Baggage Claim (Tru Exceptions - Christian Romantic Suspense Book 1) (11 page)

Instead, she simply answered the question. "No, Kelsey, I'm really not interested. Thanks for the offer though. It's very flattering."

Another agent walked up as Rachel moved to get on the transport.

"Dawson, Andrews is in the office upstairs. He wants to see you ASAP."

Dawson turned and walked away. The other agent drove Rachel to the plane and escorted her to her seat.

She was the last passenger to board, and the plane soon began to move. They lifted off. Rachel watched out the window as the lights of the airport and then the lights of New York quickly faded to indistinguishable dots, then darkness. It was then that she realized. Dawson hadn't even said goodbye.

Rachel arrived in Helena, Montana at 9:00 AM. The flight home had both felt like it took forever and felt like it passed in a blur. What little sleep she'd gotten had been extremely restless and plagued by nightmares. The layover in Denver had been uneventful. Finally getting off the plane was a relief, but she still had to collect her suitcase, get her car, and drive herself home. Then, nothing was going to keep her from a long appointment with her bed. Maybe a very long nap would erase the memories enough for her to pretend the events of the past two days simply hadn't happened.

She made her way down to the luggage carousel flashing her flight number. Patiently, she waited as all the luggage from the plane danced around her and was claimed by other passengers. Finally, the carousel stopped moving, the flight numbers stopped blinking. She didn't know what the suitcase Kelsey had purchased for her looked like, but there was nothing left on the empty carousel for her even to inspect.

Groaning, Rachel went over to the Lost Luggage counter.

"Excuse me," she said to the middle-aged lady behind the counter whose nametag read 'Dawn.' "My name is Rachel Saunders. I was on the flight that just landed from Denver. I was supposed to have a suitcase on board, but it didn't show up on the carousel."

The sensation of déjà vu made Rachel feel sick to her stomach. Only this time, she didn't even have a ticket stub or a baggage claim ticket to prove that she'd been on the flight. Kelsey hadn't given her any papers, and there wasn't even a record that she'd been on the flight.

"Rachel Saunders?" Dawn asked. "Let me run in back and make sure there wasn't a suitcase that just didn't get loaded. If it's not there, we'll start some paperwork. Wait here. I'll be right back.

Rachel fought the urge to start laughing hysterically. This was not happening! Not again!

True to her word, Dawn came bustling back within two minutes.

"Good news!" she said "We found it! A man is bringing it out for you right now."

Rachel closed her eyes. This
really
wasn't happening! She didn't know if she could take it. Maybe she should just forget the suitcase and run!

She opened her eyes to see a mirage. Dawson was walking toward her. Had she finally lost it and gone insane?

The mirage came toward her, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth, showing off his dimples. Before she could even think, his lips were on hers, kissing her slowly, tenderly, passionately. After a few seconds of complete shock, Rachel responded, placing her hands on his muscled chest and leaning in to fully enjoy every nuance of his mouth on hers. If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.

Breathless, the mirage finally released her. Reaching up, he tangled both hands in her hair and tipped her face up so her eyes met his.

"I don't want to give you the wrong impression, Montana," he said, his voice scratchy with emotion. "But I have to tell you I plan on making a habit of that."

Rachel, her brain fully muddled by his kiss, didn't follow. "A habit of what?"

"Of kissing you. Long, passionately, frequently. I like it. A lot. In fact, I'll probably do it just about any time I want."

Rachel shook her head. "You can't be real. The Dawson Tate I know doesn't like me. He doesn't like kissing me. He doesn't want to be romantically involved with me."

"Wow," Dawson said, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "I didn't think I'd managed to fool you. Of course I like kissing you. I enjoyed it the very first time in front of the hotel. From the very beginning, I cared for you way too much. I tried everything to fight against my attraction to you. I tried to push you away. But, in the end, I realized I couldn't let you go. You are the strongest, sexiest, bravest, most beautiful, nicest, most talented, most wickedly tough woman I've ever met. I couldn't let you disappear from my life."

"I still don't believe you," Rachel said stubbornly. "Dawson Tate has all these rules. 'No getting involved with women from cases, no relationships began under traumatic circumstances, no long distance relationships, no…"

Dawson gently grabbed Rachel's fingers as she assigned each of them a rule number and brought them to his lips. "I know my rules, Rachel." He paused and made sure she was looking directly into his eyes. "I guess I just found an exception."

Dawson's words finally hit their mark.

Rachel's throat was suddenly dry and breathless.
This
really couldn't be happening. Could it?

