by Seton, Cora
She didn’t answer immediately, and he banged again, at the same time as he shoved his key in the lock. As he turned the key, the door yanked open and Mitchell stood there, a sheepish smile on her face. “Where’s the fire?”
He pushed through the door, grabbed her in his arms, and kicked the door shut with his foot. “Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?”
She lifted her hand, showing him the broken phone. “Would you believe I dropped it?”
All the tension left him in a rush, and he gathered her against his body, holding her so tight he thought he might break her. “I was so scared.”
“I told you—”
“I know. I know. You’re fine. You have your gun.” His heart rate returned to normal, but he couldn’t relax his hold.
“Yes, I do.” She snuggled into his shirt, her fingers curling around the fabric. “But I have to admit, I’m glad to see you.”
“Oh, baby. I can’t wait to get out of here and on our way to Colorado.”
“Me too.”
He laughed, the sound shaky, even to his own ears. “I thought you didn’t want to go.”
“A girl has the right to change her mind.”
“Good.” He lifted an eyebrow. “What say you and I get to the airport early?”
“I’m with you. But you need to pack.”
“Five minutes, tops, and I’ll be ready to go.” He snatched the duffel bag he’d left by the door and carried it through to the bedroom.
“Do you mind if I borrow your phone?” she asked, following.
“Not at all.” He dug it out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
She left him alone in the bedroom, which suited him just fine. The only thing he needed from the duffel bag was the ruined jewelry store box with the diamond engagement ring nestled against torn velvet inside. He’d used medical tape to strap the ring box together while he’d laid on a gurney getting his leg stitched. At first, the doc hadn’t wanted to waste good medical tape, but when he’d seen that Remy had an engagement ring inside, he’d handed him the tape himself.
It looked like hell on the outside, but maybe Mitchell wouldn’t care, as long as what was on the inside meant something.
He could hear her voice in the next room as he dug into the duffel bag and removed his shaving kit, the ring box tucked in one of the pouches. One at a time, he felt in the mesh sections until he found the box and pulled it out.
Mitchell paced past the door at that exact moment, peering in while she reported to her boss in hushed tones.
Remy couldn’t quite make out the words, and figured she was trying to be quiet so as not to disturb him while he packed. Once she’d moved past the open door and out of sight again, he slid the box into his pocket and stood. Fishing an empty suitcase out from under the bed, he laid in shorts, long underwear, socks, shirts and sweats. He topped that with outerwear for skiing to include insulated gloves, a black knit cap, goggles, snow pants and an insulated ski jacket.
They’d rent skis, helmets, boots and poles at the resort. He packed one dressy outfit consisting of black trousers, a black tailored shirt, gray tie and black sports coat. He wanted to take her out to one of the nicer resort restaurants and woo her by candlelight, saying sweet nothings that would butter her up for the Christmas morning surprise. Every word of love and commitment would be one-hundred-percent honest and from his heart.
Remy had the scene rehearsed in his mind. Through all of his SEAL training, he’d learned that every operation, properly rehearsed, stood a better chance of successful completion. He’d even practiced getting down on one knee, falling sideways several times before he got it right. Maybe practicing was overkill, but he wanted the proposal to be perfect. Mitchell wouldn’t have any excuse to refuse his offer of marriage based on his performance.
When he emerged from the bedroom with his suitcase and hers, he set them on the floor and grinned. “Are you ready to go on vacation?”
Mitchell sighed and shook her head. “I have to admit, I had second thoughts.”
Already tied in knots over the big step he was taking, Remy’s stomach twisted even more. “And?”
“And…” Her lips lifted on the corners, and with them, his spirits. “I’m ready to get away. With you.”
“Then let’s get to the airport. I hear it’s a pain getting through security at this time of day. So the earlier, the better.”
The drive to the airport was fairly uneventful, other than rush-hour traffic clogging the roads and the on and off ramps to the bypasses and major roadways. Every time a vehicle pulled up beside theirs, Mitchell studied the windows, looking for sinister faces or the barrel of a gun poking through.
When they finally arrived at the airport parking lot, she was exhausted from the tension and worry of not knowing whether the adjacent car had tinted windows because it was hiding one of Rocco’s men, or a baby’s car seat.
With over an hour until their flight departed, Mitchell figured they had plenty of time to check in and wade through the long TSA security line.
Remy stepped aside and let her onto the escalator first. “How long has it been since your last vacation?”
Before she could respond, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and stand on end, and she almost missed her footing as she stepped onto the escalator. “I don’t know,” she answered, trying to focus on the question while she turned and scanned the faces below. None of them were familiar, or appeared to be anyone other than normal passengers on their way somewhere for the Christmas holidays. “Maybe five years.” She gave it more thought. “Make that ten. Must have been my senior trip after high school graduation. I went to Pensacola with friends.”
“Babe, you’re long overdue.” He grinned and winked.
“What about you?”
Remy pointed to the top of the escalator. “Watch your step.”
Mitchell turned just in time to step off the escalator. “Well?”
