What She Doesn't See (20 page)

Her options were clear. If she told him the
truth and Wyatt was lying injured in her house, these guys would
kill him. If she lied, she might be able to buy some time. And just
maybe help would arrive before these jerks returned.

Decision made, she looked him straight in the
eye and lied. “It’s at my office. Inside a glove in my middle desk
drawer.”

“You’re sure about that? I would genuinely
regret having to return empty handed. I would have no choice but to
hurt your lovely mother.”

A quake of uncertainty shuddered through her
but Alex held her ground. “I’m sure.”

“So we shall see.”

The three men left and the lights went out
once more. Marg laid her head on Alex’s shoulder and sobbed
softly.

Alex focused on trying to work her hands free
from the ropes. Wyatt would be here. She refused to believe
otherwise.

Seemingly endless minutes later when the
ropes started to loosen, Alex’s wrists were raw. She was almost
free. One more hard jerk. Pain sliced through her wrists and shot
up her arms. The ropes fell away. She was free. She wasn’t sure how
much time had passed since she sent the British guy and his friends
on that wild goose chase. There was no way to know when they would
return.

Adrenaline shoring up her determination, she
worked on the ropes binding her ankles. Marg kept quiet. Neither of
them dared to speak in case someone was monitoring the room. The
ropes around her ankles came loose and Alex stretched her legs.
God, it felt so good.

She leaned closer to Marg and whispered, “I’m
loose. I’m going to untie you now.”

Marg turned her back, giving Alex easy
access. Her fingers ached as she freed her mother’s hands. When she
reached down to work on the rope around her ankles, Marg set her
hands away. She patted Alex’s arm in a silent signal that she could
do this.

Alex closed her eyes and tried to remember
what she’d seen in the room during the brief time the lights were
on. Gray walls. Concrete maybe, like the floor. A couple of cots, a
table and chair, possibly two. What was this place? A prison or a
bunkhouse? Didn’t matter. All she and Marg needed was a way
out.

Moving on hands and knees, she worked her way
around the room, hoping to find anything they could use for a
weapon. She felt the cold metal leg of the table, and then the
smaller wooden leg of a chair. Relief flowed through her veins. It
wasn’t much, but it was something. She stood and lifted the chair,
gauging its weight. This could work.

A touch on her shoulder made Alex gasp. Marg
squeezed her arm reassuringly. Alex took her mother’s hand and
placed it on the chair.

Marg leaned close and whispered, “I think
there are two. I’ll get the other one.”

Despite the terrifying circumstances, Alex
smiled. Maybe her mother was stronger than she’d realized.

The grind of metal jerked her attention to
the door.

They were coming back
.

Quickly taking a position to one side of the
door, Alex raised the chair above her head. Next to her, Marg did
the same. Alex held her breath.

The door swung inward and those bright lights
came on.

Alex prepared to slam the chair into the
first person she saw as her eyes adjusted…

One of the guards from before came into
focus. She swung the chair at his face. The impact of wood against
flesh and bone shook her.

Swearing, he staggered back.

Alex grabbed for his weapon.

The guard snatched the gun from her reach and
charged forward.

Marg swung her chair, barely missing Alex and
whopping him square in the chest.

This time he went down. Alex didn’t bother
trying to fish his gun from under his crumpled body. She grabbed
her mother’s hand and rushed out the door.

The big, black muzzle of a weapon stopped
her.

The Brit
.

Damn it.

She wilted with defeat.

“My men just informed me that the device is
not in your office,” he stated with enough hostility to scorch the
air.

“Now I remember,” she said, working hard to
keep the fear from her voice, “I stuck it in my purse.”

“Where is it?” he repeated, disdain and fury
dripping from the words.

“At my house.” She squared her shoulders and
held Marg’s hand a little tighter. “I’ll show you.”

“This is your last opportunity to do this
right, Alex.” He grabbed Marg by the hair and pulled her close. She
whimpered. “Lie to me again and this time your mother will die
right in front of you.”

