by Kylie Brant
The breath hissed out of him, a silent stream of relief. He continued to the fourth entrance, affixed the GPS then continued on to find a spot in between stacks of cargo where he could wait. He dug the earplugs out of his pocket and placed them in his ears.
The dark thought occurred that if the rest of the team failed in their next task, Cam would be trapped here in the tunnels. And he had a feeling getting out would be a whole lot tougher than getting in had been.
Twenty minutes crawled by. Then there was the sound of voices. A truck moving into the area. Cam muttered a silent obscenity.
The cargo he was hiding behind was about to be loaded. Several workers swarmed over to where he was hidden. One man moved a pile of boxes. Stared straight at him. Opened his mouth to call out.
And then the detonations rocked the area, one at each entrance and exit of the place. Even with the earplugs, the sound was deafening. It was followed by armored trucks crashing through the shredded doors.
Cam removed his earplugs and stayed put. Wading into the middle of the resulting chaos with no way to identify himself as law enforcement was risky. Gunfire filled the area. The supervisors and security guards would be armed.
The task force would be, too.
A familiar figure sidled out of the shadows and fled right by Cam’s hiding place, heading down the passageway toward the third tunnel. His face was turned away.
But Cam didn’t figure anyone else in the area would be wearing Italian loafers. “Moreno!” Pulling his weapon, he launched himself into the open area to chase after the man. He’d hoped a member of the task force might hear him, but the enclosed space rang with the sound of gunfire. Loud cries. Shouted commands.
Cam saw Matt running toward him from the opposite direction. Moreno halted, swung toward Cam. They fired simultaneously.
He didn’t even realize at first that he’d been shot. His arm went numb. His fingers loosened on the weapon. He fumbled with it to switch hands. Time slowed. Moreno walked toward him, lips curved, with his gun still aimed. Cam saw his death written in the man’s smile, and had a brief moment to mourn the fact that he and Sophie weren’t going to have that future after all.
* * * *
“Sorry to freak you out last night,” Jenna repeated again as she and Beckett walked to the front door. After the alarm had been triggered, there’d been a visit from a guard from the security company. When even the he couldn’t come up with a breach in the system, Jenna and Beckett had insisted on spending the night at Sophia’s. That is, Jenna had insisted, and Beckett had settled in on the couch, as if his presence was a given. Maybe it was, since the two had arrived together.
“The guard was probably right.” Sophia was transferring her things to a different purse. “It could have been something hitting the window.”
“Personally, I thought the guy was an idiot.” Beckett rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “An owl? You buy that?”
“I don’t know.” She was hoping that a reasonable explanation would occur to someone before this evening. Cam could talk about her strength all he wanted, but she was very much afraid that it had been nearly depleted.
“If Cam’s not back tonight, you can stay with me.”
Sophia sent the other woman a grateful look. “I’ll let you know.”
She waved goodbye, and the two walked toward Jenna’s vehicle, which had been parked in the visitor’s lot. Sophia closed the front door and crossed to the garage entrance. Today she was going to make a concerted effort to resume her life. She’d go back to her office and spend the day preparing to transition her clients back to her schedule. .
And maybe, she thought, backing the car out of the drive, if she stayed busy enough she would be able to get through at least an hour without worrying about what was happening with Cam.
She slowed to a stop for the light at the end of the street, behind a car with its windows down, rap music blaring from it. Noticing a rough looking man loitering on the corner, she double-checked the locks. Paranoia was still alive and well.
The car in front of her turned. There was a flash of movement to the side of the car. Even as she turned her head she saw the man she’d noticed looming closer. He had something in his hand that he swung hard at the front passenger window. Sophia screamed, instinctively shielding her face from the flying shards of glass. He used that moment to reach into the opening he’d created, flipped the locks and got in. And then he was over her, one beefy arm around her neck, attempting to drag her from the vehicle.
“Everything you had on your rape list?” His breath was hot against her face. “You and me are gonna add a few things to it.”
He was pulling her out the passenger door. Instinct overshot panic. She grabbed her purse and heard him laugh. “Lady, there’s nothing in there you’re gonna need where we’re going.” His laugh turned to a scream when Sophia drove the letter opener into his eye.
Abruptly she was freed. Scrambling over the seat she attempted to reach the driver’s door and felt his hand grip her ankle, pull her back again.
“I’ll kill you for that, bitch! I’ll fucking kill you.” She sliced at his arm, her breath coming in huge racking sobs. Blood covered the man, but still he came. His arms grasped her shoulders and gave a mighty yank. In a tangle of limbs she was being pulled through the open door.
