Aim for the Heart

by Ingrid Weaver

  Sarah had a sudden urge to smooth his hair, just as she'd wanted to spread the spare blanket over him the night before. But that wasn't what she was here for. That wouldn't help keep him alive. She opened the wardrobe and bent down to unlock her suitcase. "There are a few more details we need to take care of," she said.

  "Pendleton from the embassy said the police were going to escort us from here to the ballroom."

  "That's right. One officer is stationed in the corridor, the other at the stairwell."

  Hawk moved past her to look through the peephole. "They seem very competent."

  "They are. So is the rest of the force. The security cordon around the building is tight. There isn't much risk of Weltzer getting inside."

  "Since the rest of the security is good, is there any chance you would be willing to stay in the suite and wait for me?"

  The words were familiar. It was almost exactly what he had said yesterday when they'd been on their way to visit Jibril. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "No, sir. None at all. Any chance you'll change your mind and cancel your speech?"

  "No, Sarah. None at all."

  She withdrew the garments she had packed at the bottom of the suitcase and straightened up. "Fine," she said. She held up a pair of bulletproof vests. "Then you need to put on one of these."

  He didn't make a move to take either one. "Only if you wear the other."

  "Don't worry, I intend to. After my last mission, I have a lot of respect for body armor." She moved to where she had rolled her folded cot out of the way beside the wall and put one of the vests on top of it. "These vests aren't as bulky as the police-issue models but they're just as effective. You can wear it under your clothes. If you take off your shirt, I'll help you fit this one to your chest."

  He slipped off his suit jacket. "Why do you put yourself through this, Sarah?"

  "Why? It's my duty. I already explained that."

  He draped his jacket over one corner of the folded cot. He laid his tie on top of it, then started unfastening the buttons on the front of his shirt. "I'm beginning to believe you really don't understand what an exceptional woman you are."

  "I'm just a soldier."

  "That's what I mean. You don't want to acknowledge there's another side to you. Why are you so determined to be tough?"

  "Because I'm on duty and your life depends on it. Why are you so determined to risk your life to talk about a scientific theory?"

  "Because it's the right thing to do." He finished unbuttoning his shirt and tugged the tails free from his pants. "And my work is my life."

  She rasped open the Velcro straps that held the sides of the vest together. "Well, the Army is my life. Is that so different?"

  He held her gaze in silence for a while before he spoke again. "You have a point. It's not that different at all."

  "Then you should understand why I need to do my job."

  "Go ahead." He stripped off his shirt and dropped it on his other clothes. "I don't think I could stop you if I wanted to."

  She looked at his chest. He wore no undershirt. Although his belt was still fastened and the dark-gray pants that matched his jacket were neatly in place, he was bare from the waist up.

  The contrast of his civilized clothes next to his naked skin was compelling. His pants rode low on his hips. A line of silky dark hair rose above his belt buckle to frame his navel. It continued upward over the washboard swells of his abdomen. Male strength was implicit in each rise of muscle. She remembered how solid his chest had felt when he'd held her in the stairwell.

  And she thought how defenseless this expanse of taut skin would be to a bullet.

  Her pulse thudded hard. She had to put her personal feelings aside. She had to do her duty. She rose on her tiptoes to slip the vest over his head, then straightened the front section over his chest. "Hold your arms out from your sides."

  His muscles flexed as he did as she asked. She caught a whiff of soap and man. Her gaze strayed to the black hair that shadowed his armpit even as she reminded herself she shouldn't be looking at him like this. It was too…intimate. She focused on the vest, pressing the straps into place under his left arm. "This has to fit snugly to optimize the coverage," she said. "But I don't want it to restrict your breathing. Let me know if it's too tight."

  "It's fine."

  His voice sounded pinched. She moved to his right side to adjust the other set of straps, then slipped her fingers beneath the edge of the vest to check the fit.

