by Cindi Myers
“Is Agent Blessing your boss?” she asked.
“Yes. He’s a hard man, but a fair one.”
“Did he order you to look after me? Is this your punishment for associating with a wanted fugitive?”
“A punishment? What are you talking about?”
“It’s clear you don’t want to be seen with me,” she said. “You’ve scarcely looked at me since we left the jail.”
He moved closer still, one hand remaining on her shoulder, the other under her chin, nudging her head up to look at him. “I couldn’t look at you without wanting to touch you. I had to be careful in front of Blessing and others who might be watching. There were reporters outside the jail, you know.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know.”
“They were across the street, taking pictures. Until the charges against you are dropped, we have to be careful. If the press thinks you received preferential treatment because of your personal relationship with an FBI agent, it could jeopardize not only your freedom, but the whole case. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Everything he said made sense, difficult as it was to hear.
“But we don’t have to be careful now,” he said. “We’re alone.” He bent and covered her lips with his own.
The kiss began gently, but she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and letting him feel her desperate need of him. “I was so afraid,” she whispered when at last they broke the kiss.
“It tore me apart, seeing them take you away in cuffs,” he said. “I hated thinking of you in that cell, alone and afraid.”
“I wasn’t afraid of jail,” she said. “At least, not much.” She stroked her fingers along his jaw. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
“You haven’t lost me,” he said. “Never again.” He kissed her cheek, then drew away. “I bought you some clothes and things. They’re in the bathroom. You can take a shower and get dressed and when you come out, I’ll have lunch ready.”
“That sounds good,” she said, suddenly aware of her uncombed hair and baggy orange scrubs.
In the bathroom she found jeans, a gauzy blouse, new underwear, a pair of leather flats and silver hoop earrings. She smiled, touched that he had not only remembered her size, but the styles she liked. In the shower, a new bottle of her brand of shampoo and vanilla-scented shower gel awaited. She let the water run until it was steamy, then indulged in the luxury of standing under the spray until she had washed away the scent and feel of the jail. When she finally emerged, her hair blow-dried and her face freshened with the powder, mascara and lipstick he had also purchased, she felt like a new woman.
Travis looked up from the table he was setting and smiled. “You look like you feel better,” he said.
She hugged him. “I feel great. Thanks for the clothes and makeup. And the earrings.” She touched the silver hoops. “You still remember what I like.”
He looked pleased. “Sit down,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still making up for all those lost meals.”
She sat in the chair he indicated and he set a plate in front of her—a bacon-wrapped fillet, baked potato and green beans. “I’d pour you a glass of wine, but we probably shouldn’t show up at the courthouse this afternoon smelling of alcohol,” he said.
“This looks fabulous.” She inhaled the aroma of the steak, and her mouth watered.
He sat across from her. “Dig in.”
For long minutes, neither of them said anything as they ate. Finally, her hunger abated, she set down her fork and looked at him. “What’s going to happen this afternoon?” she asked.
“Your attorney will be there.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “My friend Luke knew a good criminal defense attorney, so we called him. Reg Kosinski. He’s meeting us there. He’ll present the motion to drop the charges. Agent Blessing will say his piece and hopefully that will be it.”
“Agent Blessing said he wanted to question me.”
“Yes. You can ask your lawyer to sit in on that if you want, but once the charges are dropped, it shouldn’t be necessary. All we want is to hear your story and anything you can tell us that might help us find and convict Braeswood.”
She froze in the act of reaching for her water glass. “What do you mean find Braeswood? Isn’t he dead?”
Travis shook his head. “The search-and-rescue team we sent into Deadwood Gulch couldn’t find any sign of him.”
“But he jumped from the train. How could he have survived a fall like that?”
“The search-and-rescue guy I talked to thinks he could have made it.” He took a long drink. “Anything you can tell us will help us figure out his next move.”
“I’ll do my best.” She shivered. “I hate to think of him out there somewhere.” She wouldn’t feel safe until he was locked up for good.
“Don’t worry,” Travis said. “I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”
“It’s strange, being away from him after so long,” she said. “I’m thrilled, but I’m a little nervous about starting over. I have so much to do. Find a job, an apartment and a car. I don’t have any money or anything. It’s a little daunting.”
