Under the Gun

by Lyn Stone

  No goodbyes again. It would be business as usual, and they’d hook up again in a little while.

  “See you two later,” Jack said, his voice fading as he left through the back door.

  “Keep the coffee hot,” Clay said. “And your feet on the floor,” he added meaningfully.

  Will would have gone after him if Holly hadn’t grabbed his arm with both hands. She was laughing, damn her.

  “Freaking clown!” Will growled.

  Still chuckling, she pushed him down into a kitchen chair, her hands on his shoulders. “Chill. He’s just teasing. If he’d said something like that a month ago, you’d have thought it was hilarious.”

  “It’s not the least bit funny now.”

  He knew she had begun clearing away the unused stuff piled on the table when Clay and Jack were getting ready. Unnecessary clutter always bothered her.

  She was something of a neat freak, another thing they didn’t have in common. His messiness came from having hired help to pick up after him in his early years, he guessed. Holly had never had that. As far as he knew, no maid had ever entered a place where Holly lived.

  He propped his arm on the table and massaged his eyes. He squinted at whatever she had just massed in the middle of the table and tried to make out the objects. A low, squat sugar bowl. Salt and pepper shakers, tall and skinny. He reached out and touched them to be sure.

  After staring hard for a few seconds he realized the edges and details were only slightly fuzzy. Everything around them remained out of focus, but he could see the shakers.

  He refused to get too excited, but this was the first time anything had appeared this clearly to him since the shooting.

  He wondered briefly if maybe he had a psychosomatic problem instead of something physical due to the injury. No, his sight had been improving steadily. This was just another milestone, like when he could differentiate light and dark. And colors. His excitement mounted.

  Blinking rapidly, then squinting again, he trained his vision on something on the far side of the room, a dark shape against the wall. He stared hard.

  “Pie safe,” he muttered in wonder as the porcelain knobs crystallized, white against dark wood.

  “Hmm?” Holly asked, sounding distracted by what she was doing.

  Will hesitated, then risked jinxing his luck by voicing it. “I…I can see the pie safe over there. The knobs on it.”

  He turned to her, suddenly desperate to touch her with all his senses. After a few seconds, her wavering image steadied. “Stop frowning,” he said, his own smile tentative.

  She rushed toward him around the table, ruining his focus and destroying the clarity he had gained. “Oh, Will, it’s back? A miracle!”

  He caught her waist as her hands landed on his shoulders. “No, nothing miraculous yet,” he protested. “I just haven’t tried that hard to focus until now, not since yesterday. Too frustrating. But the light’s pretty bright in here and if I hone in just right, I get a small field that’s fairly clear. Tunnel vision, I guess you’d call it.”

  He narrowed that on her face as she looked down at him. “You’re not smiling yet.”

  She beamed suddenly, her straight white teeth gleaming, her eyes swimming with tears. Dimples flashed in her smooth, creamy cheeks. “I am so relieved,” she sighed, cradling his face with her hands. “You’ll get it all back soon, Will. I know it.”

  “None too soon for me,” he said with a huff. “If this had happened earlier, we could be—”

  She sat right down on his lap, shocking him into silence. Her arms looped around his neck. “No, we couldn’t. You’re not ready for that yet. Hush about the op. We’ve got our orders. Now you can get that enormous chip off your shoulder.”

  The chip was not his main problem at the moment.

  She brushed the hair off his forehead with her finger. Her face was close enough that he could distinguish the individual features pretty clearly.

  He couldn’t help but revel in the fullness of those lush lips, the liquid warmth of her doe-brown eyes beneath the lazy sweep of long black lashes. “You are so beautiful. Did I ever think to tell you that?”

  The firm curves of her buttocks pressing against his lap shifted, wriggling for a comfier spot. Comfortable for her, maybe, not for him. Suddenly he was hard as a rock, and no way could she be unaware of that. “Holly?”

  “Yeah, Will?” she whispered.

  “What are we doing?”

  She brushed her lips over his as she answered, “Celebrating. Lettin’ off steam.”

  It must be coming out of his ears by now. “More insanity?”

  “Sure, that would be nice,” she mumbled, the words all but unintelligible as he took them in his mouth.

  Sheer hunger grabbed him with talons that dug deep, refused to let go. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and haul her into the bedroom. Or take her right where they sat.

  Her breasts nestled into his palms as he cupped them through her soft T-shirt. She wore a sports bra, he realized. How did the thing fasten? He slid his hands down her rib cage and up beneath the hem.

  Her mouth clung to his as she released him and got up. Protest died in his throat when she took his hands in hers. “Let’s go a little mad,” she murmured, her low, sexy invitation as irresistible as anything he had ever heard.

  He’d be a raving lunatic if he didn’t have her soon. This was madness at its finest.

  If she was going for distraction because he had been left behind tonight, it was working big time.

  The realization that she would do that was humbling, but it also troubled him. Compensation for missing out on the mission was not what he wanted from her. Neither was he up for fireworks celebrating a slight improvement in his sight. He stopped her halfway down the hall with a tug on her hand. “If this is medicinal or congratulatory sex, forget it.”

