Staying Alive

by Webb, Debra

  “No, he hasn’t called yet.”

  But he would call. When he was ready. When he’d choreographed the perfect moment of terror for her to endure, then he would call.

  “You’re sure it was Nusair?” Some part of her wanted to hang on to the possibility that this might not be about Nusair or what she’d done.

  But deep down, she knew.

  “It was Nusair.”

  Anger flared inside her at his continued evasiveness. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he left his calling card.”

  “What calling card?” She hadn’t heard anything about this. Why was he keeping her in the dark? Making her dig for every answer?

  “He marked the front door of the Wade residence with an X using blood from the father.”

  A new jolt of tension shook her. “Is Mr. Wade dead?” The horror just kept mounting. How could any man be so ruthless?

  “He’s still in surgery but the prognosis is good.”

  Claire closed her eyes and banished the brutal images of the child being snatched from his home and the father being injured. She couldn’t dwell on those things or the fear would consume her. They had to find a way to stop Nusair. But how? He stayed far away from the dirty business he orchestrated. At least till now he had. How could they take him down if they couldn’t find him? If he didn’t get close enough?

  Wait. Something about this calling card evidence wasn’t right. Didn’t add up. “If this is the first time you’ve seen this, why would you call it Nusair’s calling card?”

  “He marked the Denton home similarly.”

  His father is such a nice man. What kind of animal would do this?

  Now she understood what Darlene meant when she’d said that earlier. “Joey’s father was attacked, too? Why didn’t someone tell me about this?”

  “There was no need to upset you any more than you already were.”

  Her anger spiked, making her want to scream or tear something apart, maybe a little of both. “Next time, Agent Krueger, you let me decide what I need to hear and what I don’t.”

  Krueger didn’t respond to her warning. She didn’t care whether he said anything as long as he did what she asked. She was as much a part of his investigation as anyone. She had a right to know.

  Claire stared out the window into the darkness. She ignored the sparkling city lights and the street signs. She didn’t care where they were taking her. It didn’t matter.

  Chad Wade was missing. Most likely taken by a heartless terrorist.

  And she was the reason why.

  Later—she didn’t know how much later since she’d been lost in her thoughts—she became aware that the vehicle had slowed considerably, then it turned into a driveway. Another house. The agents on Krueger’s team were already there. She recognized the sleek black SUVs that were carbon copies of the one in which she rode.

  She didn’t wait for Krueger when the vehicle stopped. She got out and walked toward the door. What was the point in protecting her when they couldn’t protect the innocent kids from her school?

  The more she thought about the situation the angrier she became.

  Yes, she’d killed Nusair’s son. But he was a terrorist. A killer who had murdered her principal and was about to murder one or more of her students. She was glad he was dead. The world was a better place without him.

  If that made her a bad person, then so be it.

  No one got in her path as she stormed up the porch steps and to the front door. She didn’t even knock, she just went on inside.

  She stopped and stared defiantly at Agent Nance. “Where’s my room?”

  Looking startled, the agent glanced at some point beyond Claire’s shoulder—to Krueger probably. Then she said hesitantly, “Upstairs, first door on the right.”

  Claire marched up the stairs and went straight to her room.

  It faced the back of the property, which was likely the point. There was only one window and, just as last time, there was an adjoining bathroom.

  Home sweet home.

  She plopped down on the bed and considered her options.

  She laughed, a wholly pathetic sound. What options?

  She didn’t have a single choice in this ongoing nightmare.

  Except one.

  A rap on her door proved perfect timing.

  She didn’t have to ask who it was, she knew. So she walked over and opened the door.

  Krueger. Big surprise.

  “We should talk about this.”

  “You’re right.” She opened the door wider. “We should talk.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she moved to the center of the room and waited for him to close the door. Once he settled his attention on her she dropped the bomb, so to speak.

  “I want you to find a way to get in touch with Nusair and tell him you’ll trade me for the boy.” She lifted her chin defiantly when his expression hardened for battle. “I want this to end today. We should have done this already the way I wanted to.”

  “Don’t you understand that it won’t ever end as long as Nusair is alive?”

  Yes, she understood that perfectly but she had no control over the bigger picture.

  “This isn’t about political correctness or military strategy. This is about a ten-year-old boy whose life I’m not willing to risk. It’s me that Nusair wants. I killed his son. He wants his revenge. It’s as simple as that. If we give him what he wants, Chad Wade and the rest of the students at Whitesburg Middle will be safe.”

  Krueger moved a step closer to her. She saw the smallest of cracks in his cool, calm veneer. “For how long? A day? A week? Maybe a month or a year? Abdul Nusair has terrorist cells in more than a dozen major cities in the U.S. We need to know how to stop whatever he has planned. We can’t do that by throwing away the first connection we’ve had to him.”

  She took a step toward him, determined to make him sweat. “So it’s okay if Chad Wade dies as long as we save the masses, is that what you’re saying?”

  He flinched. As she’d hoped, Krueger was rattled.

