by Diana Duncan
Syrone nodded. “You may be a wimpy SWAT boy, but you’re semper fi, Irish.”
Bailey kissed Syrone’s cheek. “We’ll see you soon.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears.
Con helped Syrone put on the Kevlar hood. Then, for the second time, they left their wounded friend in his makeshift fortress.
“Always faithful,” Bailey said softly as they stood just inside the store entrance. “I agree.”
“I try, sweetheart.” His wary gaze swept the corridor. He had to be doubly vigilant. If the situation went FUBAR, it would happen during the risky transitional phase. Even if they managed to scramble a chopper, no way would SWAT allow the suspects to board. Especially with hostages. Taking an incident site mobile endangered more lives, both civilians and officers. It was never allowed. At any cost. That was the part that had him worried. “I want to hit the multiplex, do a recon before the suspects move.”
The multiplex sat at the back of the mall, eight theaters branching off a central main lobby. There was one mall entrance and one parking lot entrance.
He left Bailey hidden next door while he took a fast visual inside the lobby. Red running lights along the walls outlined the walkways and concession area, with decent visibility about six feet up. The far corners and vast, echoing ceiling were pitch black. The buttery scent of stale popcorn lingered in the air.
Squirt gun at the ready, he swept inside and performed a swift, thorough search. The theater doors were all locked. So far, so good. Limited lobby access would facilitate containment.
He examined the outer glass doors, and swore. Wires snaked the perimeter, and a chunk of C-4 was lodged in the lower corner beside a detonation device. The SOBs had wired the exits. He didn’t have time to mess with it and didn’t dare. If he screwed up and went boom, Bailey might escape, but the hostages would be on their own. Outside, glittering freezing rain pounded the darkness in a heavy, drumming rhythm. Visibility was limited to a few feet.
Con determined the site was secure and radioed the intel to SWAT so they could get the bomb squad on it. He went back for Bailey. Inside the theater, her glance traveled over the thick, geometric-patterned carpet, dark, menacing nooks and crannies, and then upward. A wistful smile blossomed on her sweet mouth.
He followed her gaze to the board behind the ticket counter, listing shows and times. They’d been here often, but he knew from her dreamy expression she was remembering their last movie date, to see the final installment of Lord of the Rings. The books had been Bailey’s favorites for years, and she owned every DVD version and every soundtrack CD. She had a thing for Aragorn, the sword hunk who would be king. She’d even talked Con into dressing up like the guy to her Eowyn for the precinct’s Halloween party. It could have been worse. At least he hadn’t had to wear tights. Or heaven forbid, be a Scotchgarded-at-birth elf. “A fond memory. Even if you did go through a package of tissues and soak the front of my shirt.”
“I get choked up all over again just thinking about it,” she whispered. “So poignant. Ordinary people, fighting great evil. Never giving up, no matter the odds. No matter the cost. Courageous, noble. What a triumph.”
Yeah, except in the movies, the good guys always won. Real life wasn’t as neat and tidy. He tugged her into his arms. He needed to prepare her for what would happen next. “You’ve been a huge asset. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
She stiffened in his embrace. “I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”
“The situation is about to reach critical mass. I’ve got to play the rest out alone, darlin’.”
“No!”
He cupped her face in his hands, looked into her beautiful blue eyes. “This is what I’m trained for, Bailey. You’ve done great, but you’re a civilian. You need to step out of the line of fire.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m afraid for you, Con. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Me, either. I’ll be careful.” He rubbed her taut, quivering back. “I’ll take you upstairs and stash you somewhere safe. Then you have to let me go.”
Bailey clung tightly to Con’s warm, capable hand. Everything inside her roiled in hot rebellion. No. Why did she have to step aside and let him risk his life alone? It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right. She wouldn’t do it.
As they approached the huge Christmas tree near the escalators, her steps dragged, slowing Con’s momentum.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Time’s a’wastin’.”
