Seven Days to Forever (13 page)

Abbie stared at the pair of tiny gadgets in the center of Flynn’s broad palm. They were assembling her gear now so she would be ready to move when they got the word. It was making everything more real…and yet strangely unreal. The microphone was a fraction of the size of a watch battery, and the receiver was no larger than a pea. “They’re so small.”

“That’s the idea. No one will know they’re there, but you’ll be in constant two-way communication with us the whole time.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Flynn placed the devices into a Ziploc bag, sealed the top and put it in his shirt pocket. He turned to call over his shoulder. “Where’s Abbie’s GPS transmitter, Chief?”

Esposito looked up from where he was sitting in front of the radio equipment. He tipped his chair on its back legs and stretched his arm behind him to point at a crate near the far corner of the tent.

Abbie followed Flynn around a stack of metal boxes and waited while he sorted through the equipment in the crate. He came up with a slim black box. “You’ll conceal this under your clothes,” he said. “It uses a satellite signal to keep track of exactly where you are.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll be watching you every step of the way. It’s just in case something unexpected happens and you get separated from us, but that’s very unlikely.”

“I understand.”

“There are similar monitoring devices in the backpack. The last time, Vilyas was instructed to drop the money and leave, that’s all. We’re hoping the next set-up will be similar.”

“As long as someone else doesn’t step in to mess it up again.”

He slipped the transmitter into the same shirt pocket as the bag with the microphone and ear piece, then closed the crate and sat down on the lid. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Abbie.”

She hung on to the deep certainty in Flynn’s voice. As he’d told her before, whatever else she might think of him, he was a soldier.

He’d been all business since they’d returned from the embassy. For the remainder of the day, he’d treated her with polite respect. He hadn’t given her any more compliments, and he hadn’t made any more teasing comments about kissing.

Only, that comment about kissing him hadn’t simply been to tease, had it? It had been more complicated than that.

There was more to Flynn O’Toole than met the eye. She might not have realized it if she hadn’t glimpsed that flash of genuine emotion this morning…and if he hadn’t tried so hard to cover it up. What was going on behind that pretty face? she wondered.

“Do you have any questions?”

She wiped her palms on her pants and sat beside him on the crate. She had been the one to draw the line in their relationship. Yet for all of Flynn’s seemingly casual attitude, she had the feeling that he was accustomed to setting limits of his own. “How will Matteo be released? Will he be at the place where I leave the ransom?”

“That wasn’t the deal last time. They said they’d tell Vilyas where the kid was after they had the money.”

“But that means there’s no guarantee they’ll let him go. What if they change their minds and ask for more?”

“Then we adapt to the situation and go from there.”

“How?”

“We’re monitoring the men we followed from your apartment, we’re monitoring the Ladavian Embassy and we’re tapping into every law enforcement and intelligence network available. The LLA cells are well organized, but so are we. When the next call comes in, there’s a good chance we’ll be able to narrow down our search. Best-case scenario, we’ll discover where the kid is stashed and get him out before you have to do anything.”

“And the worst-case scenario?”

“Forget it. I wouldn’t want to give Murphy any ideas.”

“Who’s Murphy?”

“‘Anything that can go wrong…’”

”’…will go wrong,’” she finished. “Murphy’s Law.”

“I see you’ve made his acquaintance.”

“I teach seven-year-olds. I deal with him every day.” She pulled her feet onto the crate lid and looped her arms around her shins. “Matteo was taken five days ago. He must be terrified.”

He ran his knuckle along her forearm. “Don’t think about it, Abbie.”

“How can I help it?”

“We all have to maintain some distance to keep our focus on the mission.”

“Sarah mentioned that yesterday.”

“She’s a good officer.”

“Yes, she appears to be good at what she does. It’s just that—” Moisture pooled in her eyes. She blinked to clear them. “I love children, and I want so much to save him.”

“Trust us, Abbie. We’re trained professionals.”

She exhaled shakily. “You said that before, when you were pretending to be an electrician.”

