by J. M. Madden
Her legs tightened around his hips, then she gave a little wiggle that made him want to yell out, but he forced the vocalization down. The door was closed but the room certainly wasn’t soundproof.
“Andrea,” he rasped, pulling his mouth away. “You have to stop. We have to stop.”
She leaned in and kissed him again, her lips moving over his in a way he’d never been kissed before. He thought there was more than just sex there, but what did he know? That was the only kind of relationship he’d ever had. He knew he could give a woman pleasure, that had never been a problem, but the emotional aspect of relationships left him scratching his head.
His cock ached, full and ready, but there was no way it would even be seeing the light of day in here. No fucking way. Andrea was off limits. It was his own fault for crawling into bed with her. He’d thought that just being near her would be enough. What an idiot he’d been.
Bracing his hands on her shoulders he pushed her away, breaking the physical and emotional connection she’d wound around him. In spite of the pain in his chest, he rolled off the bed and headed toward the bathroom, erection straining the front of his pants.
Once inside the bathroom he splashed his face with cold water, shocking himself into awareness, then he leaned against the counter on his arms and just stared at himself in the mirror. He was a harsh looking motherfucker. He’d maybe been decent looking before the machete attack, but that faint glimmer of handsomeness was gone now. He’d had several doctors tell him they could make him prettier, but why bother? The people he was close to didn’t care what he looked like.
Dorian had been a handsome motherfucker, though. Even with a week’s worth of dirt on his face and his bedraggled uniform he still looked better than the rest of the team put together. They’d been Mutt and Jeff.
Andrea’s golden sweetness matched Dorian’s easy good looks. They’d been a pair.
He wished he could match her. She deserved so much more than a fuck from him and a goodbye. He didn’t understand why she would even touch him, let alone kiss him.
Shaking his head, he pushed away from the counter, straightening his spine. They had work to do.
Chapter Nine
Andrea didn’t like the look on Jack’s face when he left the bathroom. She’d seen that hard, determined look before. Any other time she would be happy to see it because it meant a job was going to get done, but right this second she knew it was directed her way. This needed to be nipped in the bud as quick as possible.
Marching up to him she stared into his face, waiting for him to look at her. Right now he was focusing on a point over her shoulder. She shifted into his line of sight and his jaw clenched. Even more telling he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Well, wasn’t that defensive…
“Nothing we did here was wrong,” she said firmly. “I’ll agree that the timing is bad. We should be concentrating on the kids. But we need time for us as well.”
“There is no us,” he clipped out.
“And why isn’t there,” she asked curiously, crossing her own arms beneath her breasts.
“Because you’re my best friend’s wife,” he snapped.
“No,” she corrected him firmly, “I used to be.”
Turning, she left the bedroom. She doubted he would actually hear her words, though. It had been five years since Dorian had died. Five years of long, lonely nights. In that time she’d dated here and there, but nothing serious. The only other man she thought she might be able to tolerate was Jack, and for a long time he’d completely been gone from her. In some ways losing him in her life had been just as devastating as losing Dorian.
When they’d parted last, she’d understood he’d been reeling. She’d tried to change them too quickly, but she’d been so lonely—for a long time. More lonely than ever before, and she’d needed someone to hold her for her. Honestly, she’d been aware of Jack’s feelings for her, and she had hoped that by approaching him the way she had he would have taken care of her. But even she had underestimated the loyalty to his friend.
What she’d told him had been the truth, though. She couldn’t even pinpoint when the issues in their marriage had started, but something had been bothering Dorian for a long time. It had put a wedge between them. He’d been reclusive and angry, and when she asked the slightest question about anything he had snapped her head off. Andrea was used to giving him some reintegration time when he came back from being deployed, but he’d completely disappeared for several days. No word to the kids, no word to her. She’d spoken to Jack as well and he hadn’t known where he was.
She wondered if Jack even remembered that conversation, or that Dorian had left them for a while.
When Dorian returned he’d admitted to having an affair. Something in her had suspected, of course. It was some innate female intuition, she supposed. And her marriage had lasted a lot longer than others they knew. They’d not made love that last time he’d been home. Three weeks later he’d been gone again, called off to some hotspot that needed him more than she did. And two deployments later Dorian had been killed. In a way, it hadn’t surprised her. She’d had a sense that he didn’t have his head on right. All military couples went through rough patches so she wouldn’t have even had any idea how to articulate the distance to anyone. It had just been a disconnection. A lack of closeness.
Andrea would never regret her marriage or the time she spent with Dorian, but she didn’t think Jack understood that they’d grown apart at the end. And apparently neither one of them had wanted to disillusion Jack that their marriage wasn’t perfect. How fucked up was that?
Andrea wasn’t surprised to find Mike in the same spot she’d left him, hunched over a computer keyboard. He was pounding intermittently, swiping his mouse around on the trackpad. He glanced up at her when she walked in and Andrea thought he might have blushed a little. Seriously?