She scowled at the towering wooden Nutcracker soldiers, hand-carved by local artisans. At the acres of fake snow batting mounded around the area near the tree’s base. Decorative, but serving no real purpose. Was that how Con saw her? Drat the man, she could help him, had helped him all night. “Con—”
“Don’t argue. I’m in charge here.”
Yes, but he didn’t have to be so all-fired bossy about it. “Con, dammit! Stop!”
He stopped, pivoted and arched a dark brow. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear.”
“It won’t be the last unless you stop towing me along like luggage on wheels and listen to me.”
“We’ll talk. Upstairs.” Still holding her hand, he bounded up three flights to the top floor. On the way, he instructed her to monitor both walkie-talkies and what to do if Tony called again.
Upstairs, she leaned against the wall, the plaster rough and cool behind her. She tried to catch her breath enough to speak. “You said I was an asset.”
He wasn’t even breathing hard. “I meant it. But things could get ugly. Dangerous. I won’t risk your life.” He stepped close and smoothed the frown lines from her forehead. “Baby, you said yourself you weren’t sure how you’d react if you had to hurt someone. Mere seconds can cost lives. If you hesitated…”
He didn’t need to finish. Bottom line, he couldn’t depend on her to come through for him. He was better off alone. Her shoulders slumped. “Okay. Where do you want me to hide?”
“The food court. It’s circular…if one of the robbers comes looking, you have an escape route.” He moved closer, his big, warm body pressing into hers. Solid. Strong. Sustaining. Her traitorous brain superimposed another image—his body slumped, bloody and lifeless. She blinked away the agonizing picture.
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t.” He lowered his head and kissed her. His tongue stroked sure and deep. She tasted his dark, heady essence mingled with cinnamon. Felt the soul-deep connection shimmering between them. She would never get enough of him. She treasured him more than life. Needed him more than her next breath.
Loved him enough to let him do what he had to.
Her intention to break up had been in his best interests. Yet she was forced to admit her choice then had been born of love and fear. Not only for him, but herself. She’d been afraid of getting hurt. Now, her determination to release him was for Con alone. Her first decision had been made in cowardice. This one was forged in conviction. He couldn’t afford distractions. She refused to behave like a fool and destroy his focus.
Tears threatened, and she blinked them back. She would not cry. Would not cling. She poured her feelings, her emotions, all her longing into the kiss. Telling him how much he meant to her.
Gently, he broke contact. “I have to go.”
“I know.” She touched his cheek. Warm skin, bristly stubble, exuding confidence and vitality. So alive. So precious. “I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you, too, darlin’.” His mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners. Sorrow, yearning and hope mingled in the warm brown pools. “Wait for me in the pub, in the food court.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the compulsion to beg him to stay. To hold on to him and tug him out of harm’s way. Keeping him safe wasn’t up to her. Never had been.
He had to choose duty over her. Just like her father. But for the first time in her life, she understood why. She knew he’d made the right choice.
Just
like her father.
Heroes had to be heroes. They couldn’t be anything else. Countless lives depended on them. The women who loved them had to accept that. And keep on loving them, anyway.
Just the way they were.
Con turned and walked away, and her heart shattered inside her chest.
Chapter 11
10:00 p.m.
Con had taken only five steps when the light attached to the blue walkie-talkie at Bailey’s waistband blinked. After speaking to the robbers, both she and Con had set their units on standby. Bailey’s nerves jumped. Tony wanted to speak to her again. “Con! We have a transmission from the bad guys.”
Con whirled. Both simultaneously activated their units. Con would be setting his to receive only, so as not to alert the robbers to his presence. Bailey flicked the switch for voice activation. She donned the hands-free headset, and then cleared the nervousness from her throat. “This is the Sugarplum Fairy.”
“Hello?” a woman’s tremulous voice whispered. “Bailey, are you there?”
“Nan?” Bailey couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that you?”
“Yes. I’ve escaped.” Nan drew a shuddering breath. “That’s the good news.”
Foreboding settled, thick and heavy, on Bailey’s chest. “What’s the bad news?”
