Chapter Seventeen
Mike had no idea what he was up against, but a huge weight lifted off him after he sequestered Zola in the safe room. At least he knew nothing would happen to her in there. Tex was thorough. Though Mike hadn’t gone into the room or checked it out, Tex had told him it was there, and Mike had memorized the code. No one would get in there without knowing the six-digit code.
Another round of shots rang out, causing Mike to lower himself to the floor and crawl toward the back door. He needed to get out of the house before anything else. The longer he was inside, the more likely he would be backed into a corner. And he had no idea how many people were shooting at him.
What he also knew was that backup was on the way. Before he’d shoved Zola into the safe room, he had hit the panic button on the outside. Messages would have been sent to Tex and the authorities. Besides, Tex already knew the seriousness of the situation. He’d been the one to call with the warning moments before all hell broke loose.
Mike could have gotten into the safe room with Zola, and there was always the possibility he would regret the decision not to. But he wasn’t the kind of man to cower and wait for someone to find him. Sequestering himself wasn’t really his style.
He flattened himself to the kitchen wall next to the sliding glass doors and peered outside to see if there was movement.
Moments later the glass door shattered, and he rounded the corner to take advantage of the protection of the cabinets. Damn motherfuckers shooting up his friend’s house. That in and of itself pissed him way the fuck off.
Another shot came from the back of the house. No one was on the patio, so he knew by the proximity they had to be hovering in the bushes off the deck.
He crawled to the front of the house, keeping low with his gun drawn. When he reached the front windows, he eased up the side and peeked out the edge.
Dammit. He could see booted feet under the bushes right off the porch. These fuckers were brazen. He was pissed, but they were no match for him. They had no idea what they were up against if they were stupid enough to think they could take out a former SEAL.
Maybe they didn’t know he was a SEAL. There was a good chance of that. Perhaps they assumed Zola was just on the run with her boyfriend or a hired protector. In either case, they were in for a surprise. A one-way ticket to the third circle of hell.
The picture window had already been shot out, which gave him the ability to take a shot through the wide opening. In less than a few seconds, he rounded to face the fool who thought he was well-hidden, lined up the shot with the spot Mike assumed was the man’s chest, and fired.
Bingo. The asshole fell forward through the bush and never moved another muscle. One down.
In response, several shots rang out from the back of the house.
Mike ducked back down to the floor and listened. He figured there were still two shooters in the back and no one currently in the front.
He crawled toward the kitchen again, praying Zola stayed in the safe room. If he had to worry about her at the same time, his job would be that much harder.
Silence reigned for several moments while he peered through the corner of the hole that had been the sliding glass doors and surveyed the situation. Indeed, there were two men out there, one at each corner of the deck. They were shuffling around more than they should. Amateur move. They were scared.
Good. That would make it easier to make them also dead.
Mike bided his time, watching, waiting, scoping. Finally, he rounded enough to take the easier shot, lined up, and took the farthest man out with a shot to the head.
Take that, motherfucker.
The man was dead so fast he didn’t make a single sound. It took several more seconds before his comrade knew he was down.
Mike rolled his eyes as he ducked back around the corner.
A delayed onslaught of gunfire coming from one gun pelted the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen.
Mike glanced at the pantry. No movement. Good.
When silence reigned again, Mike waited a beat and then rose to take a glance out the window above the sink. No one. The guy had moved. Hopefully he retreated.
Where the fuck were the authorities? How long had it been? He stayed low as he made his way back to the front of the house, thinking the man may have rounded the house.
As soon as he rose to peer out the space where the picture window belonged, a noise behind him caught his attention. He spun around to find a man dressed in all black behind him, the barrel of his gun pointed directly at Mike.
Fuck.
“Not interested in you, asshole. Want the woman. Where is she?”
Mike eased around to face the man more fully. Five yards separated them. Who the hell was shooting outside? “What woman?”
The guy chuckled for half a second. “Don’t go there, fucker. I’m not stupid.”
Mike begged to differ. He said nothing. Eventually the guy would give him an out. It was just a matter of time.
“Where is she?” the man shouted louder, shaking his gun erratically. So he wasn’t professional. Not by a long shot.
Mike glanced toward the back. “Ran out the door a long time ago. Long gone. Nice try though.” He knew he was being antagonistic. He didn’t care. The more flustered this asshole got, the easier it would be to take him out.
“You think I’m stupid?”
Well, yes.
“She’s in this damn house. Where is she hiding?”