For the first time she wondered if Mike had ever been married. Glancing around, she realized the house didn’t have much in the way of feminine touches. Had he been alone all his life, like Jack?
Another problem to ponder for another day.
“Have you learned anything new?”
Mike nodded, his eyes drifting beyond her shoulder. Jack had stepped behind her, silent and predatory. She would have known simply by the feel of the heat behind her, but she didn’t glance back at him. If he wanted to play it cool, they would. But this time, when all was said and done, she wasn’t letting him just walk away from her again.
“Have you heard anything from Si?” she asked, looking at him.
She knew he hadn’t because she’d been right there sleeping with him. The sound of the phone would have roused her, probably.
“No. Let me call him.”
Jack swiped through his phone and pressed a few times, then put the phone to his ear. Even standing where she was, though, she could hear it just ring. Eventually he hung up. “He’ll call me back.”
Before the words were even out of his mouth the phone was ringing in his hand. He swiped a couple of keys and held the phone out.
“We have an abduction,” Si said before Jack could respond. “Three kids from bus 204 out of Sherwood Forest Elementary. Two men with head coverings or masks forced entry onto the bus at a railroad crossing. Took the kids through the emergency door out the back.”
“They won’t be the only ones,” Jack growled into the speaker phone.
“Mike should be receiving a link now that will give him access to the residence list.”
“The kid we identified goes to Sherwood Forest Elementary,” Jack told him.
“I think several of the team’s kids do.”
Jack looked at her and jerked his head toward the front of the house. “Any description of the vehicle? We’re heading out the door.”
Mike tossed him the keys to the big blue truck. They’d already agreed that Jack’s truck should stay out of sight, so it was tucked away in the garage.
“White contractor van,” Silas said. “Maybe ha
d a ladder on top.”
Jack scowled as he turned to head through the house. With a final glance at Mike, she followed him through the door, closing it tightly behind her. She jogged out to the truck. Jack caged her wrist gently and tugged her around to the driver’s side, then lifted her up in. Andrea scrambled across the seat, determined not to be a burden. Jack climbed up in beside her and snapped the phone to the magnetic holder Mike had mounted on the windshield, then he started the truck and pulled out.
“What other members have kids?”
The phone beeped and she saw Mike was trying to beep in. There was a button to connect the calls. Pressing it she prayed it would work.
“Jack, there’s about eleven kids all in that general vicinity that belong to Navy SEALs,” Mike said, voice grim. “Three on bus 204, three on 210 and five on 215.”
Andrea’s looked at Jack in alarm. Eleven kids… “Can you contact the drivers?” she asked.
“They have a strict no-distraction policy. No cell phones. At least not until they stop somewhere.”
They looked at each other for a moment before Andrea held up a finger. “Any chance the kids have phones? Can we get a number from them?”
“Heath Johnson, nine, and Emily Johnson, seven, a brother and sister, seem a little young. But Dylan McCollough is the oldest, he’s thirteen. I’ll try him.”
There was tapping on the other end of the line, obviously Mike digging something up. They heard his voice rumbling like he was talking to someone in the background. His voice was deep and calming, cajoling, but the longer they listened the more persuasive it got, until finally he said, “Lady, we’re trying to protect your kid. Give me his damn number.”
They he was talking to them clearly. “Ok, I have Dylan’s number. He’s on bus 210. I’ll try to find a contact on the other bus.”
He rattled off the digits and Andrea typed it into her cell phone. It rang and rang before a desultory voice answer.
“Yeah?”
“Dylan? My name is Andrea Winters. I’m working with the Department of Homeland Security and we think there might be a terrorist attack about to happen. We got your number from your mother. Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Dylan, I need you to listen to me. Is the bus moving?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you? Do you see road signs?”
“We’re a couple miles from school on Dolphin Rd. We have a bunch of kids to drop off here.”
Jack pressed his foot to the gas, sliding through stoplights and around stop signs. He’d had a general direction before, now he had a specific location. He wove through cars like they were standing still, but he had time to glance at the phone. “Dylan,” he all but yelled into the phone.
“Yes, sir?”
Andrea blinked at the total change in the young man’s demeanor.
“Listen to me, Dylan,” Jack said, and she held the phone closer to his face. “Your dad is in country right now and he must be doing something important because we have bad guys on your tail. I’m not trying to freak you out but Brats have been kidnapped. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, sir,” he breathed, and Andrea thought she detected a note of panic in his young voice. “What do I do?”
“I need you to physically stand up and look around. Do you have any vehicles behind you?”
There was some jostling on the other end of the line, then Dylan was back. “Yes, sir. Three cars, a pickup and a white van with a ladder on top, it looks like.”
Andrea’s heart clutched, and her eyes connected with Jack’s for a split second, then back to the road. “Jack!”
He slowed for the traffic at the light ahead of him but ended up jumping the curb to the right and circling around them. Horns blared. “Silas, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“You’d better call the PD and let them know what’s going on. I’m still a couple miles out from where he is and I’m not being nice about getting there. I’m sure Mike’s tag is being reported right now.”
