Under the Gun

by Lyn Stone

Will’s lips pressed tightly together as his strong jaw clenched. He turned toward the burning house and walked some distance away from where Holly stood with Jack.

  Eric came dashing between the vehicles to join Will. The questions started immediately. It looked to Holly as if his debriefing was beginning on site.

  “I’ll have Eric take Will back to the safe house for the rest of the night. He’ll be flying home first thing in the morning,” Mercier said.

  “Not alone!” Holly exclaimed. She had been with him almost constantly since the shooting. She wouldn’t relax for a second if he were out of her sight now.

  Jack’s frown deepened. “He will hardly be alone, Holly.”

  She swallowed her pride. “I need to be with him, Jack,” she admitted, glancing over to where Eric and Will were deep in conversation.

  “I know,” he said with a nod, “but this mission takes precedence over anything personal, Holly. We’ll have to iron out jurisdictional issues, go over the debris when the ashes cool, take statements from Arbin and the other survivor, get the bodies identified, and prepare to follow up if these attacks are part of something larger and more organized than we now know about.” He stopped to take a breath.

  “But you have Clay and Eric!” She glanced around the crowded yard. “Plus everybody else and his uncle!”

  “And you, too, whether you like it or not. You know I can’t let you go. You were central to bringing this down.”

  “So was Will,” she argued. “He did just as much as I did. Let him stay, too.”

  “Only long enough to make his report. That shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Don’t argue with me, Holly. If you do, I can only think your work is taking second place.”

  “Maybe it is!” she snapped. “Yes, I know it is. So go ahead and fire me!”

  Jack shook his head wearily and expelled a harsh breath. Then he grasped her upper arms and gave her a little shake. “Listen to yourself. You’re still pumped from all the excitement and close calls. You’re not thinking straight. Pull yourself together, Amberson.”

  Holly took a deep breath, appalled at what she had just said. “I…I didn’t mean to lose it. Give me a minute.” She ran a hand over her eyes, covering them for a moment to regain her composure.

  Okay, Will did come first, before anything; she had to admit that. But she had taken an oath and had a responsibility she couldn’t drop the second it became inconvenient for her personal needs. She loved Will more, but she loved her job, too. What was she thinking, jeopardizing it this way?

  She moved her hand away and gave her head a shake, as if that would rattle the marbles back into place. It didn’t help much, but she tried to look halfway sane when she met Jack’s gaze.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Will’s mad as hell because we never told him about his father. He’s mad at you. Do you understand that?”

  “I couldn’t tell him, any more than you could have. Surely he understands that.” But Holly had seen his expression. Jack was right. Will was mad.

  “He’ll get over it, I’m sure, but he needs some time to digest all that’s happened and to cool off a little. You have to let him go. You know that, Holly.”

  “Yeah,” she said dispiritedly, “I know.”

  “Give it a week,” Jack told her. “We should wrap up the bulk of this by then. Soon as we do that, you can courier what we have to the director in D.C., then go and see how Will’s doing. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Holly figured it would be the longest week of her life. “But you’ll have to get the others to do the legwork.”

  Jack just smiled.

  She looked for Will again, but he and Eric had disappeared into the chaos surrounding them.

  Jack would expect her to stay here with him at the crime scene most of the night, and she wouldn’t even be able to tell Will goodbye.

  Just as well. That would sound too final, anyway. If she raced after him now and spoke to him in his current mood, it might actually be final.

  In the distance, she caught sight of the top of his head and Eric’s above several of the unmarked cars. “See you,” she whispered, then looked away.

  Jack threw an arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Come on, lean on me. Let’s go find a medic and see about that leg. Maybe somebody’s got hot coffee with a load of caffeine. I think you might be experiencing a little shock.”

  Definitely shock, no question about that. She hadn’t realized until tonight just how deeply she loved Will. And she had been so right to worry about doing that. It was affecting the job already.

  What if he never forgave her for not explaining about his father? What would he think if he ever learned that his mother worked for the Company, too, and that Holly knew that as well?

  That knowledge might have helped alleviate much of his bitterness about his parents’ neglect of him and his brother over the years. As far as Holly was concerned, that was no excuse at all for abandoning their children, but Will might see it differently and think she could have saved him some grief if she had shared the information.

  Surely after he calmed down and thought about it, Will would realize she’d had no choice about whether to tell him. His parents worked deep cover. Holly knew she had no reason to feel guilty, but she did.

  Even if he had the whole story and forgave her completely, they would still have the problem of working together to deal with.

  How could they ever partner up again if they were each more worried about the other than about the mission they were responsible for?

  That would mean she’d soon have to make a choice she didn’t even want to think about. She still might end up without either Will or this position with Sextant if she didn’t pull herself together, make a firm decision immediately and stick to her guns.

  She should be reveling in the success of the mission right about now, doing mental high fives that they had wiped out a nest of terrorists and brought down a traitor. But Holly had never felt so low. So lost.

  A little caffeine and an Ace bandage were not going to help.

