Georgie frowned. “He really didn’t care about anybody but himself did he?”
“Doesn’t seem like it, no.”
Georgie pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I feel like a shitty judge of character right now. I liked him.”
He knew she was thinking about her ex-husband as well as Jake Hamilton. But neither of them was her fault. Georgie was the kind of person who took others at face value. And both men had presented her with the faces they’d wanted her to see.
“People can be shitty and they can smile in your face and hide their true nature from you. Don’t blame yourself.”
She nodded. “I’m getting there, Sam.” She pulled in a breath and gave him a serious look. “So now we wait.”
“Yes.” He skimmed his hands up her arms. “My guys will be in position out there. Al-Fayed won’t hurt you. I won’t let it happen.”
“I know you won’t. I’m not wrong about your character. I may not be a good judge of other people, but I know you down to your soul, Sam McKnight. There’s nobody I trust more.”
He pulled her against him and hugged her tight.
He hoped like hell she still trusted him tomorrow.
19
Georgie paced nervously. Sam sat calmly at the table and checked his weapons. He’d tucked three pistols away on his body and just as many knives. Her pulse throbbed in her neck as her heart pumped blood faster than usual.
“Baby, it’s okay,” Sam told her. “We’re surrounded by Special Operators and I’m right here with you.”
She stopped. “Special Operator? Isn’t that like Delta Force or something?”
He shot her a grin. “Something.” He rose to his full height, all six feet two inches of him, and came over to squeeze her shoulders. “They’re out there, Georgie. Waiting.”
“How do you know? What if they got held up in traffic?”
He touched a hand to his ear. “I can hear them, that’s how. And they can hear me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Had they been listening when—?
Sam smiled and shook his head, accurately reading her expression. “They’ve been in place since I got the phone call an hour ago. Remember that?”
“Oh. Yes.”
She’d been trying to read As I Lay Dying for class next semester and failing miserably. She hated that particular Faulkner story with a passion, which was why she hadn’t been paying attention to what Sam was doing at the time.
“It’ll be any minute now,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Her stomach twisted. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“When Al-Fayed and his friend get here, I’ll let them in. You sit at the table like we discussed. One of them will want to check the card with a computer. They’ll bring their own. Let them have it and don’t say anything you don’t have to.”
“I know, Sam. You already told me everything.”
“Just making sure. It should go pretty fast. He’ll verify the card, I’ll verify the money, and they’ll walk out. My team will pick them up outside and it’ll be over.”
“I just wish they’d get here. I want this to be done. Well, this part of it anyway,” she added. She hoped Sam understood her. She didn’t want what they had to be over. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever, which was a frightening prospect considering the ugliness of her last relationship.
Except she knew Sam wouldn’t do that to her. If he didn’t want her, he’d tell her honestly, not pretend he cared while screwing someone else.
The thought of him with anyone else made hot jealousy flare.
“Copy that, Big Mac,” Sam said, turning away from her as he drew a black pistol from the holster at his waist. “We’re ready. Over and out.”
Georgie sucked in a breath, blew it out again. “They’re coming?”
“Yes. Go sit at the table.”
“Okay.” She started for the table where her computer sat. Beside it was the SD card. She spun back to where Sam was standing by the door, waiting so calmly for the knock that would come. “Did you lock Belle in the bedroom?” she asked in a panic.
Sam smiled at her. “Yes, G. She was lying on the pillows when I closed the door.”
“You told me that already, didn’t you?” She smoothed a hand nervously over her stomach.
“I did. Now sit down, honey. Let’s do this like we talked about, okay? You don’t have to do a thing except give them the card. I’ll be with you the whole way.”
Georgie nodded as she sank onto the chair at the dining table. “I’ll be fine. I won’t screw this up.”
“I know you won’t.”
The walls seemed to be made of paper now. She could hear everything outside—the frogs in the marshes, the calls of night birds, and the crunch of tires on gravel as a car made its way closer.
Doors slammed. Her heart raced. Her palms sweated.
