Escape to Morning

by Susan May Warren

  “Wait!” Fadima grabbed his good arm. After her flight to DC and a day of debriefing, which included a supersize order of French fries, a shake, and a couple of cheeseburgers, Amina— or Fadima as she had introduced herself—had become one of his best informants. Her brother, Kutsi, and father, Nazar, were in a safe house in Turkey, awaiting their transport to America after being found at Nazar’s “hideout” at a resort on the Black Sea. No doubt a location he’d use as a cover for his return to Hayata if the CIA hadn’t rescued him. Nazar easily gave up the when and where of Hayata’s next attack in exchange for asylum.

  Fadima’s voice rose in pitch. “I think I see one of the girls from Azmi—the Hayata camp in Minnesota. Black hair, wearing a pink poncho.”

  Fadima even knew American fashions? Will searched the crowd, found the target. It took him only three seconds to see that the bump under her poncho wasn’t her lunch. In fact, if Nazar’s specs were correct, tucked inside that poncho was a dirty bomb—a conventional Semtex bomb laced with radioactive materials.

  Talk about impact—thousands of families, children, and soldiers remembering the sacrifices made for American freedom would walk away from Memorial Day with a death sentence.

  Not on Will’s watch.

  “I found our delivery girl.” He relayed the information to the teams on the ground and fought a wave of hatred for a man who packed explosives on a girl no more than eighteen. Will then turned his attention back to Bakym.

  Gone.

  Will studied the crowd, panic filling his throat. “Find that girl!” he yelled into the radio. “Anyone on Bakym?”

  “He shook us, Agent Masterson.”

  He wanted to slam his fist into the wall. Please, Lord, help us … He focused on the edges of the crowd, on the ones leaving. …

  Yes! Bakym was climbing into a pickup parked right off Maryland Avenue. In fact, Will knew that pickup … Simon’s pickup—a silver birch Chevy Silverado, his pride and joy, next to his wife and ten-year-old son.

  Will updated his men on the ground as he slammed out of the control room, descended the stairs two at a time. He shrugged out of his sling, leaving it on the stairwell, and thanked the Lord for DC traffic. Bakym wouldn’t get far. Not today with Independence Avenue blocked off to the west, and SUVs snarled to a standstill on Independence East and Fourth Street.

  Will’s heartbeat raced. He didn’t wait for a cab; he tore across the street, dodging traffic, cut out onto Third Street, and angled down Independence.

  Please, God, be on my side today. Because he knew he was right. Bakym had a reason for leaving, and it wasn’t so he could get back to his motel and order a large pizza.

  Yes, yes! He saw the Silverado with the Minnesota plates ground to a stop only three cars from Fourth Street. Will pumped up his speed.

  Nearing the truck, Will noted that Bakym looked frustrated as he tapped his hand on the steering wheel to some unintelligible hard rock on the radio.

  Worried you might get blown up, scumbag?

  Will dived toward the truck, had the door open and Bakym yanked out and on the ground before Bakym knew what hit him.

  A cell phone bounced out of his hand onto the pavement. Will speared Bakym in the spine with his knee, diving for the phone.

  He felt Bakym grab him, claw at his leg, but Will’s hand closed around the phone. His injured shoulder screamed.

  So did Bakym. “Nyet!” Bakym’s fist clipped his jaw.

  Will’s head snapped back. He felt nothing but elation as he recovered and launched himself at Bakym. He cuffed him hard—the best pain relief on the market—and Bakym hit the pavement.

  Will was about to jump on him, maybe get in a couple of licks for Simon, when Jeff flashed into his peripheral vision and pounced on the thug. “That’s enough, Will. We got him.”

  Will stumbled back, breathing hard. He sank to the street, the pain in his shoulder now searing his brain.

  While Jeff slapped cuffs on Bakym, Mirandizing his rights, Will glanced at the cell phone still in his hand. Bakym had logged a number in. It blinked, waiting to be sent. Will blew out a breath, carefully pushed End, and deleted the call. Just about then, he felt himself break into a cold sweat.

