Seven Days to Forever (14 page)

The major strode forward. He nodded to Sarah. “Captain, you’ll have to postpone your shower.”

Sarah straightened up from the doorframe. “What’s going on, Major?”

“The LLA has just contacted Vilyas.”

Flynn felt his pulse pick up. “Have they set up another ransom drop?”

Redinger nodded. “Ten tomorrow morning at the Lincoln Memorial. They’ve upped the ante to thirty million. We’re assembling for a briefing in fifteen minutes. Where’s Miss Locke?”

Sarah indicated the door to the shower room. “In there.”

“Get her. We couldn’t get a fix on where the call came from, so this is our best shot at locating the LLA base. We can’t afford any mistakes this time.”

Flynn had already put his palm against the door to push it open when Sarah’s grasp on his arm stopped him. She gave him a quelling look, then used her free hand to rap on the door. “Abbie?”

A minute later the door swung open. Abbie stood on the threshold, a pale-peach jogging suit covering her body and a towel clutched in her hands. Her hair was wet, coiling in heavy curls, making wet patches on her shoulders. Her face was scrubbed clean, her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of apprehension and eagerness as she tilted her head to look up at Flynn.

It was the same way she’d looked at him two nights ago when she’d first opened the door of her apartment. It was ironic that it was about to end the same way it had started. By ten tomorrow her role in this mission would be over. She would go home. Flynn would go on to the next challenge, the next woman, the next goodbye.

And as always he would make damn sure that he’d be the one to leave first.

Chapter 8

T
he knapsack hadn’t felt this heavy the last time. It hadn’t been light, but it hadn’t weighed on Abbie’s shoulder like this. It wasn’t simply because there was more money inside. It was because now she knew what was in it.

Thirty million dollars. It was incredible. It was the stuff of fantasies, the dream of every soul who had purchased a lottery ticket. It was more money than Abbie could possibly use in a lifetime….

It was the price that had been put on a child’s life.

Abbie swung the pack from her shoulder to her lap and locked her arms around it. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply a few times, just as Sarah had shown her. She had to stay calm. She needed to think clearly, and oxygen was supposed to help.

The bus jerked forward. Abbie inhaled the tang of diesel fumes. It was probably only her imagination that made her think she also caught the scent of Flynn, but tension was sharpening her senses. Even if his leg hadn’t been pressed firmly against her thigh, she was sure she would have felt his presence.

They were using public transit to get to the Mall so that no one could trace the vehicle she arrived in. Most of the team had been in position since before dawn. The rest were arriving at the target zone gradually to blend in with the civilians.

Target zone. Civilians. After only a few days with Eagle Squadron, she was starting to think the way the major talked.

Flynn laid his palm lightly on her knee. “We get off at the next stop. How are you doing?”

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He was sitting beside her on the seat that ran across the back of the bus. She suspected he hadn’t gotten any more sleep than she had after Major Redinger had finished his briefing last night. The lines beside his mouth seemed deeper, and there was a hint of shadow beneath his eyes. Yet his gaze was clearer and more focused than she’d seen before.

He thrived on this. She could see it in his body language, in the way he was leaning forward as if he wanted the bus to move faster. He was eager to go into action, to face whatever challenge and danger might arise.

She just wanted this to be over.

Oh,
God,
how could he do it? How could any of them? Abbie felt her stomach contract with panic.

Flynn squeezed her leg. “Deep breaths, Abbie,” he said quietly. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course. It isn’t complicated. Up the steps, past the statue, sixth column on the right, drop the pack.”

“Good. And then?”

“And then I keep going.”

“Where?”

“Around the corner and over to Twenty-Third Street where I hail a cab that Rafe will be driving.”

“There. You see? Piece of cake,” he said.

“If it’s such a piece of cake, then why do I need this bullet-proof vest under my jacket?”

Flynn gave her knee a light pat. “It’s just a precaution, Abbie. We’re not anticipating trouble, but we want you to be as safe as possible.”

She reached for his hand before he could withdraw it. She needed this physical contact with him. She had been prepared for the communication and tracking devices but when Flynn had produced the Kevlar vest, everything had suddenly become far too real.

