Caught in the Crossfire

by Annette Broadrick

  April 6

  How's your biological clock doing, Mrs. Crenshaw? Janeen is always guaranteed to make people laugh. And speaking of relatives, I've got a confession to make. It's not that I've been deliberately keeping this from you. I didn't think it was important until I realized how you feel about politicians these days. My Uncle Jerome is a Texas state senator and his son Jed is a U.S. representative. I understand another cousin of mine, Justin, is eyeing an elected post—land commissioner, I think.

  Check with Janeen to see if she has a particular vocation she wants her husband to follow. The Crenshaws are a versatile lot. I'm sure I could find one in most any profession she can name.

  Jared the matchmaker, brother to Omar the tentmaker. Well, maybe not.

  * * *

  Lindsey woke up in a grumpy mood. She hadn't heard from Jared in months. At least it felt that way. Today was the 12th of May and he hadn't written in two weeks, which was so unusual as to be frightening. He rarely missed a day sending her a brief note—definitely no more than two or three days.

  Maybe she'd call his company's head office and see what gives. He'd tried calling her a few times but there was usually so much static and other interference that they had a difficult time understanding each other.

  She walked into the kitchen and poured herself some orange juice and a cup of coffee. Janeen was already up and watching the morning news.

  Lindsey had just replaced the coffee carafe on the burner when Janeen let out a wail, "Oh no, oh no, oh no-no-no, it can't be!"

  She left her coffee and juice and ran into the living room. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

  Janeen sat on the sofa, her hand over her mouth and a look of horror on her face. She pointed to the television screen.

  "…the suicide bomber has been identified as part of an extremist group that has been terrorizing the area for several months…"

  Lindsey looked back at Janeen. "Where? Where was the bombing?"

  "Riyadh."

  "Oh. Oh! Riyadh! Where Jared's headquarters are!"

  Janeen stared at her mutely.

  "Where exactly was the bombing?" She turned back to the television in time to watch a commercial come on. "Did they say?"

  "Remember a while back when suicide bombers broke through the guards at an American compound?"

  "Oh, my God. Is that what happened?"

  "All I caught was Americans, several killed and many wounded."

  I will not panic. There are many Americans working over there. Jared said he's often working out at the oil fields. He probably wasn't in town at all.

  Lindsey found the number for the corporate headquarters in Houston. She had to start over twice before she got the sequence of numbers correct.

  "Hello? Yes, I need to speak to someone about the bombing in Saudi Arabia that's being broadcast on this morning's news. My husband is there with your company. Yes. His name is Jared Crenshaw. I'm trying to find out any information you may have about him. Yes, of course I'll hold."

  Janeen walked into the room behind her and slowly rubbed Lindsey's back. Lindsey gave her a quick smile while she listened to canned music playing in her ear.

  "Hello. Yes, this is Mrs. Jared Crenshaw. That's right. Do you know anything about—? Oh. Do you know if he happened to be in Riyadh when the—? Oh. Yes. Yes, I understand. Would you please take the numbers where I can be reached and call me when you have any news? I know. Yes. But if there's any way—Thank you." She hung up the phone and turned to her roommate. "Oh, Janeen," she whispered and put her arms around her.

  "What did they say?"

  She sighed wearily. "They don't have any information that has been authenticated. They don't know where Jared is, they don't know if he was in town, they know nothing."

  "But they will call you when they have some solid information, right?"

  She shrugged. "Who knows? I gave them this number, my cell number and the museum's number. There's nothing else I can do."

  "That's the worst of it. Feeling so helpless. It's the waiting and the wondering…"

  Lindsey glanced at her watch. "I've got to go or I'm going to be late for work. I'll call you if I hear anything. You do the same."

  "You can count on it."

  * * *

  Three days and three sleepless nights later, the phone rang at three o'clock in the morning. Lindsey picked it up before the first ring finished, her heart in her throat.

  "Hello!" She heard static and a hollow sounding voice. "Hello? Who is this?"

  Finally, she heard the most joyous words of all. "It's Jared. Can you hear me?"

  She burst into tears. Hastily wiping them away as fast as they sprang forth, she said, "Are you all right?"

  She heard his voice but his words were too garbled to decipher. When she hung up a few minutes later, she saw Janeen silhouetted in the doorway. "Is he okay?"

  Lindsey hiccupped, half laughing, half crying. "I don't know. All I know is that he's alive!"

  "What did he say?"

  "I could only pick up a word here and there. Something about the computer kaput, Frankfurt, he loved me, he'd be coming home soon."

  They stared at each other uncertainly. "He didn't say whether or not he was hurt?" Janeen asked.

