer standing over her.
“He needs help.” She sobbed.
“We’ve had paramedics standing by,” the officer said. “They’re coming. Hold this over the wound.” He handed her a folded cloth.
Allison placed the cloth over Sloan’s wound and pressed hard. Blood seeped through. If the bullet had struck an artery, he might die!
Paramedics appeared with a gurney and gently moved her aside. They worked quickly, and minutes later Sloan was strapped onto the gurney, an IV sending life-saving fluid into his system. The medics rolled him out of the house.
Allison wiped Sloan’s blood from her hands onto her shirt before she took Mitchell’s hand. They followed the paramedics as they wheeled Sloan into a stately courtyard. A detached part of her mind registered the upscale home and immaculate grounds where she and Mitchell had been held captive. But her focus, her life, was centered on the man who’d thawed her heart. Tunnel vision glued her gaze to the unmoving figure loaded into the back of a waiting ambulance. Fresh tears welled up and she closed her eyes.
Mitchell squeezed her hand and she looked down at him.
His wide eyes were fixed on the ambulance. His pale cheeks showed shock, then he smiled and waved.
When she looked back at the ambulance, the doors were closed. With a burst of speed and flashing lights, the vehicle drove off.
“He’s going to be okay, Aunt Allison.” Mitchell’s voice rose in excitement. “Sloan’s going to be okay.”
She smoothed her nephew’s red hair and pulled him close. “We’ll certainly pray he will.” She sent a heartfelt request heavenward. Just like with Reggie, it should have been her taking the fatal bullet, not Sloan.
“You don’t understand, Aunt Allison. I saw him, and he’s going to be okay.”
“Sloan’s wound is very bad—”
“No!” Mitchell insisted. “He gave a thumbs-up. I saw him!”
Allison crouched beside her nephew. “Are you saying you saw him move?”
“Yes.” Mitchell held up his thumb in imitation. “He smiled at me.”
Allison hugged Mitchell to her, squeezing her eyes tight. She hoped her nephew was right. If Sloan had moved, then he wasn’t dead.
Gradually, the realization they were safe set in. Sloan had rescued them. He must have seen her transmission. He was probably the only person on the planet who understood what her code word meant. Not only had he understood it—he’d acted on it—and figured out how to find her and Mitchell.
In that instant, Allison knew she could no longer deny her feelings. She started to tremble. Events of the day swamped her like a tsunami. She felt tossed by waves of emotion. Betrayal. Distrust. Fear for Mitchell’s life. Shame for her treason at breaking into the FBI’s and Northstar’s computer networks. Despair when Sloan was shot.
At the crest of these emotions came love. It filled her and overflowed. It couldn’t be contained. She freely admitted to herself that she loved Sloan.
This feeling was different than the attraction she’d been fighting. Different from the love that made her desperate to save her nephew. She’d never felt a love like this before.
Now she understood her resistance to Sloan’s irritating office visits. She’d built defenses against letting him in. They were her defense against anyone getting close, lest she lose them again.
When the blizzard forced them together, she’d seen an entirely different side of Sloan. He wasn’t the rich playboy she thought. He’d crept under her skin, and Allison liked him there. He’d helped her see a side of herself she hadn’t known existed.
Yet, her newly discovered feelings didn’t shed any light on why he hadn’t fully trusted her. She wondered how she could love someone who didn’t have faith in her. All she knew was what she felt was real. She loved Sloan. That was enough. They’d work out the rest later.
Beside her, the gravel crunched and Agent Roberts stepped over to join her and Mitchell. The three of them stood in the middle of the driveway, watching the aftermath of the raid.
Officers loaded computer equipment into a waiting SUV. Further evidence of the crimes against Northstar. Now those crimes were also against the FBI. There was no escaping the fact that, this time, the offense had her fingerprints all over it. At least the Westons and their bodyguards were in custody and ready for transport. They couldn’t hurt her or Mitchell ever again.
Allison took a deep breath and buried her feelings to deal with more immediate needs. She offered Agent Roberts a wan smile. He would have to take her into custody as well. “Can someone contact my sister to come for Mitchell? She’s on a cruise with her husband. I can give you the details.”
Mitchell’s grasp tightened on Allison’s hand as he glared at the agent. “You can’t arrest my aunt. She fixed it so you’d come and save us.” He looked up at her. “You did it, didn’t you? You kept your honor and sent a message for Sloan to save us.”
