Always and Forever (18 page)

“Hello.” A pause. “Hi, Pete. Where are you?”

Shit. She had guy. Of course she had a guy!

When she clicked off, he asked, “Your beau?”

“What a quaint word.”

“That’s me. Old school to my roots.”

“Are you? Why?”

“Because
I believe in the values of a previous time. I’m afraid I’m outta step with your younger crowd.”

“Yeah, you’re ancient.”

“In some ways.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. It turned him on. “Tell you what. Get some paper. You write down the five most important things in life and I will, too. We’ll see how backward you are.”

“You’re on, lass.”

“Lass?”

“I’m Irish, me girl.”

“I like the Gaelic lilt in your voice and how you clip your endings.”

He exaggerated both. “Am I doin’ that,
leanbh
?”

Her laugh was low and sexy. He retrieved paper; they both scribbled on theirs. “Okay, you go first,” she insisted.

He’d written down: family, hard work, loyalty, trustworthiness and an optimistic outlook, the latter not being a constant struggle for him like it would
become in the future.

Family, education, trustworthiness, success in a job and hope topped hers.

She gave him a sexy grin. “Not too different.”

“Different enough.” He winked at her. “But it would keep things interesting.”

The boyfriend showed up, and Pat regretted that. She stayed on his mind until the next night, when she entered the bar alone—no girlfriends and no guy…

Now,
in the confines of the bedroom that had become theirs, he scrubbed at wetness on his cheeks. The memory of their first meeting had made him let loose some. If he knew then what he knew now… Hell, he would have pursued her anyway. Because the minute he’d laid eyes on Gabriella Paresi, he’d been smitten.

After Pat went upstairs, while the others rested, Liam paced the living
room. Pretty soon, he’d have to call his boys and tell them what was happening. No, he’d have to do it in person. Luckily, they both had started summer camps—baseball for Cleary and an art camp for Mike—so they’d be busy all day. Liam was thinking about going outside to the pool to swim with Bailey when he caught sight of a commotion on the front lawn.

Shit, the press was starting to gather
outside. Three trucks had arrived. The FBI had made them stay off the property, so they were across the street. Just then, a car had tried to pull in the driveway, but the Secret Service blocked it. He recognized the vehicle, so he went to the door. The agent assigned to him, Ian Black, stopped him. “Mr. O’Neil, you need to stay inside the family compound for a while. Reporters are here.”

“Yeah, but I know the people in the car that your agents are dealing with.”

“No one is allowed in the house.”

“Then let me go to them. You can stay right beside me.”

Outside, the sun was bright, and Liam thought it shouldn’t be so nice today. It shouldn’t have the rich scents of flowers and grass. When they reached the car, Gale Sullivan got out one side and Jamie Ralston exited from
the other. Jamie, usually happy, wore a somber expression. Gale seemed downright panicky.

“We don’t know what’s going on,” Jamie said, “but something is. We brought you guys food.”

Liam thought ludicrously that Bailey and Clay couldn’t eat food prepared by anyone but the White House staff or overseen by the Secret Service.

Gale circled the trunk. “You closed the pub. You’re all out
here, with an army of agents.” He pointed across the street. “And there’s press. What’s wrong?”

“It’s a family matter.” Agent Black spoke before Liam could.

“Why is the Secret Service here?” Jamie’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow, is the president inside? The First Lady?”

“We can’t disclose that, ma’am. And we’ll have to ask you to leave the premises immediately.”

Liam tried to smile.
“Everything is fine.”

Gale gripped his arm, his wild-eyed look alarming Liam. “I don’t think everything’s fine. Is she hurt?”

“Who?”

“Brie. Yesterday, I was at the pub when you called everybody to find out if they’d heard from her. Has something happened to her?”

“Gale, calm down.”

His grip tightened. “Has she been found?”

Glancing at the agent, Liam felt like he didn’t
have any choice but to tell them the truth. He’d totally forgotten Gale knew they’d been looking for Brie. After he informed Agent Black, the guy nodded. “All right, come around back, both of you, and they’ll fill you in.”

Bothered by Gale’s exaggerated worry, Liam followed the group, hoping the guy calmed down before Patrick got up.

The next time Brie awoke, she was no
longer in bed. She was seated in a chair, looking out at a garden that was bathed in sunlight; the brightness made her head hurt more. Glancing down, she didn’t recognize the clothes she wore. She scanned the rest of her surroundings.
Oh, my God.

Around mid-day, the press secretary from the White House called Clay to tell him that at her daily briefing, reporters had asked about him, questioning where he was during this latest
crisis in Turkey. They wanted to know if his absence had anything to do with his family. They’d heard rumors about his sister-in-law. Liam said Gale and Jamie knew and were worried, plus Pat called everybody Brie knew to look for her, so the situation could have been leaked in many ways. Brie’s disappearance had to be dealt with.

So, at two, Dylan and Rachel, with a Secret Service agent in
tow, entered the NSNBC studio, where Rachel would tape a short segment on the president’s sister-in-law. Since she’d been off work because of the miscarriage—Dylan still couldn’t believe that had happened—her segment would run as a cut-in and could be used for all programs, not just hers. She hadn’t seen or talked to anyone from work, either—Dylan had called her producer about the miscarriage—so
visiting the station was going to be emotional.

Her producer, Crane Jacobson, approached them. His somber face and the concern in his eyes were fitting. He didn’t say anything, just hugged Rachel. Then he whispered in her ear but Dylan couldn’t make out the message.

“Thanks.” Rachel barely got the word out. Dylan knew that she was holding it together for Pat, and he’d never admired her
more. She’d grieved for not even forty-eight hours, then her feelings had to be put on hold.