  Lindsey shook her head. "If he did, I couldn't make any of it out."

  "Aren't overseas casualties sent to Frankfurt?"

  "I think so."

  They were silent, thinking about the implications.

  "I don't care!" Lindsey said forcefully. "I don't care if he's lost a limb or an eye or if he's going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I don't care! He's alive and that's all I care about." She fell on the bed, sobbing.

  * * *

  Three days later Lindsey received a call from corporate headquarters on her cell phone. "Hello? Yes, this is she. Yes? Oh. I see. Yes, thank you. I appreciate the call."

  As soon as she completed the call she immediately called Janeen. As soon as she heard her voice, Lindsey said, "The company called. He's booked on a flight to the States tomorrow. They gave me his flight number and told me when he'll be landing at Newark. The secretary who called didn't know how he was or where he was coming from. Gotta go."

  She did her very best to contain her sudden need to dance, scream and shout when she went back to her duties.

  * * *

  Janeen met her at the door that night. "You rat! You call me and rattle off all this stuff and hang up before I can ask you a thing."

  Lindsey hung up her coat. "I explained to my supervisor what was going on and she told me to take as much time as I need. She's such a nice lady. But with Jared coming back months earlier than expected, I told her that she should look for a replacement. We talked for quite a while and she offered to give me a letter of recommendation whenever I needed one. I was so touched."

  She grabbed Janeen and whirled her around the room. "I can't wait until he steps off that plane. Once he's on the ground tomorrow, it will take a crowbar to pry me from his side."

  "Did the secretary know whether or not he'd been injured?"

  "No. But if he were seriously injured, he wouldn't be coming home on a regular international flight, would he?"

  Janeen threw up her hands. "Who knows?"

  * * *

  Lindsey was at the airport two hours before the flight's estimated arrival time. Rather than sit around, she kept asking until she finally found someone with some authority.

  "My husband's coming in from Frankfurt. He may be injured. I want to be at the gate when he comes off the plane."

  "I'm sorry. Unticketed passengers are not allowed past the security gate."

  "I know that. That's why I'm talking to you. Will you please give me some ID, anything that's necessary, so that I won't be arrested when I meet him at the gate?"

  "No, I can't. If I make an exception for you, then everyone would expect the same treatment."

  She looked at the man behind the desk—going bald, wearing glasses and looking at her with r
ighteous determination.

  He wasn't going to let her meet Jared. What if she missed him when he came through? He didn't know she would be there. He wouldn't be looking for her and she could so easily miss him.

  She heard herself say, "I see. No exceptions."

  "That's correct." What a supercilious jerk.

  She smiled. "Fine. Then I'll go buy a ticket for whatever plane is taking off in that area." She stood and walked to the door.

  "But, Mrs. Crenshaw, those are international flights."

  She turned and gave him a level stare. "I'm aware of that, sir." She opened the door.

  "You'd spend that kind of money just to be at the gate when your husband arrives?"

  "I'll spend every penny I have if necessary." She closed the door behind her.

  Next, she looked at the various international flights coming in and going out. She had a choice to fly to Rome or London. Hmm. She hadn't been to Italy in a few years—that sounded good.

  Lindsey found the appropriate counter and stood in line. She had no trouble getting a ticket until she told them she had no luggage. In less than a minute she was surrounded by federal officers and taken to some kind of interrogation room.

  Good thing she'd gotten to the airport early.

  "What do you mean you don't intend to use the ticket? Who will?"

  She sighed. "No one. All I want to do is to be able to meet my husband's flight at the gate."

  "Before he clears customs?"

  "Yes. Look, here's my purse. There's nothing in there that I would slip to him before he clears customs."

  The gray-headed guard said, "Of course not. It's what he may give you that we're concerned about."

  She smiled. "I can guarantee that all he'll be giving me is a, hopefully, passionate kiss. We were only married three weeks before he left. He's been gone for several months. He may have been injured in a suicide bombing that took place a week ago in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. He isn't aware that I'm here and I'm afraid I won't see him with all the people coming out of customs."

  The three men talked among themselves. Now she was really getting nervous because she didn't have much more time before his flight arrived.

  Finally, one of them said, "Here's what we can do, ma'am. No need to buy a ticket. I'll escort you to the gate so that you can see him. After that, you and I will wait for him to clear customs. That's the best we can do."

  "Oh, yes! Thank you so much." She looked at her watch. "We need to leave now if we're going to make it."

  The next thing she knew, Lindsey was whisked through several Employees Only doors and came out onto the international concourse.

  She'd made it.