“I’m not having a problem concentrating on where I’m going. I know when to get off the escalator.” He laughed and slapped her fanny. “Lighten up. You’re on vacation.”
Mitchell liked that he teased her. His gentle banter eased the tension and made her feel more…feminine and desirable, and less keyed-up over the possibility of being targeted by a psychopath.
Working as an agent, she felt like she had to be as tough as the next guy to fit in with the male majority. She met the men’s fitness standards, performing as many pushups and sit ups as her male counterparts, and she ran as fast as most. On the range she was as good as, or better than, most men and women. She fired expert on her Glock, a nine-millimeter Berretta and the Sig Sauer.
The security line moved at a snail’s pace. Several large families with small children fumbled with all the paraphernalia associated with traveling with little ones. Backpacks for each, strollers, diaper bags, toys. The only two lines open with scanners were backed up to the escalator.
Toys were dropped, the baby spat his pacifier out. Milk bottles were double-checked, and by the time the children were all run through the body scanner, half were screaming or crying.
Remy grinned the entire time, while Mitchell’s stress climbed.
As she emptied her belongings into the bins to be x-rayed, Mitchell reminded herself she was one step closer to leaving Norfolk. One step closer to freedom from worry for the next week.
“See that little girl?” He pointed out a girl of about four, with long, straight, light blond hair. “I can picture you like that at that age.”
Mitchell shook her head. “My hair was like that until my mother died. Then Dad kept my hair cut short until I learned to do it myself.” She didn’t add that her father didn’t want to touch her hair. It reminded him too much of her mother’s.
Remy smiled at the little girl on the other side of the barrier. “Have you ever thought what having children of your own would be like?”
Mitchell frowned. For so long, she’d only dreamed of being an NCIS agent, so
lving crimes, putting away bad guys and moving on to the next case. When she’d agreed to marry Derek, she’d pictured their lives pretty much continuing as usual—the only difference being that she’d come home to a man in her apartment occasionally.
With Remy, he reminded her daily of his family, talking about how his little sister was in college now, and his older brother had just gotten a promotion and had a second kid on the way. Mitchell shrugged. If she was truthful with herself, she’d have to say ‘yes.’ She’d thought of a little Remy running around the living room like his hair was on fire. Or a miniature, female version of the man, with dark hair and dark eyes, bouncing on Remy’s knee and squealing delightedly.
But that was moving their relationship to a place she hadn’t wanted to consider. They lived together and shared all their free time. Wasn’t that enough? She forced herself to shrug. “I hadn’t really thought about it. With both of us working in the fields we’re in, doing so isn’t practical.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I love my job, but I don’t see myself being in the field forever.”
Again, Mitchell hadn’t thought beyond working cases and undercover ops. Deep down, she was afraid to commit to more than the next day. Her mother’s death had left her father devastated. She was afraid of loving someone that completely.
She’d taken a big step agreeing to marry Derek, thinking that losing someone you loved didn’t happen that often. To have someone to come home to could be worth the risk. When he’d come home in a box, she’d been shocked.
Sure, he was a Navy SEAL. Their job was one of the most dangerous in the world.
Remy stepped aside to let her pass through the full body scanner first. She stood with her feet apart and held her hands over her head. The light moved from one side of the machine to the other.
“Step through, ma’am,” the TSA agent said. “I’ll need you to step aside.”
“Why?” she asked, glancing back at Remy as he stood with his hands over his head. The machine beeped, he stepped back out of the scanner, rummaged in his pockets and pulled out what appeared to be a wad of something, maybe a box that had tape wrapped around it. He palmed it, casting a furtive look her way.
“Ma’am, please stand with your feet spread and your arms straight out from your sides.”
Mitchell returned her attention to the female TSA agent wielding a wand and complied with her demands, raising her arms to the side.
The agent skimmed the wand over the tops of her arms, under her arms, and down her sides.
With nothing to do but stare at the clock on the wall in front of her, Mitchell noted they only had ten minutes until boarding began. Anxiety twitched her muscles, but she forced her body to remain still. Hopefully, this scan wasn’t going to take much longer.
The wand moved down her right leg, up the inside of that leg and down the other one without a single beep, and the agent stepped back.
Mitchell was so confident she was in the clear, she turned to retrieve her shoes and laptop.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with me.” One of the agents manning the X-ray machine had joined the female agent and held Mitchell’s bag and computer.
“What’s wrong?” Mitchell asked. The one holding the bag gave her a narrow-eyed look that made Mitchell’s belly flip.
“We need to perform a more thorough search of you and your belongings.”
“Have you found something that makes you think I’m a risk? My flight boards in less than ten minutes.” She reached for her belongings, but the man held them away from her. “I just want to get out my wallet. I’m an NCIS agent. Surely, there’s nothing suspicious about me.”
“Ma’am, just follow me.” The female agent and the male carrying her bag and laptop surrounded her and herded her toward a side door.
This wasn’t right. She was NCIS. A federal agent. Mitchell looked over her shoulder.
