Under the Microscope

by Jessica Andersen

  Unless, she thought, scrambling madly for an idea. What if I get Forsythe to pull his weapon in Logan Airport? That’d bring security. It wouldn’t take care of the rest of The Nine, but it’d buy me some time. Buy us some time. I could-

  “You waiting for someone?” Forsythe inquired with a thread of steel in his voice. He moved up beside her and she felt the barrel of his gun dig into the point of her hip.

  Panic licked past her defenses at the realization that he could put a bullet in her without removing the gun from his pocket, then disappear in the ensuing melee.

  Even if he were caught, he’d already proven that he had friends in high places.

  What had she been thinking? Raine looked toward the exit, instincts screaming for her to run. She couldn’t do this, wasn’t tough enough, wasn’t smart enough, just wasn’t enough.

  Yes you are, partner. Max’s imagined voice came out of nowhere, out of the little core of warmth in her midsection, the warmth he’d put there the night before. You can do this.

  She took a breath and nodded to Forsythe and Jeff. “Okay, boys. Follow my lead.” She marched into the restaurant, waved off the hostess’s offer to seat them at a table and sat at the bar. Though it was barely 11:00 a.m., several of the other stools were occupied with travelers who either didn’t think it was uncool to drink before noon or were in another time zone.

  The bartender-late twenties, prominent Adam’s apple-wandered over. “Get you something?”

  “Gin and tonic with an olive, please.”

  Forsythe leaned close to her. “No funny stuff, Ms. Montgomery. We clear on that?”

  She manufactured a haughty look. “Same goes. We both know this could be a very good deal for your people. Don’t mess it up for them.”

  He stared at her for a long minute before he nodded and leaned back. “Fair enough.”

  But his hand remained in his jacket pocket, which was roughly in line with her right kidney.

  “Here you go.” The bartender slid a glass in front of her. “Anything else?”

  She frowned at the drink. “Where’s the umbrella? This is supposed to come with an umbrella. What kind of a place is this, anyway?”

  He nodded. “Of course, I’m very sorry for the oversight. One umbrella coming right up.” He dropped down behind the bar, but instead of a brightly colored decoration, he came up with two sturdy envelopes. “Tell her hey from Rudy.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Rudy.” Raine took the envelopes and nodded to Jeff, who was lurking behind Forsythe like a shadow. “Pay him for the drink and don’t stiff him on the tip, will you, Jeffrey?”

  She moved to open the first envelope, but Forsythe took her arm and nudged her along with the hidden weapon. “We’ll have a look at those in the limo, if you please.”

  Raine felt the walls closing in on her, felt her time count down and then expire as they left the restaurant. Crushing, overwhelming disappointment flooded her as they crossed the marbled lobby and headed for the escalators.

  “Hold it right there, Ms. Montgomery. Mr. Forsythe. Police!” Detective Marcus suddenly appeared in front of her, flanked by a pair of airport cops. All three had their guns out and at the ready. Agent Bryce of the FDA stood behind them and off to one side.

  Before Raine could process Marcus’s appearance so far out of his jurisdiction, and Bryce’s presence at all, Forsythe turned on her. “You set me up! Bitch!” He grabbed her, spun her around and clamped an arm around her throat. Then pulled his gun and pressed it to her temple. “Everyone stand back! Back! I mean it!”

  Raine froze, panic congealing in her blood. Forsythe nudged her toward the escalator. “Start walking. You got me into this, you’re going to get me out of it.”

  She stumbled, dragging on numb legs. Oh, God. Oh, help. Oh-

  Max!

  He appeared from behind a marble upright beside the escalator, lunged at them and knocked Forsythe away from Raine in a move that was part football tackle, part rage.

  They went tumbling down the up escalator, triggering screams from startled tourists. Raine staggered and fell to her knees, then struggled up and ran toward where the man had disappeared. “Max. Max!”

  They came back into view, rising on the ascending escalator. Max’s eyes gleamed with battle lust, Forsythe’s with rage as they struggled for possession of the gun.

  Max bared his teeth and roared with the effort of forcing the weapon up, toward the ceiling. The gun fired once, twice, spending its bullets in the acoustic tiles far above.

  Then Max slammed Forsythe’s wrist into the railing and the gun fell free. He grabbed Forsythe by the jacket collar, pinned him down and punched him once, twice, a third time before the escalator reached the top.

  Security forces swarmed and grabbed both men.

  “Enough!” Detective Marcus shouted. He shoved Raine aside when she would have run to the men and grabbed Max. “Stand down, Vasek. That’s enough!”

  “It’s not nearly enough.” Breathing heavily, Max glared at the plastic surgeon, whose carefully preserved face was beginning to balloon and turn an ugly shade of red. Then Max glanced at Marcus. “You get the other two?”

  “Two?” Raine said. She looked over to where Jeff stood, cuffed and cowed. “There was another?”

  “Nice try, Ms. Montgomery. We know you and Forsythe were in collusion.” The detective looped her wrists in front of her and fastened a pair of handcuffs before she could react. As ice gathered in her gut, she heard him say, “I’m arresting you on an outstanding warrant. We’ll figure out the other charges later.” He Mirandized her and then glanced over at Max. “Thanks again for your help, Mr. Vasek. Agent Bryce and I will see that the evidence gets to the proper authorities.”

  A rushing noise built in Raine’s ears, like the wind, only louder. She went utterly, completely still. “Max?”

  He took a long, hard look at her, then turned away.

  She screamed his name, but he didn’t look back.

  “This way, please, Ms. Montgomery.” The detective marched her through the terminal, flanked by armed security guards. The cuffs and escort earned her black looks from everyone she passed, tourist and employee alike. Under any other circumstance, it would have made Raine feel like a criminal. A terrorist. A terrible person.

