by Lynne Silver
“Did they find her?” Mrs. Stanton asked.
He turned to fully face a woman, still as beautiful as her daughter, but whose eyes held sadness and the knowledge that sometimes life didn’t have fairytale endings.
He shook his head. If Loren married him and he succumbed to the dangers of his job, would she someday have that softened look in her eyes? God, he hoped not.
A quick glance over at his passenger assured him that Mrs. Stanton was holding steady and as good a soldier as anyone could hope to take into battle. She held her cell phone in a death grip and stared out the window, clearly ready to bring her daughter home safely at any cost.
*
“Why are we on the road to Dulles?” Loren asked Keel. “Is this a shortcut I don’t know about?” As soon as lunch ended and they’d entered the car, he huddled in the driver’s seat, fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “What’s going on?”
He’d have to break the news to her sooner or later. She was getting on a plane back to Paulson. Paulson’s deal was something he couldn’t refuse. Enough to risk blowing his cover and losing his retirement benefits. Paulson had Adam’s sperm and wanted Loren. They were willing to pay. More than his bank account had ever dreamed of.
The opportunity to go for lunch with Loren was exactly what he’d needed. Seeing her mother, Julia, one last time had made it all the more pleasurable. He pressed down on the gas, praying there were no police cars lying in wait for speeders.
“Mr. Keel, where are we going?” she asked again.
“We’re going to Dulles.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m getting paid a lot of money to get you there.”
He kept his eyes on the road, but didn’t have to look to know that she was staring at him in shock. “Don’t think of trying to escape. Jumping out of a moving vehicle at this speed on the highway will get you killed.” He thought about pulling the gun hiding under his lightweight sport coat, but decided against it. Too dangerous. She could grab it away and turn it against him.
“Let me go.” Her voice was ice. “Adam is going to kill you.”
Only if he caught him, and he was taking the flight to London and then another and another to throw off his trackers. Because if he was the last person to see Loren Stanton, the Blacker men would hound him until he broke. There was no going back to the compound. No retirement party or Plan B.
“You can’t do this.” She started to scramble at her feet for her purse, but he laughed.
“You won’t find your phone in there. I removed it while you and your mother were admiring her vegetable garden.”
She scowled at him as she stilled in her seat.
“And don’t attack me either. I have control of the vehicle, but can’t promise to maintain it if touched.”
He could almost see her brain whirring faster than the tires currently turned on his car.
He was insane. It was the only reason she could think why he would try to get her on a plane in broad daylight at an international airport. Her stomach lurched and the ice cream she’d inhaled at Mom’s threatened to come up. She swallowed back her panic and started to plan. He couldn’t keep up this speed. When they got to the airport, he’d have to slow then stop. She’d grab the chance and make a run for it. She shifted her purse at her feet, getting it out of the way so it wouldn’t trip her up. Her hand rested on the door handle, ready to turn at the slightest chance. The stupid locks on the European car were electronic only, so she prayed the door would open if she flicked the handle twice.
“Why are you doing this?” When Keel remained silent, she tried again. “Paulson’s evil,” she said. “You know it, Keel. Why work for him? Why turn traitor to your own country?”
At the word traitor Keel turned and looked her square in the eye. “Don’t be stupid, Loren. Why do you think I’d help Paulson?”
“Is it…is it because my mom left you for my dad?” Loren whispered, showing smart fear in the face of danger.
“No, silly girl,” Keel spat. “Hurting your mom through you is icing on the cake. It’s all about the Benjamins, to quote that stupid song my students are always playing.”
“It’s a stupid move, Keel. You’ll never get to spend the money. Adam will track you to the ends of the earth. You’ll never live free and clear, I don’t care how much Paulson pays you.”
He scowled but didn’t reply and kept driving.
It seemed like hours until they arrived at Dulles, and they didn’t stop at the main terminal as she’d expected. Instead they drove through to an area to the side of the main terminal. A row of small private jets stood near a large gray hangar. Talk about déjà vu. She’d been here last week, only then it was a happy homecoming. Now it was a nightmare.
She scanned the area for a mechanic or flight attendant. Anyone to help her, but only one man stood by a plane waiting. His arm hung casually by his side, a gun in his hand. As soon as Keel screeched to a stop, the man jogged over and held the gun at her.
Her breath caught in her throat until she felt as if she might suffocate.
“Get out of the car,” Keel ordered.
Concentrating on slow, steady movements, she moved out of the car and stood by the open door.
“Turn around,” the stranger said.
She followed orders, but kept her neck swiveled to follow the gun’s location at all times. The second she was fully around her arms were roughly yanked behind her and bound with something plastic and too tight. “Ow.”