“Police! Hands in the air! Right now right now!”
Relief had her collapsing in the seat, too weak to even lift her head to look at her rescuers. She didn’t need to. Their voices made them readily identifiable. Jenna and Beckett. They subdued her attacker, cuffed him and then split up, Beckett applying first aid and Jenna checking Sophia for injuries.
“I’m not hurt. I’m not. I just…” She shuddered violently and Jenna slipped a protective arm around her shoulders. “It’s never going to stop, is it? How many men did Baxter send after me? A dozen? A hundred? It’ll never be over!”
“It’s over now,” the woman said soothingly. “It is. Right after Leslie attacked you Cam immediately placed a warning on Craigslist about the ad. Then he filed for an injunction to get the original one pulled. I checked myself this morning. It’s gone.”
The news didn’t alleviate her worry. Adrenaline had faded, leaving her trembling and teary. “I stabbed him in the eye.”
Jenna’s voice was matter of fact. “That’s okay. You probably couldn’t reach his junk.”
Sophia’s head jerked up at that, her gaze fixed on her friend for a moment. And then, shaky with shock, joined her in laughter.
* * * *
“His name is Michael Frasier.” Beckett shoved a mug of steaming coffee in her hands and Sophia accepted it gratefully. They were back at Cam’s condo. The DMPD had come and gone, hauling the stranger away.
But not before the man had spilled details to Jenna and Beckett. “His story is shaping up a lot like Leslie’s.” Jenna sipped from her coffee, her brows raised in approval. “Maxwell. You’ve got hidden talents.”
“That’s what I keep saying.” The sheriff settled one hip on stool and sipped, then took over the story. “He spoke to Baxter at least a week after the other man, though. He also tripped your alarm last night when he tried to get in through a window.”
Jenna’s gaze was sharp. “How is that possible? Aren’t the feds still watching this place?”
Steadier now, Sophia nodded. “I thought so.” And if she’d known the federal agent wasn’t out there the first night Cam left, she wouldn’t have slept at all. “How long…when do you think Cam will be back?”
Jenna and Beckett exchanged a glance. “Don’t look at me,” Maxwell said. “No one’s told me anything.”
“I don’t have many details,” Jenna admitted. “Or none, actually. But he did say it’d be quick.”
“If it was over shouldn’t we have heard something by now?” Sophia stopped. Surveyed Jenna. “I’ll bet you can get that FBI agent’s number. Del Harlow. He’s Cam’s contact throughout this.”
The other woman pulled out
her cell, her face a mask of determination. “I’ll bet I can, too.
It took nearly an hour and a half a dozen calls, but eventually she had a cell number. Sophia’s hands shook so badly she had to redial it twice. Prepared to leave a message, she was half surprised to hear the agent answer. “Agent Harlow. This is Dr. Sophia Channing. What can you tell me about Cam? Have you been in contact? Is he safe?”
There was a long pause. And when he spoke the man’s voice was more subdued than usual. “I meant to call you. I’m afraid I have some bad news, Dr. Channing….”
* * * *
Sophia waited in the hospital room, arms wrapped around her middle. Why were these places so cold all the time? That couldn’t be good for the patients. Or maybe, she thought, turning to pace, the chill was coming from within her. From the moment Harlow had given her the news, she’d felt frozen from the inside out.
The door opened, and Cam walked through it with a physical therapist at his side. Seeing him standing on his own had all the pent up anxiety streaming out of her, leaving her limp with relief. “Hey.” It was a ridiculously lame greeting, given the wild unadulterated happiness pumping through her. But her throat was too full to manage more.
He looked tired, cranky and out of sorts. But when he saw her his expression flashed to fierce joy. He held out an arm and she flew to his side, careful to avoid the opposite injured shoulder. Cam buried his face in her hair. “You can’t know how much I needed to see you. Did Harlow call you?”
Her head lifted, indignation sounding in her voice. “He did not. I called him after Jenna tracked down his number, and when he told me about your injury, at first I thought…” Seeing the frown on Cam’s face, she stopped herself, smoothed the furrow from his brow with an unsteady hand. “Let’s just say, the man knows how to bury a lead.”
She’d thought he was dead. The cold paralyzing fear that had followed Harlow’s first words had made it difficult to focus on the rest of his explanation. Cam had been in surgery for the bullet wound to his shoulder. She’d only spoken to him once over the phone, when he’d been too groggy from the sedatives to make much sense. She’d taken the first plane out, but it would be a long time before she forgave the FBI agent for not keeping her informed about Cam’s condition.