Mike took in the hired man’s body language as he shuffled uncomfortably. After all, the guy had lost two other men outside. Were they friends?
Mike nodded toward the hall. “Bathroom. She had to pee?”
The man narrowed his gaze. “Get on the floor. Drop your gun. Hands where I can see them.” He wasn’t going to shoot Mike. At least he somehow recognized he needed Mike’s help to get to Zola.
Mike lowered his gun slowly as the masked man glanced around. His hand shook violently. Any second now, Mike would take a shot. No way was he going to set his gun down. Fat chance. “She’s not here, man. You can see that.”
The man took a quick step closer to Mike, his hand jerking so the gun waved in Mike’s face. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not an idiot. Now tell me where she is.”
Mike didn’t have a good shot. He couldn’t risk lifting his arm to take the guy out with him waving his gun around so erratically.
Suddenly, a shot rang out from Mike’s left, and the man in front of him faltered, swaying to the side.
That was all it took for Mike to lift his gun and fire a second shot. Right to the man’s forehead. He went down hard.
Mike jerked his gaze toward the kitchen, expecting to find a police officer or a member of SWAT. Instead, he found Zola on her knees, holding a gun, her hands shaking. She hadn’t lowered it yet.
Mike scrambled forward, coming up to her side and then slowly removing the gun from her hand—an amazingly nice Sig Sauer. “You were supposed to stay in the safe room.”
She jerked her gaze to his, frowning. “You were about to get killed.”
“No one was going to kill me.”
She lifted one brow. “Really? From where I was sitting, you were defenseless and he had his gun aimed at you.” She jerked her gaze to the dead man. “I shot him,” she said somberly. It seemed she just now figured that out.
Mike knew how hard it had been for her. She’d never shot a gun in her life, and she’d found herself forced to shoot a human.
“If it makes you feel any better, your shot wasn’t fatal. I finished him off.”
She nodded, but her gaze was still on the dead guy.
“Where did you get the gun?” He lifted it to see that it was not the average civilian piece.
“From the safe room.” She lifted her gaze. “I’m going to have nightmares.”
She was also going to get a lecture later about coming out of the safe room, but for the moment, Mike simply wrapped her in one arm and kissed the top of her head as sirens approached.
She swatted at him. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
He fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth while he pulled her face into his neck. “Can’t promise that. Unless you find a way to cut down on the number of enemies you have.”
She batted at him again with both hands. “You scared me to death. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive out here.”
“I’m a pretty good shot. Told you that. Those guys didn’t stand a chance.” He tucked her face toward his chest, pulled them to standing, and led her to the front porch.
“Tex’s house,” she whispered.
“Yeah. Hope he has good insurance.”
She swatted him again.
* * *
It was late when Mike finally lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed where Zola was already sprawled out. Another hotel room. Another city. At this rate they would wake up confused every day of their lives. He’d left the light on in the bathroom with the door ajar just to keep them from fumbling around in the night.
“You okay?” she asked, pushing to sitting and leaning over him. She set her chin on his shoulder. Her hair was still damp from a shower, the curls falling in gorgeous ringlets around her face and down his arm.
Ten thousand things raced through his mind, but he needed to get one thing off his chest before it consumed him. “You scared the hell out of me today.”
“How?” She lifted her chin.
“I told you to stay in the safe room. You could have been killed.”
She groaned. “Seriously, Mike? That’s so over-the-top macho of you. A terrorist was holding a gun to your head. Was I supposed to watch you get shot?”
He spun to face her, grabbing her biceps, frowning. “You wouldn’t have even known he was there if you had stayed in the safe room.”
Her voice rose. “Are you listening to yourself? You were almost killed.”
“Are you listening to me, Zola? You could have been killed.”
“Well, you would never have known about it from your own grave, Mike.” She shrugged out of his grasp and scooted back. Her face was red with anger.
He rubbed his forehead. “You didn’t even know how to shoot that gun.”
“And yet I managed to do it. There were so many shots. All I could do was imagine you outnumbered and dying. I found that gun in Tex’s safe room and knew I had to help if I could.”
Why couldn’t she see reason?
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not a damn child, Mike. I’m a woman. A grown woman who is in love with the boyfriend she lost twelve years ago and was not about to risk losing him again. If you can’t understand that, then I don’t know what else to say.” She lowered her face as her words fell.
She loved him. So much she risked her own life for his.
He reached for her chin and lifted her face. “I love you so much it hurts.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I was scared. I’m still scared.”
“I know.”
