by Lara Lacombe
“Show me your hands,” he instructed. Gingerly, she let go of her injured arm and held up her left hand. “Now the other one.”
She tried to lift her right arm, bringing a fresh wave of pain that nearly brought her to her knees. “I can’t,” she choked out. “I can’t raise my arm.”
The man nodded at his partner. While he kept his gun trained on her, the younger officer walked toward her, his expression grim.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she cried in frustration. “I’m not the dangerous one—he is!”
The younger officer looked back at his partner. “Who?” the man asked.
Just as Kelly opened her mouth to answer, a loud bang rang out behind her. A white-hot poker struck her side and she stumbled. The ground rushed up to meet her. Pebbles from the asphalt dug into her cheek and she felt a growing pool of wetness form underneath her body.
Popping sounds split the air, and she watched with a growing sense of detachment as feet raced by her head. “Don’t step on me,” she mumbled, lacking the energy to move out of the way.
Someone grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over. She squinted up into the face of the young officer. His expression was now one of horror. Poor kid. Protecting the monuments had probably never been this much trouble before.
“James,” she croaked.
He leaned down, his face inches from hers. “You hang on, okay?” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “The ambulance is on the way.” His hand found her side, and pain knifed through her as he applied so much pressure it felt as if he was trying to push between her ribs.
Black spots danced before her eyes. “Help James,” she repeated, needing him to understand what she was telling him. “He’s in the museum. He needs help.”
He nodded, clearly humoring her. “All right, we’ll help him. You just worry about staying here. I’ll take care of James.”
She felt a flicker of annoyance at being dismissed but was too cold and too tired to snap at the young man. His partner would come back soon, and she could tell him.
She closed her eyes against the bright sunlight. She’d rest for a few minutes, wait for everyone to calm down, then explain why they had to get to the museum and help James.
Sirens joined the cacophony of voices and noise. Hands pulled at her shirt, lightly slapped her face. There was a great pressure on her side as a loud voice called out, “Wake up. C’mon, open your eyes.”
She moaned, moving her hands to try to cover her side, but they were pushed away and held down. Then she was rolled onto her side while fingers probed her back, poking painfully at the wetness there. Urgent voices spoke above her head, but she couldn’t make out the words. She felt as if she were underwater, hearing sounds that were fuzzy around the edges.
She tried to speak again but something came over her face, blocking her words. The world spun as she was raised into the air and moved; then a shadow blotted out the sun. It was cool in the shade, quieter, too. Maybe now she could rest.
An annoying tickle registered in her mind. There was something she had to do...something important....She grasped for the thought, but it drifted away, like water draining from a cupped hand.
The harder she fought to remember, the faster the idea slipped away. She chased after it, catching an elusive glimpse of dark brown eyes before surrendering with a sigh and slipping into the quiet depths.
* * *
Kelly.
Oh, God. Kelly.
His heart pounding, stomach twisted into knots, James picked his way through the debris in the corridor as he traced the route Caleb had taken. His eyes stung from the dust in the air, and he absently wiped his face with his palm, puzzled to see blood on his fingers when he drew his hand away.
He paused when he reached the door at the end of the hall. It was unlikely Caleb was hanging around on the other side, but he wouldn’t do Kelly any good if he walked into a bullet. Holding his gun with a firm grip, he kicked the push bar and stepped through the swinging door into another exhibit hall. Glancing around, he saw no sign of Kelly or Caleb in the eerily empty space.
Keeping the gun in his right hand, James reached to turn the volume up on his earpiece, wincing at Carmichael’s loud voice.
“—is Reynolds? Has anyone seen him?”
“I’m here,” James said, feeling guilty that he had waited to check in with the team. They were likely worried about him, thinking him injured or even dead.
“Where have you been?” Carmichael barked, his fury coming through loud and clear as he punctuated the question with a string of expletives. Oh, yes, there would be hell to pay for this. It might even cost him his career.
But with Kelly in danger, he just didn’t care.
“I intercepted Caleb. He’s taken Kelly as a hostage.”
“We know.” The older man’s voice was laced with frustration, but James knew he was just upset at losing Caleb again. He didn’t care that Kelly was in danger or that Caleb might have killed her by now.
After making his way through the museum, James headed for the exit. “I’m coming back in,” he reported. “Did we get Collins?”
“Yes. He’s being questioned now.”
That was something, at least. Maybe the professor would know where Caleb was taking Kelly. A small spark of hope flared to life in his chest as he pushed through the crowd milling around the museum. A police officer moved to intercept him, but he flashed his badge and kept walking. Legs pumping, he covered the blocks back to headquarters, his mind churning with possible scenarios and options. There had to be a way to find her before it was too late.
The thought of Kelly at Caleb’s mercy made his throat tighten with panic. As long as he thought she was useful, he’d likely keep her alive. If she refused to cooperate...
