Alpha Squad

by Suzanne Brockmann

  The knife was buried up to its hilt in Travis’s thigh.

  “You’re still going to die,” Travis hissed at Blue.

  “I wouldn’t pull that knife out if I were you,” Blue told him. “At least not until you get to the hospital. I aimed for a major artery. If you pull that out yourself, you’ll bleed to death in about two minutes.”

  Travis’s pale face got even paler.

  “Get in,” Lucy said urgently to Blue. “Fisher’s truck just pulled into the parking lot.”

  As if to punctuate her words, a shot rang out, and the rear windshield of Lucy’s truck shattered.

  “At least they have lousy aim,” Blue said, throwing open the back door of Travis’s car and climbing in behind Lucy.

  Lucy pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires as Blue climbed over the seat back into the front. She glanced at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill Travis,” she said.

  “Are you kidding?” Blue said. “And miss seeing him stand trial for Gerry’s murder?” He turned around, squinting to get a better view of the truck that was chasing them.

  It was a monster truck, with big, oversize tires. It looked as if Fisher himself was driving. But someone else was next to him, riding shotgun. Literally.

  “What if he bleeds to death?” Lucy asked about Travis.

  “He won’t,” Blue said. “I was messing with his head when I told him I hit him in an artery. That was total bull. I was trying to immobilize him.”

  Another shot rang out, but as far as Blue could tell, it didn’t hit Travis’s car. Lucy pushed the car even faster, but the truck kept up. Easily.

  Blue turned around, quickly scanning the interior of the car they were in. It was an upscale foreign car with a big engine, loaded with all the extra features. Travis even had a car phone built into the hump between the two front seats.

  They were heading north on Philips Road. Lucy was taking the curves faster than she should and the tires squealed and moaned. Blue tried to visualize exactly where they were. Philips Road intersected with Route 17 not far from Northgate prison. And somewhere west off Route 17, between Philips Road and the turnoff to Hatboro Creek, was the local television station where Jenny Lee worked. Bingo. Blue picked up the car phone. He had a plan.

  He glanced back at the truck just as the rear windshield shattered. The shooter had put a scope on his rifle. They were in trouble now.

  “Faster,” he said to Lucy. “And keep your head down.”

  “I can’t do both,” she said tightly.

  “You have to,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t you be shooting back at them?” Lucy asked.

  Blue shook his head. “Handguns don’t have the same range as a hunting rifle. It’d be a waste of bullets.”

  “Blue, I can’t take this road any faster!” There was more than a touch of panic in her voice.

  He put down the phone and drew Travis’s gun instead, then braced his arms on the back of the seat. “Hit the brakes,” he said to Lucy. “Now.”

  She looked at him in shock. “What…?”

  He raised his voice. “Do it!”

  She did. The car slowed, shuddering slightly, and the truck roared into range.

  “Drive!” Blue shouted, emptying the magazine of the gun in rapid succession. He saw the truck’s front windshield shatter, saw the telltale spray of red on the back windshield, and he knew someone had been hit.

  If it was the driver, he hadn’t been killed. As Blue watched, the truck pulled over to the side of the road and came to a stop. Lucy was watching, too, in the rearview mirror. “Keep going,” Blue said to her. “As fast as you can.”

  “They stopped,” she protested.

  “That doesn’t mean they can’t start after us again,” he said.

  Several minutes passed in tense silence as Lucy drove as fast as she dared and Blue watched out the back for any sign of the truck. They were going up a small hill, and bits and pieces of the road behind could be seen in the valley below. He caught a glimpse of the monster truck, back on the road, still following them.

  Lucy swore like a sailor when he told her. She glanced at the speedometer, pushing the car even faster, but otherwise didn’t take her eyes off the road. “We’re coming up on Route 17. Which way?”

  “West.”

  Blue picked up the car phone again, dialing a number he obviously had memorized.

  “Who are you calling?” Lucy asked.

  “Jenny Lee.”

