by Julie Miller
"Tell them that," reminded Brodie. "They offered."
"I know." The unfailing friendship of her two college roommates turned business partners had proved a blessing many times over. She knew they'd help her in any way she asked. But right now, what she needed most were their prayers and support—and a round-the-clock friend to stay with Kerry. Jas had cut short her West Coast trip and flown back to stay with Kerry and Katie Maxwell while Brodie and BJ helped Emma.
"They won't have to give up anything." Emma breathed in deeply, still coming to terms with the brief suggestion that Drew had made to her earlier. "I'm not going to pay the ransom."
"Good girl." Rafe's bright voice carried above the instant discussion that Emma's statement aroused.
Kel's gruff admonition silenced them all. "I don't think she's doing it to please you."
Rafe threw up his hands and stalked to the desk. "Well, think about it, smart guy. If Moriarty wanted to exchange the colonel for control of LadyTech, why didn't he contact Em sooner?"
Kel's deadpan seriousness had long been a contrast to Rafe's effusive demeanor. "My concern is, what would he want to use the colonel for? Why keep him this long?"
"We know Jonathan is not trading state secrets. He'd die before betraying his country."
"Rafe." Brodie's sharp rebuke ended their bickering.
"Sorry, Em." Rafe and Kel apologized in unison.
Hugging her arms together, she shrugged, conceding their point. "No, you're right. Jonathan's a patriot. I think Moriarty's a common criminal, not some spy or terrorist."
Kel pointed out the obvious. "You can sell info to unfriendly countries for big bucks."
Brodie contradicted the argument. "He's been out of commission for five years. They'd want current information. I think she's right. Whatever he's using Jonathan for has to do with money, not politics."
Emma raised her voice. "None of that's important now. We just need to bring him home."
At that moment, the door opened. BJ walked in with a handful of computer printouts. Drew followed a step behind. The room fell silent when he paused in the doorway. Tall, bronzed, and needing a shave from his full night's work, he drew Emma's gaze like a beacon. Behind his glasses, his weary eyes gleamed with intelligence and confidence.
She'd pinned her hopes on this man. She prayed he was about to deliver.
He swept his gaze around the room, taking in the four unique, powerful men who eyed him with curiosity and suspicion. When he looked at her, he smiled. Emma's heart took on new life and beat with a quicker tempo at the silent reassurance.
But the smile quickly vanished. He closed the door and aimed a glance at Brodie. "So this is the inquisition you promised me."
BJ frowned up at her husband. "What's he talking about?"
Drew took the papers from her and crossed to the coffee table. "It's okay, Beej. He's only trying to protect you from the bad guys."
"Well, when I see one, I'll let him know, okay?"
She followed Drew to the table and helped clear away coffee cups. He spread out the papers as Emma and the others gathered around.
"What did you find?" Emma slipped in at Drew's right and touched his elbow, impatient for answers when she sensed they were so close to finding them.
Drew covered her hand where it rested on his arm, giving her a squeeze that lasted just long enough for her to sense the questioning looks of the four other men. He released her without apology or explanation and leaned over the table. "With help I think we broke a code in Moriarty's diary, which we now know was penned by Jonathan. It's a map. If you follow the place names like compass points, and interpret the dates as latitude and longitude, it pinpoints the spot where I believe he's being held."
"And the usefulness of that knowledge is…?" Kel questioned.
Brodie crossed his arms, flexing his shoulders and creating an imposing silhouette. "This is the P.I. I was talking about. Drew Gallagher. He's got some theories that may or may not hold water."
Emma bristled at the underlying skepticism in her friend's tone. She doubted that Drew could miss the subtle challenge to prove himself, but she silently applauded him for not rising to the thinly veiled taunt.
If anything, he seemed to relax, taking command of the room by refusing to be baited. "We have a three-day window of opportunity before Moriarty claims his payoff."
Rafe bent over the papers and studied the numbers more closely. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"
Drew hooked his thumbs into his pockets and lay down a challenge of his own. "I don't know. Are you guys as good as Emma says?"