Fear twisted inside her, but Alex refused to
allow the tears brimming to escape. “You can have the damned thing.
Just don’t hurt her.”

“Good.” He shoved Marg at Alex. “Let’s
go.”

The guard, looking thoroughly pissed, moved
up next to Alex to lead the way.

The other guard and no telling how many
others would likely rendezvous at her house. She and Marg were
running out of time and options.

Wyatt, where are you?

When the long, door-lined corridor finally
ended, a set of steep stairs led them up to yet another steel door.
The guard opened it and sunlight spilled in. Some amount of relief
washed over Alex. At least they were getting out of this place.

Outside, she surveyed the area. Deserted. A
few trees and scraggly grasses. There was graffiti on the exterior
concrete walls. No highway in sight, just a dirt road. What was
this place? Some sort of abandoned testing facility or military
site? The silence was eerie.

A big black SUV waited a few yards away. The
guard double-timed it to the vehicle and opened the rear passenger
door before moving toward the driver’s door.

The Brit nudged Alex in the back with his
gun. “Your mother gets in first, and then you.”

Alex moved forward. Marg stayed closed to her
side.
Please, please let help get here in time
.

A gunshot cracked the silence, and then
another.

Alex stalled.

On the other side of the SUV the guard fell
to the ground, his agonizing screams making her heart slam against
her sternum. Were the good guys here or had more bad guys found
them?

“Drop the weapon, Braddock.”

Wyatt
.

Alex’s racing heart took a little leap. Wyatt
and at least a dozen other men suddenly appeared from the trees.
The realization that there was blood on his shirt momentarily
overrode her relief. He had been injured. He looked okay though and
he was moving toward her with that big gun of his aimed at the bad
guy. She wanted to cheer.

The Brit he’d called Braddock abruptly jerked
Alex away from her mother and against him. His left arm went tight
around her neck and the muzzle of his weapon bored into her
skull.

“Stop right where you are,” Braddock warned,
“or I’ll ruin the lady’s day.”

Alex trembled. It made her mad as hell but
she couldn’t stop the shaking. She wanted to tell the bastard that
he’d already ruined her day, damn it.

Wyatt stopped. “You have two options,
Braddock. Live or die. It’s your choice.”

“If I die, she dies with me.” Braddock’s
weapon drilled a little deeper into her scalp.

Alex had been in tight spots a time or two in
her life. Typically the unfortunate moment involved a man—like now.
She had learned long ago that when a man refused to listen to
reason there was only one thing a woman could do.

She reached down, grabbed him by the crotch,
and squeezed for all she was worth.

Braddock howled in pain. At the same instant,
Marg screamed like a banshee and hurled herself against him.

A weapon discharged… the hiss of a bullet
buzzed so close to Alex she felt its heat.

Braddock jerked back. The weapon in his right
hand hit the ground. Blood leaked from his right shoulder.

Alex tore away from him. She scrambled to
where Marg struggled to get to her feet.

Suddenly people were everywhere. A man
carrying what looked like a paramedic bag knelt next to Marg.

Wyatt grabbed Alex, pulled her up, and held
her at arm’s length. He surveyed her from head to toe and back.
“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her gaze rushing over him
to make sure he was okay. The blood on his shirt had her heart
leaping again.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “Let’s get
you and Marg out of here.”

The next few minutes were a blur of activity.
Braddock refused to talk, but his guard was spilling his guts. The
rest of Braddock’s team was taken into custody at Alex’s
office.

Wyatt explained that Alex and her mother
needed to be debriefed.

And then he was gone.

It was over.

The good guys had won. Yet, somehow, Alex was
certain she had lost.

Sunday, July 27, 8:30 p.m.

More than twenty-four hours had passed since
the debriefing. Patton had called. He’d explained that a man named
Sean Johnson had been arrested for Hitch’s murder as well as for
the murder of the guy who’d died in the house explosion. Timothy
O’Neill had been cleared of any wrongdoing and released from jail.
Patton couldn’t give her any other details since the case was
classified. Alex didn’t mention that she already knew those
details.