Sam stood by the door, his attention laser-focused. And then the knock they’d been expecting came. Sam had a pistol in his hand as he grabbed the knob and swung the door wide.
Two men stood in the entry, both holding weapons. Georgie gasped, but Sam was prepared. He’d been standing beside the door, not in front of it, and he calmly leveled the pistol at the head of the first guy.
“Eject the magazines and put ’em down, boys,” he ordered.
Georgie recognized the man from the Metro who’d been talking to Jake that night. The other man was the one who’d threatened her in the coffee shop.
“No deal,” Metro Man said. “We aren’t going unarmed while you have a weapon.”
“You want the SD card or not?”
“How do we know you won’t kill us and take the money?”
Sam grinned. “You don’t. But it’s a lot messier that way and I’d rather not have to clean up the bodies. No alligators in the marsh or I’d be tempted, I gotta tell you.”
The two men exchanged a look. Metro Man looked furious as he ejected his magazine and tucked it into his pants. He placed the gun on the table by the door. Coffee Shop Man did the same, shrugging as if to say who cares?
Coffee Shop Man had a messenger bag slung over his chest. Sam motioned to it. “Let’s see inside the bag.”
Coffee Shop Man unclipped the flap and jerked it back. Then he held it open.
“There is one hundred thousand dollars, like we promised. And my computer,” Metro Man said.
Georgie assumed he was Abdullah al-Fayed since he appeared to be the one in control.
Sam peered inside. “I’m going to have to count that money.”
“And I’m going to have to verify the contents of the SD card. Where is it?”
Sam nodded toward her. “Dr. Hayes has it.”
Al-Fayed started to reach inside the bag.
“Slowly,” Sam said. “Or you’re gonna lose a hand.”
Hatred was clearly written on Al-Fayed’s face as he reached very slowly into the bag. He lifted out a silver MacBook inch by inch. “Satisfied?”
“For now.”
“And may I join Dr. Hayes at the table?”
“Sure thing, Skippy. But you try anything, and I’ll blow your head clean off your shoulders.”
“The one with the bag is Imran Nassif. The other is our boy Al-Fayed. And they didn’t come alone,” Richie said in his ear. “Another vehicle, six of them getting out with weapons.”
Sam hated that he couldn’t respond, but responding would let Al-Fayed and Nassif know that Sam and Georgie weren’t alone either.
“Copy,” Big Mac said. “We’ll move in closer.”
“Nobody make any sudden moves. We don’t want them knowing we’re out here before it’s time,” Richie replied. “We need them to pay for the drone information.”
Sam didn’t want Al-Fayed anywhere near Georgie, but if that’s how the bosses said it had to go down, then that’s how it had to go down. But damn if he didn’t hate every agonizing second of it.
Al-Fayed had stiffened at Sam’s dismissive comment, his nostrils flaring wide. The man didn’t like being in a position where
he had no power. At all.
“Both of you,” Sam said, jerking his pistol in the direction of Georgie. “At the table. Sparky and I can count money while you check the veracity of your info.”
Al-Fayed was grinding his teeth. “Sure thing, John Wayne.”
Sam grinned. “Aw, there you go, complimenting me when we hardly know each other.”
They moved toward the table and Sam took a seat beside Georgie, across from where the other two men sat. Nassif placed the bag on the table, flap up. Al-Fayed popped the top of his Mac open, nostrils still flaring as he glared at them all.
“If you would be so kind, Dr. Hayes,” he said.
Georgie vibrated with tension but she pulled the SD card from beneath the notebook she’d placed on top of it and pushed it at Al-Fayed. He grasped it eagerly and shoved it into the SD dongle he’d attached to the Mac.
Meanwhile, Nassif pulled ten bound stacks of crisp one hundred-dollar bills from the bag and placed them one on top of another. For a hundred K, it didn’t look like much. Only about five inches high.
But that was correct. It wasn’t the first time Sam had seen so much money in one place. Probably wouldn’t be the last. He knew what a hundred grand looked like in hundreds. He also knew what it looked like in twenties.