It was Sunday morning. For her it should have been like a slower version of a Saturday morning. It should have started with a second cup of coffee, a leisurely perusal of the paper, then a trip to church instead of the library and a visit to her parents later or maybe a quick trip to Martha’s to take her nephews to a movie or—

“Abbie?”

She nodded quickly.

He curled their joined hands against his chest. “You won’t be alone, Abbie. I’m not going to be more than fifty feet away from you from the time we leave this bus. You might not see me, but I’ll be there.”

“Yes. I know.”

“The team is going to be watching everything. At the first hint that you could be at risk, we’re aborting the mission.”

“No!” She turned her hand over and grasped his wrist. “No, you can’t. This is Matteo’s last chance. If they don’t get the ransom this time, they might not let him go.”

Flynn dipped his head closer to hers and looked at her carefully. “We went over this at the briefing, Abbie.”

“I remember.”

He continued to study her face. “Even Vilyas understands.”

She nodded. She hoped he would assume it meant compliance. It didn’t. No matter what happened, she was going to deliver the money to the spot the LLA had specified.

Matteo had been held by those terrorists for almost a week now. Children were resilient, but the longer this took, the deeper the emotional scars would be. Not only for Matteo but for the entire Vilyas family.

Someone near the front of the bus pulled the signal cord. It began to slow. Abbie felt her heart thud. She released Flynn’s wrist and clutched the straps of the green backpack with both hands.

“We’re coming to the stop,” Flynn said.

“I can see that….” She bit her lip. He wasn’t stating the obvious, he was reporting their progress.

The receiver in her ear clicked. “All right, Abbie. We’re patching you in to the team’s frequency now.” It was Major Redinger’s voice. His words were low and clipped. “You’re almost done.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay. Uh, roger.”

“You don’t need to acknowledge transmissions.”

He’d already told her that when they’d gone over the mission plan yesterday, she realized. She felt her fingers cramp on the backpack and she flexed her hands.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get there, so you’re right on schedule.”

She glanced at her watch. It was exactly 9:45. She should be able to cover the distance in ten minutes easily. She moved to the edge of the seat, preparing to stand up the moment the bus stopped moving.

“Hang on a minute, Abbie,” Flynn said. “There’s one more thing.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“This.” He caught her chin in his hand, leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.

For a moment Abbie couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t anything like the other time he’d kissed her. They weren’t alone. There were other passengers near the front of the bus, and there was a team of Delta Force commandos on the other end of the radio equipment.

And yet the sense of…connection with Flynn was the same. She felt as if he was focused completely on her needs. And she needed this. She drank in his strength and his confidence. Even as her pulse soared, she felt her thoughts settle. She could do this.

So she leaned into him and kissed him back. A soft shift of her lips, a quick dip of her tongue, a silent message that was part thanks and part goodbye.

Because more than her duty in the mission was almost over. Once she dropped the pack and walked to the taxi that would be waiting for her, she would probably never see Flynn O’Toole again.

It shouldn’t matter. She’d only known him for three days. And she didn’t
really
know him—he’d only given her glimpses of the man he was inside. Teasing, fascinating glimpses.

He lifted his head. His eyes were dark. He didn’t smile. He looked at her for a breathless instant, then tightened his hold on her chin and kissed her again.

This time it wasn’t gentle. It was swift and hard, a bold possession that sent a shock wave all the way to her heart. Then it was over. He dropped his hand and pulled back.

The bus rolled to a stop. The doors slid open. Without another word, Flynn got to his feet and stepped aside so that Abbie could move into the aisle.

Oh, God. What had just happened?

There was no time to think about it. No time for anything but playing out her role. She hitched one strap of the backpack over her shoulder and got off the bus.

“Heads up, people.” It was the major’s voice again. “Abbie’s on her way.”

“I’ve got a visual,” Sarah said. “Flynn, hang back. You’re following too closely.”