  Lucy felt herself grow very, very still. Jenny Lee. Blue was using the car phone to call Jenny Lee. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, foolishly, she was. She was surprised and hurt. God, it was shocking how much it hurt. She’d anticipated this scenario. She’d been prepared for it. Or so she’d thought.

  Somehow Lucy managed to keep on driving. Somehow she made the turnoff west onto Route 17. She had told Blue that she loved him, and he didn’t even have the decency to wait until they were out of danger before he called Jenny. Maybe that was what hurt the most.

  “Jenny Lee Beaumont, please,” Blue told the receptionist, then waited while his call was connected.

  Lucy was really able to open up out on the state road. She pushed Travis’s car faster, listening to the rush of the tires on the road, trying not to listen to Blue talk to Jenny Lee. But it was hard not to overhear him.

  “Remember when you came to the jail and I told you to be ready for me?” Blue said to Jenny. “Well, I’m on my way.” There was a pause, then he said. “Ten minutes.” Another pause. “Right.” Then he hung up.

  He turned to Lucy. “You know where the turnoff is to the television station?”

  She nodded. She knew.

  He looked at her closely. “You all right?”

  Lucy nodded. “I’m fine.” She glanced at him. He really didn’t have a clue. He was gazing at her, concern in his eyes, puzzlement on his face. “Considering people who want to kill us are chasing us in a truck that can probably go a lot faster than this car,” she added.

  Blue turned around, looking out the broken rear window. “I winged one of them,” he said.

  “I thought you were supposed to be a sharpshooter,” she said.

  He turned to her again, and she could feel him studying her face. She held her jaw firmly, her mouth tightly, her eyes carefully on the road.

  “I am,” he finally said. “Travis’s gun really sucks. I didn’t have time to figure out which way it pulled. I didn’t have time to compensate.”

  Blue turned around to watch out the rear window. Several more miles sped by with only the sound of the wind whistling across the broken window, breaking the silence.

  “This is almost over,” Blue finally said.

  Lucy nodded. They were almost at the station. What he intended to do there, she didn’t have a clue. She was afraid to ask. Maybe Blue planned to take Jenny Lee and escape in the television station’s helicopter. After all, he was a Navy SEAL. He could fly a helicopter, no problem. Or maybe he intended to hole up in Jenny’s office, using Lucy’s gun to keep Fisher and whoever was with him in the truck—probably Frank Redfield—at bay until the authorities made the scene.

  But maybe Blue wasn’t talking about the danger they were in. Maybe he was talking about his relationship with Lucy. And it was true. It was almost over. If Blue was planning to be with Jenny from now on, there was no way his friendship with Lucy could continue on the way it had.

  Blue swore, suddenly and loudly, and Lucy glanced up. The monster truck had reappeared in the rearview mirror. It was growing larger by the second, gaining on them.

  Lucy could see the turnoff that led to the television station up ahead.

  They weren’t going to make it. Lucy could see the hazy sunlight glinting off the barrel of the hunting rifle as she glanced again in the rearview mirror.

  “Get down!” Blue shouted, and she ducked. A shot rang out and Blue cursed.

  Oh, my God. Blue was hit. The windshield had been sprayed with his blood. Som
ehow Blue wiped a clear swatch with his hand.

  It was his arm. He’d been shot in the arm and he was bleeding.

  “Blue,” Lucy said. “Oh, God, Blue…”

  Another shot rang out and the windshield broke, spider-webbing. Again Blue was there, kicking it out so that she could see.

  “Your arm,” she gasped, the force of the wind in her face taking her breath away.

  “I’m fine,” he said, his voice still soft and calm as he quickly ripped the tail off his shirt and tied it around his arm to stop the bleeding. “It’s nothing. Just messy, that’s all. Come on, Yankee. Here comes the turnoff. Don’t slow—just take it.”

  Lucy pulled the wheel hard to the right and they skidded around the corner. It took a moment for their tires to get traction, but then they were off again, doing eighty down a road with a fifteen-mile-an-hour limit.

