Hotshot

by Mann, Catherine

  Shay held on to her calm. Barely. “Not a chance.”

  “Ah, of course you don’t want the money for yourself ”—Lewis rolled to his side with a groan—“but I’ll bet this girl here could use the cash to take care of that baby. Just give me the chute.”

  “Go to hell,” she snapped at Lewis without looking away from her job. “I hope you know how worthless you and your whining are compared to what Amber’s going through. You’re a destroyer, while Amber is bringing new hope into the world and creating something—someone—with the potential to be better than all of us.”

  Shay steadied her breathing and focused on Amber who . . . Oh no. “The baby’s coming, Amber. Vince, are you ready to count?”

  “We’re,” Amber gasped, “already on four. Got that, Major?”

  “Fair enough.” Vince nodded in front. “Five, six, seven . . .”

  Shay palmed the infant’s head in her gloved hands. Amber’s fingernails cut into the seat belt as her face turned crimson with her efforts. Pride seared through Shay as she watched the teenager fight to bring her baby into the world.

  The head inched farther into Shay’s waiting hold. Turning, guiding shoulders, and the baby’s body slithered free. Shay went on autopilot, tending her new tiny patient. Sweeping the mouth clear just as the baby girl let loose a healthy wail.

  She cradled the squirming miracle in her hands, tiny, but whole and healthy and screaming like a champ. Tears streaked down her face. How could she not cry? She held the newborn up for Amber to see, for Vince to look at, too, in the mirror above his head.

  “It’s a girl,” she said, “a perfect little girl.”

  Her eyes met and held with Vince’s as they shared the moment, the victory they’d pulled through together. As she looked at him and her own reflection, she realized, her arms were bare. Her wrist was bare.

  That last barrier she’d tossed up between them had come tumbling down when she hadn’t been looking.

  Finally, she was ready to embrace her future. Her happiness.

  “Are you ready to call it a day?”

  Vince looked over at Jimmy Gage in a Hawaiian shirt and with the start of a handlebar mustache. His crewdog buddies lined alongside Vince an hour after he had landed. Smooth looked preppy even in his fake airport personnel gear. Berg stood alongside the rest, not hanging back for once.

  And Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon. The boss had a big, rare smile on his face.

  Vince tugged at his uniform tie. “Most definitely ready.”

  They’d helped avert a bombing, a kidnapping, and even managed to provide the information needed to stop a major shipment of illegal munitions from being smuggled into the country. Jaworski was having a field day wrapping that one up over at the Port of Cleveland.

  Vince rubbed his shoulder over the old phoenix. He was actually starting to like that opinionated cop. Maybe that came from seeing things without the crap from his past clouding his vision.

  He searched the tarmac for Shay. A halo of lights shining through the dark illuminated fire trucks, police cars, and officials filling the small airport. Finally, he found her, over by the EMS truck assessing Amber and her baby. Shay jotted notes on a technician’s chart.

  Taking care of business the same as he was. Their time would come after.

  He looked back at his crew. There would be more missions, more risks. Some wins, some losses. But today, the good guys had come out on top. “Thank you.”

  Scanlon clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s what we do, Major, it’s what we do.” His boss persona slid back into place before Vince could even respond. “Come on, boys, Deluca has police reports to give, and we’ve got work of our own.”

  The crew filed behind Scanlon as the commander barked out a list of duties.

  Footsteps sounded off to his right. He looked fast, his nerves still wired tight. Don walked toward him, hands in pockets.

  His old mentor stopped beside him. “I owe you more than I could ever repay.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” The man had saved his life years ago.

  Although what happened with Shay today had nothing to do with Don and everything to do with being there for the woman he loved. Vince frowned, looked at Shay, then smiled. Hell yes, he loved her, and he didn’t intend to give up on her so easily this go round.

  Don rocked back on his heels. “Regardless, I want to thank you for saving my daughter’s life.”

  “With all due respect, sir, she’s the one who knocked out Lewis inside that plane.” Now the aide was cooling his heels in a cop cruiser, already spewing the names of higher-ups in hopes of securing a deal for himself.

  A fine way to end this day.

  Then he saw Shay walking toward them in scrubs borrowed from the EMTs. Her killer suit had taken a serious hit when she delivered the baby—an absolutely awesome moment he would never forget.

  “Sir,” he said to his old mentor, “I hope you know you’ve got an incredible daughter there.”

  Vince scooped up her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Screw worrying about arguments. They would deal with their differences soon enough. Tonight was about celebrating the victory. “Your father wants to talk to you. I’ll be right over there with my crew when you’re ready.”

  With a final squeeze to her hand, he turned away, ignoring the half-stunned, half-panicked looks on Shay’s and Don’s faces over being left alone to talk.

  Sometimes people needed a nudge. He had every confidence Shay could hold her own.

  What the hell was Vince doing? Shay wanted to take hold of his big broad shoulders and shake him for leaving her here alone with her father. She scuffed her toes along the concrete, the borrowed foot covers from the EMTs doing little to protect her feet.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her father’s words startled her even more than his voice. Vince had filled her in about what Webber had done back at the gym. It would take time to sort through how she felt about what he’d done, but she knew without question she would be visiting him in jail. “Yeah, I am. Thank you for asking.” She hesitated. “And you?”