  Chapter 14

  Alone, Will left the visitors’ center at Arlington National Cemetery, map in hand. He studied it briefly, then set out on the long walk to find Matt’s grave.

  There were others strolling among the sea of white markers, and paying tribute, but they were few and not nearby. The weather had turned cold. Occasional fluffy snowflakes drifted down, melting now but promising a blanket of white. Mid-December was not a prime time for sightseers, and he was glad of that.

  The two weeks following his return from Atlanta had been filled with a long, drawn-out medical evaluation, intense counseling ordered by Mercier, and a forced vacation that Will hated. He needed to work. His eyes were fine now.

  Everyone from the office had come by to see him. Except Holly. He missed her, spent every night thinking about her. Remembering. But he hadn’t asked about her beyond how she was doing. Fine, they said. Said it evasively, too, which made him worry about whether she really was all right. That was a heavy body count in Atlanta. Things like that weighed on the soul, even if the deaths were necessary.

  Will had endured more testing, lengthy and frustrating, that dealt with his psychic power to mind-link. Not once had they found any evidence, or even any indication, that he could still do that. He had tried, God knows, but whatever he’d had seemed to have deserted him. The so-called experts finally decided that only impending and potentially lethal danger triggered it. Privately, Will thought that his restored sense of sight must have replaced it completely. He found it a relief.

  He suspected Jack’s keeping him away from the office and out of the loop on any current operations did have to do with the ongoing investigation surrounding J. O. Fielding and his connection with Will’s parents. A government agent turning was serious business.

  Holly would be involved with the interrogations, he was sure of that. The number of people privy to the knowledge of his father’s real employment would be
kept to a minimum, and she already knew. They would use her talent for evaluation of the subjects questioned.

  The map crinkled as his gloved hand fisted. “She should be here. With me,” he mumbled to himself.

  But you didn’t want her. You didn’t call.

  Will halted. Looked around. But the voice had been in his head. His voice, but with that sardonic tone Matt had always used when taunting him.

  “My imagination’s running wild,” he said with a short, bitter laugh.

  That wouldn’t be a first, but no, I’m here.

  Will shook his head. He should have paid more attention when the doctors were trying to ferret out any psychoses. “I have got to stop this. He’s gone,” he told himself firmly.

  Soon, but not yet. Keep walking.

  Will resumed his pace, turning where he was supposed to, noting the numbers. Maybe coming here was not a good idea. He thought he had accepted Matt’s death, his absence. Apparently he hadn’t. He walked on in silence, grateful for it, yet wishing he had one last chance to speak with Matt. His mind was trying to furnish that, he guessed. Maybe he should just run with it. If you couldn’t go a little crazy at your twin’s grave, where should you?

  “So here you are,” he said with a nod as he found the marker. “One of thousands, but you were always unique except in looks.”

  So are you and don’t forget that. Holly has always thought so.

  Will smiled down at the headstone. “Yeah, I know.”

  You’ll be okay now, bro. I promise. Long and happy life. Have a couple of children. Name the first one after me, would you?

  “Matilda?”

  Laughter erupted, though Will knew he was only smiling. He looked up at the sky. The snow had stopped. The sun was coming out.

  This is it, Will. You’re on your own. No goodbyes, okay? Go live.

  “I’ll be seeing you then,” Will whispered as he looked down once more. His vision was blurred again, this time with tears he refused to shed.

  He crouched and reached into his pocket for an old silver dollar their grandfather had given him when he and Matt were ten. He poked it deep into the ground with his finger and smoothed the soil over it. “That’s for luck. You always wanted mine after you lost yours.”

  Silence.

  Matt was gone. Not in Will’s head and not under that marker or the paltry little piece of silver. Strangely enough, Will felt good about that rather than devastated as he thought he should be. He would miss Matt’s presence as long as he lived, but mourning seemed somehow wrong, not what Matt would want.

  Will stood and turned to leave. “Holly?”

  “He’s at peace now?” She walked past him to Matt’s marker, bent over and placed a little bunch of violets in front, then straightened to face him again. She looked beautiful, as usual. The black coat and red plaid scarf were new. Her smart little black leather shoes were wet from the slush.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She smiled at him, brushing at the moisture on her cheeks with her bright red gloves. “I promised,” she said, clearing her throat and stepping closer. “I always keep my promises. Friends do that.”

  Will nodded, smoothing out the map, folding it and tucking it in his pocket. “I’ve missed you. How’s the leg?”

  “Wasn’t broken, just bruised. It’s okay.” She shrugged and turned to walk with him. She took his arm, probably a habit she had acquired when he’d needed her guidance, but her nearness felt so good he wasn’t about to protest.

  “How have you been?” she asked. “Jack told me your vision’s much better and you’ll be coming back to work soon.”

  “I’m fine now. Any fallout I should know about?” He purposely said it that way, hoping she would understand that he was good with it if she couldn’t tell him anything.

  “Your parents have been cleared. They’re well, by the way, same as ever.”

  “That’s considered well?” he asked with a short laugh to cover his lingering bitterness. He had to get rid of that, he told himself sternly. It served no purpose to hold a grudge for something they probably couldn’t help and might not even be aware of.