“Interesting,” Al-Fayed murmured as he opened the files.
Kid snorted in Sam’s ear. “He’s trying to send it somewhere, probably so he can tell you it’s not what he wants and get out of paying for it. Damn, he must really think Dr. Hayes is an idiot.”
“You’re jamming that signal, right?” somebody asked. Sam thought it might be Ryan “Flash” Gordon.
“Dude, what do you take me for? Of course I’m jamming it. Nothing’s getting out of here without my say so.”
“The six are moving closer to the house. They’ve got AR-15s with night scopes. Fucking wannabes,” Richie growled. “Close the perimeter on these bastards. I want them taken down the minute those fuckers come out of the house.”
Tension knotted Sam’s gut. Not that he typically cared about terrorists bearing down on his position when he had his team at his back, but he didn’t usually have the woman he loved at his side either.
Everything inside him went still. Love? He loved Georgie Hayes?
Yes, came the answer. Hell yes.
He wanted to look at her so badly, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let these bastards see that she was his vulnerability. If they had any clue at all, they might use his feelings against him.
Feelings.
Holy shit, he was so fucked. He loved her, probably always had, and she wasn’t his. Could never be his, no matter what she thought. She wasn’t made for his kind of life. The fact she vibrated with nerves beside him confirmed it.
Fresh fear coiled inside him but he pushed it deep and refused to let it out. “Count the money,” Sam told Nassif, getting back on track. “Where I can see it.”
Nassif’s eyes flashed but he picked up the first stack of cash and started to methodically count. Sam pretended to follow along but the truth was he didn’t fucking care if there were wads of newspaper stuffed between those hundred dollar bills on either end. He just wanted this done and these guys on their way.
Al-Fayed looked up a few minutes later, his dark gaze spearing into Georgie. “If any piece of this information proves incorrect, nothing and no one will protect you. I will find you, and I will do to you what I did to Jake Hamilton.”
Sam’s gut twisted at the threat. But Georgie answered before he could.
“I grew up in Texas, Mr. Al-Fayed. I’ve shot many a rattlesnake in my life and I’m not afraid to shoot another one. You come after me and you might not survive the trip. I’m selling you what Jake gave me. If it’s not what you want, then that’s your problem, not mine.”
Al-Fayed slapped the laptop closed and jerked his head at Nassif. “Give them the money. We’re going. This meeting is over.”
Sam waved his pistol at Al-Fayed. “Now hold on, Skippy. We’re not quite done counting it yet.”
“Then hurry up,” Al-Fayed said from between clenched teeth.
Nassif counted the remaining bills faster. Sam kept an eye on Al-Fayed.
“One hundred thousand,” Nassif finished.
Sam pulled a marker from his pocket. “Dr. Hayes, pull ten random bills and check for counterfeits.”
He didn’t fucking care, but he had to pretend he did. Otherwise they might know something was fishy about the whole setup.
Georgie uncapped the pen and selected a bill. Before she could mark it, gunfire shattered the night.
“Fuck!” somebody yelled on the comm link. “Knight Rider, get her out of there. STAT!”
20
Georgie froze at the sound of gunfire. Al-Fayed and his companion leapt to their feet at the same time Sam did. He leveled the pistol at the two men, but they were surprisingly unaffected.
“Show him,” Al-Fayed growled.
Coffee Shop Man ripped open his shirt, buttons flying as he did so. He grabbed something that lay against his skin. It took her a moment to realize there were wires on his chest, tape—and a timer.
“Shoot him and the bomb goes off. Shoot me and he’ll detonate it,” Al-Fayed said, smiling evilly. “I suggest you put the weapon down, John Wayne. And tell your people to back off.”
Sam didn’t drop the pistol. He also didn’t pull the trigger. “I’ll hold onto it, if you don’t mind,” he gritted out from between his teeth. “And I don’t have any people.”
“Then who’s doing the shooting?”
“You tell me. You didn’t come alone like she told you, and whoever you brought with you is scared of the marsh at night. That wasn’t targeted gunfire. That was an idiot shooting at ghosts.”