  God, how could she toss that at him? How did a mere human measure the loss of one life against the loss of thousands? It simply wasn’t meant to be that way. She was not emotionally equipped to make that kind of decision. Yet, here she was taking a stand in a situation the full scope of which she could not possibly hope to understand. She was wrong to oversimplify the difficult task facing this man.

  Special Agent in Charge Luke Krueger looked weary. Whether his fatigue was physical or mental, she couldn’t say. At that moment she felt the full weight of his station. As horrifying as her position was just now, it didn’t come close to comparing to what he must feel. This had to be his worst nightmare.

  “That may be the way it feels,” he agreed, his voice low and placating. “I know. But that’s not the way it is. Every cop this city can spare and two dozen Bureau agents are working to find that child. Nothing we do is going to stop Nusair from carrying out his sick scheme. Even if we turned you over to him, the chances of the boy being freed unharmed are zero to none. Nusair’s MO doesn’t allow for it. He doesn’t leave loose ends or witnesses.” The pain she saw in his eyes leeched into his voice. “He kills everything in his path. What you saw him do in that mall was about torturing you. That’s the only reason you and that child are still alive.”

  The more passion infused his words, the closer he came to her until she had to look up in order to maintain eye contact.

  “I will do everything in my power to see that the boy is rescued. I promise you that.”

  She found herself watching his lips. It was crazy. And yet somehow she needed to feel something besides this stifling fear and overwhelming outrage. She needed to feel anything but that. He stood so close, those green eyes were so intent on her, that she couldn’t help feeling the urgency of his words…the passion in his determination to stop this animal and somehow to protect her and the children. She needed to touch that…to strengthen herself with his
determination.

  “I will do all I can. You have my word.”

  Standing here, desperately needing someone to hold her and make her forget the fear and the outrage, she realized for the first time in her life that she was completely alone. She had no family that claimed her. Sure she had Darlene and her friends at school, but she had no one else. No one who loved her the way a woman should be loved. No one to hold her the way a woman wanted to be held.

  No one.

  Wouldn’t that be a terrible way to die?

  Alone and unloved.

  “I need you to hold me, Krueger.” She hadn’t meant to say what she felt out loud. But she needed this too badly to pretend she hadn’t meant the words.

  He didn’t hesitate. Those strong arms went around her and pulled her close against his chest. Claire laid her cheek there and closed her eyes.

  He smelled good. Vaguely of the starch the drycleaners had used on his shirt and more deeply of a citrus fragrance. His chest felt solid and steady beneath her, something she had needed for a long time. Powerful arms shielded her and she desperately wanted to revel in that awesome strength. The rhythm of his heartbeat soothed her, made all the bad feelings dissipate.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he murmured. “I wish I could make it go away.”

  The longer he held her, the more relaxed and secure she felt. But it was his words that touched her the deepest. The moment wasn’t overtly sexual, but she couldn’t deny an ache of longing. She’d missed this kind of connection with another human. It was a shame that it had taken such tragedy to bring her to this wondrous place again. The warm, heady feel of a strong male body. The distant, yet urgent pull of desire.

  It didn’t matter that she scarcely knew Krueger. The events of the past fourteen or so hours had forged a bond that, hard as she tried to ignore it, had been there almost from the first moment they’d met.

  A keen awareness simmering beneath the skin. Why couldn’t they have met under other circumstances? He was one man she could honestly say would be a challenge to dissect on an intellectual level.

  She liked that he was complicated and intriguing.

  Was that the need to de-stress speaking? She didn’t usually have an eye for police officers or men in other high-risk occupations when it came to prospective boyfriends. If she faced facts, she would confess that she hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages. Period. She busied herself with the children. With advancing her work skills and supporting the community in various ways such as Habitat for Humanity.

  This moment was pure indulgence, pure selfishness.

  And she wanted it to go on and on.

  She wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. The tension in his muscles had become palpable. His body grew more rigid the longer he held her. When his hands started to move slowly over her back, she knew for certain she wasn’t in this alone.

  But he would never make the first move. He wouldn’t go beyond the line that his professional credentials had drawn.

  She lifted her face to his, let him see the desperation in her eyes. His lips were so close. She could feel the urgent pull of his need with the same electrical intensity as she did her own. That tug was every bit as clear in his eyes. He wanted this as much as she did.

  He kissed her, just a soft brushing of his lips over hers. She wanted more. Tiptoed to make the contact complete.

  The world and all its troubles spun away when he took charge of the kiss. Her hands, flattened on his chest, moved up and around his neck. She wanted to feel her breasts pressed against his chest, her pelvis melded to his. She made it happen.

  Still, it wasn’t enough.

  Not nearly enough.

  She wanted—needed—so much more.

  Several staccato raps on the door sent Claire stumbling back from his arms.

  It gave her some amount of satisfaction that Krueger looked as dazed as she felt.

  He took a moment to compose himself, reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then turned to the door.

  Claire didn’t move. Heat still shimmered through her body; her lips still burned from his kiss. She smoothed a hand over her hair and tried to catch her breath. This wasn’t exactly the time to be distracted.

  Just something else she had no intention of regretting.