“Yeah, but I’m telling the truth this time.”

She looked across the tent. The activity had fallen off after the evening meal, but there were still soldiers going about their various tasks. “What are your missions usually like, Flynn?”

“There is no usual,” he replied. “We go wherever we’re needed. A few months ago we stormed a hijacked passenger plane in the Caribbean. Before that we put together a rescue mission in the Middle East.”

“It sounds very exciting.”

“It’s not like the movies. We spend most of our time planning and training. The technical term for it is ‘hurry up and wait.’”

“Where do you live when you’re not in a tent?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, I have an apartment just like real people.”

“Where?”

“In Fayetteville, North Carolina. Delta Force is based at Fort Bragg.”

“Is that where you’re from originally?”

“No, I’m from the West Coast.”

“You must miss your family.”

“You’ve already met them,” he said, nodding toward the other men.

“What about your real family? Your parents, your sisters and brothers?”

“We don’t keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The arrangement suits everyone just fine. We move around a lot.” He laced his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head, his jaw working as if he were suppressing a yawn. “Why all the questions, Abbie?”

She watched the play of muscle beneath his shirt as he moved, although she still felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying it. “You know everything about me because of the background check Sarah did. I thought it would be fair if I learned a bit about you.”

“It sounds to me as if you consider us off duty.”

She gestured toward the electronic devices he’d stored in his pocket. “Unless there’s some more equipment you needed to show me?”

He grinned. “I’ve got plenty of equipment I’d like to show you, but if you want to appreciate it properly we’ll need more privacy.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Very funny.”

“Making you laugh isn’t what I had in mind.”

She focused on his smile. It was attractive and charming with just a hint of good-natured naughtiness. It was the same as the one he’d given her this morning. It might not be genuine, but as a distraction, it was very effective. Was he using it to change the subject? “Why don’t you want to talk about yourself, Flynn?”

“There’s not much to talk about. Why are you so interested?”

“As I already said, it would be fair if I knew more about you.”

He slid off the crate and held out his hand. “Come with me. I have a better idea.”

“What?”

“It’s getting late. I’ll help you take a shower.”

“Flynn…”

“Relax, Abbie. I meant I’ll stand outside the door to make sure no one intrudes.”

It was a practical offer. While the warehouse toilets were private, there was only one communal shower. She hadn’t considered the difficulties of using it.

She bypassed his hand and got to her feet. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s a good idea.”

* * *

Good idea, my ass, Flynn thought, gritting his teeth. He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the bathroom door frame. He’d mentioned the shower in order to put an end to their conversation, but the interior walls of the warehouse were thin. He could hear every drop of water that hit the tile. Worse, he could hear when the water drops
didn’t
hit the tile. That meant they were hitting her skin.

She was using that apple-and-cranberry soap. The scent had wafted under the gap in the door and was curling around him like a shy caress. It was wholesome and sensual at the same time, just like Abbie.

There was a soft thud. The tone of the drops changed briefly, then resumed the muted patter of water on skin. She must have dropped the soap and had leaned over to pick it up….

Flynn let his head fall back against the door frame and tried to think of something else. He concentrated on a patch of starlight he could see through a broken pane in one of the windows on the far side of the roof. Was that bright one Aldebaran? He couldn’t see enough to identify the constellation that contained the star, but for this latitude and this time of year, it could be Aldebaran.

Vilyas said that Matteo wanted to be an astronaut. Had he taught him about the stars and the constellations? Or had the kid found a book and taught himself the way Flynn had?

Flynn had been around Matteo’s age when he’d learned the map of the heavens. It had started out as something to do when the arguing he could hear through the walls would keep him awake at night. He remembered the first time he’d crawled out of his bedroom window onto the roof. He’d been cold, and the pebbly surface of the shingles had scraped the soles of his bare feet, but he’d stretched out on his back, anyway, and had watched the stars until the dawn had swallowed them.

He had never wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid. He’d never wanted to reach the stars, because their distance made them safe.