Al-Fayed flushed but didn’t answer. “Return the money to the bag,” he said. “We’ll be taking it with us.”
The gunfire outside had stopped as quickly as it started. But it was eerily quiet now. Even the frogs had ceased croaking. The night sounds she’d gotten used to were gone. Georgie strained to hear anything over the quiet, but there was nothing.
Was Sam’s team still out there? Or had something happened to them? Of course Al-Fayed brought people with him. Had they ambushed Sam’s guys? Or was Sam right and one of them had been shooting at something that scared him?
Sam shoved the money in the messenger bag and tossed it at Al-Fayed. He caught it easily. Then he spoke to his companion in Arabic—or what she thought was Arabic. She wasn’t precisely certain. The other man nodded and said something in return. His fingers were on the detonator. She didn’t know if that meant he was ready to blow them up or if he was preventing them from blowing up by the pressure of his fingers.
Her heart slammed her ribs. Was this it? Could it all come down to these next few moments? What if Sam never knew how she felt? Or maybe he did know. How could he not after everything that had happened between them?
“Sam,” she choked out.
“Hush, Georgie. I’ve got this,” he said quietly. Soothingly.
Al-Fayed shot them a triumphant look as he retreated to where his gun lay by the door. He picked it up and shoved in the magazine. Coffee Shop Man stood where Al-Fayed had left him, watching the two of them with narrowed eyes.
“You know, maybe I should let him blow you up anyway. You’ve caused me a lot of trouble,” Al-Fayed said as he turned back to them. He lifted his weapon. “Or maybe I should shoot you both and leave you to rot.”
She could feel Sam’s body tightening as if he were about to spring into action. She didn’t know what he planned to do, but she felt like it would be bad for them all if he did anything.
Al-Fayed’s barrel swung in her direction all of a sudden. “Move a muscle, John Wayne, and I will kill her. I don’t think you’d like that, would you? Now put the gun down or I will shoot.”
Sam dropped his gun to his side. Al-Fayed laughed. “So you can be reasonable. Eject the magazine and put it on the table.”
“Now Dr. Hayes, if you do not wish your latest boyfriend to die, you will come to me.”
Georgie swallowed. “Georgie,” Sam said. “Don’t.”
“I have to.” She walked around the table on shaky legs and crossed the room slowly, her heart in her throat the whole way.
When she was close enough, Al-Fayed grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her chest and tugging her against his body. She could feel the sweat beneath his clothes, the tension in his body. He wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be. He said something to Coffee Shop Man in Arabic, and then he dragged her backward, through the door and into the mugginess of the night.
The last thing she saw was Sam’s face. It was filled with fear and determination and some other emotion she couldn’t quite understand. She should have told him she loved him. Should have said the words and to hell with this evil man dragging her down the steps.
Despair filled her. And anger, because dammit, she wasn’t ready to die. Wasn’t ready to give up on all the things that had passed between her and Sam. She loved him and she was going to fight for him.
And it began right now. Georgeanne Hayes wasn’t giving up. She was made of stronger stuff than that—and it was time she did something to take back her life and her destiny.
Al-Fayed dragged Georgie through the door and Sam’s gut churned. He wanted to go after her, but Imran Nassif was standing across the table, calmly holding a bomb’s detonator, grinning like a madman. He strode toward the table where he’d left his weapon, let go of the detonator, and shoved the magazine back inside the pistol.
He’d disarmed the bomb at some point, which meant now was Sam’s chance. But if he shot this guy, then Al-Fayed might harm Georgie. Sam had to trust that his team was going to rescue her. It was so damned hard not to grab his pistol and end this asshole, but he pulled in deep breaths and didn’t move a muscle.
As soon as Nassif was out the door, however, Sam sprang into action, shoving the magazine home and heading for the back door. He couldn’t go through the front in case they were waiting for him. Hell, they might be watching the back too. He flicked off all the lights as he went so that he could slip out the door without being spotlighted for whomever might be there.
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