  She laughed softly. “Shut up, Will. I don’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not that. I want to, that’s all.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin, which was about as high as she could reach.

  “Now that I can see?” he asked, kicking himself even as the words left his mouth.

  She stilled, then pulled away. “You brought that up before—your vision. That’s what you really think of me?”

  “No, no I don’t,” he admitted, shaking his head sharply and running his hand over his face. “Of course I don’t. It was a knee-jerk, self-centered reaction and I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.” A tense silence fell as they stood there. Finally, she spoke. “I think we’ve said enough. I know I have. Made a perfect fool of myself.”

  “No, you didn’t. You know I want you, too. You’ve got to know that if you don’t know anything else.” He might as well tell her the rest while he was at it. “But I need more, Holly. More of you than casual—”

  She quickly brushed past him and headed back to the kitchen, effectively cutting off his sentence. He followed, wishing he could explain better. He tried again. “Look, I’m not demanding anything.”

  “Yes, you are!” she accused. “You demand everything you see and want, Will. And expect the demand to get you exactly that. You always have.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean ponies, bikes, cheerleaders, Harvard, whatever! Ask and ye shall receive, huh? Nothing denied you because it’s your absolute due as one of the chosen few! Well, wake up, preppy. Some of us stop and think before we grab for everything that looks enticing. It’s not always good for you.”

  He could not believe this. “Good Lord. You’re a snob,” he said, still disbelieving.

  “Me? I’m the snob? Why, you self-indulgent, Gucci-shod prick!” Now she was losing it. What was that he had decided about inventive invective deserting her when she went ballistic?

  “I’m wearing mud-stained sneakers in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Not by choice!”

  He could tell she was hopping mad by the jerky way she moved, shifting from one foot to the other, ma
king him dizzy as he tried to hold a clear image.

  The last thing he wanted was to upset her, but this had taken a sharp turn he hadn’t expected. His fault. He should have kept his big mouth shut and made love to her, whatever her reasons.

  If he could only calm her down long enough to listen, maybe he could smooth things out. He held out his hands, palms facing her, a gesture meant to cry peace. “Okay. Stop right there before we say more that we really don’t mean. Things that aren’t even relevant.”

  “What things?” she almost shouted. “Go ahead! Say what you want to say!”

  Will shut his eyes and took a deep breath, determined to sound reasonable. He propped his hands on his hips to keep from reaching for her. “Look, I can’t help that I grew up with privileges you were denied. You’ve had to work hard to get where you are, and I know that.”

  She scoffed. “I had to work to eat, Will. From the time I was nine I rode the bus to another world across town and helped my mother clean houses for people like you so she would have the energy left to work her second job. Can you even imagine that? Have you ever been hungry?”

  “No, Holly, not the way you mean. But I have been hungry for the things you did have.”

  “Like what? Rats for pets?” Her voice had climbed a whole octave.

  “Your mother, for one thing. The way she loved you. I hear the way you talk about her. She worshiped you. She convinced you that you could be anything you set out to be because she believed that right down to her soul. Do you realize just how priceless that was?”

  Holly sighed, clicking her tongue with obvious impatience. “Yeah, of course I know that.” She dragged out the nearest chair and slumped down in it as if she were suddenly exhausted. “Poor little rich kids, you and Matt. My heart bleeds.”

  Her attempt at sarcasm should have made him angry, but Will knew that deep down she really meant what she said. But he didn’t want her sympathy, just her understanding. She had his in spades. She’d had it rough. She’d overcome.

  Will sat down across from her, leaning forward with his hands spread out in front of him, trying his best to see her face, her expression, as he spoke. “I envy you, Holly,” he said quietly, honestly.

  “You what?”

  “You should have had an easier childhood and a free ride through college, but the hardships have made you who you are.”

  He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed at revealing so much, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “There’s no one I admire more than you, Holly. And I think I might be…”

  “What?” she said, the word a mere breath of sound.

  “In love with you,” he admitted reluctantly.

  Chapter 12

  “In love with me?”

  Holly almost fell out of her chair. Words promptly deserted her. He loved her? No way.

  His steel-gray eyes, narrowed now with his effort to see, held hers like an industrial strength magnet. She was so glad there was a table between them, preventing that compelling force from slamming them together.

  She buried her face in her hands, trying to think, to block out the sight of him sitting there looking so earnest and sincere, so unafraid.

  As for her, she was terrified.

  He couldn’t love her. All this time they had worked together, joked in the office, clinked beer glasses at Christa’s Pub, divvied up a dangerous op like kids with a bar of candy. Here, you take that half and this part’s mine.

  She was comfortable with all that and knew Will was, too. But love? He obviously didn’t know what he was saying.

  She didn’t want to explore any further what his words made her feel. Something like a mushroom cloud of hope kept rising and expanding inside her with the speed of light, blocking out all reason.

  Her lips clamped shut to hold back words that had no business escaping.

  The phone rang.

  Desperate for any diversion, she jumped up, hurried past him and snatched up the handset. “Amberson.”