“Another thing he has to answer for,” he muttered. Reluctantly, he released her long enough for the physical therapist to help him get settled in the uncomfortable looking recliner next to the hospital bed. “You didn’t have to torture me this morning,” he told the petite dark haired woman as Sophia returned to his side. “She’s all the therapy I needed.”
“He was born under a lucky star,” the woman said to Sophia, straightening to tuck her clipboard beneath one arm. “The bullet lodged in his bicep and by some miracle it avoided bone.”
Luck. Sophia squeezed Cam’s hand tightly. They’d both had their share of it recently, but only after some sort of trauma. “I’m ready for the kind of luck that leads to winning the lottery.”
He slipped his uninjured arm around her waist to pull her close. “I already have. You’re a prize I’m hoping to treasure for the next sixty years or so.”
Sophia bent down to give him a lingering kiss, one imbued with the promise of hope.
“Aw.” The therapist applauded. “Why weren’t you that sweet in therapy?”
When Sophia moved away he looked at the other woman. “Because you’re a Nazi, and she’s way too good for me. We both know I’m over-chicked, but she’s polite enough not to mention it.”
The woman laughed on her way out the door. “Gotta admire a man who at least realizes it.”
Sophia pulled another chair up next to him. “Tell me about Matt. His family.”
“Safe.” Cam took her hand in both of his. “He saved my life. Moreno was about to finish me off. Matt was behind him. Shot him before he could fire again.”
The words had her clutching reflexively at his fingers. “I hope I get to thank him some day.”
“Probably not. The task force hit Moreno’s compound at the same time they raided the operation. Matt’s family was rescued and they reunited. Only to disappear hours later from the hotel they were stashed in by the feds.”
Something in his tone alerted her. She reared back to study him. “I know that smug expression. There’s more to that story than…” Comprehension hit her. “Harlow was right. You were in contact with Matt all along.”
He shrugged. “It’s always better to be in charge of your own fate. He and I discussed…options. I didn’t trust the FBI not to keep Baldwin tied up in red tape for weeks. During which time he’d be a sitting duck.”
As if in answer to that, the agent walked in, a flicker of wariness on his face when he saw Sophia. “Prescott. I hear you’re being released soon. Good to hear.”
“Harlow.” When Cam strode over to the man Sophia noted that he made even a hospital robe look sexy. “I’ve been in touch with my agents back home. Care to explain how someone could try to break into my place if there was an agent watching it?”
The FBI agent spread his hands. “Cam. You were under a great deal of stress. I understood that. But the surveillance was for your protection. And once you weren’t there anymore…” The man shrugged. “I’m not the one who makes those kinds of decisions. I don’t allocate the resources.”
“No, you just allocate lies.” Cam’s tone was steely. “The paper you gave me that was signed by your superior made me think his word was good, even if yours is shit.”
The congenial mask dropped and Harlow flushed. “Fuck that. The task force takes precedence. I did what I had to in order to get your head in the right place. If you were worried about your…Dr. Channing…your life would be endangered even more. I did it for your peace of mind. You should be fucking thanking me.”
Cam’s fist slammed into the other man’s mouth with enough strength to rock Harlow’s head back. The speed and ferocity in the blow made Sophia gasp. “Cam!”
He unballed his fist. Flexed his fingers. “There’s your thank you.”
“You goddamned lunatic!” The agent snatched a wad of tissues and pressed them to his mouth to stem the copious flow of blood. “Your superiors will hear about this.”
“Yours, too.” Cam sauntered back to Sophia’s side. “And I still have the paperwork you gave me with the assistant director’s forged signature on it.”
When the agent stormed out of the room, Cam grinned at Sophia. “That was pretty good therapy, too.” He wrapped his good arm around her. “Now. About that future you promised me…”
Looping her arms around his waist, she tipped her head back, considered him. “You mentioned sixty years. I should probably tell you, Channing women tend toward longevity.”
There was a wicked glint in his eye that had her limbs going weak. “In that case, why don’t we plan on eighty years together, with an option on another twenty?”
How many times in the last few days had she despaired of a future with this man? And now everything she’d longed for was just a kiss away. Sophia went on tiptoe to press her lips beneath his ear. “I love a man who knows how to compromise.”
Table of Contents
Section 1
Section 2
Section 3
Section 4
Section 5
Section 6
Section 7
Section 8
Section 9
Section 10
Section 11
Section 12
Section 13
Section 14
Section 15
Section 16
Section 17
Section 18
Section 19
Section 20
Section 21
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