  His skin warmed to her touch. She slid her fingers along his ribs. The fit felt good. Both the vest and her hand. She pressed her palm to his stomach. She wanted to learn his texture, trace the contours of muscle and sinew, explore that masculine hollow under his arm and the dip of his navel and all the other hidden places—

  He caught her hand.

  She inhaled deeply, striving for calm. It only brought his scent more strongly to her tongue. "Almost done, sir."

  He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. "Your pulse is racing."

  "It's adrenaline, Dr. Lemay."

  "A side effect of tension."

  "Yes. That's all. It's a normal physical reaction."

  "It doesn't mean anything?"

  "No."

  "Sarah."

  She lifted her gaze to his face. She tried to see the dedicated scientist, the subject of her mission. Instead she saw the man who had drawn her a bath. "We won't let it be a problem, sir. We can't."

  His eyes gleamed. "Do you want some help with your vest, Sarah?"

  Oh, God. She could imagine it all too easily. To strip off her suit jacket and her blouse, to feel his hands on her skin…"That wouldn't be a good idea, sir. This isn't fore-play. It's business."

  He released her hand and picked up his shirt. He dragged it on roughly. "He must have been one hell of a man."

  "Who?"

  "Your fiancé."

  She retrieved the other vest, alarmed to see that her hands were shaking. "Yes, he was. He was without equal. Our love was perfect. I'll never forget him."

  Hawk started fastening his buttons. The extra bulk of the vest drew the buttonholes taut. He swore as he tried to push the buttons through.

  Sarah wanted to apologize. He had lost someone he'd loved, too. Was he thinking about Faith? What kind of pain did he keep inside?

  She turned away so she wouldn't reach out to help him with his buttons. His life could depend on her ability to be objective. If she cared about him, she would make more of an effort to remember that.

  If she cared about him? The thought jarred her. How had she gone from lust to liking to…caring? She walked toward the bedroom, intending to put on her own vest in private.

  "Sarah?"

  She paused. "Yes, Dr. Lemay?"

  "Please be careful tonight."

  She wasn't sure how she would have replied. He seemed to have a knack for putting her off balance. She'd never known anyone who could stir her emotions so quickly. Not even Jackson.

  That thought jarred her even more. Before she could pursue it, a loud buzz split the air.

  She whirled, looking for the source of the sound. It came from the small round grill that was set into the ceiling over the door of the suite.

  Hawk was at her side immediately. "That's the fire alarm!" He caught her arm and turned her toward the door. "Come with me."

  She dug in her heels. "No. I have to check this out first."

  He stopped. His nostrils flared. "I can smell smoke."

  Sarah sniffed. He was right. The acrid scent of smoke stung the back of her throat. It must have been building for several minutes. She should have noticed it before, but she'd been too wrapped up in Hawk to be aware of anything else.

  Damn! She was going to endanger them both with her negligence. "I smell it, too," she said. "But it could be a ruse to get you outside."

  "Sarah, it's an old building. If there's a fire, it would spread fast. We've got to get out."

  She ran to the door and put her eye to the peephole. There
was a white haze in the corridor. The two men from the Stockholm police were already directing the other guests from the floor toward the stairwell.

  Sarah dropped her vest and dug into her jacket pocket for her phone. "Wet down some towels to put at the bottom of the door," she said, glancing back at Hawk. "We don't move until I verify this."

  Hawk nodded once and disappeared into the bedroom. By the time he returned with an armful of dripping towels, she had the hotel manager on the phone. The alarm had changed to an intermittent drone, allowing her to hear the manager, as well as catch the sound of the approaching sirens. She put away her phone. "There's a small fire in the basement," she told Hawk. "They're evacuating the building as a precaution while they work to contain it."

  He crouched to fit the towels over the crack beneath the door. "Do we stay or do we go?"