  Will almost felt relieved that Holly hadn’t had a chance to reply to his little declaration. Whatever she might have said would not have a positive slant after that verbal battle they had just had. It seemed he had struck her speechless, and that was a first.

  He didn’t hold out much hope that she felt anything more for him than she had indicated before. Maybe it was best that way, at least for her.

  “Yes, Colonel Arbin, everyone’s on it. They’re set up to intercept if a Stinger’s fired,” she was saying on the phone. “Forces should be arriving anytime now.” She paused, then exclaimed, “What?”

  She grabbed Will’s arm and urged him closer, tilting the phone so that he could hear, too.

  “Turkel and his crew have moved again,” the voice said. Will tried to compare it to the one he’d heard at the river, but it was hard to tell over the phone. Southern, but not quite the same, a bit more clipped. Or possibly just urgent.

  Will listened closely as the man gave the new address. “It’s an old antebellum off Blaketon Road.” He rattled off directions to reach it. “I can see them from where I’m concealed. They’re ready with that missile. I have to stop this. There are four of them including Turkel. I think I can take ’em, but I could use one more gun.”

  “The missile will be intercepted, Colonel. Don’t do anything yet. You’ll have backup within the next fifteen to twenty minutes,” Holly promised. “I’ll come myself.”

  “Good, but hurry and get out here,” he demanded. “And for God’s sake, keep it quiet when you do. These fools are half-drunk and liable to do anything.” The connection abruptly broke.

  “It’s a setup. I smell it,” Holly said. “If he thinks he could take them down, why hasn’t he done it before now? He’s been trailing them for days.”

  “He’s got some private agenda,” Will agreed. “But he sounds desperate to prevent that firing. At least we have that in common. Did the voice sound the same to you? Like the one at the river?”

  “I think it was. Don’t you?”

  “Could be. You know where Blaketon Road is?” Will asked as Holly punched in the code to contact Jack and the team.

  “Yes, we passed it when we were out earlier. The exit’s only a couple of miles from here.”

  She turned her attention to the phone and quickly explained to Mercier the latest development according to Arbin. It was a short conversation.

  “Everyone’s converged at the other place out near Decatur. They’re on the way, but I can reach Arbin’s location long before they can,” she told Will. “I have to go.”

  “Did they leave any equipment?”

  “Everything but what they’re using is right here.”

  He could hear her going through the stuff. “Grab an H&K and a couple of pistols, some com gear and the vests. I’ll load the weapons while you suit up.”

  “You’re staying here,” she ordered, shaking her head vehemently.

  “Like hell I am.” He was not about to let Holly go anywhere without some kind of backup. “I can shoot at shadows if nothing else. Provide cover if you need it.”

  “Arbin says there are only four.”

  “If he is Odin, he makes five, Holly. If he’s not, we might have a wild card out there somewhere.”

  “I know that,” she told him. “I can handle it.”

  Will knew she could, but this was his fight even more than hers. “I don’t know what’s going on with Arbin, but I might be able to determine that when we get closer. What if I can tune in to something helpful? You know you need me, Holly, for that if nothing else,” he said.

  “No time to argue,” she grumbled as she shoved a Kevlar vest into his hands. “Put this thing on then. Here’s a jacket, too. But you’re staying in the car!”

  Fat chance of that. A target might still be blurry, but he could damn well see the bull’s-eye now if the light was good. “Don’t forget the flares,” he said, “and the headsets.”

  The old mansion looked pretty spooky in the moonlight, Odin thought as he watche
d Turkel and the others fiddle with the launcher. Half the roof and part of the upper walls were missing along the side, and he could see them clearly from his vantage point outside. Hear them, too. They joked among themselves in their own language.

  He had obtained the illegal automatics and missiles, sold them to Turkel and given the men instructions on how to load and fire the Stingers. Their one firing had been successful, if a little anticlimactic. Only three casualties.

  They thought he was joining them tonight in case there were problems, but as soon as the next missile was launched, he would eliminate them all.

  He would be the one who saved the day and prevented a further disaster. The one unused missile and launcher plus four dead terrorists would attest to that.

  His scapegoat was in place now, too. The call was made. Everything was set.

  If he had timed this all just right, the cavalry should arrive shortly after the terrorists lay dead beside the actual smoking gun.

  He smiled, imagining how he, as the singular hero, could write his own ticket after that. He could expect a solid position of power and importance as an advisor in the new administration, or at the very least, a ludicrously profitable book deal.

  He had planned his success down to the letter. A phone call to the press had assured that. With his identity revealed to the world within the next few hours, he would be free to accept whatever accolades were offered.

  What an omen that Amberson herself had answered his last call at the number Mercier had instructed him to use. Odin had not been able to get to her since finding out that she and Griffin had survived.

  She could never prove she’d seen him in the hospital, even if she thought she recognized him when she saw him next, but he had not wanted her to raise any questions. Better to be safe than sorry.

  Same with Will Griffin, since he might possibly have gotten a glimpse at the airport.

  How fortunate that they had left Amberson in charge here on the south side while every available resource that law enforcement and the government could muster were tripping all over each other at the abandoned site called in to Mercier earlier.