“Fuck,” Mike breathed from the other line.
“And you need to see if they have another unit in the Robin Hood area for the other bus. Sounds like the kids might have a tail, and if they follow the MO of the other abduction they’re going to be moving in soon.”
It would have been funny if they were in any other situation. Juggling phones and people on the line and trying not to get tickets while saving children and foiling a terrorist plot. Andrea was keeping multiple conversations straight and fighting off panic at the same time.
Andrea’s heart was about to gallop out of her chest. She wasn’t worried about Jack’s driving. He was completely competent, even at the breakneck speeds they were traveling, but she worried about the kids. Dylan was only thirteen. This was not something he should ever have to deal with on his own.
“Dylan, you’re going to be okay,” she told him, “But you have to be smart. Okay? It might be the van that has the bad guys in it. That was what they did last time. But they waited for the bus to stop at a railroad crossing.”
“After we get done with this street we have two other subdivision loops, then we head south on Sewell. There’s a railroad crossing there.”
Shit.
She glanced at Jack and he nodded to let her know he’d heard. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal.
“Dylan, do you know Heath and Emily Johnson?”
“Yes. They’re a couple of seats in front of me.”
“Okay, they’re on the list too. Their dad is a SEAL, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When do they get off? Where is their house?”
“Um, in a couple of streets. Before the railroad tracks.”
Andrea cursed and she didn’t even need to glance at Jack; she felt the truck speed up even more. God, if they hit anything it would be devastating. She hung onto the seat belt as they skidded around a turn. She jerked as the truck hit something, then kept going.
“What street do they live on Dylan?”
“Um, I’m not sure about that. Want me to ask?”
“Yes, please. If they’re getting off before you it means the kidnappers will try to get them first.”
“Hold on.”
It seemed like forever as they waited to hear back from the boy. The mission was running on the information they got from him.
“How far away are we?” she asked Jack.
“At least a couple miles.”
They couldn’t go any faster than what they were though. It wasn’t exactly rush hour, but with schools letting out there was a lot of traffic moving. At one point the truck drew to a halt. They were completely blocked in.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Dylan.”
“They live on Krick Street. And we’re almost there.”
Jack nodded and forced his way through the traffic, driving up through a yard, past a guy mowing, then along the sidewalk until he could turn right at the corner.
“We’re about there, buddy. We’re absolutely going as fast as we can. If you see a police car don’t worry, we called them. Okay?”
“Should I tell the driver anything?”
Andrea glanced at Jack, but he shook his head. “Not right this second. Stay on your route. We don’t want them to know that anything has changed. And we may be overreacting.”
There was a pause.
“Something is happening. The bus driver just slammed on her brakes.”
She looked at Jack, fear filling her heart.
“Silas, are you copying all this?”
“Yes. I have eyes in the air. They’ll be there in three minutes.”
“Ma’am. A truck pulled out of a driveway right in front of the bus and she slammed on her brakes so we wouldn’t hit him. I think she’s getting out of her seat.”
There was dread in her heart and she had a feeling she knew what was going to happen. Through Dylan’s phone they could hear yell
ing, then the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, and children screaming. Tears filled her eyes as she strained her ears to listen for anything identifying.
Please, God, don’t let the children be hurt.
Jack grunted and cranked on the wheel. “Hang on,” he growled.
Andrea clutched at the handle above her head, but even knowing it was coming she gave a little squeal as the truck lurched over a landscaping dune, catching air, then back down to the road. The tires of the truck barked on the pavement. She barely kept hold of the phone.
“Dylan?” She called, but there was no response. She could still hear children crying out, but not Dylan. Had he put the phone down on the seat or something?
She glanced at Jack.
“Two minutes,” he snapped.
Andrea knew he was doing the best he could, but there was traffic. She didn’t know how he managed not to hit so many cars already.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Dylan,” she cried.
“I think they’re going to get us,” he whispered, and she could hear the tremor in his young voice.
“Listen to me, Dylan,” Jack called. “Do what they say. If it means coming home to your mom and dad, you do exactly as those men tell you to do. Do you understand me?”
There was a pause, then his quiet, “Yes, sir,” came over the phone before it disconnected.
Tears were rolling down Andrea’s face. Jack was still driving like a bat out of hell, but she knew that when they got there the children would be gone.
Chapter Ten
Fuck, this was bad. Jack looked at the body of the bus driver stretched out on the street. There was a bullet between her eyes and a pool of blood beneath her. The kids had all been moved out through the back of the bus and there were officers waiting with them, shielding them and trying to calm them. Some had no idea what had gone on, only that two men had come onto the bus and taken three of the kids.
Flashing his Homeland Security badge, Jack stepped around the body and climbed the steps onto the bus. He walked down the aisle, heading toward the back. When he’d been a kid, the older you were, generally the further back on the bus you rode. Had Dylan left his stuff here?