“Shut up. Get on the plane.” He draped a long black leather jacket over her back and threw an arm over her shoulder. To any viewers, they looked like a couple walking arm in arm. She considered kicking out her legs and tripping him or sinking to the ground as dead weight. She knew what Adam would say about trying to fight him. It was a no-go, especially since he was a total stranger. He could be this decade’s Chuck Norris, and she’d be a dead woman.
Wait a second…her brain thought furiously. “You won’t shoot me,” she challenged. “Paulson is paying for me alive. I’m no use to you dead.”
“Brilliant, sweetheart, but I have no problem shooting you in the foot or kneecap and letting you ride out the pain on the plane.”
She swallowed hard. There went that plan. Tears welled, but she fought them back. Sorrow was a waste of energy. She needed to stay calm and plan her escape. A large part of her believed Adam was coming. She’d known when he was in danger and gone to rescue him. He’d do the same for her.
As slowly as she could without arousing her captor’s ire, she boarded the small, private jet and found a seat. Keel boarded just behind her and accepted the gun from the other man, who hefted the plane door closed and sealed, and then walked into the cockpit.
“Sit down,” Keel said, waving the gun in the direction of a seat.
“Adam’s coming for you. You won’t be able to run,” she said with a nod at the suitcase Keel had schlepped onboard. “Do you think he’ll let you live after this?”
He didn’t answer her question, but then she hadn’t expected one. The crackle of the radio from the control tower bled from the cockpit to the cabin, and Loren started shrieking, hoping someone would hear her.
“Quiet,” Keel snapped. He barely spared her a glance as his fingers drummed an impatient tattoo on the leather armrest. They sat in hostile silence for another two minutes. “Why hasn’t the damn pilot taken off yet?”
Loren bit her lip to hold off another retort. It was a long flight to London, and it would go better if she didn’t antagonize the man holding the gun. Instead she steadied her nerves by glancing around the plane. There were none of the multiple rows of navy cloth narrow seats commercial airlines had. Four chairs, reminiscent of a La-Z-Boy lounger dotted the narrow confines of the jet. A small galley near the cockpit held bottles of champagne and Diet Coke with real crystal. No plastic cups for this swanky affair.
“Why aren’t we moving yet?” Keel called to the front of the plane. No response.
He got up, careful to keep the gun in her direction, and pounded on the door separating cabins. No answer. Keel cracked open the cockpit door. A second later he raced to her side and yanked her from her seat to stand in front of him, almost as if she was his shield. She wondered what’d happened to the pilot to make Keel panic like this.
Adam didn’t bother to look if Loren’s mom had stayed in the car as he’d ordered when they squealed up to the runway. If she was anything like Loren, she was on the ground pointing her rifle at the plane. He could’ve told her not to bother. He had this. The second the man who’d forced Loren onto the plane appeared in the cockpit, Adam took aim and fired. One down, one more to go.
His heart had nearly exploded when he’d pulled up to the private jet hangar and seen Loren on the final step before entering the plane. He’d tried to get a shot at Keel, but at this range with his current weapon, it was a fool’s shot. He wished he had his rifle with a scope. Or better yet, Gavin and his rifle. He was no legend like Gavin, but he held his own.
He hustled around to the right of the plane and maneuvered until he got a clear view of Keel. The idiot had his back to the window and looked to be using Loren as a shield. Too risky, the bullet could go through Keel into Loren. Likelihood was low, considering it also had to travel through an airplane double-paned window, but any risk to Loren was too high in his mind. But all of a sudden Loren slumped to the ground, giving him a clear shot. He took it, not daring to breathe or think about the reason Loren had collapsed suddenly. His hands waited until after he’d got the shot off to start shaking. They were damn lucky Keel was a teacher and not a trained operative, because he’d pulled one stupid move putting his back to the window. Might as well have painted a big freaking target on his shirt. Keel was strictly amateur hour.
Keel slumped out of view, but Adam couldn’t see Loren before the flash of red and blue lights in his periphery forced him to turn around.
“Put the weapon down,” came a voice from the squad car over the speaker. No problem, he could barely hang on to it anyway, so great was his fear that Loren was bleeding out in the plane. Adam put the gun on the ground. Julia did the same. When they were both disarmed, two officers stepped out of the car with guns trained on him. They correctly assessed that he was the greater threat.
“I’m a member of the Program, and my wife is on that plane,” he said in a steady voice, which was surprising, given he could barely breathe from panic.
“You shot your wife?” one officer asked in disgust.
“No, he shot her kidnapper. My daughter is on that plane against her will,” Julia said, and in a quick move, ran to the door of the airplane and started shouting Loren’s name. One of the officers followed her and the other bobbed his head toward the plane as he faced Adam.
Adam raced to Julia’s side and added his shouts to hers. He didn’t blink or breathe during the longest five seconds of his life as they waited for Loren’s face to appear. And then he could breathe again, because her welcome, gorgeous face pressed against the glass. She was saying something but her voice was too muffled to hear.
