by Dana Marton
Brant looked up and down the beach, but couldn’t see anyone who resembled her. “Keep looking at the party. I’ll check out the edges of the property. She no longer has her costume on,” he said toward his collar, giving instruction to Nick, Carly and Gina. Sam was already on the special podium. She’d won the raffle to push the button.
He walked all the way to the end of the property where a man and two blondes were having some fun in the shadow of a couple of overturned boats. He veered to the right, giving them privacy, saw the two sets of footprints on the sand that led into the jumble of construction machinery.
Anita’s and someone’s who was following her, or another set of lovers sneaking off in search of more fun than the party provided? He followed the tracks all the way to the other side where they disappeared on the paved area that led to a small shop and bar.
“Anita?”
Nothing but silence. A two-minute search revealed the area to be empty. In the distance the countdown had begun.
Then from the corner of his eye he caught movement behind one of the hotel’s windows. He spun, but couldn’t make out anything else. Had it been a trick of the lights? He didn’t think so. He broke into a flat-out run toward the hotel, yelling into his microphone as he went. “Sam, do not push the button. I repeat. Do not push button. Delay.”
When he reached a back entry he slammed his shoulder into the boarded-up door. It didn’t even move. The two-by-fours were not impressed with his strength. The company that had secured the building had done a good job. So how had whomever he’d seen upstairs get in?
He kicked with his feet, getting more frenzied now. There came from somewhere inside him the sure knowledge that it was Anita up there and she needed him. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.
He needed her, beside the mission, beyond what she was doing on the island. He needed her for himself.
He didn’t have time to worry about how she was going to react to that news.
“Anita!” he shouted. “I’m here.” And he ran off to find another way to get in.
ANITA PRESSED HERSELF to the wall outside on the balcony and prayed as the room’s door opened. She could hear Dee take a few steps in and hesitate.
She held her breath, didn’t dare move a single muscle until the door slammed behind the woman, the sound of her footsteps coming from the other side of it.
The door from the room across the hallway banged open, a moment of silence, then the door on the room to the left of Anita’s, then another farther off. She waited until she could no longer hear the doors before she made her way to her room’s entry.
She pushed the door open a sliver at a time until she could peek out. Dee was gone, probably trying more rooms in another hallway. Anita dashed in the opposite direction, back the way she had come, but couldn’t get to where she could access the roof. Dee was in that hallway now. So Anita opened the door to the staircase. If she could somehow lower herself, there might be a way to get outside from the lower level.
She needed a rope.
She glanced around, desperate for one, but couldn’t see anything that could have been any kind of substitute. Then she spotted some coated wires hanging from the wall and dashed over to them, grabbing a hold of the end and pulling with all she was worth. After a few seconds, she realized it wasn’t going to work. Even if the cable held her weight, the plastic coating was too slippery to hang on to.
The doors on the other side were now banging just around the corner. Dee was coming back.
Anita jumped into the nearest room. It didn’t have a balcony. And it was too late to get out now and try to find another place to hide. She stepped into the shower behind the bathroom door.
A few seconds passed before Dee came in, this time walking farther into the room. Anita took advantage of it and came up behind her, hurling herself on the woman.
“You don’t have to do this, Dee. We can just walk away,” she said as they rolled on the floor.
Dee only grunted in response, her face red with effort as she struggled to keep control of the gun.
“William would want you to live,” Anita said in final desperation, grasping for anything that might stop her.
But rather than calming down, an even more fierce rage contorted Dee’s face. “Don’t you dare talk to me about William.”
Anita heard her name called from somewhere outside. Brant’s voice.
The second of surprise and relief cost her. Dee managed to get on top, with her full weight on Anita, squishing her chest so she couldn’t get a response out.
They struggled for several long seconds and Dee somehow managed to get the gun between them. She squeezed the trigger twice.
Anita waited for the pain but it didn’t come, so she flipped the woman over. Was Dee hurt? From the way she was still fighting it didn’t seem likely.
Both bullets had missed.
She put her index finger over Dee’s on the trigger and forced the gun higher. Dee struggled hard enough to set off another shot that drilled into the ceiling above them, showering them with drywall dust. Then the weapon was finally in Anita’s hands.
She backed away from Dee and took a step toward the door. The woman came right after her.
“Stop. I’ll shoot. I’m not kidding.”
Dee lunged for her as if she hadn’t even heard her. The click echoed in the room. The magazine was empty.
From the look of Dee’s face, she hadn’t been counting the bullets, either.
She dropped the gun and hooked her right fist under Dee’s jaw just as she had learned from Nick during her initial training at Quantico.
Diosmio, that hurt.
Dee staggered back, surprise on her face.
Anita didn’t wait for her to regain her balance. She ran from the room. The building was about to come down any second. She had to get out.
“Brant!” She called his name at the top of her lungs. Was he still here, or had he left?