  “I’m all right.” He kept his hands stuffed in the pockets of his suit pants. “We handled things back at Case Western, but I’m sorry to say they had to take the boy, Webber, into custody.”

  “I expected that. Vince told me what happened while I was locked in the closet.” She was still dealing with the shock that Webber was in so deep and that her local gang kids had such big national ties. She was lucky to be alive. “I’m glad they were able to take Webber in unhurt.”

  She looked up from her toes to her father. She didn’t know all that had happened, but she sensed . . . “I believe I have you to thank for that.”

  He shrugged but didn’t deny it. “I hear he’s already cooperating with the police. This may not have had the outcome you wanted for him, but you still worked a change in that boy. I’m proud of you for what you’re doing with those kids, for how you held your cool today.”

  “Guess I’m a real chip off the old block.” How many times had Vince told her that? She just had to be ready to hear it, accept it.

  “That’s the general consensus.” His eyes darted around the airport and for a minute she thought he was looking for an excuse to leave. “How’s the girl? The one who had the baby?”

  “She and her baby are both doing remarkably well, considering the traumatic delivery.”

  Shay watched the ambulance pull away. She could learn something about strength from Amber rather than the other way around. Amber had tried to be a bridge between the gangs, seeing the humanity on both sides. What a credit to how she’d maintained a gentle sweetness despite where and how she’d grown up.

  Shay knew how hard it was to protect your sense of self in that kind of rough world. She’d failed to manage it herself, even with all the opportunities she’d had with a strong father figure and parents who could afford to get her help.

  Her fingers gravitated to her scar, stroking by instinct. “I�
��m sorry for putting you and mom through so much. I’ve always felt guilty for wrecking things between you two.”

  Her dad went still, then his shoulders slumped, his fifty-six years showing. “Ah, baby girl, don’t blame yourself. You have to remember things were wrecked between your mother and me long before that. It wasn’t your fault or even that lazy lout of a brother of yours.”

  She snorted on a laugh, a much-needed laugh. “Sean’s a professional student.”

  “Professional moocher,” he grumbled but with less force and more wry humor than she could remember hearing before.

  Talking this way with her father would have unsettled her a week ago. Now? Not so much. Looking death in the eye for the second time in her life left her with an overwhelming desire to live. To let all the old worries and fears go. To claim whatever happiness she could with her father.

  With Vince.

  She wouldn’t let old insecurities rule her again.

  Shay elbowed her father in the side. “Once Sean finally pulls it all together he will be infinitely hirable with all those degrees. Maybe we’ll all be able to retire while he supports us for a change.”

  “We can only hope.”

  Her smile faltered, then held. “You know, Dad, this is the longest we’ve talked in quite a while.”

  Dad.

  She hadn’t called him that in seventeen years.

  Shay held back tears. She’d missed him. And maybe somewhere down deep he’d even missed her.

  He hooked an arm around her shoulders and watched the activity on the tarmac. It wasn’t some warm and fuzzy hug like she’d sometimes dreamed of having from him, but this felt good. It felt right.

  “Well, baby girl,” he said, his arm falling away. “I need to check in with Special Agent Wilson.” He looked down at her with eyes the same color as her own. “We’ll talk later?”

  “You can count on it.”

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Vince waited outside on the steps while Shay finished answering questions from the press after finally giving her congressional presentation.

  She stood poised and in control in another va-va-va-voom suit, a traffic-stopping red one this time. Not that she needed the bold color to steal his attention.

  Shay held up her hands, signaling an end to the interviews. “Thank you for your questions, for your interest, and for your support. I look forward to celebrating with you when the legislation passes, bringing a comprehensive plan to help stem this very real threat to American youths. Thank you again, and have a wonderful afternoon.”

  She strode through the throng of reporters, straight to him. She’d insisted she didn’t want to ride away in a limo this time. No pomp and circumstance or affectation. The real Shay had gotten her this far, and the real Shay wanted to ride off in a style that reflected who she was.

  Vince waited by the Ducati that he’d purchased, her helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful, you ready to roll?”

  “Absolutely.” She snagged her helmet and snapped it in place. “Where are we going?”

  “Do you mind being surprised?”

  “Bring it on.”

  He wasn’t sure how she would manage straddling his bike in her pencil-thin skirt, but he had fun watching her handle it with total class. She wrapped her arms around his waist, even though they both knew she didn’t need to hold on.

  He settled into the ride with the perfect bike and the beyond-perfect woman behind him. At first, weaving through traffic, they attracted stares. No surprise. A woman in a red suit riding behind a man in uniform demanded attention.

  Once he left the city and opened up the engine along Lake Erie, it was only about Shay and him. Them and the road, leaving behind all the bad they’d survived to make it to this point.

  The past two weeks had been packed with legalities. Beyond just stopping the arms shipment, the network they’d built from linking cell phone numbers would enable the FBI to corral enough criminals to keep the justice system busy for a long, long while.