  At the first speed bump they nearly launched into the air.

  The truck was right behind them, and it bounced up and almost on top of them.

  But then they were in the parking lot, heading toward the main building.

  Lucy could see a small crowd standing out in front. It looked like a television crew, complete with at least two cameras and a whole bunch of technicians. What the heck…?

  “Don’t hit the brakes until we’re almost past them,” Blue told her. “Then just get down and stay down, do you understand?”

  Yes. Lucy understood. Suddenly she understood.

  She saw Jenny Lee Beaumont, dressed in pink as usual, standing in front of the crowd, a microphone in her hand, reporting live from the front of the television station.

  Lucy understood. If R. W. Fisher and Frank Redfield were going to kill Blue and Lucy, they were going to have to do it on live television.

  It was perfect. It was so perfect she had to laugh. Blue had no doubt set this plan up with Jenny Lee. He had no doubt figured that the time would come when the people who killed Gerry would try for him, too. But no one in his right mind would commit murder in front of an audience of two-hundred-thousand-plus viewers.

  She hit the brakes hard and felt the car go into a skid and then finally stop. She didn’t get down quickly enough, and Blue pulled her down, covering her with his body.

  Lucy could hear shouting. She could hear the squeal of tires as the monster truck did a quick U-turn out of the parking lot. She heard the drumming of helicopters overhead as the FInCOM agents made the scene and took off after the monster truck. Then she heard the quiet sound of Blue’s breathing and the pounding of her heart.

  Blue shifted slightly so that most of his weight was off her. Lucy turned her head and found herself looking directly into his eyes.

  “You all right?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  He nodded, too. “My arm was just nicked,” he said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Their legs were still intertwined. That felt too intimate, too wrong. Or maybe it felt too right.

  She looked up to see Jenny Lee peering in the window at them.

  “Whoopsie,” Jenny said. “We’ll get this interview a little bit later. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt, Carter.”

  Lucy sat up, hitting her head on the steering wheel. Blue helped her up and into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m okay,” she said, rubbing her head. “I’m all right. You can go. I’m fine.”

  “Go,” Blue repeated. “Go where?”

  Lucy forced herself to smile. “Go to Jenny,” she said. “It’s all right.” But then she caught herself. What was she saying? “No, it’s not all right,” she realized. “In fact, it stinks. In fact, you’re a jerk, and I don’t even know what I saw in you in the first place—”

  “Lucy, what the hell…?”

  “Go ahead,” she said, glaring at him. “Go spend the rest of your life with Jenny Lee. I hope you like lace doilies and little pink flowers, because your house is going to be covered with them.”

  Blue was confused as hell. “Why would I want to spend the rest of my life with Jenny?”

  “Because you childishly imagine you’re in love with her.”

  Blue had to laugh. “Lucy, did you hit your head harder than I thought?”

  “No.”

  She wasn’t kidding. There were actually tears in her eyes. She was mad at him. She was serious. Blue stopped laughing. Where the hell had she gotten this idea? He ran his fingers through his hair, and when he spoke it was slowly and calmly. “I’m not in love with Jenny Lee.”

  “My point exactly,” she said hotly. “You only imagine you are.”

  “No, I don’t. I—”

  “Yes, you do,” Lucy insisted. “And you know what’s going to happen if you marry her? After six months, she’s going to bore you to tears.”

  “Lucy, I’m not—”

  “That is if you don’t suffocate underneath all those little pink flowers first.”

  “Why,” Blue said as clearly and distinctly as he possibly could, “would I want to marry Jenny Beaumont when I’m in love with you?”

  Lucy was silenced. The silence continued for several very long moments.

  “Excuse me?” she finally said.

  “You heard me the first time, Yankee,” Blue said quietly, dangerously. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

  “But I want you to say it twice,” she said. And then she smiled.

  Her eyes glistened with tears, but her smile was pure sunshine, pure joy. When she smiled at him that way, Blue could refuse her nothing.