“You’re strong and you’re smart. You’ll get through this.”
“I will.” She took a deep breath. “I just have to figure out where to start.”
“Blessing thinks there’s a chance we can recover at least some of your assets from Braeswood. And I’ll help you with anything else you need.”
“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “You shouldn’t—”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m going to help the woman I love,” he said. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, sending heat curling through her. “The woman I want to marry.”
Her breath caught and she stared at him. “What are you saying?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. The diamond solitaire glinted in the sunlight through the window behind her. He slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. “I believe this belongs here,” he said.
She stared at the ring, as she had stared at it so many times in the weeks after their engagement. “You kept it,” she said.
“I did.”
“I was sure you’d be so angry with me for returning it that you’d sell it or throw it away.”
“I had to keep it,” he said. “Just in case I got the chance to win you back.”
She didn’t remember rising from her chair and moving around the table toward him, but the next thing she knew she was sitting in his lap, his arms around her. “Leah Carlisle, will you marry me?” he asked.
“Yes.” She kissed him, joyful tears wetting both their cheeks. “I love you,” she said. “I never stopped loving you.”
“No,” he said. “And we will never stop.”
* * *
Charges Dropped Against Suspected Terrorist
The federal government has dropped all charges against a woman who had been suspected of participation in a terrorist cell responsible for dozens of deaths around the world. Leah Carlisle, 27, was placed on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List earlier this year after a link was established between her and suspected cell leader Duane Braeswood. Ms. Carlisle was captured in a raid on Braeswood’s compound in rural La Plata County last week. “We have evidence that Ms. Carlisle was not, in fact, a member of the terrorist cell,” said FBI Special Agent in Charge Theodore Blessing in a statement to the press. “Rather, she was kidnapped and held hostage by Braeswood and kept a prisoner until she managed to escape during the raid on a rental home where Braeswood and his followers were staying. She has fully cooperated with authorities and is providing valuable information we hope will lead to the arrest and conviction of Braeswood and his followers.”
FBI Special Agent Gus Mathers was killed in the raid on the
Braeswood compound, and another agent was wounded. Several members of the suspected terrorist group escaped, including Braeswood. A subsequent fire destroyed the home where the group had been staying. Six members of the group were captured in the Weminuche Wilderness. Braeswood and one other of his associates are still at large.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MAN OF ACTION by Janie Crouch.
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Man of Action
by Janie Crouch
Prologue
Andrea Gordon huddled inside her car in the bank parking lot as pandemonium reigned all around her. Cops, SWAT, ambulances and other emergency vehicles she didn’t even recognize flooded the area. Blue and red lights flashed in a rhythm that drummed brutally against her eyes. Officers pointed assault rifles toward the building. People ran back and forth.
Just behind the roped-off section, news crews formed the next layer of people, their lights and cords and equipment adding to the chaos.
Beyond that were the witnesses, the gawkers, hoping to catch something exciting. Andrea wasn’t sure what would pacify them. A chase? Bullets? A dead body? Smartphones recorded the scene from every angle.
Three men had taken sixteen people hostage after an attempted robbery had gone wrong in a bank just outside Phoenix, Arizona. Andrea would’ve been one of those sixteen, but she had seen the signs on the robbers’ faces when they’d first walked in.
Danger. Violence.
Andrea was only nineteen years old, but she was an expert at spotting the approach of danger. Maybe she should be thankful for all the times she’d had to discern it in her uncle to avoid his fists. Either way, it had gotten her out of that bank before the trouble went down.
The men hadn’t come in together, but they were definitely working as a team; Andrea had immediately seen that. It was obvious to her that they weren’t afraid to hurt, even to kill. Simmering violence was a vibe she was very attuned to.
Two of the men fairly buzzed with it. Excited about taking money that wasn’t theirs and maybe taking a life, too. But it was the third man, who stood completely still and broadcast almost no outward emotions at all, that scared her the most.
She’d waited a minute longer, studying them while pretending to fill in a deposit slip, in case she was wrong. The two hyped-up guys were making their way back toward the bank manager’s office. The other man, the scary one, stood against a side wall, a briefcase in his hand. He caressed it with a lover’s touch.
He felt her eyes and turned to her, giving a smile so dark, so full of violence, Andrea had turned and nearly run out of the bank. She’d felt his eyes follow her as she left.