  Webber was cooperating with the police with the help of his attorney. The boy couldn’t walk away from what he’d done, but his age had been taken into account. Vince still could hardly believe the boy was only fourteen. Kids really did start younger.

  The boy’s lawyer had hopes he could get Webber tried as a juvenile, which meant he could be out of jail by twenty-one. Surprising them all, Webber had made his cooperation contingent on Amber receiving placement in the witness protection program.

  Brody’s fate, however, would be trickier, since he was responsible for the brutal murders of both Kevin and the young student. The terrorist-recruiting CDs in Kevin’s apartment had been intended to divert their attention away from Lewis’s shipment.

  No question about it, Lewis would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Sadly, the bastard would probably find plenty of protection, given his strong affiliation to Los Angeles and Central American gangs. As best they could tell, California Congressman Mooney had no knowledge of Lewis’s dealings, but the politician’s career was likely over, all the same. A damn shame, because Mooney had appeared to be a genuine advocate for more gang legislation.

  Vince squeezed extra juice from the engine, the bike surging beneath him, putting miles between them and the mess continuing to be untangled in Cleveland. He and Shay had been neck deep in questions and aiding the investigation. Ending every day in bed together, they made love and went to sleep, too exhausted and drained to talk anymore.

  Yeah, he knew it was love, even if neither of them had said it yet. Soon, though. This moment had been seventeen years coming. He intended to make it one to remember.

  Two mind-clearing hours later, Vince slowed the bike at their off-road destination, a private campsite he’d set up ahead of time on the Erie shore.

  Shay’s squeal as she leapt off the Ducati reassured him he’d chosen well.

  “Camping?” Whipping her helmet off, she shook her curls loose again. “This is so perfect.” Her smile brighter than the sun streaking through the trees, she gestured toward the tent, the campfire pit, a bench with fishing poles and hiking gear propped against it. “You heard what I said about loving the outdoors. You really listened.”

  Somehow he was the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth to have found a woman so easy to please. “I also brought changes of clothes. They’re stored in the tent.”

  “Perfect. The suit is fun on occasion, but I miss my jeans and tank tops.” She kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her suit jacket.

  He rubbed from her shoulder down her arm to link fingers. He raised her arm, displaying her bared wrist, no watch in sight.

  Her scar had been covered earlier this morning with a tattoo of a phoenix. The bird’s body rested along the inside of her wrist, with the wings wrapping around to the front.

  He squeezed her hand. “Does the tat hurt?”

  “Of course it does.” She swatted his shoulder, laughing. “Only a few hours ago I had needles prick my skin in a couple of million places.”

  He should have thought of that before he brought her out here. “There’s ice in the chest.”

  She shook her head and cradled her wrist to her heart. “No, I want to feel it.”

  “Uh, I’m not tracking here.”

  “What I did with the cutting . . . ?” She turned her hands to flatten her palms on his chest. “The emotional pain became so overwhelming, the physical pain somehow canceled out any pain. A twisted rationale, and so horribly wrong to do to myself, but it’s there.”

  Understanding settled inside him. “So you’re saying your wrist hurts. And that’s a good thing.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He held up her arm. “This is a battle scar, without question.” He blew cooling air over her new tattoo. “This says you’re a survivor.”

  “That I am.” She arched up on her toes to kiss him, her lips soft and giving and a perfect fit against his.

  His uniform jacket fell to the ground before he even real
ized she’d unbuttoned it. Not that he cared. He helped her with his shirt, then hers.

  She peeled off his T-shirt then teased her fingertips along his phoenix. “We’ve waited a long time for what we’ve found together.”

  “You were worth waiting for.”

  She slid her hand up to cup his face. “I love it when you grow in the category one grooming facial hair.” Her smile turned serious, her hands stroking his face tender. “Actually, Vince, I love you. I always have, even back when I was too much of a mess to know how to tell you or show you, or even how to love myself.”

  He kissed each palm before resting his forehead on hers. “I know you love me, and I’m so damn glad. I look forward to spending the rest of my life showing you how very lovable you are, if you’ll let me. Because, Shay, I do love you, too.”

  He stared down into the brown eyes he knew he would be looking at for the rest of his life. For a guy scared of commitment, afraid of being some loser like his dad, he’d sure been healed fast by the hottest nurse he’d ever met.

  She tickled the base of his scalp. “I guess this means I’m relocating to Las Vegas.”

  And she surprised him yet again. He’d been wondering how he would persuade her. “Are you okay with that?”

  “The good thing and the sad thing about my job is that there are teens who need me everywhere. And I trust that Eli and Angeline are here for these kids.” Her fingers played along his neck. “So, is there good camping in Nevada?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She eased away from him, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. “And you’re in Las Vegas.”

  He scrambled to focus on her words rather than the scrap of red satin falling away from her beautiful breasts. “Not as often as I would like, but every single minute I can manage from now on.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She flicked away one high heel, then the other.

  “Are you ready to head into the tent and help each other change clothes?” After spending some serious naked time together.

  “I was thinking”—her thumbs hooked in her waistband, and she continued to back away toward the shore—“that we could go skinny-dipping and check out each other’s tattoos.”