"Well, Hollywood," she said, trying to ignore the fluttering of her heart. "I know I said I'd kill you if you kissed me again, but… since you made an exception, I guess I can make one too."

"Thank you, I appreciate that," he said, bending and whispering in her ear. "Especially since I'm planning on taking my life into my own hands and thoroughly kissing you on a regular basis."

Gently, he feathered kisses along her ear and down her cheekbone, finally ending once again at her lips. After a few moments, he lifted his head again, breathing deeply.

"I guess I need to stop doing that if we want to make it out of the Lost Luggage department.

"Wait a minute!" Rachel said, suddenly coming to her senses. "How did you get here before me? You were talking to Andrews when my flight left."

"Did you forget who I work for? Homeland Security has their own planes, and I currently have hero status in the agency. It wasn't difficult. With your layover in Denver, I had plenty of time to spare."

Rachel stared at him wordlessly.

"Come on, Montana. Let's get out of here. You need to take me home so I can see your ranch and meet your parents."

"You really want to meet my parents?" That thought had never even occurred to Rachel.

"Of course I do. Rachel, you're stuck with me. I don't do casual relationships. It's all or nothing with me. Is that okay?”

Completely floored, all Rachel could do was nod. She still couldn't grasp the fact that he had chosen her. That he wanted to be with her.

"But how long can you stay? How are we going to manage a long distance relationship?"

Dawson grinned. "It just so happens that after my incredible girlfriend and I managed to save New York, I got a promotion. That's what Andrews wanted to talk to me about when you left. I was offered a position as head of a western branch of Homeland Security. I'll probably still have to travel and go on assignments, but, since DHS is everywhere, I can pretty much choose where I want to live. I'm open to suggestions. You can certainly submit your application on the matter."

Wordlessly, Rachel stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, loving the idea that she even had permission to do so, let alone that he obviously enjoyed it.

"I guess, when you put it that way…"

Dawson picked up two suitcases and a sack he'd dropped on the floor, and they started to walk toward the airport doors. Suddenly, Dawson stopped.

"Oh, here's your suitcase, Rachel. And don't worry, I already checked it. No bomb." He transferred the suitcase handle to Rachel and then opened the sack he carried. "Oh, and, Montana, you forgot theses at the hotel."

With an evil glint in his eye, he handed Rachel the all-too-familiar hooker boots.

Rachel thought through her options, one of which included beating him over the head with the stupid things. Finally, she accepted the boots, set them on the floor, reached up, and kissed him passionately.

When she eventually released him, she noticed with satisfaction that he was obviously a little disoriented and unsteady.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"You were breathing too heavily."

She picked up her boots and suitcase and walked out the door. Smiling and shaking his head, Dawson Tate followed.

Please continue reading…

Chapter 1
 

Rachel stared at the phone. It was going to ring any second. Dawson always called her at night when he was traveling. He'd never missed a night, not a single one. It's not like she insisted that he check in with her. He'd just started the habit of calling every night when he was away to check in and let her know he was okay.

The phone was silent. Rachel wasn't a worrier by nature, but, when your boyfriend is a top agent with Homeland Security and frequently works extremely dangerous cases, you tend to get a little concerned. While she had purposely never mentioned being afraid for him, Dawson had been intuitive and sweet enough to prevent much potential concern with a nightly update. Not that he ever told her anything about the cases he was working on. The man was like a high security vault when it came to his job. This fact aggravated Rachel to no end. She was curious, okay nosey, about Dawson's work, especially since she'd had a full dose of the danger involved six months ago when she'd become entangled in a terrorist plot involving a bomb in New York City. Rachel had escaped the encounter with her life, the knowledge that she had helped foil the plan and save lives, and one incredibly handsome Homeland Security agent as a boyfriend.

To her surprise, Dawson had joined her back in Montana, accepting a promotion that allowed him more flexibility. Although Dawson was now a supervisor, he still had to travel a lot more than Rachel had originally anticipated. She'd thought he'd be supervising the cases of other agents, not working so many himself.

Despite the fact that he was gone a lot and could never tell her anything about what he was working on, the last six months had been the best of Rachel's life. She knew, without a doubt, that she was absolutely, positively, completely head-over-heels in love with Dawson Tate.

Now if he would just call! The mute phone sat in its cradle blissfully ignorant of any task it was supposed to be performing. The red power light on the base was the only sign that it was even functioning. Rachel growled in frustration and flopped back on her bed. It was late, and she was already so tired from a long day of feeding cattle and checking fences in the Montana cold.