I’ll find her, he thought fiercely, firmly pushing the alternative out of his mind. He didn’t want to consider his life without Kelly in it. His earlier fears of getting involved with her now seemed like flimsy excuses, the rationale of a man looking for any excuse to run away.
He’d spent his life running—working hard to distance himself from his father’s actions, walking away from Steve in his friend’s darkest hour. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life keeping people at arm’s length? Kelly had offered him a chance, one he had stupidly rejected. If—no, when—he found her, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Too keyed up to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time. He reached the top, panting but still feeling as if he had nervous energy to burn, and pushed into the office.
He saw Thomas from across the room and nodded. The other man’s eyes widened, and he strode quickly through the office, grabbing James by the arm and tugging him in the direction of the bathroom. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and urgent.
James tried to tug free, but Thomas tightened his grip. “Now.”
James entered the bathroom first, whirling to face Thomas. “I can’t do this now—Caleb has Kelly, and I’m running out of time!”
Thomas studied him for a beat, his eyes sweeping across his face and down his body. James looked down as well, for the first time taking in his dusty, bloody clothes. His face began to sting, and he risked a quick glance in the mirror. Wincing, he took in the fine cuts on his face, red and oozing, and the larger gash on his forehead. That must have been where the blood had come from earlier, he realized.
He walked over to the sink and splashed water on his face; the coolness soothed his irritated skin. Thomas held out a wad of paper towels, which he accepted with a grunt of thanks. Patting his face dry, he turned to face the other agent.
Thomas looked fine, he realized with a sense of relief. “Was anyone hurt?”
Thomas shook his head. “Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing major.”
The tight fist in his chest eased a bit when he heard the rest of the team was okay, and he quickly pushed away the fissure of guilt that he hadn’t thought of them before.
“I think you need sti
tches,” Thomas said, nodding at his forehead. James pressed the paper towel against the gash, then drew it away to see fresh blood. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Thomas stepped out, giving James an opportunity to make a more detailed survey of his appearance. A fine white dust covered his clothes and hair, making him look like an old man caught in the snow. Keeping one hand pressed to the cut on his forehead, he dampened some paper towels with the other and began to brush at his shoulders and hair in a vain attempt to clean up. While he was successful in removing the top layer of dust, fine white particles had become embedded in the fabric of his shirt, and no amount of rubbing would dislodge them. It was the same for his hair; he was able to shake out some of the powder, but only a thorough washing would render it clean again.
Thomas returned with a first-aid kit, which he unpacked on the counter. Ripping open an alcohol square, he approached James with an apologetic expression. “This is gonna sting.”
James hissed at the burn as Thomas dabbed his skin. “What happened?” he asked, wanting a distraction.
“I grabbed Collins after the meet and rushed him back here. He was babbling about Caleb, but I didn’t pay much attention since I figured he was just trying to distract me. It wasn’t until I got back here that I realized Caleb was in the museum and had grabbed Kelly.”
“I saw him take her from my position next to the information desk.” His hands clenched at the memory. “Carmichael told me to stand down, but I couldn’t let them walk away without knowing where he was taking her.”
“He’s pretty pissed about that,” Thomas said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’ve never seen him so riled up.”
James smiled as the image of Carmichael with a full head of steam popped into his mind, but he quickly sobered. “It’s all my fault,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“The bomb. I cornered them, tried to bargain for Kelly. I thought he was going to cooperate, but then...” He shook his head, the words trailing off.
Thomas squeezed the edges of the cut together and began to apply butterfly bandages. “He was going to detonate them no matter what.”
“How many people were killed?”
“So far? None.”
James jerked his gaze to Thomas’s face, searching for signs of deceit. “How is that possible?”
Thomas finished up, wiping stray blood from around the cut. “He set the charges in an empty area of the museum that was undergoing renovations. No one was around, and the bombs themselves weren’t that big. It looks like he was going for panic, which he definitely achieved.” He crumpled up the empty bandage wrappers and tossed them into the trash, then turned back to face James.
“That was a hell of a stunt you pulled, turning off your comm like that.”
James took a deep breath, knowing he owed Thomas, and the rest of the team, an apology. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting the other man’s level blue gaze. “I didn’t mean to play cowboy. I just went a little crazy at the thought of Kelly being at Caleb’s mercy, and I couldn’t handle playing by the book.”
Thomas nodded, his expression at once stern and sympathetic. “I know you have feelings for her, but you put us all at risk. How do I know it’s not going to happen again?”
“You don’t,” James said, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. “If I have to choose between Kelly and following the rules, she’s going to win, every time. And know this,” he said, now choosing his words carefully. “When you guys go after her, I won’t be content to sit on the sidelines. I’ll stay out of your way, but I will be there.”
Thomas shook his head. “Not my call, man. I think you’re an integral part of the team, but Carmichael wants your head. After today, he’ll probably have you riding a desk for the next thirty years.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t check in with him just yet,” James said slowly.
Thomas grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, that’s one way to play it. I do have a lot going on right now, and the fact that I’ve seen you will probably slip my mind....”