She looked at each man around the table. "I know you have lives of your own. But…"
Rafe grinned. His smile was charming, but his eyes were hard as steel. "Em, if you want us to go down and get him, say the word."
Kel's acceptance was a bit more cautious. He looked at Drew. "You're sure this man has the colonel? We've been on wild goose chases before."
She felt Drew's attention turn to her. She tilted her head, questioning his stark look. But those gem eyes shuttered before she could decipher their meaning. He answered Kel with that supreme confidence of his. "I know where Jonathan Ramsey is."
"Then count me in," Kel volunteered. “I can supply you with or make arrangements for whatever you need.”
Hawk had always been an enigma to Emma, a gentle man with strange powers she didn't understand. "These coordinates put us on Isla Tenebrosa. I've been there recently. Jonathan was not there. Or else I would have sensed him."
Drew looked at Hawk, then looked again, as if recalling something for an instant, and then dismissing it just as quickly. She recognized the quick expansion of his chest as a calming technique. Whatever thought had crossed his mind must have disturbed him.
"Drew?" She counted on him to see this through. But if he had any doubts, she didn't want to be responsible for putting any one of these men in danger.
But he shook off both her concern and his own to answer Hawk. "Actually, I believe Moriarty has a villa on a small island off Tenebrosa. It's more of an atoll really. It's not on any proper map. Of course, I don't know exactly where it is on the island, or what kind of security and manpower he has in place."
Hawk simply nodded, apparently satisfied. "Get me on the island and I’ll find out what we’re up against."
"Maxwell?"
Emma looked to the big man. She swallowed her words of regret when she saw BJ curl her arm through his, offering her husband her love and support in his decision.
The two exchanged a meaningful glance before he spoke. "I wasn't there when the colonel disappeared. But I'm damn straight gonna see that he comes home."
"Thank you," Emma whispered, her gratitude going out to both Brodie and BJ.
Drew nodded. "I'll go with you to coordinate the rescue. I seem to have made myself an expert on this Moriarty." He made a point of engaging each man's eyes before leaving. "I'll draw up a timetable and get back to you as soon as I have the details."
As he turned, he took Emma by the elbow and guided her to the door with him. He bent his head to whisper out of earshot. "I'll bring him home to you, Em. Just like I promised."
She conquered the urge to wrap him up in a hug.
He seemed so alone. A man with only his nightmares to keep him company. Even with everyone signing on to his plan, he seemed somehow alone. "I'm sorry about them," she began, noting that her friends were even now giving them anxious glances.
He shushed her with a gentle brush of his fingers across her cheek. "Don't apologize. I've faced tougher crowds."
"But if you have to depend on each other—"
"It's okay." He smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, purposely ignoring the curious looks that she could not. "They wouldn't worry about me if they didn't love you so much. I find it reassuring to know that they'll be around to take care of you when I'm not."
A fist of panic seized her. "What do you mean?"
"Em."
With the hesita
nt whisper of her name, she understood. She wouldn't see him again after the mission. If it was a success, Jonathan would be back in her life, and this man who said he loved her would have no rightful place in it. And if the mission wasn't a success...
The fist tightened.
"You be careful," she demanded. It had never occurred to her that her heart might break twice, losing both good men in her life.
He bent his head to whisper into her ear. "Don't worry, lady." The nickname sounded like an endearment. She absorbed its caress without a trace of remorse. "Andrew Gallagher always lands on his feet."
And then he was gone and the door had closed behind him. She hugged herself tightly, trying to keep an overwhelming sense of impending doom at bay. Once Drew left, the others grew animated again.
She heard Rafe's voice first. "Seems like old times. I'm still earning a living at this. But are you boys ready for action?"
Kel's skeptical voice came next. "Are we sure he's on the up-and-up? Can we trust his intel?"
Hawk answered. "I didn't sense any subterfuge in him. He's genuinely trying to help Emma."