Late yesterday she had turned over the device
to an agent sent to her house by Wyatt. It was done. Over. Case
closed.

That was good, right?

Funny thing was, it didn’t feel good. Every
part of her felt… sad.

She and Marg were unharmed beyond a few
scrapes and bruises. Marg had stayed the night. Alex wasn’t sure
which of them had needed the other the most. Many hours of
soul-searching conversation and lots of tears had been shared.

When dawn broke with Alex still awake, she’d
realized one thing with a keenly painful certainty—she wouldn’t be
seeing Wyatt Murphy again.

She and her mother had been instructed never
to speak of the events that had occurred. Anything they had learned
about the device was a threat to national security and to disclose
that information would make them terrorists. They should forget
everything they had seen and heard over the last week.

Alex had no problem with any of the
instructions except the forgetting part. If she spent the rest of
her life trying, she would never be able to forget Wyatt
Murphy.

How had he forgotten her so easily?

Shannon had appeared at Alex’s door a couple
of hours ago with a movie and bags filled with junk food, beer, and
wine. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that Marg had called her. No
matter that Alex wanted to pretend everything was fine, she was
glad to have Marg and Shannon with her tonight.

The truth was, nothing was fine.

Alex drained her second bottle of Corona and
set it aside. She would be okay… eventually. It wasn’t as if she
needed a man in her life every minute of every day to feel
complete. She had her home, her business, and her friends. She
waited for the resounding echo of
damn straight
but it
didn’t come. The only thing that popped into her head was the image
of Wyatt.

Just as Hitch’s death had, Wyatt’s presence
had tampered with her balance.

Maybe it was time she tried the relationship
route again. See where it went. Maybe she was missing something.
All she had to do was find the right man.

One man in particular strong-armed his way
back into her thoughts.
Not smart, Alex. The guy is long
gone
.

The doorbell chimed and she jumped up. “I’ll
get it.” Any excuse to take her mind off the ache that refused to
go away.

Marg and Shannon didn’t even appear to notice
she’d moved. They were too engrossed in watching Magic Mike.

Alex shook her head and wandered over to the
front door. Maybe the Professor, Hernandez, and Bobby had decided
to join the party.

She opened the door and all other thoughts,
including the one that would have told her to say hello,
vanished.

Wyatt Murphy stood on her porch.

“Hey, Alex.” When she simply stood there,
mute, he added, “May I come in?”

Cheering from the girls at something on the
movie nudged Alex out of the trance she’d drifted into. “No. I…”
She stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her.
“I have company.”

A flicker of something in those blue eyes
made her chest constrict. Damn this man and his power over her.
Five seconds in his presence and already she couldn’t catch her
breath.

“I stopped by to thank you,” he said. “You
performed a great service for your country.”

She heard what he said, but for the most part
she was busy admiring the pale blue shirt that matched his eyes and
the sexy jeans. Where was the suit? Suit or no, he was as
heart-stoppingly handsome as ever.

She started to assure him that another thank
you wasn’t necessary, but a burst of anger stopped her. She took a
breath and then said what was really on her mind. “What did you
really come here for, Agent Murphy?”

He looked puzzled at her question, but he
knew exactly what she meant. He was back and it had nothing to do
with showing his gratitude for her service to her country. Thank
God she’d chosen a decent outfit. Slim-fitting, low-slung jeans and
a silk tank edged in frilly lace. Her bare feet sported sexy pink
toenails.

“I suppose I wanted to ensure you were all
right.”

Liar. “You knew I was all right when we said
goodbye yesterday.”

He nodded.

Daring to hope, she stared directly into his
gorgeous eyes. “Did you come back because there was something else
you wanted?”

Tension tightened that handsome jaw as his
gaze raked down the length of her body and back. When his eyes met
hers once more, blatant desire burned there. “Yes.”

Her heart reacted to a rush of yearning. “So,
Agent Murphy, what now?”