  “I love you,” he said, touching the side of her face, losing himself in her eyes. Hell, that was easier to say than he’d thought possible. So he tried saying something that was even more difficult. “I think you should marry me, Lucy.”

  Lucy felt her smile fade. Marry. Blue. My God. She’d never dreamed…Well, actually she had dreamed. But she’d imagined they were just that. Dreams.

  Blue made an attempt at humor. “You need me to say that one again, too?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No.” Her throat was dry and she swallowed. “No, I heard you.”

  She could see uncertainty in his eyes.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  He honestly didn’t know what her answer would be. Lucy cleared her throat. “You mean, move to California?” she asked, stalling for time. Did he know what he was asking? Was he just caught up in the emotion of the moment? How could she know for sure?

  Blue nodded. “That’s where Alpha Squad is stationed these days.” He searched her eyes. “I’ve got an apartment outside Coronado. It’s kinda small—we could get something bigger…”

  Lucy didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. He seemed to have given this some thought. He seemed lucid and certain.

  Blue mistook her silence for hesitation. “I know being married to a SEAL isn’t always fun,” he said quietly. “I’d be gone a lot—too often. But I swear to you, while I’m away, I’ll be true. Other wives might wonder or worry, but you’d never have to, Lucy. And when I’m home, I’ll do my best to make up for all the time I’m away—”

  Lucy interrupted. “Are you sure?” She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to ask.

  “It’s always hard when you’ve gotta leave on a mission, but Joe Cat and Veronica are making it work and—”

  “No, I mean, are you sure you want to marry me?”

  Blue laughed in surprise. “I guess you really didn’t hear me the first time—or the second time, either. I love you.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand, leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth was warm and sweet, his lips as soft as she remembered.

  “It wasn’t love at first sight,” he told her in his black velvet Southern voice, kissing her again. “It took longer than that. I can’t tell you when I knew for certain. All I know is little by little, bit by bit, I realized I want you next to me, Lucy. I realized that I love you. I want you wearing my ring, taking my name, having my babies. I want you to be my friend and my lover for the rest of our
lives. So please, marry me.”

  Lucy’s heart was in her throat, so she opened her mouth and gave it to Blue. “Yes,” she said.

  Blue smiled and kissed her.

  Blue sat down next to Lucy on the porch swing. “I spoke to Joe Cat,” he told her. “I caught him before his plane left Kansas City. As long as I’m out of trouble, he’s just going to turn around and head back home to Veronica.”

  Lucy leaned back against him, looking out at the deepening twilight. He smelled sweet and clean from his shower. He’d shaved, too, and she rubbed her own cheek against the smoothness of his face.

  “One of the FInCOM agents stopped by while you were getting cleaned up,” she told him. “Travis signed a full confession. Apparently he was there—along with Fisher and Frank Redfield—on the night Gerry died.”

  Blue nodded, just waiting for her to tell him more.

  “According to Travis,” Lucy continued, “Gerry was involved with some kind of money-laundering scheme. R. W. Fisher apparently knew some mob boss from New York who convinced him Hatboro Creek was the perfect sleepy little town to launder drug money. Fisher got Gerry into the deal, along with the Southeby brothers and Frank Redfield. Everything was moving along smoothly until Gerry started going to Jenny Lee’s church. When Gerry got God, his conscience started bothering him, and he told Fisher and the others he wanted out of the deal.

  “They threatened him and he was running scared, trying to figure out what to do. When you showed up, Fisher was afraid Gerry would go to you for help, so he told Gerry if he as much as spoke to you, they’d bring this hired gun from New York—a man named ‘Snake’—to kill you. Instead, Snake killed Gerry.”

  Blue swore quietly.

  “Travis said that Gerry wasn’t drunk that night. He was sober. The drunkenness was just an act. Gerry was trying to make you leave town.”

  “He was trying to protect me,” Blue said.

  Lucy nodded. “Yeah. All those awful things he said to you weren’t true. He cared about you—he didn’t want you to be hurt.”