Agent Roberts gazed soberly at Allison. “She did indeed send a message.” He gave Mitchell a smile. “I’m not going to arrest your aunt.”
Relief flooded her. “My ears are still ringing. I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
Agent Roberts cleared his throat. “I’m not saying there won’t be an investigation, but for now, I’m taking you both back to the safe house so you can undo the damage you’ve caused.”
“I’ll be more than happy to.” She glanced back to where the ambulance had been and then turned to face the agent. “If it’s possible, could we make a detour on the way?”
Agent Roberts studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I think that could be arranged.”
She and Mitchell followed the agent to the car. She’d have a chance to tell Sloan her feelings. For now, everything else could wait.
****
Allison paced the hospital waiting room, anxious for the doctors to let her see Sloan. Agent Roberts had taken Mitchell to the cafeteria for a snack, giving her a few private moments with the man who had rescued her—in every way that counted.
Sloan had showed her a life beyond her job. A way to have something she’d never dared to dream. Love.
His hospital room door opened. “You can go in for a short visit,” a nurse said. “He’s still coming out of the anesthesia, so don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t respond.”
Allison nodded her thanks. The door was slightly ajar, inviting her to enter; yet she suddenly felt shy.
This was not the time to be timid. She took a breath and stepped inside. The light was dim. Wires flowed from Sloan’s chest and arms to monitoring machines. Allison took in all the medical marvels at a glance, but her gaze was fixed on his face.
His normally tanned skin was pale and his cheeks looked sunken. But his breathing was slow and even. The blanket had slid halfway down his bare chest and a bandage over his wound covered most of his neck.
She crossed to his bedside and laid her hand over his. His skin was warm and dry. Silky hair on his wrist tickled her palm.
“Sloan?” He didn’t respond. She moistened her dry lips. “Sloan?”
The nurse had warned her he might not respond so soon after surgery.
“Sloan…I…” She cleared her throat and began again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming for me and Mitchell.”
She studied his face, memorizing each angle and plane. Marveling at his wonderful presence in her life. Grateful he’d lived. Perhaps she should practice what she wanted to tell him.
“I don’t know if you can hear me.” She swallowed. “I know you couldn’t trust me in the beginning, but that doesn’t matter, now. You believed in me enough to come when it mattered. It must have been difficult to convince the others. I want you to know how grateful I am that you made the effort.”
She paused. There was no response. Emotion clogged her throat.
“I’ve discovered something through all of this.” She squeezed his hand. “I love—” A knock sounded on the door behind her. She turned to see
Agent Roberts silhouetted in the light from the hallway.
“The nurse says it’s time.” He nodded toward the bed. “How is he?”
Allison looked at the quiet figure. His face showed no sign he’d heard her.
He would. Soon.
“He’s still asleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be right out.” The agent left, and Allison placed both hands on Sloan’s arm. “You and I aren’t through. I’ll return and finish this conversation. I promise.”
She leaned over the bed rail and placed her lips on his brow. After smoothing a lock of hair in place, she turned to leave. In the doorway, she paused and smiled at his sleeping form. “Don’t go anywhere.” She closed the door and walked down the hall to find Mitchell and Agent Roberts.
Chapter Nineteen
Several hours after the rescue, Allison was inside the FBI safe house, sitting at the computers while Mitchell played a card game with one of the FBI agents. Her job now was to repair the damaged files she’d hacked. What happened after that was anyone’s guess.
Tom looked over her shoulder. “When we get back to Northstar, you’re going to have to show me how you broke through all that encryption.”
“If I’m allowed back at Northstar, I will,” she replied. “Then you’ll have to show the FBI where the holes are in their firewalls. I hate to think anyone else could break through the way I did. Drew Getty could have done it—probably would have, if he hadn’t been so afraid of getting caught.”
“Why can’t you show the FBI?” Tom gave her a surprised look.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the way the FBI agents are looking at me. I don’t think they all believe I didn’t shoot Agent Kane. Besides, I’m not going to be welcome near any keyboard for a very long time.” In reality, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get a job using computers ever again. Two careers down the drain before she was thirty.
She pushed away the depressing thought and restored the last of the re-saved files. Finished, she turned to Tom. “There. It’s done. You shouldn’t have any trouble taking over from here.”
Tom shifted in his chair. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Allison.” His gaze darted from the computer screen to her and back again. “I should have been able to spot the dupe. I hope you can forgive me.”
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