  She clutched his arm tighter. “You need to let it go, hon.”

  “Why do you always have to be so right?” he asked, smiling down at her as she looked up at him. “That fuzzy red hat is ridiculous. Where’d you get it?”

  She reached up and tugged it down in back. “Eric gave it to me for Christmas. Gloves, too.”

  “It’s not Christmas for a couple of weeks yet. He’s jumping the gun.”

  “Always does that, he says. Can’t wait for the party.”

  “I’ll have to go him one better. How about emeralds?”

  She hummed the way she often did when considering something. “Like ’em fine. My birthstone. Little expensive for an office gift, don’t you think?”

  “But not for an engagement ring.”

  She stopped walking and pulled her arm from his. “Uh-uh, don’t you do this!”

  “Do what?” he asked, knowing she was about to throw the clumsy, impulsive proposal right back in his face.

  “Don’t you propose to me in the middle of a cemetery, that’s what!”

  He nearly sagged to his knees with relief. It was just the place. “Okay. Big production later, I promise.”

  She bobbed her head up and down emphatically. “Yeah! Way later and after you sober up. Nobody said a word about getting married.”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “I told you I don’t do the games, Will. I don’t know how to play, all right? I never dated in high school, only twice in college, and after that it was too late to learn. One very brief affair, a train wreck you’ve already heard about. That was my fault, okay? I don’t do the games,” she repeated, then took off.

  “Fine. No games,” he promised, catching up to her, freezing inside as well as out.

  “How’d you get here?” he asked.

  “Taxi. I had hoped to ride back with you. You want me to now?” She sounded a little worried, as if things had not gone quite as she’d planned.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “We’ll stop off at Christa’s for a beer,” she informed him.

  “Doing the friend thing up right, huh?”

  “You bet. We need to get us back on an even keel.” She threaded her arm through his again and made a dismissive little gesture with her free hand. “Get rid of this damn tension that’s making us crazy.”

  “I only know one way to do that, and I think Christa would throw us out on our ears if we made love in a corner booth.”

  Again Holly stopped and turned on him, her face a study in frustration. And longing. “I do not—repeat, not intend to…” She threw up both hands and slapped them against her coat. “Oh, all right then, my place.”

  She didn’t exactly sound overjoyed at the prospect of falling into bed with him. Instead she seemed dismayed by her inability to tell him to go to hell.

  “Sounds like a game to me, but okay,” he said.

  Not another word passed between them until they were back in McLean and almost to her apartment. Will wasn’t sure he wanted this to follow through to the natural conclusion. Making love would definitely be another mind-blowing experience, but they still wouldn’t have settled anything. Somehow he had to convince her that they loved each other enough to work this out. But could they really?

  At least it would bring them closer together and in a more relaxed frame of mind. Maybe then some solution would magically occur.

  Who was he kidding? There would be no magical answer. If they planned to continue, married or as lovers, one of them would have to leave the team, and he knew very well which one it would be. He could never ask that of Holly and expect her not to resent him for it, even if she were willing.

  “I’ll give it up,” he said. Damn, what was he thinking? He hadn’t meant to broach the subject yet. Not before…

  “Give up what?”

  “The job. I c
an go back to ATF. There’s a vacancy.” He added a forced smile to show he was good with it.

  “No!” she protested.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said, driving into her garage.

  He had made up his mind. When it came to choosing between making her his and working for Sextant, his choice would always be Holly. And that was precisely why he knew his resigning would be for the best.

  What kind of operative would he be if he couldn’t put his team first? A dangerous one, and if she felt the same about him, so would she.

  Holly unlocked her door and entered the apartment first, her mind torn by Will’s declaration. She couldn’t let him quit. But she had to admit that, deep down, she was tempted.

  Hadn’t she struggled for a position like this all her life? She had worked her butt off, sacrificed, all but clawed her way out of poverty to get where she was. Will had sailed along on family money, scholarships and personal recommendations, making his rise seem almost effortless.

  No, that was not fair. Will would never have made it without his superior intelligence and giving all he had every step of the way. Despite the good ol’ boy network that helped fill a lot of government positions, the Sextant team had been chosen with only their individual record of achievement and unique abilities in mind. They were the best.

  She was proud of herself, but she was just as proud of Will. She knew he felt the same way. How could she deprive the team of him by agreeing to this?

  “I can’t let you do it,” she announced, angrily peeling off her gloves. She snatched off her cap and shrugged out of her coat, tossing everything on a chair. “We end this here and now. Today. It’s over.” She plopped down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes.

  Will had already gone to the bar and was pouring them a drink. “Sorry. That’s not going to happen.”

  “I have a choice!” she argued, pointing her finger downward for emphasis. “If I say it ends, then it ends.”

  He turned and looked at her, a sad smile on his face as he walked over and handed her a Scotch. “No, I don’t think you do have a choice in this, and neither do I. You love me and I love you. Inconvenient as that might seem, it’s not going away.”