Hidden Peril

by Irene Hannon

  “Thanks.” Ryan activated the electric window again. It rolled up and shut tight, sealing them inside. “Like I really care about driving out of this place, you moron.”

  As he muttered the derisive comment, he drove forward and took a right onto the service road. A couple hundred feet down, he swung in beside another car parked on the grass and shut off the engine.

  “Finally.” He gave the peaceful, bucolic surroundings a slow sweep.

  Kristin did the same. The green rolling hillside was empty save for some wooded patches in the distance. Behind them, the other side of the road was dense with trees and undergrowth. All seemed quiet.

  He turned to her. “Open your door.”

  As she did so, he grasped her upper arm in a steel grip, clutching the detonation button in his other hand.

  “I thought you w-wanted me to get out?”

  “I do. But we’re doing this together. From now on, you and I are joined at the hip. Swing your legs out and scoot to the edge of the seat.”

  He was getting out on her side?

  “Move!”

  She eased around and lowered her feet to the grass. A few seconds later her seat sagged as he moved behind her, so close she could feel his body heat.

  She tried not to retch.

  “Here’s how this is going to work, Kristin.” His hot breath scorched her ear as he spoke. “After we’re out of the car, I’m going to wind the cord into my hand. Then we’ll walk toward the amphitheater. I’ll be behind you, my hand in the small of your back with the coiled cord and the detonation button. And I’m going to keep shifting us around as we walk.”

  “W-why?”

  “In case anyone is watching us. I think we’re clear, but if we’re not, it’s always harder to hit a moving target. All you have to do is keep walking and follow my lead. Got it?”

  She gave a jerky nod.

  But as he urged her out of the car, she planned to do a lot more than follow his lead like a sheep to slaughter.

  She was going to take the lead.

  Ryan might be willing to die in order to kill other people—but she was willing to die to save other people.

  For all his careful planning, she doubted he’d factored that kind of sacrifice into his equation.

  But if her courage held, in less than a minute he was going to find out that for all his hatred of America and Christians, the values of her country and her faith were going to prove more powerful in the end than his ideology of hatred and intolerance.

  They were getting out of the car.

  From his concealed position behind a large oak tree in a thicket of greenery, Luke tried to steady the binoculars he’d trained on the duo.

  Hard to do with the quiver in his fingers.

  Nick’s curt voice spoke in his earpiece. “Brett—status report.”

  “Subject is too close to hostage. Waiting for clear line of sight.”

  “You’ve got thirty yards. Max.”

  “Understood.”

  As Luke listened to the conversation, some of the stiffening went out of his legs.

  Thirty yards gave the FBI sniper a very small window in which to work—and Ryan was sticking tight to Kristin.

  Even worse, he was on her far side. And he was tugging her around, weaving back and forth, scanning the surroundings. Like he knew he was being watched—and was doing his best to make it hard for anyone to get a clear shot at him.

  “I think he might have spotted us tailing him.” This from Nick. “All that bobbing and weaving is suspicious.”

  Luke spoke into the mic clipped to his collar. “Or he’s being cautious.”

  “Doesn’t matter the reason. If we don’t get a shot, we’ll have to go with plan B.”

  The one involving the guy in the bomb suit, who was approaching from the other end of the parking lot.

  The one that guaranteed Kristin would die.

  “Not the best solution.” He snapped out the words as his control slipped, the binoculars glued to his face. “With a sniper shot, at least she has a chance, however small. The other way, she—”

  He frowned.

  Zoomed in tight on Kristin’s face.

  She had a nasty purple bruise on her jaw—but that wasn’t what made the panic alert beeping in his mind go berserk.

  There was no tension in her features. No fear in her eyes. She appeared calm. Resolute. Almost as if she’d switched to autopilot for some predetermined sequence of activity.

  But what kind of activity? What options did she . . .

  His heart stumbled as the truth slammed into him like a punch in the gut.

  Kristin sold candles to support monks who helped those in need. She’d donated two years of her life to service in the Peace Corps. She ran a shop that gave an economic assist to people struggling to make a living in less developed countries.

  This was a woman who cared passionately about others.

  Who would never put her own needs above the needs of someone else.

  Who would sacrifice her own life to save the lives of innocent people.

  “Luke? What’s going on?” There was an edge to Nick’s voice.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw the agent edge out from behind the nearby tree where he’d secreted himself.

  Kristin fisted her hands.

  “She’s going to detonate it herself!” His words came out ragged.

  Kristin lifted her chin.

  His pulse began to gallop. “Brett—take your shot!”

  Kristin’s chest heaved.

  “Nick—give the order!”

  As he barked out the command, Kristin wrenched free of Ryan’s grip, swung around, and yanked at the cord in his hand.

  “Kristin! No!” Luke bellowed the desperate plea.

  Two shots exploded in rapid succession.

  Ryan jerked.

  Blood spurted.

  And Kristin went down.

  What had just happened?