“No,” James said firmly, shaking his head for emphasis. “Under no circumstances are you to cover for me. I don’t want you risking your ass for me. Just because my career is over doesn’t mean yours has to be.”
Thomas opened his mouth, but before he could voice a protest, his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and held it to his ear. “Kincannon.”
He listened for a moment; then his eyes widened and flickered to James. “Uh-huh. Good. Yes. I’m on the way.” He snapped the phone closed and stared at James, one eyebrow raised. “I think we’ve just caught a break,” he said, his voice practically vibrating with energy.
“What happened?” Was Kelly involved? Had Caleb let her go? Did they have a lead?
“There was an accident by the Lincoln Memorial. Some lady drove a car into the barricades. The guy she was with crawled out of the car and started shooting, so the cops took him down.”
James reached for the counter, squeezing the edge so hard he thought his hand would break. “Caleb and Kelly?”
Thomas nodded. “I think so. They’re at the hospital now. His injuries aren’t critical, so we can talk to him as soon as we get there.”
“And Kelly?” The words barely made it past the lump in his throat.
Thomas’s face fell and his brows drew together as he pressed his mouth into a line. “She’s in surgery.”
* * *
James was climbing out of the car before Thomas had put it into Park. He slammed the door and quickly made his way to the hospital entrance, his long strides eating up the distance in record time. He ignored Thomas’s shouted cry to wait up, pushed through the double doors and made a beeline for the information desk.
“Kelly Jarvis,” he demanded without preamble. “Where is she?”
The older woman manning the desk blinked up at him, her large round glasses giving her the look of a sleepy owl. “I’m sorry?”
Gritting his teeth, he started to silently count to ten but only made it to five. “I’m looking for Kelly Jarvis,” he repeated. “I need to know what room she’s in.”
“Are you family?” Her brow arched, and her pink-painted lips pressed together in what must have been her don’t-mess-with-me look.
He fished in his pocket for his badge and flashed it at her. “Where is she?”
Thomas appeared at his side, frowning. “You couldn’t wait a minute?” he muttered. James ignored him while the woman leaned forward, making a show of inspecting his badge.
Thomas graced her with a smile, his dimples winking. Her features softened a bit in the face of such attention, and he went in for the kill. “Sorry about my friend here, ma’am,” he said, pulling his own identification from his jacket. “We’re here to question the two patients brought in about an hour ago. They were involved in a car accident by the Lincoln Monument, and they were both shot.”
Her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, yes!” she said, nodding. “Quite the event. Let’s see....” Her fingers moved across the keyboard at an agonizingly slow pace, and James fought the urge to leap over the counter, grab the keyboard and search the records himself.
“The man is in room 684, and the woman is still in surgery,” she reported.
James opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas stepped on his foot. “Where will they take her when she’s done?”
She frowned, studying the screen. “Usually surgical recovery is on the sixth floor, so she’ll probably be there. You should check in at the nurses’ station, though.”
Thomas smiled at her again, making her blush. “We’ll do that. Thanks so much for your help today.”
She patted her curls, simpering. “Elevators are down the hall, to your left.”
They turned from the desk and headed down the hall, finding the elevators exactly where she said they’d be. James pressed the button repeatedly, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference but needing something to do with his hand
s.
He glanced over at Thomas, who stood with his hands in his pockets. “How do you do it?” he asked.
Thomas looked at him, brows drawn in confusion. “Do what?”
“Have every woman within a five-mile radius falling over themselves to help you?”
Thomas grinned. “Just my natural charm, I guess.” He smoothed a hand through his hair, brushing the strands back into place. “It helps that I’m handsome.”
James snorted, making Thomas grin even wider. “You’d be amazed at how far please and thank you will go,” he said, raising a brow. “You don’t always have to bark at people, you know.”
They stepped into the elevator, and James stabbed the button for the sixth floor. “When I know Kelly is safe, I’ll stop barking.”
Thomas sobered at that. “I know you’re worried, but they have the best surgeons in the city here. She’ll make it.”
The knot in James’s belly tightened. “I hope so,” he whispered.
She had to survive. He couldn’t even think about the alternative. He had too much to stay to her, too much to show her, for her to leave him now.
He forced himself to walk at a normal pace to the nurses’ station, then let Thomas ask the questions. Kelly’s surgery was wrapping up, the charge nurse informed them, and she should be moved up to the floor in about an hour.
Thomas took one look at his face and tugged him away from the nurses’ station, pulling him into an empty room. “There’s nothing you can do right now,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “You need to pull it together.”
James nodded, knowing the other agent was right. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by freaking out right now. Besides, they had a job to do. He’d worked this case for too long to pass up the opportunity to question Caleb.
Taking several deep breaths, he forced his brain to switch gears. Stuffing his feelings for Kelly and his nervous anxiety into a box, he worked to focus on the task at hand—finding out who Caleb worked for and what they were planning next.
Thomas was watching him closely, studying his face for signs of trouble.