“We’ll make this quick,” she told her boss. “Did you get the copy?” Clay’s team wanted to write her words. She’d been warned not to go off script.

“Yes. It’s on the teleprompter, exactly as they wrote it. They were insistent to the point of checking the prompter itself.”

“They’re all worried.”

“I would be, too. It must be awful.” Crane seemed to notice Dylan then. “Hey, Dylan. Sorry about your sister-in-law. But the statement is a good idea. There’s been rumblings over the internet all day about the president being here.”

“The news was already starting to get out, and the FBI thought this would be the best course. Maybe even help.”

Often in kidnappings, somebody saw something,
but they might not even know it. People don’t just disappear without a trace. At least Dylan hoped so. How long could Pat bear this nightmare?

He watched Rachel mic up, fluff her hair and circle around the desk. Her skin was still pale, but the makeup she’d put on helped. She sat with the NSNBC logo behind her. Tipping her chin in the way she had when she was determined, she did a sound check.

The tape began to role.
Breaking News
appeared in big red letters. Then the screen switched to her.

“Good evening, I’m Rachel Scott, here with some breaking news. As you know, I’m close to the O’Neil family, which now includes President Wainwright. The White House has asked me to inform the public of a situation that requires your help, and the help of my colleagues. It’s been determined
the president’s sister-in-law has been missing for nearly thirty-six hours.”

A picture of Brie came on screen, and Dylan gasped at the sight of her. In a photo Aidan had taken, she was laughing. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was broad. “Gabriella O’Neil is thirty-nine years old, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. She’s five foot eight, medium build. Last seen, she was wearing a blue sweat
suit and flip-flops.”

Her picture faded, and another came on. “This is the car she’s believed to be driving.”

Brie’s blue Volvo was shown and described and the license plate number given.

The screen shifted back to Rachel. “If anyone has any information, phone lines have been set up for you to alert the FBI.”

Numbers appeared at the bottom of the set.

“I urge anyone to call
who might be able to help us, but please don’t clog the lines if you don’t have potentially valuable information. And I ask my fellow news reporters to help with locating Ms. O’Neil and also to respect the O’Neils’s privacy.” She cleared her throat. “Please don’t descend on the family in this very difficult time for us.”

Us
. Dylan liked the sound of that.

Rachel signed off, stood and
removed her mic. Then she walked to Dylan and fell into his arms like a rag doll.

He held her close. “You were wonderful.” He brushed down her hair. “Especially since I know how much you’re hurting.”

“I am. I still can’t believe it…” Her voice broke, and her hand went to her stomach. “You know…”

“I know,
leanbh
. I know. Me, too. But we have to help out now. We can mourn later.”

“I will help. But hold me a little longer.”

“Always.”

Light-headed, and weak, Brie nonetheless knew she was in trouble. Dr. Jonathan Forbes sat across from her in his usual spot at the table by the window in the parlor, pouring tea. She’d been down here earlier, but once she recognized him, she’d fainted. Then slept. Now, though her head was fuzzy and sometimes her vision
blurred, her focus had adjusted enough so she could see he was dressed in an old-fashioned suit with wide lapels and a bow tie at his collar. He sat more upright, seemed less frail than he ever had in the many times she’d worked out here at his house. The scent of citrus filled her nostrils.

“Are you feeling better, my dear? You were faint earlier.”

A thought came to her. Before Bailey
had become the First Lady, the Secret Service had given all of the O’Neils training in what to do if a kidnapping occurred. The hardest part had been educating the kids, but she and Liam had worked together. They were candid and went over the rules several times. Consequently, Brie could recall them, too.

Retain a sense of pride, but act cooperative.

So she lifted her chin as much as she
was able. “Actually, I feel a bit under the weather.” Her voice was rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. It made her wonder how long she’d been here.

“That’s because we’ve had to sedate you.”

We?

He added, “You seemed so weary yesterday.”

Try to keep track of the passage of time. And note details of your surroundings.

Okay, she’d come out here because Jonathan had
called and begged her to visit. He’d said that was yesterday. Glancing out the window, she saw the sun was dimmer now, so it must be nearing nightfall.

“I
was
weary.”

He nodded to her tea. “Drink up. You’ll feel better, and we can have a nice chat.”

Don’t antagonize your captors.

“Of course.” The drink could be drugged, but they’d already done that to her through needles; being
amenable would work best. Gingerly, she sipped her tea. The orange flavor wasn’t to her taste, but she’d heard this kind mentioned lately. When?

“What would you like for dinner?”

Know your captors. Try to establish a rapport with them.

She had to clear her throat. “Whatever you choose, Jonathan.”

He slid his hand across the table and took hers in his. His skin was parchment-like,
white, heavily veined. The way he touched her—intimately—made her want to cringe, but she held back the response.

“I love the way you say my name, Francesca.”

Francesca?

Brie’s heartbeat sped up. She could feel emotion rise in her chest and longed to scream it out.

Most of all, keep your head and don’t panic.

Suddenly, she thought of Pat and her children. The images gave her
strength. So she slowed her breathing and said simply, “You are a dear.”

Patrick, Clay, Bailey and Sinead watched Rachel’s report on the big screen TV in the family room.

“Thatta girl.” Clay had come to the edge of his seat as she gave their carefully crafted message. “It’s just what we need.”

Despite the situation, Bailey snorted. “I never thought I’d hear
those
words
come out of your mouth about Rachel.”

Her husband chuckled.

When Bailey switched off the TV, Clay stood. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave tonight. My meetings on Turkey start in the morning.”

“That’s okay, Clay.” Pat rose, too. “I appreciate you bein’ here at all.”