"We all are." That was Brodie, still sounding dubious about Drew.
Friends or not, hearing their talk incensed her. With a shortage of rest and patience to control her anger, she lashed out. "How dare you treat him like that." She spun around and advanced on the startled group, chastising them with each and every step. "Drew's not the enemy. He's uncovered every connection to Jonathan we have so far. He's the man I hired to bring him home. As far as I'm concerned, you either listen to him—or you go home yourselves."
Brodie put up his hands in surrender, pressing at the air in an attempt to placate her. "Em, how much do you really know about this guy?"
"I know enough."
"He has this bizarre idea that Jonathan and Moriarty are the same person."
"That's enough! He's just impersonating him to escape." She stopped advancing only when BJ stepped in front of her husband.
"Emma," she cautioned, a voice of reason in a fog of fatigue and twisted feelings of love for two men. "We're all here to help Jonathan."
Emma stopped and glanced around at the sympathetic glances. Good God. Didn't anyone understand how hard this was for her?
One man did.
She shut her eyes and pictured Drew's compassionate grin. With a conscious effort, she pushed his image aside and recalled Jonathan's beaming smile on their wedding day. Then she snapped her eyes open and accused them all.
"What's wrong with you? Are you worried about my loyalty to Jonathan? Well, don't question it. Ever."
The answering silence was filled with the heartbeat of each man in the room. Properly chastened like a group of errant teenage boys, instead of the savvy former Marines they were, they moved past her defense of Drew, as well as their own doubts, and went to work.
* * *
Forty-eight hours later, Drew hunched over the map Kel Murphy had scrounged for him, marking the armed patrols, electrified fences, and watchtower of Moriarty's compound, all according to Hawk's reconnaissance report. Four of them sat in a nest created of broken palm fronds, ammunition, and high-tech equipment, while Brodie patrolled the area.
The tropical heat beaded sweat through the black and green camouflage paint streaked across Drew's face. Kel had "borrowed" a yacht from a friend, along with the map, and they had anchored it a couple of miles offshore and rafted in to what Rafe had jokingly dubbed Hell's Island.
If Drew had brought a camera, he'd take a snapshot and send it in to illustrate the cover of the next Drew Gallagher adventure. Only, Gallagher's fictitious world had suddenly taken on a very real, very dangerous edge.
"Two dogs and their handlers patrol the grounds at any one time, it looks like," said Hawk. "The rest of the security is in the guard tower or inside the villa itself."
Drew listened to the Indian's quiet voice and was again struck by an odd sensation of familiarity. Just as it had two days ago in Emma's office when those dark eyes had studied him so intently. He'd seen those eyes before. He knew his voice. Somewhere, in another place, another time, he'd looked into those eyes and made a request.
For what? When? Where? The tiny knife-point of a headache pricked him behind his eyes. He pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and breathed deeply. The timing couldn't be worse for a blocked memory to try and show itself.
"Gallagher." He snapped his eyes open and looked into Kel's face. "You with us?"
Drew nodded, filed away that hint of recognition to be studied another day, and resumed the briefing. "What kind of tech do they have?" he asked.
Hawk pointed to the map. "There's a heliport here. The fences and radar are controlled in the tower. Munitions are back here in what probably used to be servants' quarters."
Rafe, already tinkering with some little black box gizmo in his hands, leaned forward. "I'll take out the tower and work my way to the heliport. We might need a quicker way to escape than on foot."
"Right," said Drew. "If Brodie puts the guards out of commission, that leaves Hawk, Kel, and me to get into the house and find the colonel."
Kel shook his head. "I'd slow you down." He slapped his right leg. Drew had noticed the man's perpetual limp, but had discarded it as any real handicap. The man had a commanding demeanor that kept Rafe in line and the rest of them focused on the task at hand. He'd already proven to be an invaluable resource by procuring equipment, transportation, and travel papers within a twenty-four-hour time frame. He was a real right-hand man.