There wouldn’t be any starlight in the shower room. The windows there had been blacked over when the team had set up in the warehouse. The ceiling lights would be gleaming from Abbie’s wet body. The lather would be sliding over her shoulders and down the groove of her spine and past the curve of her buttocks and between her thighs—

He muttered an oath and squinted at the star. No, Aldebaran would be closer to the horizon. It was probably Capella.

“What are you doing here, Sergeant?”

Flynn straightened up. “I’m guarding the door, Captain.”

Sarah tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Why? Are you expecting trouble from that quarter?”

“No, ma’am. I’m just ensuring our civilian guest gets some privacy.”

She shifted the towel she was carrying to one arm and pointed to the hand-lettered cardboard sign that hung by a piece of string from the door handle. It said Men’s Shower. She flipped it over. The other side read, Women’s Shower.

They’d used variations of this arrangement before when Sarah had accompanied them in the field. It had worked well, although no one had made a big deal out of it when it hadn’t. Modesty wasn’t high on the priority list for any of them. They were usually too focused on the mission to get excited over an accidental glimpse of bare butt.

Not that Sarah wasn’t an attractive woman. She was. She had an athlete’s body, a husky voice and the kind of delicate beauty that could have been painted by Rembrandt. But it was more than her rank and army policy that put her off-limits. She’d been up-front about the fact that her heart still belonged to the dead Special Forces soldier who had been her fiancé, and the men respected that. Over the course of the past few years, she’d become like a sister to the soldiers of Eagle Squadron.

“Since when has the team forgotten how to read, Flynn?” she asked.

“The lighting isn’t good here. Mistakes can happen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Abbie’s under enough stress. I don’t want her to be nervous.”

“The only person who seems to be making her nervous is you, Flynn.” Sarah crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the opposite side of the door frame. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman actually run away from you before. It’s refreshing.”

“Don’t you start, too. I’ve already heard this from the guys.”

“Is that why you volunteered to be her baby-sitter?”

“Someone had to do it.”

Her eyes gleamed in the dimness. “She’s a nice woman.”

“Seems so.” The sound of the water shut off. There was the soft splash of bare feet in a shallow puddle and Flynn pictured Abbie walking across the floor to the bench against the wall across from the shower heads. She’d be reaching for her towel now, her skin all rosy and damp. Her hair would be curling over her shoulders, a few locks swaying against the upper curves of her breasts.

A snatch of melody drifted through the door. She was humming quietly to herself, an old Beatles tune. He ran through the words in his mind. It was something about still needing her and still feeding her when she was sixty-four.

“Abbie’s not your usual type, Flynn. I thought you preferred tall, leggy blondes, like that model you dated last year who was into yoga.”

He turned his attention back to Sarah. “Yeah, and you probably heard that I’m not Abbie’s type, either. It’s unanimous all around. Works out well, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. You must find it tedious, with so much time to kill while we wait.”

“We manage.”

“I heard that Jack and Rafe are trying to get a poker game going.”

“I can’t afford to play cards with Norton. He’s a shark.”

“Maybe Abbie would like to play. I’ll ask her.”

“She’s tired,” he said immediately. “She wouldn’t want to.”

“I’ll ask her, anyway. I’m sure Jack would be pleased to have her join them.” She watched Flynn thoughtfully. “They have many interests in common. Did you know that Jack’s an expert on the Civil War? His great grandfather on his mother’s side fought for the Confederacy.” Her right eyebrow arched teasingly. “Maybe Jack can show her his saber.”

Yes, Sarah was just like a sister, he thought. He hadn’t had much personal experience with any—none of his step-sisters had stuck around long enough to bother to learn how to needle him—but Sarah was doing a good job. “I heard his great-grandfather was a riverboat gambler,” Flynn muttered.

“That, too,” Sarah said. “Abbie would probably find that fascinating, don’t you think?”

“Sergeant O’Toole?”

At the sound of Major Redinger’s voice, Flynn twisted to look over his shoulder. “Over here, sir,” he replied.