Against All Odds

by Hannon, Irene

  Coop shut the door in his face.

  Mark called through it. “That’s what I figured.”

  Sometimes his partner was just a little too cocky, Coop decided, twisting the faucet and shedding the clothes he’d slept in. And a little too insightful.

  Although he’d have loved to spend half a day under the hot, tension-dissolving jets of water, he gave himself a mere three minutes. Les had informed them about the successful hostage rescue last night, but he needed to check in with the commander for an update on David Callahan. He also wanted to run by Monica’s house and pick up some clothes for her to wear home from the hospital. As far as he was concerned, they could burn the pink sweat suit.

  When he emerged from the fogged-up room in a cloud of steam, Mark was already dressed.

  “Give me five minutes.” He rubbed a towel over his hair.

  “No rush. I talked to Nick. Everything was quiet last night. And he arranged to have someone clean up Monica’s place. The housekeeping service was there at seven.”

  “I owe him one for that.” He’d planned to do a cursory cleaning himself before they picked her up. The ERT was thorough, but the fingerprint people typically left powder everywhere. As for the bloody lingerie drawer . . . that had been his first priority. The fewer reminders she had of that trauma—and the ones that had followed—the better. “We’ll only have to stop long enough to grab some clothes for her.”

  He dressed with speed and efficiency, scanning the contents of his suitcase as he sorted through clothes. One clean shirt left, he noted, adding laundry to his to-do list.

  “If you drive, I can check in with Les en route.” Coop secured the last button on his white shirt, tossing the keys to Mark before slipping his arms through the sleeves of a charcoal gray suit jacket.

  “Piece of cake compared to some of the assignments I’ve had in the past few days. Let’s go.”

  Once in the SUV, Coop tapped in the number of Les’s cell phone. As usual, the commander answered on the first ring.

  “We’re on our way to the hospital.” Coop buckled his seat belt as Mark exited the hotel parking lot and pulled into traffic. “I wanted to get an update on David Callahan.”

  “He’s been airlifted and is scheduled to arrive at Landstuhl within the hour. A surgical team is waiting. I understand he has very serious head and chest wounds. I was told the odds of him pulling through are fifty-fifty at best.”

  Another piece of bad news to pass on to Monica, Coop reflected, wishing he had a better prognosis to offer her.

  “Any idea who was behind it?” He tapped Mark’s shoulder and gestured toward a fast-food chain up ahead. He was desperate for a cup of coffee, and a couple of egg and sausage biscuits didn’t sound too shabby, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Maybe a stale donut at the safe house? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “The Taliban is claiming responsibility. No connection to the hostage situation. According to the ballistics experts who are investigating the incident, the bomb appears to have been detonated by a cell phone.”

  Mark swung into the drive-through. After being paired with him on missions for close to three years, Coop didn’t even have to tell his partner what to order. Mark had it down.

  “I also have an update on Ms. Callahan’s travel arrangements, assuming she’s released from the hospital. We’ve got her on military transport out of Andrews at seventeen hundred hours. You and Mark can escort her to the plane, and State Department security will take over from there. Let me know as soon as you confirm it’s a go.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” As Coop ended the call, he snagged a biscuit. Mark had already inhaled half of a breakfast sandwich, he noted.

  The two men wolfed down the food in silence. Not a crumb remained by the time Mark swung onto Monica’s street and surveyed the neighborhood. “I don’t see any media vans.”

  “You will once she’s released.”

  “We’ll be with her. That should put them off.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  They spent no more than fifteen minutes at the house. Once Coop verified that the cleanup crew had erased all evidence of the break-in, he snagged a pair of jeans and a sweater out of Monica’s closet. The sanitized lingerie drawer was empty, but he found a few folded undergarments in the laundry room. He grabbed them all, adding them to the duffel bag he’d dug out of a closet in her spare bedroom.

  “Okay, we’re set.” He emerged into the foyer and retrieved her coat from the closet.

  “We have company already.” Mark was peering through the blinds he’d cracked in the living room. “Someone must have tipped the press that there was activity at the house earlier this morning.”

  Setting the items he’d gathered on a side chair, Coop joined him. A van with the call letters of one of the national network news affiliates was parked near her driveway. “That was fast.”

  “This is big news. It’s all over the headlines.”

  “There’s no way out of here without being seen.”

  “That doesn’t mean we have to talk to them.”

  “And I don’t intend to. Let’s go.”

  They were out the door and in the car before the news crew realized they’d exited. But as Mark put the car in reverse, a reporter and cameraman stepped into the driveway. Instead of slowing his speed, however, Mark accelerated. The news crew quickly moved aside, conceding the game of bluff to the FBI.

  The two men made one more brief stop en route to the hospital. Mark waited in the car while Coop went into the store, grinning when his partner emerged five minutes later carrying a huge jar of M&Ms tied with a red bow.

  “She’ll love that.”

  “I figure she deserves all the comfort food she can get for the next six months. At least.”

  The media was out in full force at the hospital too, and Mark veered toward the rear of the building, parking near a service entrance. They flagged down a passing employee, who admitted them with her access card after they flashed their credentials.