She’d been the last one out. Not two minutes after her exit, shots had been fired inside. The robbery soon turned into a hostage situation. Once out, Andrea had hidden in her car, parked in the back of the bank lot, and watched as the police arrived minutes later, then observers, then press.
Andrea would’ve been escorted back with the observers if anyone had known she was in her car. She’d been so scared at the third man’s evil smile, she had literally melted herself into the driver’s seat of her vehicle, curling into a ball and protecting her head and face with her arms.
She’d learned long ago that position didn’t stop pain, but at least this time it had kept her away from anyone’s view. The uniformed officer who had been in charge of security and taping off the parking lot had walked right by Andrea’s car without even seeing her in the dimming hours of twilight.
Unfortunately, now she was trapped here since the lot was blocked off by police vehicles. There was no telling how long the showdown could continue with the three men inside. She would need to go find someone who could let her out if she wanted to leave this evening.
Andrea exited her car, kept her head down and walked toward the action, planning to talk to the first relatively nice cop she could find. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself, just wanted to get the help she needed and get out.
When she got to the front line of police officers, Andrea started looking around more. There was a lot of excitement in most of these cops. Some were nervous, a few downright fearful. A couple were bored.
She was easily able to spot the man in charge. He exuded self-confidence and self-importance, even without a radio in each hand and people constantly asking him questions. When he gave orders he expected them to be followed, and he was definitely the one giving orders in this situation. Another man and woman were standing with him. Everything about their faces and body language also suggested confidence, but they were respectful, caring—not power hungry. They stood back slightly, observing.
Drawn by the situation even though she didn’t want to be, Andrea made her way toward those people in charge. She was careful not to get in anybody’s way or do anything to draw someone’s scrutiny, although she expected to be stopped at any moment. When she got close enough to hear the leaders, she stood beside an unmarked sedan, watching them studying and discussing the bank.
She heard the man and woman—the observers—arguing with the man in charge.
“Lionel, deadly force isn’t necessary yet,” the man stated, quiet but emphatic. “Plus we don’t know the exact situation. We have no inside intel.”
“This isn’t your operation, Drackett,” the man named Lionel snapped. He wasn’t interested in anyone else’s opinions. “Omega isn’t in charge here—the Bureau is.”
“We’re not even sure how many perps are in there, nor how many hostages,” the woman said, her voice as calm as Drackett’s had been.
“We’ve got eyes on the building. There’s obviously two gunmen holding a room of seventeen people. They’ve got everyone in one location to keep them in line.”
Lionel was wrong. There were three men involved. But Andrea imagined the third one with the evil smile just looked like one of the hostages if he hadn’t made any obvious threatening moves. With his briefcase and suit he’d blend right in.
And he meant to kill everyone in the building. Everything in his body language and his emotions had screamed violence.
“Neither of those guys have hurt anyone yet. Let us get our hostage negotiator down here to talk to them. Matarazzo is a whiz in this type of situation—you know that.” Dra
ckett again. “He can be here within the hour.”
Lionel shook his head. “No, I don’t need your rich wonder boy. I will handle this the way I see fit. The two gunmen have left the back of the building ripe for our entry. They are obviously camped in the front. They’re nervous. I’m not going to wait until they kill someone before I make my move.”
Although their expressions changed for only the briefest moment, Andrea could feel the waves of frustration coming off Drackett and the woman he was with. Whatever was going on, it was personal. Lionel all but hated Drackett.
That disdain was going to get everyone in the building killed. She could hear Lionel getting a SWAT team ready to breach the back door.
She was afraid when they did, the third man would make his move. She had to tell the police leaders what she knew. She didn’t know if it would make a difference, if they would listen to her at all, but she had to try.
She walked over to Drackett and the woman before she could let herself chicken out. She didn’t try to talk to Lionel; she already knew he wouldn’t listen to her.
“Excuse me, Mr. Drackett? There’s a third man inside that bank. Someone more deadly than the other two you can see.”
Drackett immediately turned his focus to her, as did the woman. It was a little overwhelming. Andrea wasn’t used to people actually listening to her that intently.
“How do you know?” His voice was clipped but she knew it was because they were running out of time, not because he didn’t believe her.