  But now, she was numb, except for the screaming, tearing pain in her chest.

  Max had come, but he hadn’t trusted her.

  “In here.” The detective stopped at a door marked Security Only and gestured for one of the uniformed men to open the door with a key card.

  They urged Raine through, into what looked like four or five interconnected rooms with viewing glass between them and a central area. Interrogation.

  Over the buzzing in her brain, in her soul, Raine said, “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer present.”

  The detective’s voice softened. “Don’t worry about it. I had my fingers crossed when I read you the Miranda warning, so it doesn’t count anyway.” His eyes warmed and he held up a key. “Give me those cuffs.”

  Raine gaped as he freed her. “What’s going on?”

  “A little subterfuge,” said Max’s voice behind her. “Just in case Forsythe’s friends were watching.”

  MAX SAW HER TURN TOWARD HIM, saw her eyes widen. Then a huge, joyous, relieved smile split her face. “Max!”

  They met halfway across the interrogation holding area. There was no hesitation, no holding back.

  This time it was right.

  This time they trusted it.

  He folded her in his arms and held her tight, then ran his hands over her body, assuring himself that she was there, she was safe. Overwhelming, pounding relief thundered through him, chasing away the terror of the past few hours and the adrenaline of the fight, where he would have killed Forsythe if Marcus had let him.

  He buried his face in her hair and said her name. “Raine.” Then again. “Raine. He didn’t hurt you?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he held her away from him and gave
her a little shake. “Raine. Did he hurt you?”

  “No. I’m not hurt.” Tears glistened in her eyes, but they seemed born of the same emotion that clogged his throat now that it was all over, now that they were safe. Together. Her lips trembled to a smile. “You figured out the note.”

  “We’ll always have that night in Philadelphia,” he quoted. “Yeah, I got it.”

  He didn’t tell her how close he’d come to not getting it, how close he’d come to making the biggest mistake of his life. A mistake that could have cost her life.

  He’d been miles down the highway before he’d started to wonder what, precisely, he was supposed to remember about their night in Philly. They’d met with James Summerton. Raine had held the baby. They’d shared takeout, kissed and spent the night in separate beds. Hell of a way to spend a Thursday night, he’d thought as he’d driven away from her.

  Moments later, he’d been banging an illegal U-turn across a police cut-through on I-95.

  Now, he touched her cheek with the back of his hand, then framed her face with both hands, not quite convinced she was real, she was safe. “We spent Thursday night in Philly. Thursday night. Thursday’s Restaurant. Good hint.”

  “Thank you for coming.” She looped her fingers around his wrists so they were holding each other, staring into each other’s eyes, and he could see the truth and the fear and the awful worry, each emotion echoing into his own gut. “Thank you for trusting me and believing I didn’t run away from you this time.”

  “It was a toss-up for a few seconds there,” he admitted, “but when I came down to it, only one thing really mattered.”

  “What?”

  “You.” He touched his lips to hers. “I love you. And loving you meant that I had to go against the evidence and history, and believe that you loved me back.”

  “I did,” she whispered. “I do.” She reached up and kissed him. “Everything else is negotiable. That part isn’t.”

  Cheerfully ignoring the good-natured catcalls from airport security, Max took her in his arms and kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d seen her in Boston. Only now, he wasn’t kissing a dream or a fantasy. He was kissing a real woman. One who loved him right back.

  She was laughing when she pulled away. “I don’t suppose this helps your Damsel In Distress Syndrome, though, because when it came right down to it, I needed you to rescue me.”

  He shrugged and touched his lips to hers. “You rescued me first. Let’s call it even and go from here.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Away,” he said. “Someplace safe.”

  “You think The Nine will be after me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I think that’s pretty much a given.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and cuddled her to his side. “Ike is safe, though they hit the ferry she and her date should have been on. That and the evidence we’ve gathered will be enough to put Forsythe and Jeff away for a long time, and it should allow Agent Bryce and other federal agencies to open an investigation of The Nine. Turns out I was wrong about Bryce-he’s not on their side, just not really a people person. William is going to help where he can, and Ike may do a little more digging.” He looked down at her and braced himself to deliver the bad news. “You’ll have to put Thriller on the back burner for a little while. We want them to believe you’re still in custody. That’ll buy the investigation some time.”

  When he paused and looked down at her, she tightened her grip on his wrists. “Going away sounds nice.” She smiled and felt the acceptance echo deep in her soul. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only one who’s figured out a few things over the past week. I’m still committed to Rainey Days and Thriller, but other things are important, too. Like taking down The Nine. Like taking some time away with you. Preferably someplace warm.”

  He smiled at the glint in her eye. “It won’t be so bad. Think of it as practice for our honeymoon.”

  She grinned so hard she nearly glowed. “It’s a deal. And in between massages, umbrella-wearing drinks and dips in the pool, we can discuss a few important details.”

  “Such as?” he asked, figuring she was thinking of children and families, a major area where they’d have to meet halfway.

  “Furniture.” At his startled look, she laughed. “If I’m moving Rainey Days to New York City, I’m not sleeping on the floor of your apartment, got it?”

  He laughed as he drew her in for another long kiss. “Yeah, I got it.”

  He’d gotten the most important thing in the world.

  Raine’s love.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Though she’s tried out professions ranging from cleaning sea lion cages to cloning glaucoma genes, from patent law to training horses, Jessica is happiest when she’s combining all these interests with her first love: writing romances. These days she’s delighted to be writing full-time on a farm in rural Connecticut that she shares with a small menagerie and a hero named Brian. She hopes you’ll visit her at www.JessicaAndersen.com for info on upcoming books, contests and to say “hi”!

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