Seven Days to Forever

by Ingrid Weaver

  "Call down the chopper!" Flynn said. "We'll meet it on the roof."

  "All units, move in!" the major ordered. "Contain the black sedan."

  Sarah slammed the van into gear, carving grooves in the grass as she steered back toward the glowing obelisk. She pulled a pistol from her waistband and lowered her window. "Abbie, get down on the floor!"

  Abbie stayed where she was, her fingers cramping on the dashboard. The parabolic microphone Sarah had placed beside her was picking up voices. Foreign voices. Men's voices. But in the background, as faint as the whisper of the constellations behind the clouds, she heard a child's sob.

  "I can confirm the hostage is in the sedan," Sarah shouted. "Hold your fire!"

  "Shoot to disable the vehicle," the major countered. "Do not permit them to escape."

  The monument loomed closer. The headlights of the black car glowed through the rain. More headlights appeared, converging on the rise from all directions. The view kept appearing and disappearing as the wipers cleared the windshield. One second the car was there, the next it was gone.

  "The LLA are on the move," Redinger said. "They're heading straight for you, Captain."

  Approaching lights speared through the van's windshield, turning it to molten white. There was a sharp crack. Sarah cried out and the van swerved. The white became a web of crystal shards.

  "Captain Fox?" Redinger called.

  "I've been hit, sir."

  The scene became another one of those slow-motion nightmares. Abbie looked at the cracked windshield, then at the hole in Sarah's jacket. It was a bullet hole. Sarah had been shot. And if the LLA got past them, they were going to escape with Matteo.

  Abbie didn't have time for the terror that screamed inside her. She crawled over Sarah, grabbed the wheel and jammed the accelerator to the floor. She might not know how to fire a gun, but she knew how to drive.

  She aimed at the black sedan. The van flew over a bump, hit the ground hard and skidded sideways directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle.

  The impact spun the van around and knocked the doors open, propelling Abbie through the air. She curled herself into a ball, skidding across the wet grass as she landed. Pain knifed through her wrist. She lifted her head.

  And stared straight into the barrel of a gun.

  * * *

  "What the hell is going on down there?" Flynn yelled. "Goddamn it! Where the hell is she?"

  "Miss Locke is in the black sedan with the LLA," Redinger said. He made no mention of Flynn's profanity. He was wise enough to know when a man had been pushed to his limit. "It was disabled by the crash. It can't move."

  "She was supposed to be safe. Minimal risk. Easy walk, in and out. How could this happen?"

  "There will be plenty of time to sort it out at the debriefing," the major said. "I'd prefer to concentrate on the situation at hand."

  Flynn slammed a fresh magazine into his gun and turned to the pilot. "Open the throttle, man. I know a schoolteacher and her mother who can go faster than this."

  The pilot ignored him. He needed all his attention in order to keep the helicopter airborne in the raging storm.

  Rafe closed his hand over Flynn's arm. "We'll get there, buddy."

  "Yeah? When? You saw that last press release. Those bastards plan to kill their hostage and blow up the money. Esposito was right. They'd wanted a public platform. We've got to get there before the media does. Once the LLA have witnesses, they'll follow through with their plan. And Abbie's smack in the middle—" He had to stop. One more word and he knew his voice would break.

  He couldn't lose her.

  But he'd been ready to walk away.

  Damn, he'd done a lousy job of fooling himself. He wouldn't have let her go. After the mission he would have found some way to see her again. He might not put the same labels on what was between them as Abbie did, but whatever it was, he wasn't ready to give it up. He looked at Rafe. "It can't be too late."

  "It isn't."

  "You warned me. I didn't listen."

  Rafe squeezed firmly and released Flynn's arm. "Think about it later. We're coming up on the Mall."

  Flynn grabbed a rope and positioned himself near the helicopter door. The other men did the same, three on each side, just like before.

  No, damn it. It wasn't like before. This wasn't simply a mission. There was no distance here. It wasn't only a hostage rescue. It was Abbie's life.