“Step back,” one of the officers said. “Ma’am, can you open the door from the inside?” he shouted.
Loren turned and held up her shackled wrists. She wasn’t going to be able to open the door easily by herself. She turned her back to the door and got to work. It seemed to take forever, but finally a few hisses and clicks sounded, the door swung open and the mini staircase folded out. Loren flew down the stairs, practically tackling him after her cuffs were removed as she leapt into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, not caring that tears streamed down his face. Let the officers think he was a pansy. One look at the dead bodies in the plane, and they’d know better.
Shep had requested Keel return to campus in one piece in order to get grilled on his motivations, but at this moment, Adam was thrilled Keel would never take another breath.
When his shaking had subsided enough to cup Loren’s cheeks in his hand and look her in the eye, he was able to speak again. “What happened? You were standing up and then you slumped out of sight. I thought Keel had shot you.” The fear in his voice translated. Loren wrapped him in a bear hug, sobbing into his chest.
“I did it on purpose. Something in the cockpit freaked Keel out and I figured it was you or your team sharpshooting. I wanted to give you a clear target.”
“You became dead weight forcing him to drop you.”
She nodded. Adam found his first smile of the day. He was so marrying this woman.
He held her tightly as they waited for one of the officers to board the plane and assess the situation. She curled up against him, trusting him to support her weight. He kept whispering to her, words of love, future promises…hell, he didn’t know. All he knew was Loren was in his arms where she needed to stay for a very long time.
Epilogue
One month later
Loren leaned farther back in her chair and re-crossed her ankles perched on the porch railing, and balanced her laptop carefully. She allowed a quick glance at the lawn in front of her new home on the Beltsville compound and grinned at the wild game in progress.
Adam was currently playing horsy for Kylie and some of the other toddlers. Squeals of delight sounded as he bucked and neighed, only allowing the children to fall when near a soft patch of grass.
She looked back down at her computer screen, quickly getting reabsorbed in her work. The deadline for the second piece in her exposé on Doctor Paulson’s European fertility clinic was looming, and she was still waiting on a last bit of research in the form of Gavin who was due to return from London any minute.
Derrick and her editor had gone into ecstasy at her pitch to write a story about Ambassador Christenson’s son’s kidnapping. Especially when she exposed the evildoing of a former American scientist who was making boatloads of money duping wealthy, desperate want-to-be parents. They loved that she was living on the inside of the center of the current American firestorm. Seemed like every citizen, politicians especially, held strong feelings about the Program’s ability to manipulate human DNA. She was kept busy writing story after story about the Program, hoping her words would sway public sentiment in favor of supporting the Program.
It wasn’t looking good, though. Paulson’s treachery made the science behind the Program too scary in the wrong hands. Loren hoped her story would make hiding difficult for him and root him out like the snake he was. Most of the team had been combing through Europe without much luck finding him.
A brush on the back of her neck had her jumping in her seat and nearly toppling her laptop. “Adam?” She’d been absorbed in her work; she’d missed the end of the horsy game.
Adam bent down over her shoulder to place a gentle kiss on her lips, but the taste of sweat and laughter on his breath had her pulling him closer to prolong the embrace.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
“How’s work going? Can you take a minute?”
“Only a minute?” Loren laughed, eyeing Adam’s growing arousal.
He grinned. “I don’t want to take the blame for The Post’s hottest reporter missing her deadline. Plus, I have to be at class in half an hour.” After Keel’s death, Adam had taken himself off active rotation and assumed the teaching and training role for the teenage cohort. The role fit him like a glove, and some of the shadows that hung in Adam’s eyes were fading. He liked working with kids and had even asked when she might be ready to have one.
“I’m okay. For you, I can make some time.” She hit save, shut her laptop, and placed it gently on the table. “Ready?” She smiled up into his warm eyes, loving him.
Adam pulled her roughly up into his arms against his aroused body. “For you,” he echoed her words back, “I’m always ready.”
Their laughter hung on the porch like a shining beacon as they disappeared inside the small, cozy home filled with love and all the promise of a bright future.
About the Author
Award-winning author Lynne
Silver lives the life of a suburban soccer mom, volunteering with the PTA, doing laundry and working. By night she enters the sensuous world of alpha males and passionate heroines.
She lives in an old fixer-upper with her husband and their two sons. When not writing romance, she reads it. Lots of it. Over and over and over again, preferably with a bag of M&Ms in hand.
Lynne welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Lynne Silver
Mistress in the Making
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Heated Match
ISBN 9781419940644
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Heated Match Copyright © 2012 Lynne Silver
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover design by Fiona Jayde
Photos: Diana Koryakovtseva and Shkvarko/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication June 2012
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