  Nick was still glued to Monica’s door and greeted them with a status report. “No problems. Everything was quiet last night. The doctor just left, and word is she’s been cleared for release.”

  Considering her impending travel plans, Coop didn’t necessarily consider that good news.

  “You guys can take off now if you want to,” Mark told Nick. “Coop and I will escort her home. We appreciate your assistance with this.” He shook his friend’s hand.

  “I second that.” Coop, too, extended his hand. “And I also appreciate the extra mile you went to get her house put back in shape.”

  Nick gave his hand a firm shake. “I didn’t want the lady walking into that mess. She’s been through enough.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Okay. We’re out of here.” Signaling to the other agent down the hall, Nick gestured toward the elevator. “See you two around.”

  As Nick headed out, Mark folded his arms across his chest and faced the hall. “Go on in. I’ll watch the door.”

  After a soft knock, Coop stepped into the room, pausing just inside to set the duffel bag and Monica’s coat on a chair. He hid the jar of candy behind his back. “It’s Coop. May I come in?”

  “As long as you don’t flinch.”

  She tried for a joking tone, but Coop heard the slight unsteadiness in her voice. Letting the door close behind him, he moved into the room. Bruises and abrasions always looked worse the next day, and he tried to prep himself.

  But he hadn’t factored in the merciless effects of harsh daylight. The sun streaming in the canted blinds highlighted every contusion and every nuance of the red and purple hues on her nose, her brow, and around her eye. The large pieces of gauze on her forehead and chin had been replaced with Band-Aids, but he could see the ends of the jagged cut on her jaw peeking out on either side of the latex strip. She’d regained very little color overnight, and her eyelid remained puffy and half closed. The lines of strain around her mouth, and th
e skin stretched taut over her cheekbones, gave eloquent testimony to her uncomfortable night.

  In other words, she was a mess. And in no condition to travel to Germany.

  “I look that bad, huh?”

  So much for trying to mask his shock, Coop berated himself. Forcing his lips into the semblance of a smile, he strolled over to the bed. “Well, I doubt Vogue will be coming by to take any cover shots today. But maybe this will help console you.” He pulled out the jar of M&Ms.

  A delighted smile eased some of the strain in her features. “The perfect thing. Thank you.” She held out her hand, and he walked over to take it, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She touched the jar, stroking a finger along the smooth glass. “I have a feeling these will come in handy in the next few days. How’s my father?” Trepidation rippled through her voice as she met his gaze.

  There was no way to sugarcoat the facts. He passed on what Les had told him, though he eliminated the odds the commander had quoted without minimizing the seriousness of the situation. “It’s not good, Monica. They’ll do their best, but there are no guarantees.”

  “I know. I’ll just keep praying, like I did in the motel room.”

  “I did some of that myself.”

  Surprise parted her lips. “I didn’t think you were a believer.”

  “I’m not saying I am. But I read a bit of the Bible that night you loaned it to me, and it piqued my interest. After you were snatched, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to turn for help. I decided it couldn’t hurt to ask for divine intervention.”

  “A lot of people first seek the Lord in adversity.”

  “We’ve had plenty of that in the past few days.”

  “But things are improving. I heard about the hostages. And did you know I’m free to leave as soon as they take out my IV?”

  “I heard.”

  “Were you able to get my trip set up?”

  “Yes. You’re on a military flight at five o’clock. But I think you should delay this.”

  “I can’t, Coop.”

  A nurse bustled in, interrupting their conversation with a bright smile. “I hear we’re going home today. Let’s get that IV out and send you on your way.” She moved to the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of latex gloves, studying the huge black and blue blotch on the inside of Monica’s arm as she began pulling off tape. “Looks like someone had trouble getting this in.”

  “I was dehydrated.”

  “That’ll do it. Okay, I need to press this cotton ball against your arm when I pull out the IV. With all that bruising, it’s going to hurt. Ready?” At Monica’s nod, the nurse extracted the IV and put pressure on the puncture. Although Monica didn’t flinch, Coop felt her stiffen, watched as she bunched the sheet in her fingers.

  “You did good.” The nurse disposed of the needle. “Keep the pressure on for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  As Monica slid her fingers over the cotton ball, Coop realized she was shaking. Moving to the other side of the bed, he took over. “Let me.”

  She released her grip without argument, and he cradled her elbow with one hand, maintaining even pressure with the other. “I brought you some clothes.” He hoped conversation would distract her from her discomfort.

  “Thanks. I’d hate to have to go home in this hospital gown.” She tried to smile, but he caught the glint of moisture in her eyes. She was hurting, and the fact that there wasn’t a thing he could do to ease her suffering didn’t sit well with him.

  The nurse came back in, peeked under the cotton ball, and slapped a bandage over it. “All set. Do you need some help getting dressed?”

  “Yes.” Coop answered for her.

  “Okay. A wheelchair is on the way.”

  “I don’t need a wheelchair,” Monica protested.

  “Hospital rules. Sorry.”

  “I’ll be outside with Mark,” Coop told her.

  As he slipped through the door, his partner sent him a questioning look. “Well?”

  “Not good.”

  “Does she still want to go to Germany?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she can manage it?”