  Flynn focused on the huge granite column that glowed through the rain, then scanned the grounds near the Reflecting Pool. The team's chase vehicles formed a ring on the lawn, their headlights pointing inward. In the circle of light Sarah's gray van was lying on its side, its rear side panels crushed inward. Sarah had radioed from inside the van that her condition wasn't critical, but she was pinned down and was unable to help. Several yards away sat a black sedan. White smoke curled from the edges of its crumpled hood and was swallowed by the rain.

  The helicopter hovered above the sedan. Flynn grasped the rope in his left hand and his gun in his right. The men didn't waste time with discussion. This is what they were trained for. They all knew what to do.

  As if materializing from the storm, six black-clad commandos slid down their ropes and descended on the car. Flynn landed beside the driver's door. With split-second reflexes that had been honed by years of daily practice, he sighted his target through the car window and squeezed off two shots. Double tap. Disable and kill. Glass shattered as his teammates did the same.

  It was over in a heartbeat. As he'd told Vilyas, Delta Force didn't give any warnings.

  And they never missed. There was no movement inside the vehicle. No sound. Nothing.

  The helicopter floodlight switched on. Flynn dropped his gun and wrenched open the rear door of the car. Abbie was curled in the middle of the back seat, her head down, her arms wrapped around her legs. She'd sat like that before when she was upset. But this time she wasn't on a crate or a cot. She was spattered with blood and wedged between two dead men.

  The cry that came from Flynn's throat was as savage as the thunder that crashed around him. He flung the first body out of the car and reached to pull Abbie into his arms.

  She struggled, lashing out at him with her elbow, refusing to uncurl from her crouch.

  The blood wasn't hers, he realized as he ran his hands over her. Thank God. He could breathe again. "Abbie, you're safe," he said. "Abbie, it's okay. Let go."

  She lifted her head. Shards of glass winked from her hair. Her eyes were wild. "Flynn?"

  He tore off his helmet and his balaclava. "It's over, darling. You're okay."

  She focused suddenly. "Flynn! You're here. What—" She whimpered as she watched Rafe and Jack remove the other bodies from the car. "It's over?"

  "Yes. Come out of there, Abbie."

  "Where's the hostage?" Redinger called, running toward them.

  "I'll check the trunk," Rafe said.

  Abbie shook her head and straightened up.

  A small blond boy was huddled on the car floor between her knees. He was unscathed. No blood, no glass. Abbie had been sheltering him with her own body.

  Matteo Vilyas looked thinner than he had in his photograph. His hair stuck up in ragged chunks. A bruise darkened the skin on his cheek. The gaze he turned toward Flynn was too old for his years. It was the gaze of a child who had seen what no child should, a boy who had discovered too soon that the world was full of cruelty and sorrow and death.

  Flynn knew that look. He'd seen it in the mirror.

  Abbie turned Matteo's face to her chest, put her arms around him and rocked him in an age-old rhythm of healing. Her faith in the power of love shone from her soul.

  Flynn knew that look, too.

  He'd seen it in his dreams.

  * * *

  Major Redinger drove with the same methodical competence with which he commanded his men. He didn't speed, yet he didn't hesitate. With Rafe riding shotgun in the passenger seat and a helicopter full of armed soldiers providing cover
overhead, he steered the armored Tahoe through the rain-slick streets on the most direct route to the Ladavian Embassy.

  From the back seat Abbie watched the buildings slide past with a sense of inevitability. "Only a few more minutes," she said, stroking Matteo's hair. She adjusted the gray blanket they'd wrapped him in. "We're almost there."

  The boy burrowed his head against her shoulder. He hadn't said a word since Flynn had carried him from the gore-spattered car.

  Abbie looked at Flynn. He was sitting on the other side of Matteo. He hadn't left them for an instant. While the rest of the men had cleared away the bodies, the wrecked vehicles and the shell casings, working quickly to remove any trace of their "training op" from the grounds near the monument, he had remained with her and the child.