  Jeff and a host of other Homeland Security agents hoisted Bakym to his feet. Bakym swore, then glared at Will. “You!” He seemed stunned, his black eyes wide. “You’re not a reporter?”

  Will gave a dark laugh. “Hardly. I’m the guy who’s going to make sure you pay for what you did to Simon.” He turned to Jeff. “Get him out of here before I do something I probably should regret.”

  They hauled Bakym off just as the orchestra began the first strains of “Hail to the Chief” on the mall not far away.

  Chapter 22

  WILL STOOD ON the front porch, rocking from toe to heel, feeling like an idiot in his suit coat and tie. He held a wrapped gift, and right about now it would take very little for him to dump it at the door, turn, and dive for his pickup.

  The coward he was.

  But he stood his ground. God is my portion.

  The door creaked opened, and a little blonde head peeked out. “Hello?”

  He crouched, held out the present like a peace offering. “Hey there. Is your mommy around?”

  The little girl, he guessed about four, eyed him with huge round blue eyes, then turned and slammed the door in his face.

  Oh. He frowned, stood up, and searched for a place to leave the gift. Obviously he’d scared her and—

  The door reopened. He prepared to give his best cowboy smile. Only it wasn’t a four-year-old blonde in a sundress this time. It was the child’s very pretty mother, wearing a matching sundress, her hair down to her shoulders, and surprise on her face. She stared at him for a moment before she smiled. Like the sun peeking out from behind dark clouds. His chest loosened.

  “Will Masterson,” Bonnie said. “I just don’t know what to say.”

  He held out the gift, feeling that, yes, it would have been a much better move to simply leave it and flee. He swallowed past a Mount Rushmore—sized lump in his throat. “Howdy, Bonnie. I’m really sorry I didn’t come earlier. I had some stuff to do, and well … but that’s no excuse and I …” He dredged up a shaky smile.

  Her gaze went to the gift, then to him. A heartbeat passed before she stepped out onto the porch and hugged him hard around the waist. “You’re right on time, Will. Thank you for being a friend.”

  For a second he simply stood there, feeling foolish; then he settled his arms around her shoulders. Closed his eyes. And somehow in her embrace, he felt a smile, right out of heaven, touch his heart.

  Yes, indeed, God was on his side.

  Dannette sat with her leg propped on a chair on the grounds of the country club. Red roses fragranced the summer air, and a slight wind frightened away the clouds over the lush Kentucky hills. A country-western band singing love songs, frills, and bows—well, Lacey got her wish. Dannette couldn’t help but laugh at Micah, trying to balance a glass of punch in one hand and hug guests with the other arm. He looked resplendent, however, in his black tails, his black hair freshly cut, his gray eyes shining.

  Lacey, too, looked radiant. She’d woven lilies into her red-as-a-penny hair and wore a floor-length gown that made her look twenty rather than thirty-something and on her second marriage. Except for her daughter, Emily—cute in a flouncy white dress and white patent-leather shoes, her blonde hair now grown out to her shoulders—Dannette would have thought Lacey was a brand-new, never-been-kissed bride. She floated when Micah took her in his arms at the altar and blushed to match her hair when he kissed her.

  If any two deserved to be together, it was Lacey and Micah, the star-crossed childhood friends who’d waited twenty years for this magical day.

  Dannette took a sip of her punch as Conner sat down beside her.

  “How are you feeling?” He knocked on her leg cast before sitting down next to her.

  Her compound fracture still burned at times, but she hoped to ha
ve the cast off in another couple of weeks. After a month or so of physical therapy, she’d be back in the woods again.

  Thank You, Lord. The doctors had made her well aware of the fact that had her friends not tracked her down, she might have lost her leg. That thought still left her feeling weak.

  “Good.” She smiled at Conner. She did feel good. Healing.

  Okay, yes, inside, she still hurt, just a little, wondering why Will had simply dropped off the planet. Then again, she had told him to go.

  But she hadn’t meant completely out of her life.

  Homeland Security had told her exactly nil when they finally flew down to Kentucky to interrogate her. Which meant that Will Masterson was on a new assignment.

  Never to be seen again.