  She realized he was leaving the choice up to her. It was her responsibility to assess the risk, and he was trusting her to make the right decision. If they stayed and the fire spread, they could be trapped in the suite. If they left, they could be walking into an ambush. She put her hand on Hawk's shoulder and leaned past him to check the peephole. The smoke in the air was thickening fast. The corridor had already emptied of people. She could see no one out there…

  No one? She thumped her fist against the door and called out sharply. There was no reply. Where had the policemen gone? Had they gone to another floor to help direct the evacuation? They wouldn't have left Hawk and her without alerting them first, would they?

  Hawk rose from his crouch. "Where are the cops?"

  "I can't see them." She drew her gun and thumbed off the safety. "Something's wrong. This fire could be a setup."

  "So we stay."

  "Yes. Stand by an inside wall," she said, backing away from the door. "I'm going to call for—"

  There was a crash. Not from the door, from the window. Sarah spun toward the noise, locking her elbows to steady her gun.

  The curtain billowed inward amid shards of glass and shredded fabric. The lamp on the desk shattered. So did the mirror beside it. Automatic weapon, Sarah thought immediately. Silenced, but still deadly. "Get down!" she yelled.

  Instead of dropping where he was, Hawk dove toward her, hooked his arm around her waist and yanked her to the floor with him. Then he rolled her to her stomach and flattened himself on top of her back.

  "Dr. Lemay, no!"

  "I've got a vest." His voice was harsh in her ear. "You don't."

  Bullets whizzed over their heads, thudding into the wall. Plaster and bits of wallpaper rained down around them. The table beside the sofa disintegrated into splinters. A second lamp exploded into shards of porcelain. Only the glow of city lights that came through the shredded curtain kept the room from total darkness.

  Sarah didn't waste time trying to dislodge Hawk's weight. She didn't waste time telling him how small a percentage of his body the vest actually protected, either, especially in an indiscriminate barrage like this. As it turned out, his heroics had given her an advantage—from her prone position she had a clear line of sight beneath the sofa to the window.

  Against the sky, she saw the dark silhouette of a lone man. There was no balcony. He must have rappelled from the roof. He was laying down his own cover fire. She had to act fast. His next probable move would be to swing through the window and finish the job.

  Thanks to her training, Sarah's grip on her gun hadn't loosened when Hawk had tackled her—the butt was still seated firmly in her hand. She dragged her arm forward to bring the gun into firing position. With her cheek pressed to the carpet, she closed one eye, aimed at the muzzle flash from their assailant's weapon and squeezed off two shots.

  What was left of the window crashed inward. A black-clad figure swung over the sill.

  Before his feet touched the floor, Sarah fired again.

  The barrage of gunfire ceased. The man toppled sideways and fell heavily to the floor.

  Sarah felt Hawk begin to push himself up. She reached behind her with her free hand and grabbed hold of his hair. She gave his head a light shake, hoping he would get her message. She wanted to make sure the shooter was alone.

  Hawk eased his weight onto his knees and elbows, caging her beneath him. He put his lips next to her ear. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, straining to see through the gloom, but there was no sign of anyone else. Cold air poured along the floor. Flashes of red rimmed the broken window frame. The red flashes were from emergency vehicles, she realized. The wail of the sirens had risen to a crescendo. The fire alarm was still emitting its intermittent buzz.

  With all the noise—and the evacuation that had emptied the upper stories—it was doubtful that anyone would have heard the commotion up here. Considering the confusion in and around the hotel, no one on the street would have looked up to see the man outside their window. Chances were good that no one would be aware of the life-and-death struggle that had just taken place.

  The fire had to have been set as a diversion, Sarah thought. It hadn't been meant to draw them out of the suite but to corner them inside it. The whole thing had happened incredibly fast. Although it had seemed like hours, not more than two minutes could have elapsed since the first shot. A split second hesitation either way and Hawk could have been killed.

  The fear that Sarah had put aside surged over her without warning. Her fingers tightened in Hawk's hair. She wanted to hit him for wasting precious moments by trying to protect her. And she wanted to turn over, tug his head down to hers and kiss him until this fear washed away.