Dawson had never been this late in calling before. He had left early this morning. His flight had landed hours ago. The only thing she knew about this trip was that he was flying to Florida, which he seemed to do a lot lately. Florida's time zone was two hours later than Montana's. He should have already called her from his hotel and been in bed.

Rachel's exhaustion and frustration soon turned to anger. She was not the type of girl to wait by the phone for a guy to call, no matter what the circumstances. She sat up, grabbed the cordless phone off the cradle, and purposely pushed the buttons for Dawson's cell phone number. If he wasn't going to have the decency to call her and let her know that he was safe, then she was going to call him and voice her thoughts on the issue.

The call went through, but went straight to voicemail, as if the phone was turned off. Rachel disconnected the call before the beep to leave a message. His phone would show her missed call whether or not she left a message.

Why would his phone be off? He never turned it off. He always had to be available for his job. Any conversation or activity could be interrupted at any time by Dawson's phone. And now it was off?

She suddenly felt a jolt of fear. It wasn't like Dawson not to call her, and it really wasn't like him to turn his phone off. In fact, she had never known him to do so. Rachel scooted off her bed and padded barefoot across the cold hardwood floor to her closet. Finding her coat, she rummaged around in the pocket for her own cell phone. Part of her didn't even know why she bothered. Dawson never called her on her cell phone at home. He knew she got terrible reception.

Dawson's phone, on the other hand, was almost like a star trek version of a cell phone; he got great reception wherever he was. Rachel knew the latest technology and the fact that it was a government issued and maintained phone had something to do with Dawson's stellar coverage. But, since she didn't have the option for
that
service provider, she simply had to continue with her rotten coverage and her slightly jealous hatred of Dawson's futuristic communication device.

Rachel's hand finally connected with the phone. She drew it out of the pocket and looked at it. No new messages. No missed calls.

Thoughtfully she took the cell phone back to bed and lay down. She had already showered and was in her most unflattering flannel pajamas. Her parents had gone to bed hours ago in their bedroom on the opposite side of the ranch house. Rachel laid both the cordless phone and her cell phone beside her on the bed.

There had to be a perfectly reasonable, safe answer for why Dawson hadn't called. Maybe he had lost his cell phone. Maybe something important had come up and he was tied up in a late night meeting.

But no matter how much she tried, no excuses shrank the stark fear lodged in the pit of her stomach. If Dawson had really been heading for a dangerous mission, surely he would have told her something or given her some kind of warning, even if he couldn't share the details, right?

The thoughts swirling around her head soon morphed into dreams. A man in a dark jacket stood a few feet away from Dawson, his extended hand holding a gun aimed directly at Dawson's head. Dawson was unarmed, helpless. Rachel could see the man's finger poised on the trigger. She screamed, but no sound came out. She tried to run to reach him, but something physically held her back. Her feet wouldn't move. The gun fired. Dawson fell as Rachel's screams echoed through the air and the entire scene dissolved before her eyes.

Now she was on a beach facing two figures caught in each other's arms as they stood in the foaming surf. Rachel moved forward, the sand warm on her bare feet as she was drawn like a magnet to the embracing couple. The man's face turned toward her. Dawson! He didn't seem to even notice Rachel's presence as his attention was completely focused on the beautiful brunette in his arms. He smiled, drawing her close once more and kissing her long and tenderly. A sob caught in Rachel's throat.

The first ring of a phone shattered the beach scene. Rachel's hand fumbled for the handset.

"Hello?" she managed, her voice still muddled with sleep.

"Hey, Rachel. It's Dawson. I'm sorry to wake you, Sweetheart, but I didn't want you to worry. I got redirected to New York. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to call you earlier, but I've been in an urgent meeting with Andrews. I couldn't call you sooner."

The simple sound of his voice blew away her anger and fear, leaving her weak and slightly speechless.

"I'm just glad to know you're okay," she finally said simply, deciding it would do no good to tell him how really scared she'd been.

"I need to let you get more sleep, but I'll call you in the morning and we can talk longer. Sleep well, Rachel. I love you.”

At the sound of those three precious little words, Rachel bolted upright in bed. Her Dawson had never told her he loved her.

She looked around her bedroom, seeing the faint light of dawn breaking through the late winter sky and breaching the edges of the blue gingham curtains at her window. The two phones lay undisturbed on the mattress beside her. Rachel went from asleep to awake and panicking in a split second as two realizations hit her. One, it was morning. Two, Dawson had never called.