She heard the sound of a motor outside and she ran to the next room to look out. Brant was aiming for the hotel on the back of a four-wheeler. Was he trying to get in through a lower entrance?
“Brant!” She called his name again, but he couldn’t hear her over the noise of the motor. “No!” She no longer cared if she gave away her location to Dee.
The staircases were gone. Even if Brant got in down there, he couldn’t get up here. And if he got stuck looking for her, the only result would be that he would blow up with the building, too.
She had to get his attention.
Anita scoured the room. Nothing but a few pieces of busted drywall littered the floor. She ran with one to the balcony and tossed it, missed completely. But the second piece fell directly in front of Brant and drew his attention up.
He drove the four-wheeler to under her balcony.
“Jump!”
He was standing free now, holding his arms out.
Diosmio, the distance was a long one between them. What if he didn’t catch her? Construction rubble littered the paved area around the hotel. If she fell on that—
The door banged open behind her. Dee was holding a shower rod in her hand, looking absolutely raving mad and capable of anything.
Anita didn’t have time to climb the brick railing. She pitched forward head first and threw her weight over. Then she crashed through the air, trusting that Brant would be there at the end.
She came down hard, taking him with her. He never even paused, but got up and helped her onto the back of the four-wheeler and spun the machine around, racing toward the cement barricades the demolition company had erected on the street front to protect the road. If they could get behind that—They were barely a couple dozen feet away when the place went down, the noise of the explosion deafening her, the force of it knocking her to the ground.
Brant rolled with her, made sure he was on top of her as the four-wheeler raced away on its own now, bombarded with debris like they were.
A minute or two passed before she could lift up h
er head and look toward the heap that had very nearly taken both of them out.
“Dee.” She couldn’t hear the word she whispered from the ringing in her ears.
Brant rolled off her with a groan that rumbled through his chest rather than came out of his mouth. Anita tried to stand, but he put a restraining hand on her arm.
“Are you hurt?”
She followed his gaze to her bloody leg. She wiped away the dust-caked blood and revealed a six-inch gash on the outside of her left thigh.
Brant picked her up, none too steady on his own feet, his lips set in a tight line. His face was closed, unreadable. She could only guess his emotion by the strength with which he held her to his chest as he walked with her toward the barricades.
“I might want to breathe,” she said. “Like once a minute or so.”
His mood didn’t seem to lighten, although he did loosen his hold on her.
“Really, I’m okay.”
He gave a slight shake of the head. “I’m too old for this.”
He didn’t look too old for anything just then, covered in dust and carrying her through the rubble, having saved her just moments ago. To her, he looked very much like a hero.
Chapter Eleven
Brant was leaving. He hadn’t even come into the office today.
Anita stared at the numbers on the screen as she grappled with the thought.
Her laptop beeped with an instant message. From Brant.
“Are you in the office?”
“All morning.” She typed the response. “My first outside meeting is after lunch.”
“I’ll pop over. Got good news.”
She wanted to ask what good news, but he had signed off already.
He was coming over. She resisted the urge to run to the bathroom to refresh her makeup. He was leaving the island soon—a depressing and disheartening thought.
He had good news.
Good news would be if he had suddenly realized that he was in love with her and couldn’t live without her. The scene that flashed through her mind was a lot like those South-American soap operas she loved to hate.
Not likely, she thought. He wasn’t the fanciful type. He was reasonable and thought things out, steady, solid—qualities that drew her to him. He was an honorable man. And he was sexy. She tried not to dwell on just how sexy, how incredible those kisses were that they had shared. No point in torturing herself. Another lip-lock wasn’t likely to happen between them again.
He was leaving.
She hated how much the thought hurt.
She wanted more of him, to get to know him better, spend more time together on the beach, in his car, in his hotel room…
She pushed her chair away from her desk, wishing she could push her thoughts away just as easily. She got up to go to the kitchen for a bottle of water from the fridge. She needed a few minutes to get her thoughts together before he got here. Otherwise, he would take one look at her and figure out something was up. No way was she going to explain what was wrong with her now.
But she didn’t have much time to gather herself. He was coming through the door by the time she was done fidgeting in the kitchen. His hotel was just across the road from the office.
“Hi. How is the leg?” His mahogany eyes looked her over.
She felt naked in the modest, silk skirtsuit. “Fine. It pulls a little. I’m sure it would pull more if they’d used stitches instead of the emergency glue thing.”
“Best invention since the Magnum Grill,” he said, sounding like someone who spoke from experience.
Gina and Carly were coming from their offices.
“Good work last night,” he told them both.
“You, too,” Gina said. “Nice rescue.”
Sam sailed through the door with a box of printer paper. “We’re back in business. Hi.”
He took the box from her and carried it to its spot.
“Thanks for holding off with the button,” he said.