  It was that thought that salted the wounds in her heart. Especially accompanied by memories of his soft smile and the look of pain in his eyes when he’d left her. She’d run over their conversation that night he left her in the woods a hundred times. Around the sixty-seventh time she realized he’d never promised to return. Only promised to send back help. Which accounted for the last words he ever said to her: “I’m sorry, Dani. I wanted this to turn out differently.”

  She sighed, forcing away another wave of pain. Yeah, he wasn’t the only one.

  Conner reached for her cake. “You going to eat that?”

  She grinned at him, pushed her uneaten cake toward him. “Hey, um … did you ever … you know, hear from him?”

  She tried to sound casual, but Conner tipped his head, his long curls rubbing against his collar. “Uh … who?”

  She threw her napkin at him.

  He shook his head and laughed. “Well, yeah, actually.”

  Her heart stopped. Right there. Her smile vanished. “What?”

  Conner just grinned.

  “Is he okay?” She leaned forward, touched his arm.

  He glanced down at her grip, raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was out of your life. That you didn’t care.”

  She swallowed, unsure of what to say. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Micah staring at her. “Well, I … of course I care. We were friends. And he just dropped out of my life.”

  “What if he were to drop back in?” Only it wasn’t Conner speaking. The voice came from behind her.

  She felt weak, as if her heart had stopped. She hiccupped a breath, then turned.

  Will. Charming Cowboy Will, filling out a brown sport coat over a pair of jeans, and wearing, of course, cowboy boots. He smiled down at her, his eyes shining, a wide smile on his handsome face. He came around beside her.

  “I think it’s time for me to go bug Sarah,” Conner said and stood up. “Hank’s here, and she’s trapped in a conversation about acid rain and conservation techniques.”

  Dannette couldn’t respond as he vacated the chair. Will. Here? Had she missed a giant setup?

  She glanced at Micah. Oh yeah, he had helmed this; she could tell by the way he grinned wildly at her. And from the looks of it, Sarah was in cahoots also. She raised her punch glass, not looking all that tortured in her conversation with cute, good-old-boy Hank Billings.

  Will put a bag on the table, then pulled out the chair she had her leg propped on, sat, and put her leg across his lap. “I brought something for my favorite girl,” he said and reached for the bag.

  A gift? He’d brought her a gift? She took it, opened it. Laughed. “Dog biscuits?”

  He smiled, and it was so devastatingly sweet she couldn’t speak. He looked at her cast. Then he raised those beautiful eyes and quietly asked, “How are you?”

  How was she? She ached for his friendship. She’d buried herself in the memory of his kiss, dreamed of tomorrows. And now that he was here, she could probably fly.

  It was better to take things slow, right? Not leap into his arms?

  “Good. Healing.” She indicated his injury. “How’s your shoulder?”

  He shrugged. “We make quite a pair, you and I.” His smile dimmed, and he ducked his head.

  Silence pulsed between them, and she felt the familiar warmth of just being near him, remembered his strong, gentle hands in her hair. Please, Will, don’t give up on us. “How’s Amina?”

  He brightened, as if glad she’d found a topic they could discuss besides the obvious—their shattered friendship. “I had to leave for Washington immediately. They wouldn’t let me stick around for your surgery. I’m really sorry. But … I called. A lot.”

  But he’d never talked to her. Why? She tried not to let that hurt. Because he was afraid she’d say, Just go?

  “Amina delivered the information, and we extracted her father and brother in time to stop Hayata’s planned attack. General Nazar is still being debriefed, but he’s given us the names and locations and intimate details of over fifteen international terrorist groups that have been on our A list for years. Many of them have cells in the United States. It’s a great victory for the war on terror, Dani. You did a great job. …”

  He looked away, and his voice thickened. “I’m so, so sorry I left you. I’ve been sick about it. I was going to drop out of your life, because you don’t need a guy like me … but …”

  He gave a tentative, almost pained grin. “Your friends Conner and Micah tracked me down in South Dakota. I went back there to talk to Bonnie and meet her new husband.”

  She felt something like pride take hold. “You did? Will, that’s great. I’m so proud of you.”