  * * *

  The upside to being in a restricted area was the lack of a crowd. There were a few passengers waiting to board flights, some airport and airline employees, but she had a clear view of the gate and passageway where Jared would appear.

  The only downside—and it was a very big one—came when the plane arrived. The passengers trickled out and none of them were Jared.

  Don't panic. It's a big plane. Lots of people on it. He's on the plane. He's got to be on the plane.

  Two flight attendants came out and her heart sank. Flight attendants didn't leave until the plane was empty, did they?

  She began to walk toward them to ask if there were any other passengers when she saw him, slowly coming down the ramp. He must have lost at least thirty pounds since January. He looked much too pale and he was drawn and obviously exhausted.

  He was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

  Jared didn't see her until he was close enough for her to say, "Welcome home, cowboy." He stopped and stared at her as if he were seeing a ghost. He blinked a couple of times, rubbed both hands over his face and walked toward her, his wonderful smile turned on at full wattage.

  She met him halfway with her arms open wide.

  Epilogue

  It was June. The Crenshaws were having a party. The celebration was for Jared and it seemed that everyone in a hundred-mile radius had come to welcome him home.

  He and Lindsey would be living in Houston now, not much more than a four-hour drive to the ranch. Now that he was married, Jared no longer wanted to travel and had been reassigned to the Houston office.

  He stood with his arm around Lindsey's waist and greeted new arrivals. After almost an hour of shaking hands and accepting best wishes from friends and family, Jared looked too pale for Lindsey's comfort.

  "I can feel you trembling," she murmured once they were alone. "Let's sit down, okay?"

  He nodded. "I feel like some kind of invalid, I'm so weak."

  They walked over to one of the tables that had been set up. Once seated, she said, "You've been home a few weeks. I could still wring your neck for never letting on you were so ill."

  "It comes with the territory, sweetheart. And I survived."

  "But you could have told me."

  "Why? What would you have done with the information?"

  She smiled. "Demanded that you be sent home immediately so I could nurse you back to health."

  He laughed. "And you would have done it, too."

  "At least you were nowhere near the bombing. Hearing about that sent me over the edge. I really lost it."

  "I'd been trying to call you right after it happened, but couldn't get through. I was on my way to Frankfurt when I managed to reach you."

  "Where they promptly put you in the hospital."

  "For tests, that's all."

  Jake and Ashley—a very pregnant Ashley—sat down across the table from them.

  Jake said. "What are you two quarreling about now?"

  Jared grinned. "We're not quarreling. We're merely sharing our opinions with each other."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Ashley," Lindsey said, "you must be so uncomfortable these days."

  Jake rubbed his wife's back. "She won't admit it, though. I've been doing whatever I can think of to ease the strain on her."

  Ashley leaned her head against Jake's shoulder. "He has. He massages my back, feet and ankles every night." Her eyes sparkled as she added, "And he painted my toenails for me last night."

  Jared burst into laughter as Jake said, "You could have talked all night without bringing that up."

  "I think it's sweet," Lindsey said.

  "That describes Jake, all right," Jared said. "Sweet."

  "Cut it out," Jake growled. "Let's wait and see how you handle your pregnant wife complaining that she can't see her feet and she has to paint her nails." He shook his head. "I don't know what it is about you women and your nail polish."

  Ashley winked at Lindsey. "I feel undressed without it on my toes." She held out her hands that wore no nail polish. "Of course, I gave up doing anything with these years ago. It's a waste of time for a veterinarian."

  "Do you have a due date?" Lindsey asked.

  "I'm supposedly due in another two weeks. But as uncomfortable as I've been these past few days, I think I might not go that long."

  Jake and Jared stared at each other in dismay. Jake said, "Don't you dare have this baby here tonight."

  Both women laughed.

  Jared looked around and said, "Have you noticed Jude tonight, Jake? He's been remote and quieter than usual." He nodded toward Jude, who stood talking with their father. "How's his assignment in San Antonio going? Have you heard?"

  "Nope," Jake replied. "Not a word. He must consider your returning in one piece worth coming home for. He's been in San Antonio now for over a year and this is the first time since our wedding that he's been here."

  "Any news on Jason?"

  "Same thing. Mom gets e-mails once in a while, but he never tells her where he is."

  Lindsey said, "Are your brothers surprised that you've both gotten married?"

  Jared and Jake looked at each other. "You could say that," Jared replied. "I believe their words were 'Better you than me,'" Jared added.

  The women burst out laughing. "Famous last words,
" Lindsey said.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8042-1

  CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE

  Copyright © 2004 by Annette Broadrick

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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