“I’m…I…” Nan gulped. “I’m in labor. Heavy labor.”
Incredulity slashed Con’s face. He didn’t move, scarcely breathed for too many tense, thumping heartbeats.
“Con?” Bailey started toward him. “Are you—”
“Of course she’s in labor,” Con muttered between clenched teeth. “If tonight follows true to form, I’ll soon have a newborn to protect.” He spun and pounded the wall. “Holy freaking hell, who did I piss off? What else could possibly go ass-over-teakettle during this scenario?”
The anguish in his voice made her tremble. Her brave knight had borne tremendous pressure during these long hours without batting one long, dark eyelash. Fought insurmountable odds without losing hope. Unquestioningly assumed responsibility for everyone’s safety. She didn’t blame him for being upset at the latest turn of events. Talk about going from bad to worse. The more things that went wrong, the less chance of a timely, safe ending. This awful situation would strain anyone’s resources.
But if he lost it, they were all goners.
She rested her hands on his back and kneaded the taut muscles. “We’ll handle it. Don’t fall apart on me now.”
His shoulders hitched, and his body vibrated as he battled for control. “I’ll maintain. Just…give me a sec.” He ran a hand across the tips of his spiky hair and sucked in a deep breath. “Get her location.”
She continued rubbing Con’s shoulders, and spoke into the headset mic. “Where are you, Nan?”
“I’m hiding in Office Max, on the other side of Death by Chocolate. I couldn’t run any farther.”
“How did you get the walkie-talkie? Are you alone?”
“Yes. Tony put it on the desk beside me. Letty pointed it out and helped me form an escape plan. I told Tony unless he let me use the restroom, he’d be dealing with a nasty mess. I slipped the unit into my jumper pocket when I stood up. The robbers were arguing.” Nan sounded like she might cry. “They’re on edge and fighting because two guys are missing, and they’re surrounded and everything is fouled up…Bailey, it’s awful!”
Bailey flipped her mic below her chin to talk to Con. “Things have gone wrong for us, but tonight hasn’t been a stellar event for the robbers either.” Con chuckled, and his bunched muscles slowly relaxed under her ministering hands. She wrapped her arms around his wide chest and rested her cheek against his back, offering comfort. She angled her chin toward the lowered mic. “How did you escape? Where were the robbers?”
“I stuffed paper towels into the toilet inside the bank until it overflowed. One of ’em had to take me out to use the mall restroom. I went in, waited a few minutes, then started moaning. When he poked his head inside, I knocked him cold with the metal trashcan. The rest of the crew are in the bank loading money.”
Con turned and kissed Bailey’s cheek in a wordless thank you. His body language was once again capable and confident, his tone strong and steady. “Tell her we’re on the way.”
He strode to the balcony, leaned over and peered downward. He gave a thumbs up, then pointed toward the escalators.
Bailey continued talking to Nan as she followed Con down the three-flight jog. “Con’s with me. We’ll help you.”
“Thank goodness! I wondered how you’d wiped out two gun-toting bank robbers and thwarted Tony all by your lonesome.”
If she had been alone, she’d be a captive too, helpless and scared.
Or dead.
She reached for Con’s hand. He squeezed gently, and she returned the gesture. Silent support and reassurance flowed between them. “We’re double-teaming them.”
Con shot a smile at Bailey over his shoulder that arrowed straight to her heart, and asked, “Bad guy head count?”
“Nan, how many bank robbers are there?”
“Not including the one I clobbered, three more. And they talked about drivers outside. Someone named Manny and another name I didn’t get.” Nan moaned. “Ooh, Bailey, I think the baby’s coming fast. Hurry!”
“Hang in there, girlfriend. We’re on the way.”
At the bottom of the escalator, Con pulled her aside. “As soon as the crew in the bank notices how long she’s been gone, they’ll come looking. When we reach Office Max, recover the walkie-talkie and deliver it to me. We have to stay in touch with the suspects. Especially as the incident heads toward crisis.”