  Her words obviously touched him, for he blushed. She’d forgotten how heart-stoppingly adorable that made him look. The tender warrior.

  That was probably not a good thought. Especially if he was trying to close the door on their friendship with a final goodbye. “What did Micah and Conner say to you?” She could hardly believe she’d asked, but he was here after all, and that had to mean something, right?

  He traced an outline of one of the names on her cast. “They convinced me that I owed you a face-to-face opportunity to kick me out of your life.” The tremor in his voice told her he wasn’t kidding.

  Kick him out of her life?

  “I know you told me to go, but I was sorta hoping that was just a temporary thing. That maybe I could change your mind.” He was wearing his emotions right there on the outside of his body, and for a second the enormity of it swept the breath out of her.

  “Now what kind of search-and-rescue gal would I be if I left you to splutter around in the wilderness without me?”

  When he smiled, joy exploded in her heart.

  “Really? Because, you know, I was thinking that maybe we could start over.” He held out his hand. “Will Masterson. Guy just trying to do the right thing.”

  She laughed, met his grip. “Dani Lundeen. Girl who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Dani. What a pretty name. Is it a nickname?”

  She giggled.

  He ran his finger along her cast. After a moment, his face became very, very serious. And, as usual, he couldn’t look at her. She could nearly guess at the tenor of his next words. “Dani, you know I’m a soldier of sorts. And I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. I remember you telling me that you could never marry a guy like … well, a guy like me. But I was thinking that if someday you felt you could love me—”

  She touched his arm, cutting off his words. “Oh, Will.” She gathered her courage into a fiery ball of emotion. Sure, she could do this. God was her deliverer and right now her strength. She didn’t care if Will was a soldier or a shoe salesman or even a reporter, because she wanted to be with him so much she ached. “Don’t you know that God sent you into my life to be the guy I needed?”

  He opened his mouth, swallowed, then found a smile. For a wild second, she saw his emotions in his eyes. And they fueled the last spark of courage in her.

  “Besides, it’s too late. I’m already falling in love with you. At least, I want to try and love you. Because I already trust you.” There, she said it. And it felt good. Like she’d escaped from a dark, lone
ly place into a gloriously brilliant morning.

  “You trust me?” Will whispered. He took her hand. “You’re sort of in love with me?”

  She shrugged but felt herself blush. “Don’t take out an ad or anything.”

  “That works pretty great for me, because I think I’m falling in love with you too. Pretty much since you stormed out of my life that first night. You make me want to be the guy I see in your eyes, Dani. If you’ll let me, I’ll try and prove that to you one day at a time for the next, say, eighty or so years.”

  Her heart leaped. Actually jumped in her chest and did a swing dance. “Only eighty?” she managed to say without singing.

  He glanced at her leg. “Well, maybe longer, but you have to let me be the boss of you sometimes.”

  She laughed. “Okay, but it has to be rare, and you have to tell me why.”

  His smile faded, and his gaze studied her face. “I promise you, Dani, I’ll never lie to you again. Ever. And if I can’t tell you something, you’ll just have to believe that I want to, but I can’t.”

  She ran her fingertips down his check, rubbed his goatee, her smile also vanishing. She poured her love into her eyes, hoping that he read it as he heard her words. “I do trust you, Will Masterson. You found my buried heart, burrowed in, and rescued it with your friendship. And … well, I’d like to let it out … let myself love you. And … let you love me.”

  His smile was slow, like honey, and heat gathered in his incredible eyes. He cupped her chin, rubbed his thumb over her cheek, then leaned forward and very, very slowly kissed her. Not urgently. But a kiss that spoke of friendship and pleasures to come that would make the difficult moments bearable.

  He pulled away from her but touched his forehead to hers. Wow, did he smell good. Cologne and shaving cream. It had the power to make a girl’s eyes water.

  Or maybe that was just emotions. Lots of them. And having their way in her heart.

  Will gave her his scoundrel grin, then turned and stared at Micah and Conner and Sarah and Andee, who were all huddled in a not-so-subtle eavesdropping posture. He gave them a thumbs-up.