  But there was no time to indulge in emotion. They weren't home free yet. She wriggled out from beneath Hawk and rolled into a crouch. "Stay down," she ordered, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. Her senses stretched to the max, she moved out from behind the sofa.

  It was an eerie scene. Shredded curtains and the ragged end of a rappelling rope fluttered in the breeze. Red light strobed over the shambles of the room and the body under the window. One of the sirens whined to a stop. Seconds later the buzz from the alarm ceased. Sarah wiggled her jaw to alleviate the ringing in her ears and steadied her weapon on their fallen assailant.

  He hadn't moved from where he'd fallen. Was it Weltzer? It was too dark to see his face. This assault wasn't his style, but they hadn't left him any opportunity for his typical long-range shots.

  Sarah was sure she'd hit him in the heart, yet she wasn't taking anything for granted. She spotted his rifle near the remnants of the lamp table. Without shifting her aim, she reached out with her left hand, picked up the rifle and slung the strap around her neck, slipping her arm through the loop. The hot barrel singed her wrist. She straightened up and dug her phone from her pocket. "Here, take this," she said, lobbing the phone behind her. "Call for help."

  She heard the smack as Hawk caught it. His voice came from just over her shoulder. "What number?" he asked.

  "Hit any of the first three speed-dial. They're programmed to the local emergency services."

  There was a muted beep. "Busy," Hawk said. "Circuits must be jammed because of the fire." He touched her back. "Sarah?"

  "Keep trying," she said. "And, please, don't crowd me. I need to be able to—"

  Without any warning, the man on the floor arched forward and sprang to his feet.

  The movement was so unexpected it took Sarah off guard. Had she shot wide before? Had he been faking? She fired instinctively, but he moved so fast her shot hit the baseboard where he'd been lying. She swung to follow him, firing again. This time she could see she didn't miss. The bullet struck his chest. She saw his body jerk with the impact. But he didn't stop.

  Son of a bitch! she thought. Hawk wasn't the only one with body armor. She hadn't missed. Her first shots must have knocked the wind out of him.

  Something metallic glinted from the man's hand. It was a thin-bladed knife. He sprang toward Hawk. Sarah kicked out and felt a burning pain in her thigh.

  In the next instant Hawk yanked her off her feet and spu
n her away. Before she could regain her balance, he moved past her to pick up a leg of the broken table. He swung it at their attacker like a baseball bat.

  "No!" she cried. "Stay back!"

  The reply Hawk gave her was more of a growl than a word. His improvised club cracked against the man's skull, sending him reeling toward the gaping window. The red light from the street flashed across a familiar face, one with deep-set eyes that were so pale they looked colorless.

  So it was Weltzer, Sarah thought, taking aim on a spot between the man's eyes.

  Before she could fire, the back of Weltzer's legs hit the windowsill. His momentum carried him over the edge. He grabbed for the shredded curtains but they tore away. Then he grabbed for Hawk, one hand still brandishing the knife.

  "No!" Sarah launched herself at Hawk and propelled him out of Weltzer's reach.

  And just like that, the square of sky beyond the window was empty. There was a chilling instant of silence. It was followed by a scream. Then a crunching thud five stories below.

  Sarah grasped the sill and looked outside. In the midst of the emergency vehicles that were gathered in front of the hotel, a dark form lay motionless on the cobblestones. People were already running toward him, but it was clear even from Sarah's vantage point that he was beyond help. This time Weltzer wouldn't be getting up again.

  She felt Hawk's presence behind her. He ran his hand over her back, up her arm, into her hair. "Sarah."

  There was a tremor in his voice. It made her shudder. She fought to hang on to her control. "We can't stand here," she said. "It's too exposed. We can't be sure there isn't someone else out there."

  The broken table leg clattered to the floor. Hawk moved against her back, slipping his hands around her waist. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. His breathing was as rapid as hers.