  Holman rushed into the room as Krueger opened the door.

  “Sir, Miss Grant has a text message from Nusair.”

  Krueger took the cell phone from the agent’s hand. He studied the small screen, then showed it to Claire.

  There is a surprise waiting for you at your modest bungalow.

  “Is it possible that Chad Wade is there?” Claire’s heart started to thunder in her chest. Why the text message? Where were her instructions? Did Nusair assume she would go to her house when she got this message? Was that the reaction he wanted?

  Krueger shoved her phone into his jacket pocket and took her arm, his touch gentle yet firm. “Let’s go.”

  The drive to her Fremont residence took more than a half hour. The whole way Claire kept trying to block the vision of Chad on her porch with a bomb strapped to his chest. She didn’t want him to be hurt. But if he was there, and most likely he was, he would play some part in Nusair’s sinister game.

  She kept glancing up at Krueger. Several times she caught him looking back at her. He was worried. He did a very good job of hiding his emotions, but she could see the concern in his eyes.

  Had that one kiss made him as vulnerable as it had her?

  Over and over she told herself that it was just a kiss. A physical release of tension that two people had needed. Nothing more.

  Except it had felt like more.

  Maybe she had imagined those sparks she’d noticed when they first met. She’d fixated on physical details instantly. There had been a little something between them even then. Or maybe it was just she who had felt that shift in chemistry. After all, it had been a really long time since she’d even been attracted to anyone. Keeping to herself ensured a great many things, not the least of which was staying away from heartache.

  She was thirty, almost thirty-one. Could she go on with the rest of her life, assuming she survived, avoiding that kind of relationship?

  Didn’t she deserve to have someone?

  Or was staying single and unloved her self-imposed punishment for killing her sister’s husband?

  Now there was a truly twisted possibility.

  Claire shook her head at her own self-analysis.

  She was a textbook case of neurosis.

  The SUV pulled up to the curb in front of Claire’s house.

  Thank God poor little Chad wasn’t tethered to her porch rail. She’d imagined the worst-case scenario all the way over here.

  She reached to open the door and an explosion rent the air. The vehicle shook and shuddered. Debris flew toward her window as she stared in shock at the unexpected eruption.

  “Get down!”

  A powerful hand came against the back of her head and shoved her into the floorboard as debris rained down on the SUV like baseball-sized hail. Glass shattered and pelted her back.

  When the bombardment stopped, the pressure from the hand lifted allowing her to move once more.

  Claire rose up slowly, settled onto the edge of the seat and turned to stare out the shattered window.

  Smoke rose from what remained of her house. Nothing but a few rocks and planks.

  Several seconds passed before she comprehended what had just taken place.

  Her house had blown up.

  Nusair had bombed her house.

  Terror clutched at her heart.

  Where was the boy?

  Chapter 10

  “I want her out of here!”

  Claire shook her head, tried to understand exactly what he was saying. Her hearing was a little off. Krueger was right there. His voice sounded low despite the facial expressions that indicated he was shouting.

  The explosion.

  She stared at her
house.

  That was the reason she couldn’t hear very well. The explosion had dulled her hearing the way a camera flash will temporarily blind.

  There was absolutely nothing wrong with her vision, however. Her house was now a pile of smoldering rubble. The kind seen in a war zone.

  “The boy.” Fear snarled like an angry beast inside her. “We have to see if Chad was in there! If Nusair brought him here…”

  Please, please don’t let him be in there.

  Krueger was out of the SUV.

  “Take her back—”

  “No.” Claire wrenched her door open and slid out. She staggered on wobbly legs. “I’m not going anywhere. This is—was—my home.”

  “Nusair’s people could still be close by,” Krueger warned, one hand on her arm, ready to marshal her back into the SUV. The fear in his eyes was palpable…startling.

  She twisted free of his hold. “I don’t care. I need to know if that child was here. Stop fighting me on this, Krueger.”

  He took a breath. She saw his chest expand and deflate with the harsh force. He surveyed the block, first left, then right. Dawn had sent pink and purple streaks across the sky, highlighting the senseless devastation on the ground.

  Lights had come on in the neighboring homes. People were beginning to creep out onto porches to get a look at the trouble. Thankfully the other houses didn’t appear damaged. Smoldering debris had flown all over, landing here and there in nearby yards.

  No matter what he said, she wasn’t leaving.

  “Stay right behind me,” Krueger ordered, his expression reflecting the sheer desperation she felt. “Do exactly as I say.”

  She nodded.

  Sirens in the distance signaled that the fire department and maybe ambulances, definitely the police, were on their way.

  How could this be happening in her neighborhood…to her home?

  Claire glanced back at the SUV with its shattered windows on the passenger’s side that faced her house. She swallowed at the lump of fear lodged in her throat. They were damned lucky they hadn’t been injured.

  Or killed.

  Flaming pieces of what had been the interior of her home were tossed around her yard and against the picket fence she’d painted just last month. Broken glass and chunks of furniture had landed in the oddest places, like in the bird fountain and in flowerpots holding her tender pansies.