  From the kneeling position she’d dropped to when her legs gave out, Kristin sank back on her heels and blinked.

  Blinked again as she tried to put together the pieces.

  There had been a shout.

  An explosion.

  Blood.

  She studied the bright red spatters on her shirt.

  Odd.

  Nothing hurt.

  Or was she too numb to feel pain?

  She lifted her hand and examined her fingers.

  Everything appeared to be intact.

  Yet Ryan was lying in a twisted heap on the ground beside her.

  He was dead . . . but she wasn’t?

  Nothing was computing.

  All she knew with absolute certainty was that she was still strapped into a suicide vest.

  “Kristin!”

  The voice again.

  The one that sounded like Luke’s.

  She lifted her head. Searched the surrounding hills.

  There.

  In the distance, a male figure waving at her.

  It was Luke.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Help is on the way, Kristin. Don’t talk. Don’t move!”

  Not a problem.

  Her muscles had turned to mush, and her vocal cords had shut down.

  Besides, since by some miracle her attempt to blow herself up had apparently failed, she wasn’t about to finish by accident what fate—or God—had derailed.

  Luke disappeared over the crest of a hill, but she followed his instructions and remained motionless beside Ryan’s lifeless body.

  Time passed. How much, she had no idea. But at last someone in what looked like a space suit approached her from the direction of the parking lot.

  No, not a space suit.

  A bomb suit.

  She’d seen photos of them on TV.

  The figure drew closer but didn’t speak until he was less than twenty feet away.

  “Ms. Dane, I’m Special Agent John Lawrence with the FBI.” His tone was calm as he continued to walk toward her, l
ike they were having a chat at Starbucks. “I’m a bomb technician. We’re going to get you out of that rig as fast as we can. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Her acknowledgment squeaked out.

  Somehow, despite the bulky suit, he managed to hunker down on one knee beside her. “Before I touch anything, tell me what you know about this vest and how it was put on.”

  Somehow Kristin managed to walk him through what she’d found in Ryan’s kitchen and how he’d strapped her into the vest, answering all of his questions as best she could.

  No, he hadn’t mentioned anything about a timer.

  No, there were no locks on the vest, just straps.

  No, as far as she knew there was only the one detonation button that had never been far from his hand.

  “It’s right t-there.” She flicked a glance to the button at the end of the wire that protruded from the bottom of her vest and snaked across the grass.

  As he angled sideways to size it up, she began to shake.

  Hard.

  Her stomach bottomed out.

  No! She had to remain motionless! Ryan had warned her that too much movement could set the bomb off.

  “Agent L-Lawrence.” He refocused on her at once. “I can’t stop shaking. I-I’m afraid I’ll make this blow up.”

  “If you haven’t set it off yet, I don’t think we need to worry about that.” He continued to speak in a smooth, reassuring tone. “But we’re going to get it off of you fast. I have an assistant on the way who will help with that task. I think you know him. A detective by the name of Carter.”

  Luke was going to get up close and personal with this bomb?

  The taste of fear soured her tongue. “I don’t want him anywhere near this thing.”

  “He’ll be suited up, like me.”

  “I don’t care. It’s too risky.” At this range, those suits wouldn’t offer sufficient protection if the vest detonated. It was bad enough she and this technician could be blown to bits. Luke didn’t need to put himself in the danger zone too.

  “As I understand it, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had some guys from the County unit haul their equipment out here, and his bomb squad background gives him the credentials to assist.”

  Kristin stared at the FBI tech.

  Luke had a background working with bombs?

  The man was full of surprises.

  Including the fact that he planned to put his own life on the line instead of staying on the sidelines until Agent Lawrence disposed of the vest.

  Pressure built behind Kristin’s eyes as the implication of his choice sank in—and despite the explosive vest strapped around her body, warmth overflowed in her heart.

  As did hope.

  Because only a man whose feelings ran as true and deep as hers would take such a risk.

  And if God had brought her this far, surely he was going to keep her safe until she could step into Luke’s arms and give him a proper thank-you.

  32

  “What in blazes is going on?”

  Luke picked up the helmet for the bomb suit as Colin flashed his creds, ducked under the inner perimeter yellow crime scene tape, and barreled toward him.

  He did not have time for this.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “Kristin isn’t answering her phone. Tell me she doesn’t have anything to do with this suicide bomber/hostage situation that’s been all over our secure police channel.”

  “I wish I could.”

  The color leeched from Colin’s face. “She’s the one in the suicide vest.”

  “Yes.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’s the status?”

  “The vest-maker is dead. We’re getting ready to free Kristin.”

  “You know how to deal with these kind of explosives?”

  “I’ve had experience with bombs—but the FBI tech agent is taking the lead. I’m just assisting.” He lumbered toward the service road as fast as the bulky suit allowed.

  “Does he need your help?”

  Luke kept walking. “Extra hands never hurt.”

  “Hey!”

  He glanced over his shoulder without breaking stride.

  “Thanks. And good luck.”