"All right," Drew said. Kel gave him a curt nod. Of thanks? Or was it just the okay to continue? Drew took the hint. "You get back to the ship. Do what you can to keep any other boats from leaving the island."
"Done. What do you want us to do if we run into Moriarty? Arrest him? Kill him?"
"I don't think there is a James Moriarty."
"You’re not still on about Moriarty and the colonel being the same person, are you?"
Now was not the time to explain his suspicions about the elaborate ruse of Moriarty's true identity. He'd get Jonathan home first, and then pray he was wrong—for Emma's sake.
"Let's say it's just a feeling I have." Drew looked to the others. After brief consideration, they accepted his explanation and awaited the rest of their instructions. "That leaves Hawk and me. We'll get inside as soon as we can to locate the colonel. We'll radio in if we come up empty-handed."
"The second floor has keyhole windows," added Hawk. "Too skinny for a man to get in or out of."
Drew folded up the map. "Unless we find a jail cell proper, that's where we'll start our search."
He looked around at each man, even Brodie standing at a distance. This felt right. Familiar. Maybe because it was the best thing he could do for Emma and Kerry. Maybe just because it felt good to see the grudging gleam of respect in their eyes.
"Let's do it, then," he ordered. "The fireworks should begin at nineteen hundred hours."
* * *
Drew lay on his belly in the mud, trying to picture Emma with her long, long legs that looked too sexy for a corporate executive in those sensible above-the-knee skirts. He pictured her sweet, calming smile and the clear intelligence in her eyes. He concentrated harder on the image of her dressed in a clingy, cuddly robe, leaning over her dark-haired little girl and brushing a kiss across that tiny angel's cheek.
He tried to remember all the mental snapshots of Emma and Kerry he'd made over the past few days, in an effort to thrust aside the mind-numbing visions that threatened to overtake him.
Lying in wait in the jungle, breathing in the perfume and humidity of tropical air, holding a rifle in his hands, all reminded him of something awful. A terrifying pursuit. A kill-or-be-killed mentality.
He turned on his side and curled into a ball, racking his entire body with the need to make those memories recede. He needed Emma with him now. A simple word. A gentle touch. A smile across the room. She made the nightmares disappear. He could hold on to his sa
nity because of her. He had a reason to live and find his way home because of her.
"Emma." He breathed her name on a prayer.
She hears you. She knows.
That soft voice entered his brain once more.
Drew swore violently and sat up, jerking himself into clear consciousness. "Leave me alone. Do you hear me?"
Knowing the futility of fighting madness, he calmed his temper. He closed his eyes and spoke in hushed tones for nobody but the jungle and the voice inside his head to hear. "I love her. You know that?"
I know.
It made sense that the voice should answer.
"She needs her husband, though. And Kerry needs a real daddy. I promised."
A mango sailed through the air and thunked him on the side of the head.
He shifted to his haunches with his rifle aimed to fire. But peering into the trees and ferns, he saw nothing. No one. He glanced up. The nearest mango tree was a good twenty feet away. Even if the fruit had fallen it wouldn't have carried that far. It seemed as if someone had thrown it at him.
"Trying to knock sense into my head." He scanned the tree line, looking for a mischievous monkey or a clumsy sloth. Someone was with him, watching him. Yet he didn't sense any real threat. More of a sense of… "Frustration?" he asked quietly.
There was no answer this time.
"I really am losing it." He shook his head and checked his watch, chiding himself for diverting his focus from the mission. Nineteen hundred hours.
Right on cue, the guard house exploded, lighting the early night sky with flaming debris. It triggered a chain reaction of miniature lightning bolts along the chain link fence, blowing out electronic relay stations like popping light bulbs around the perimeter.
"Go, Rafe." He praised his compatriot, then shouldered his rifle to scale and drop over the neutralized fence.
He crouched low to the ground to get his bearings in the compound. He saw a flash of green uniform racing from shadow to shadow at the back of the house, and knew Brodie was well on his way to subduing the guards.