“No problem. Anita already offered me a lifetime supply of homemade salsa.”
He glanced back at Anita with a thin smile. “Sign me onto that list.”
And her foolish heart thumped at his words. Did that mean they might have contact beyond the mission?
“Paramedics give you a hard time?” Brant turned back to Sam.
She shook her head. “Just told me to stay out of the sun for a few days. I’m a good fainter.” She grinned.
Her sudden pretend weakness had worked great for delaying the demolition. To a point. Unfortunately, as they were pushing back people to let her have some air, one of the paramedics managed to step on the button in the confusion—a scene they had discussed in great detail that morning.
If the button had been pushed just a minute or two earlier—It was a pretty uncomfortable feeling to know that she owed her life to a coincidence.
No, not coincidence. She corrected herself. She owed her life to Brant. He had risked his own to come after her and save her.
“So do you want to hear your good news in private or here and now?” Brant was asking her.
She felt a rush of disappointment. If “public” was an option, she supposed the news wasn’t, I love you and I want to make you mine.
“Here and now is good,” she said.
“I just heard from David Moretti.” David was the lawyer who represented the women in the deal they had made with the authorities. “Your conviction has been officially thrown out by a federal appeals court.” He smiled.
And then she was smiling, too, feeling as if a crushing weight had lifted off her shoulders. Her name was cleared. She had wanted this more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done much,” he said. “Congratulations.”
“Congratulations.” Carly came over for a hug.
Gina grinned as she patted Anita on the shoulder. “That quick?” she asked Brant.
He flashed a mysterious smile.
“Must be nice to have friends in high places.” Gina smiled back.
“Way to go,” Sam was saying.
“Moretti will come down in a couple of days. He has papers for you to sign,” Brant went on. “Looks like you might also get some kind of compensation from the government for the wrongful conviction, provided that you are willing to sign a release that says you won’t sue them.”
“Does she get to keep the four mil in addition to the compensation?” Carly asked, struggling with a grin. “We’re best friends, right?”
“Very funny,” Anita said, but she could actually smile about it now.
“How about going out to celebrate tonight?” Gina suggested. “Brant, coming with us?”
Anita stilled as she waited for his answer. He shook his head, but she thought she saw regret in his eyes.
“I’m flying back to the States this evening. I’m already packed.”
The words fell on her like the sharp debris from the exploding hotel, hurting more than she had expected.
“Have a good trip,” she said, but couldn’t pull off the smile she was trying to force.
He was watching her. “Thank you. There is one more thing.”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear more. She wanted to go into her office and close the door and allow herself to be just miserable for ten minutes.
“Since your situation has changed considerably from the time you had agreed to the mission—What I am saying is that, we cannot hold you to the agreement. If you want to leave—”
“I don’t.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Just can’t stand us having all the fun, can you?” Carly teased, but she looked relieved, too. All the women did.
“Once people get to know us—” Gina said matter-of-factly as she looked around at the team “—they often find they can’t live without us. It’s all the charisma and magnetism.”
Brant grinned. “I’m going to miss you, ladies, and that’s a fact.”
Anita too
k a slow breath. She didn’t want to think about just how much she was going to miss him.
WHEN WAS his flight leaving? Anita beeped the horn, trying to get through the jumble of traffic that was backed up for blocks due to the jazz festival starting on the beach.
What was she doing trying to get to Brant?
She wasn’t sure, only knew that she had to see him one more time; that watching him walk out of the office couldn’t be the last contact they had.
He had said she needed to learn to fight for herself. That was exactly what she was doing. She was going to fight for herself and for him.
The bottleneck finally cleared up ahead and she made it through the intersection. She didn’t bother looking for a parking space, just pulled over in front of the hotel, shut off the car and ran for the bank of elevators in the back of the lobby.
Was it just her or was the elevator slower than ever before?
Hours seemed to pass before she stepped out on his floor. She knocked on the door of his room. “Brant?”
She held her breath, something squeezing tight in her chest when no response came.
She banged again and ignored the maid who watched her from the end of the hallway. “Brant?”
Please be here.
She waited awhile then turned toward the maid. “Do you know if the man who had this room checked out?”
“Sorry, ma’am. That room is not on my list. I only clean up to 910. But checkout is by noon. Late checkout is by two.”
Anita glanced at her watch, although she had a fair idea of the time. She’d gotten all the way home from work before she realized she couldn’t let him go without trying to talk to him. Then wasted precious time trying to talk herself out of it first. And then there was the endless traffic. It was now after seven.
She was too late. He had left.
She blinked away the tears of frustration and pain from her eyes, leaned her head against the door for a second. She’d missed him. Why hadn’t she come earlier?
When the door opened, she nearly fell in.
Brant looked at her with concern; he was naked save a white towel around his hips.
She tumbled in, into his arms, against his wide chest, unable to think of a single word she was going to say.