Another crisis? Wonderful. Bailey empathized with Con’s minor meltdown upstairs. She might blow a gasket any second. This night had been one blasted crisis after another. An endless, nerve-racking emergency, interrupted by moments of sheer terror. When they got out of here, she’d have T-shirts made up for everyone imprinted with the words, I survived New Year’s Eve at the Mall.
She counted to ten. Get it together. The last thing Con needed was for her to freak. He had enough on his plate. “Okay.”
As if sensing her need for comfort, he kept one arm around her and switched on the red walkie-talkie. She didn’t need to be told how blessed she was that he was always tuned in to her feelings. “Command, be advised. BLO, one or more suspects possibly outside. Wheelman ID’d as Manny. Do you copy?”
“Ten-four,” Aidan replied. “What’s your-ten-twenty-eight? Over.”
“One of the hostages has escaped, and she’s gone into labor. We’re in the process of retrieval and transfer to a more secure location. Over.”
“The medic is on site if you need emergency childbirth procedure. Over.”
Con scowled. “Pray it doesn’t come to that, but thanks. Over and out.”
She snuggled closer to his solid warmth. Every moment with him had become precious. The next hour, the next minute could make the unthinkable a reality. “What does BLO mean?”
“Cop talk. Be on the lookout.” He consulted his watch, gave her one last hug. “Rendezvous here in ten minutes.”
Keeping to the dusky edges of the corridor, they sprinted toward Office Max. Con melted into the shadows out front, and she strode inside the dark store.
She veered right. “Nan, it’s Bailey. Where are you?”
“Behind the computer armoires. On the left.”
The emergency lights were few, and the ceiling-high shelves and pervasive gloom made it hard to see. The crisp, cottony smell of new paper sliced through the smothering darkness. Bailey switched sides and crept among the aisles. Bulky shapes loomed ahead, warning that she’d reached the office furniture. “Nan?”
“Here,” her friend shakily hailed from behind a big bookcase.
Bailey rounded the corner and Nan gasped. “I’ve never been so relieved in my life as when I heard your voice on the walkie-talkie. I’d been in labor for hours and didn’t know what to do.”
“
Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here.”
Nan choked off a sob. “I was afraid Tony would kill the baby rather than fuss with moving me to the multiplex. And taking a crying newborn on the helicopter?” She shuddered. “No way.”
“Stay calm, sweetie. Everything will be okay.” Bailey patted the frightened woman’s arm. “I need the walkie-talkie.”
“Why?” Nan handed over the unit.
“I have to run it out to Con.”
Nan grabbed Bailey’s hands. “Don’t leave me!”
“We have to communicate with the bad guys so they don’t hurt Letty and Mike.” She gently extricated herself. Now she knew what Con had experienced earlier in the siege when she’d clung fearfully to him while he focused on survival. “Thirty seconds.”
She strode to the front entrance as fast as she could without ramming into anything.
Con slid out of the shadows. “I’ll head toward the bank and plant the walkie-talkie in the bathroom. The bad guys will search there first. I’ll divert anyone who tries to follow you.”
“Where will we take her?”
“Third floor. No way can we keep a woman in labor or—God forbid—a baby, quiet. We’ll stash them upstairs, as far away as possible.” Con squeezed her hand one last time. “If I don’t show, get her upstairs and then call in SWAT. We’re out of options.” He turned and prowled up the mall.
Bailey ran back inside the dark store. Uneasiness roiled in her stomach. If the robbers had noticed Nan missing, they’d be out in full force. And none too happy. Con was rushing headlong into the jaws of evil. Again. She thrust the nagging worry from her mind. She had a job to do, as did he. He was much better trained for his mission. She couldn’t afford to worry about him. She needed to concentrate every resource on the task at hand. If either of them failed, Nan and the baby would pay dearly.
Nan was waiting in front of the bookcase. She awkwardly heaved her burdened body out of an office chair. “If we’re caught, they’ll kill us.” Her eyes widened in terror. “And now that I’ve escaped, Tony will be livid. He might kill Letty and Mike.”