Remy cleared the body scanner on his second trip through. When he spotted her being led away, his brows dipped. “What’s going on?” Grabbing his things, he hurried after her, still in his socks.
The female agent blocked his path. “Sir, you’ll have to wait outside while we search the female passenger.”
His brows dipped even lower.
Mitchell gave him a twisted smile. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I don’t like it. Have they told you why they’re targeting you?”
“No.” The door closed between them, and Mitchell crossed her arms. “Why am I being searched more? Is this a random check?”
“No, ma’am.” The male pulled her purse out of her backpack and handed it to her. “Please show me your identification.”
Her pulse rate jumped. “I showed it to the man at the beginning of the security line. He told me I didn’t have to have it out anymore.”
“Please comply, ma’am.”
Mitchell pulled her driver’s license and NCIS credentials out of her purse and handed them to the man.
“We have a police officer on his way here to verify your identity. In the meantime, our personnel will be conducting a more thorough search of your person.”
“What?” Mitchell backed up a step as the door opened and another female TSA agent entered. “I’m a federal agent. You have my credentials.” She pointed at her identification. “That’s my picture on the badge. What more do you need?”
“I’m sorry, but your name came up on our watch list as a person of interest, a potential terrorist.”
Mitchell’s jaw dropped. What the hell? “And my NCIS badge isn’t enough to convince you that I am who I am?”
“Identification can be forged, ma’am. Your best bet is to cooperate until this matter is cleared.” The male TSA agent left the room.
Mitchell couldn’t believe this was happening. “Call my boss. He can vouch for me.”
“Our supervisor is working on it. In the meantime, we’re here to perform the search of your person. Please remove your clothing down to your underwear.”
Knowing resistance would only make things worse, slow the process, and more than likely make them miss their plane, Mitchell complied, removing her boots, jeans and sweater. “I’d like to know who put me on the watch list in the TSA system,” she muttered. “You’re going to find this is a big mistake.”
“Maybe so, but we’d rather be safe than sorry,” one of the female agents said. “We’re responsible for the safety of every man, woman and child on board each aircraft.”
“No kidding.” She fought to keep her voice calm. “Which is why you should be searching for real terrorists, not one of the good guys—me.”
The agents examined her clothing in minute detail and ran detection swabs over everything. Finally, they handed back her clothing.
With quick moves, she dressed and then propped her hands on her hips. “So? Am I free to go?”
Both of the women shook their heads.
One went to the door and opened it enough to nod to someone outside. Then she closed it and faced Mitchell. “If you’re cleared by our supervisor, you’ll be allowed to go.”
If, not when.
After fifteen minutes confinement in the room, Mitchell was ready to climb the walls and rip a new asshole out of the one responsible for entering her name into the system.
She had her suspicions, but held her tongue until the lead TSA agent entered, and held out her driver’s license and NCIS credentials.
“Your identification checked out, and you’re free to go, Agent Sanders. Our apologies for keeping you, but I’m sure you understand.”
She took the items from him and crammed her purse into her backpack, biting her tongue. If she made too much of a stink, the TSA might mark her as belligerent, and a threat to other passengers.
Remy was outside the door, pacing away from her when she emerged. He spun and raced back in her direction. “What the hell’s going on? They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I’ll tell you once we’re on our flight.”
&n
bsp; He glanced at his watch. “They might have closed the doors by now.”
“They better not have.” She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”
They half-walked, half-ran to their gate.
Mitchell was afraid that if they flat-out sprinted, someone might pull them aside again, maybe at gunpoint, claiming they were suspicious or potential terrorists.
The desk agent at their gate was talking to a last-minute passenger and his wife as Remy and Mitchell arrived.
“Have they closed the door yet?” Remy asked.
“No, sir. Are you booked on this flight?” she asked.
“We are.”
“Names, please.”
They gave her their names and waited while her fingers flew over the keyboard. Then her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “I’m sorry, but we just gave your seats to someone else.”
Remy smiled his killer smile at the agent. “Can’t you give them back, since we are here?”
“I’m sorry, but it clearly states you have to be at the airport early for your flight.”
“And we were. The TSA detained us, or we would have been here in plenty of time.”
The attendant’s brows furrowed, and she swept her gaze over Mitchell and then Remy, lingering on Remy’s broad shoulders.
Already on her last nerve, Mitchell clenched her fists to keep from reaching out and slapping the stupid smile off the woman’s face.
“Let me check again.” She ran her fingers over the keyboard for what seemed like another ten minutes. “As a matter of fact, we had a couple of cancellations. I can get you both on the airplane, and the next one in Atlanta.”
“You canceled that one, too?” Remy asked with an edge to his voice.
“When you didn’t make this one, it would have done no good to hold the next one,” the attendant stated, as if to a particularly dense child. “But don’t worry. I got you on that flight, too.”
Mitchell released the hold her teeth had on her tongue and forced a smile at Remy. He’d planned this entire vacation and had seemed so excited about taking her to Colorado. She was glad she didn’t have to disappoint him.