The classic lines of the Lincoln Memorial rose on the far side of the Reflecting Pool. Abbie fixed her gaze on the columned building and restrained herself from turning around to look for Flynn. She couldn’t do anything to give away the team’s presence. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to follow when the LLA retrieved the ransom.

“Any activity around the target zone?” Redinger asked.

“Just a few tourists.” Jack Norton’s soft drawl was instantly identifiable. “A group of sightseers on a walking tour is heading in this direction. By the way, O’Toole, are you chewing bubble gum?”

“No.” Flynn said.

“Oh? I was sure I heard some smacking noises a minute ago.”

There were a few snickers.

Abbie realized Jack had to be referring to that kiss. She was too nervous to blush. As always was the case, there were far more important issues going on than her relationship with Flynn.

“Cut the chatter,” Redinger ordered. “Abbie, you can slow down. You have plenty of time.”

She realized she was almost running. With an effort, she slowed her pace as she neared the bottom of the steps that led up to the monument. She’d been here before countless times. She usually enjoyed the sense of grandeur that emanated from the historic buildings that were situated around the Mall. It gave her a feeling of roots, of being part of something far greater than herself.

In a way that’s what was happening now. She was swept up in something that made her own concerns insignificant. She reached the first step and started to climb.

“There’s a male Caucasian standing beside Lincoln’s right foot,” Flynn said. “Five-eight, 150 pounds, salt-and-pepper hair. Anyone else see him?”

“Wire-rimmed glasses and tweed sport coat,” Sarah said. “Is that the one?”

“Affirmative,” Flynn said. “He’s watching Abbie.”

“Who’s on him?” Redinger asked. “He could be an LLA lookout.”

“Got him,” Norton said.

Abbie kept her gaze on the steps and concentrated on breathing. Oh, God. She didn’t want to look up. She just had to get to the top of these stairs and then walk to the sixth column on her right—

“Two vans just pulled up at the curb.” It was Rafe’s voice. “Three occupants visible in the first. At least three in the second.”

“Captain Fox, can you get line of sight for the mike?” Redinger asked.

“Adjusting my position now, sir.”

“Are the chase vehicles in place?”

More voices responded. Abbie kept climbing. She knew all these soldiers. She knew the plan, too. They’d gone over it yesterday until everyone could repeat it by memory. She would do her part, then they would do theirs. She was supposed to be long gone before the chance of a confrontation arose.

But what if the terrorists didn’t want to wait for the money to be dropped this time? What if they were coming for her?

“Two men exited the first van,” Rafe said. “One man got out of the second. They’re heading toward the memorial.”

“Male in the tweed jacket is starting to move,” Flynn said. “Coming this way.”

“Don’t approach unless he threatens Abbie,” Redinger ordered.

“I don’t want to risk it,” Flynn said. “I say we abort.”

“Negative. Play this out.”

“Major—”

“You have your orders, O’Toole.”

Abbie stumbled on the next step. The pack on her shoulder wobbled. She swallowed a sob and tightened her grip.

“Abbie?”

She didn’t acknowledge the voice. She waited for whoever it was to state their instruction.

“Abbie?”

It took her a moment to realize the voice wasn’t coming through her ear piece. She took a deep breath and looked around.

A man was coming down the steps toward her. He wore glasses and a dull brown sport coat. This had to be the one Flynn and Jack had been watching, the LLA lookout. He seemed oddly familiar.

She staggered to a stop as recognition washed over her. “Peter?”

“Abbie, it
is
you.” Peter Hedgeworth came to a stop in front of her, pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled shyly. “What an unexpected pleasure. I’m glad to see you recovered from your bout of the flu.”

Oh, God. Her brain scrambled to switch tracks. Peter Hedgeworth. He’d asked her to dinner. She’d told him she was spending the weekend in bed. Now what? Oh, God. “What are you doing here, Peter?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you Bradley and I were doing a walking tour this morning, since he was so enthusiastic after your trip to the museum.” He glanced around. “He should be here somewhere…. Oh, good. There he is. Bradley!”

The major’s voice came over the radio. It was so low it was close to a growl. “Hold your positions, people. He appears to be a civilian.”