  With a bob of his head, he continued toward the road.

  A minute later, Kristin came into view, still sitting on her heels, the front of her shirt splattered with Doud’s blood. She hadn’t moved an inch since he’d called to her from the top of the hill before racing around to the staging area and the waiting County bomb crew.

  Thank goodness Sarge had come through for him and he could suit up fast.

  As he put on his helmet and started down the road, Kristin’s gaze latched on to his—and remained locked there while he trudged toward her in the heavy suit.

  The FBI bomb tech stayed on his knee beside her while Luke completed his trek and hunkered down on her other side.

  “You’re gonna be fine.” He laid his fingers—the only exposed part of his body—on the back of her icy hand.

  “You didn’t have to do this.” The warmth in her eyes seeped through the layers of the protective suit and filtered into his heart.

  “Yes, I did.” Through his visor, he looked at her for several long, intense beats before shifting his attention to the bomb tech. “What do we have?”

  “It appears to be a rudimentary detonation device.” He motioned to the cord that ended with a button. “However, I don’t want to touch anything until we get her out of the vest. Ms. Dane, can you unbutton the shirt or would you like us to do that?”

  As she lifted her hands to examine them, Luke understood the reason for the man’s question.

  They were shaking badly.

  “I-I’m not sure I can manage it.”

  “No problem.” Luke edged around in front of her. “I’ll do it.” His own hands were none too steady, but they were in better shape than hers.

  “I’ll work on the cuff of this sleeve.” The agent bent down to ease the button out.

  As soon as Luke finished the front of the stained shirt, he went to work on the other cuff. It too was bloody—but the splotches weren’t as fresh.

  Once he opened the button, the crusting slices in her wrist revealed the source.

  Keeping his tone as even as possible, he traced the edge of one slash. “What happened?”

  She inspected the abrasions. “He used wire to restrain me. I tried to get f-free, and it c-cut into my skin.”

  “And your jaw?” He gently touched her chin.

  “He hit me.”

  Rage bubbled up inside him, as turbulent as a rumbling volcano, and Luke had to call on every ounce of his self-restraint to keep it from erupting.

  Kristin didn’t need his anger.

  She needed his support and encouragement.

  And after the FBI agent parted the shirt in front and the bomb-studded vest came into full view, Luke had no difficulty redirecting his thoughts to the more immediate, life-threatening challenge.

  “Ms. Dane, do you recall if the front and back of the vest are the same?”

  “I-I think so. It seemed like a mirror image, with a hole in the middle.”

  “Okay.” He produced a pair of scissors from a toolkit beside him and moved behind Kristin. “I’m going to cut the shirt up the back and we’ll slide it down your arms.”

  He did the job with quick efficiency, examined the back of the vest, and repositioned himself on her other side.

  Luke worked his half of the shirt off while the agent did the same.

  “I think we have basic straps and ties under the arms.” The agent laid the shirt aside. “Let’s verify that. Ms. Dane, would you slowly raise your arms a few inches?”

  She did as he asked.

  Luke examined his side of the vest. It was a simple garment, cinched with canvas straps affixed with plastic buckles that clicked into place. Like the ones on the car seats Becca had for the kids. “I think we can open these without any issue.”

  “I agree. I
’ve got three on this side.”

  “Same here.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  With a gentle squeeze, he released them one by one.

  After the agent finished his side, he carefully repositioned the cord with the detonation button so it was out of the way. “Let’s remove the vest. You take the front, I’ll take the back.”

  After giving Kristin’s fingers one final stroke, Luke rose and grasped the bottom of the vest.

  The agent did the same in the back. “Pull it straight out, then lift it up and over her head. We’ll set it flat on the grass, to your right. Ready . . . up.”

  Luke synchronized his movements with the agent’s, maintaining the same slow, steady pace as they removed the vest and lowered it to the grass.

  Kristin was free.

  But she was still in the danger zone.

  As if reading his mind, the FBI bomb tech spoke again. “You can both take off. After you’re clear, I’m going to see if I can disconnect the detonation cord.”

  “You need any help?” Much as he’d prefer to walk away, Luke had to offer. This guy had put his life on the line for Kristin.

  He grinned at him through the mask. “Disconnecting a cord isn’t a two-person job. If it gets too complicated, I’ll let the robot take over. We’ll need to bring it in anyway to secure the explosives in the vest. But I’d rather not have this go boom during that process if we can avoid it.”

  That made sense.

  Luke leaned down and held out his hands to Kristin. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She grasped his fingers and he pulled her to her feet, holding tight when she swayed.

  “Sorry. My legs are s-shaky.”

  “I can carry you.”

  “In that getup?” Somehow she dredged up the flicker of a smile. “That might be difficult. I’ll make it as long as I can hold on to your arm.”

  He crooked his elbow. “For as long as you need to.”

  Together they walked down the service road to the parking lot, Luke setting a fast pace.

  Too fast, based on her tight grip.

  But he wanted her out of bomb range ASAP.