  If she'd had the chance to think, she probably would have fallen apart. But there hadn't been time. The nightmare of terror and bullets had blended into a fast-forward blur as Flynn had removed her blood-soaked jacket and had wrapped her in a blanket like Matteo's. His hands had been as gentle as a whisper as he'd cleaned the blood from her skin and removed the glass from her hair. His voice had pulled her back again and again from the brink of collapse. The tenderness in his gaze was her anchor to reality.

  "How's your wrist feeling now?" he asked softly.

  She glanced at the elastic bandage Jack had wrapped from her knuckles to her forearm. She'd been lucky the ground had been softened by the rain where she'd landed. The joint was sprained, not broken. "It's fine."

  Sarah hadn't been so fortunate. Although the bullet that hit her had been stopped by her vest, the force of the high-caliber round had dislocated her shoulder.

  The surviving LLA terrorists who had been swept up in the team's raid had been handed over to the regular army. They would be held incommunicado until King Kristof and the diplomats decided their fate. The documents the team had recovered from the LLA base would be analyzed by Intelligence before being turned over to the Ladavians.

  The terrorist sympathizer within the embassy who had facilitated the kidnapping by giving the LLA details of the Vilyas family's schedule had turned out to be one of the embassy's chauffeurs. In his case, justice would be swift—he'd had the misfortune of being on Ladavian soil when the Royal Guard had caught up with him minutes ago.

  Against all odds, Eagle Squadron's mission was a complete success. Only one final detail remained. They had to return Matteo Vilyas to his family.

  Abbie laid her cheek against the top of Matteo's head. Jack had examined the boy before they had left the Mall and had determined he had no physical injuries that needed immediate medical attention, so there was no reason to delay his return. No physical injuries. What about the emotional scars? Was there any medical treatment for those?

  The major slowed the SUV. Wrought-iron gates decorated with a crest of a falcon appeared through the rain. Guards with rifles slung over their rain ponchos surrounded the vehicle and jogged alongside as they drove into the cobblestone courtyard. They passed the embassy's main entrance and came to a stop beside a door in the side of the building.

  "Look, Matti," Abbie said. "You're home."

  The child shivered and refused to look up.

  She rubbed his back. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you again."

  Flynn touched her hand as he gathered the child into his arms. "You'll be fine, Matteo," he murmured. "Come on, we're going to take a little walk."

  Rafe exited the Tahoe first and positioned himself beside the front fender, his gun held ready as he scanned the area. The Royal Guard formed into two lines to flank the path from the vehicle to the embassy. Abbie swung open her door and got out while Flynn slid across the seat with Matteo. With Major Redinger leading the way, Flynn hunched his shoulders to protect the child from the rain and strode forward.

  Before he'd gone three steps the embassy door crashed open. Neda ran toward them, her arms outstretched. "Matti!"

  Anton was right behind her. When he caught sight of his son, he forgot his dignity and his diplomatic training and whooped.

  Flynn was engulfed in the Vilyases' embrace. Abbie knew the image would stay with her forever. Less than an hour ago this tall, black-clad warrior had swooped down from the sky with his gun blazing to rescue her from certain death. Now he stood in the rain with a child in his arms and grinned.

  He grinned. Oh, God. How was it possible to love him more?

  At the sound of his parents' voices, Matteo's face crumpled. He launched himself into his father's arms and started to wail. He was still crying when they reached the ambassador's quarters, but the sobs were punctuated by words. English mixed with Ladavian as the horror he'd endured finally came pouring out.

  The formal sitting room with its chairs upholstered in Ladavian blue and its dark wood carving and silver samovar rang with the sounds of emotion that needed no translation. Matteo might be fourth in line for the Ladavian throne, the pawn in a terrorist plot, the focus of a secret mission and an international crisis…but at this moment he was merely a little boy.

  Abbie used the corner of her blanket to dry her eyes. She stood by the door with Flynn and the major, unwilling to intrude on the family reunion but somehow unable to move away.

  Flynn slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Matteo's going to heal."

  "God, I hope so, Flynn."

  "We've got specialists who are trained to deal with this kind of trauma," Major Redinger said. "One of the top child psychologists in the country is on her way here."