  “I’ll let you form your own opinion.”

  Ten minutes later, after an aide wheeled Monica into the hall and she greeted Mark, he fell back and glanced at Coop, shaking his head.

  It took both of them to help ease her into the backseat of the Suburban. Mark took the wheel, and Coop slid in beside her, reaching over for her seat belt. She winced as he pulled it across to insert it, and he froze.

  “Sorry. I have a big bruise on my hip.”

  And where else? he wondered, scrutinizing her battered face. She’d had the sheet pulled up to her chin in the hospital bed, and her arms and legs were encased in denim and wool now. “Any other spots I should be aware of?”

  His question came out husky as her warm breath caressed his cheek. Their eyes were mere inches apart, and all at once soft color flooded her face. He could feel her quivering and debated the cause—her injuries or their nearness? He settled on the latter for one simple reason. He was having the exact same reaction.

  She dipped her chin and focused on a button on her coat. “No. All of my other injuries are visible.”

  He took his time securing her belt, fighting an urge to gather her into a comforting, protective hug. But at last he eased away and buckled himself in.

  “We’ll need to leave your house by one for Andrews.” Mark spoke from the front seat, flicking a look at Monica in the rearview mirror as he pulled into traffic.

  “That’s not a problem.” A slight quiver ran through her voice. “I won’t need more than an hour to throw a few things together. Can you fill me in on what to expect on the flight and at Landstuhl? I’m not very familiar with military operations.”

  For the remainder of the drive, they briefed her. She was in the middle of a question when they turned down her street, and as the news cameras came into view, her words trailed off.

  “I didn’t expect that.” She frowned at the vans as Mark drove the short distance to her house.

  “Don’t worry about them. There are consequences for trespassing, and we aren’t going to linger in the driveway,” Coop assured her. “Stay where you are until we tell you we’re ready.”

  After pulling as close as possible to her garage, Mark set the brake, slid out from behind the wheel and strode toward the front door. He disappeared inside. A couple of minutes later the garage door opened, and when he reappeared Coop got out of the car and came around to her side. Mark positioned himself to block the view of the reporters on the sidewalk as Coop opened it.

  “Seat belt off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Six steps, we’re inside. You okay to walk?”

  “Sure. I think so.”

  Noting the caveat, he moved closer. “Okay. Swing your legs out. Then grab on to my arm and slide out.”

  She did her best, but once on her feet, she had to clutch at his suit coat to steady herself. Coop slipped one arm around her waist, and with his support she moved toward the refuge of her garage, away from the shouted questions of the reporters. Mark brought up the rear. The instant they stepped inside, his partner pushed the button for the garage door, and it rumbled shut, blocking out the media circus on her sidewalk.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Coop helped her up the single step that led into the laundry room, and Mark closed the door behind them. He could feel her trembling. “Why don’t you lie down for an hour before you pack?”

  “I might have to. They gave me a pain pill at the hospital, and I think it’s making me sleepy.”

  Perhaps. But her quick capitulation and pinched features told him the simple trip home from the hospital had also taxed her to her limits.

  “Let me help you.” He started to guide her toward the hall, but she shook her head.

  “No. Thank you. I’ll be fine. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I
’d appreciate a cup of tea.”

  Understanding her need to prove to herself she could function without assistance, he released her. “No trouble at all. I’ll bring it down in a couple of minutes.”

  With a brief smile of thanks, she moved down the hall, slow, stiff, cautious, the fingers of one hand brushing the wall to steady herself.

  Once she disappeared into her room, Mark shook his head. “She’s not up to this trip.”

  “I know. But I’m not having any luck convincing her of that. Why don’t you try?”

  “If she won’t listen to you, I guarantee she won’t listen to me.”

  Coop expelled a frustrated breath. “I’ll make the tea. And try again.”

  Except five minutes later, as he approached her room carrying a steaming mug, he could see through her cracked door that she was already asleep. She hadn’t even bothered to pull back the bedspread. Setting the mug on the dresser, he retrieved a throw from a chair by the window and gently draped it over her.

  Mark was eating a piece of toast when Coop rejoined him in the kitchen, mug in hand.

  “What’s up?”

  “She’s already asleep.”

  “Must be a powerful painkiller. But she needs the rest.”

  “I agree. I’ll try to talk to her again about the trip after she wakes up.” Coop set the mug on the counter. “Any more bread?”

  “A whole loaf in the freezer.”

  Half a dozen pieces of toast and three cups of coffee later, Coop pushed aside his plate as Mark reached for his BlackBerry.

  “Les,” Mark relayed, checking the caller ID.

  The conversation was brief and one-sided. And Mark’s sober expression didn’t bode well as he ended the call.

  “What’s up?” Coop gripped his mug of coffee.

  “Les tried to call you first. Your battery must be dead.” Mark took a deep breath. “David Callahan didn’t make it.”

  24

  Monica’s eyelids flickered open, but the room was fuzzy, and she felt groggy and disoriented. Jumbled images of an anonymous safe house, a bare-bones motel room, and an antiseptic-smelling hospital swirled through her mind, confusing her. As her focus sharpened, however, she realized she was in her own room. Lying in her bed.