  "I'm glad." She looked at Matteo's ragged hair. "He's been through so much."

  "He's already getting the best therapy there is," Flynn said, nodding toward the family group. A sleep-rumpled Sacha had just joined them and was holding on tightly to his big brother's hand. "His family loves him. That will get him through anything."

  She turned her gaze to Flynn. She understood how seeing the Vilyases' emotion must stir painful memories of his own childhood. The pain was still there—she could see it in the lines around his mouth. Was it her imagination, or did something other than pain gleam in his eyes?

  Neda approached them, her smile radiant, as if she didn't notice the men were still wearing their assault gear and Abbie was cloaked in a blanket. "How can I thank you enough for what you did, Abbie?" she asked. "You saved my Matti's life."

  "The team saved him, Neda," Abbie said. "I was never really alone."

  "Yes, they are all brave men. And you are a brave woman." She kissed Abbie on both cheeks. "I will be forever in your debt, Abigail Locke. If we were not constrained by the need for secrecy, we would honor you and the team publicly in the manner you deserve."

  "Seeing Matteo reunited with the people who love him is all the reward I need," Abbie said.

  Neda stretched to kiss Flynn and then the major. "My uncle sends his regards. He also is in your debt."

  Redinger's face softened in a rare smile. "I'm sure our president will think of some way your uncle can repay us once the treaty between our countries is ratified."

  Neda laughed. "Yes, I am certain he will."

  "But we'll leave that to the diplomats," Redinger said. He dipped his head in a formal bow. "The Royal Guard will see to your safety now. On behalf of our government, I wish you and your family well, Princess Neda."

  And just like that it was over. The mission. Abbie's reason for being here. Everything.

  Flynn took her arm. "It's time to go home, Abbie."

  Chapter 15

  Abbie felt the last of her strength dissolve the moment she took out her keys. It was such an ordinary thing, taking out a set of keys. She had done it countless times, and could probably do it blindfolded. But as she rubbed her thumb over the beaded key ring her nephew Josh had made her at camp last summer and heard the familiar, homey clink of brass against brass, reality finally hit. And her hand shook too violently to fit the key in the keyhole.

  "You look ready to crash," Flynn said, taking the keys from her fingers. He opened the door, scooped her into h
is arms and carried her inside.

  She wanted to cling to him, but she shouldn't. "I'll be fine, Flynn. The major and Rafe are waiting for you downstairs."

  He kicked the door shut with his heel. "I told them not to. They went back to the command center without me."

  "Why?"

  "Matteo has his family to talk to, but you can't tell yours what happened. Rafe and the major agreed that you shouldn't be alone right now." He didn't put her on her feet. He took the blanket from her shoulders and tossed it aside as he carried her straight through to her bedroom.

  The bed wasn't made. The bedding was still in a tangled heap the way it had been left yesterday. He laid her in the center of the mattress and tugged off her shoes. Then he unzipped her pants and started to tug them off, too.

  She put her hand on his arm. "Flynn…"

  "Don't worry, Abbie. I know you're tired. You've been running on fumes for the past hour. I want to take off your pants because there are bloodstains on them."

  She had almost forgotten. She didn't look. She lifted her hips to help.

  He pulled up the sheet and tucked it around her. "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

  She shook her head.

  "Okay." He withdrew several ammunition clips from the pockets of his jumpsuit, dropped them on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to discard his boots.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "All I want to do is hold you, Abbie." He stretched out on top of the covers beside her and opened his arms. "Please, let me stay with you until you fall asleep."

  The longing in his gaze was her undoing. She'd been wrong. She could love him more. With a grateful sigh she moved into his embrace and put her head on his chest.

  His arms settled around her back. He exhaled slowly. "Damn, that feels good."

  She listened to his heartbeat, soaking in his strength and his familiar scent. She felt drained, completely boneless. Every overloaded nerve in her body was crying for rest. But she needed Flynn more than she needed sleep.

  And she needed to talk. The horror had to come out. Now that she was safe in Flynn's embrace, she could let it go. "Part of me can't believe this was all real."