How could he continue to be mad at her? It was over. He needed to move forward. Continuing to berate her for risking her own safety was pointless. The better plan would be to empower her so that if she ever found herself in a situation like that again, at least she would be able to fire a weapon with enough accuracy to shoot to kill. If he hadn’t been there ready to fire the killing blow, the assailant could have turned around and killed her.
He swallowed. “I’m taking you to the firing range first chance we get.”
“’Kay,” she whispered.
At least she didn’t argue that point. He hugged her tighter against his body. “I’m exhausted.” He wanted the entire day to disappear. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, inhale her clean scent, and nibble on her ear. But he wasn’t kidding. He was beyond tired. Although, he wasn’t sure he would be able to fall asleep anytime soon.
The day had been long. It took a while to piece together that the three thugs who tried to capture or kill Zola this second time were hired hitmen. The Johanssons were wealthy, but they struck out a second time. They were also picked up later in the day and wouldn’t be given a second opportunity to post bond.
“Sleep.” She patted his chest as he lowered onto his back, hugging her against his side. “We’re safe.”
Were they though? Would Zola ever really be safe while she spent her days prosecuting terrorists?
He closed his eyes, but his mind raced through the events of the day. He felt horrible about Tex’s home, but his friend had assured him repeatedly that the house was insured and Mike wasn’t to blame for anything that happened.
Although it would seem unimaginable that anything could have complicated his life any more after the morning they had, he’d been proven wrong.
His boss with the FBI called. He needed him on another assignment. Even though Mike had been scheduled for another week of vacation and he had yet to take more than a few days of said vacation, the government needed him now.
He knew Zola thought he was preoccupied with her safety, and she wasn’t wrong, but he was even more concerned with telling her his plans and discussing a future that looked so complicated he couldn’t bring himself to face it.
On the one hand, he loved his job and he was good at it. He couldn’t imagine giving up his work with the Bureau to move to New Haven. What would he do there?
On the other hand, the mere thought of spending even one night away from Zola at this point brought bile to his throat. He’d lost her for twelve years due mainly to his own stupidity. He didn’t intend to lose her again. Not even for twelve hours. But she had a job she loved too. In Connecticut.
“Mike?” Her small hand wandered up and down his chest. “You’re so tense. And I know you aren’t sleeping.”
He sighed, reaching to clasp her hand in his and squeeze it. “Sorry.”
She lifted her face and met his gaze again in the dim light of the room. “Don’t be sorry. You want to talk? Clear your mind?”
He cringed. “Not really. What I want is for life to be less complicated so I can spend the next seventy years with my woman.”
She sighed. “You’re worried about what we’re going to do next? I mean, with me going back to work and you being assigned God only knows where. Right?”
He stroked a hand through her damp curls. “Seems that’s going to happen sooner rather than later.”
“What do you mean?” She flattened her palm on his chest.
“My boss called. I didn’t want to tell you yet.”
She pushed off him so that more space separated them. “Why keep that from me?”
“Because it’s a hot mess, and I don’t have answers, and it seemed easier to ignore it and enjoy you for another day.”
“A day? When do you have to leave? Where are you going?”
“Atlanta. They need me to be there yesterday. I told them Monday.”
She nodded, her mouth hanging open. “I see.”
He pushed to sitting and hauled her stunned limp body onto his lap. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I guess I thought if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be true yet.”
“But it’s real. And we need to discuss it together.” She faced him, grabbing his shoulders.
He swallowed. “How the hell are we going to work this out? You have a job you love in Connecticut. I have a job I love that’s sending me to Atlanta. A townhome in North Carolina is a long daily commute.”
She smiled, though he thought it was forced. “I’m not sure a daily commute is reasonable.”
“And I’m not interested in sleeping in two different cities.” He leaned back against the headboard, still holding her, tipping his head to face the dark ceiling. “I need to resign.”
“You can’t resign. You’d resent me for the rest of our lives. I know you. You need to keep this job. I’ll resign.”
He lowered his face to shoot her a narrowed look. “And that’s just as absurd. You worked your whole life for this position with the DA. In fact, that’s the precise reason your dad didn’t want us to get together in the first place twelve years ago. He’d have a coronary if you did that. And so would I.”
“Which is precisely why you took his advice and left me alone.”
“Well, yes.”
“You planning to break up with me again now?” She pushed his arms away from her, climbed off him, and scooted to stand next to the bed. “Mike? Is that what you’re holding back? You think we should end this thing because it seems insurmountable and neither of us wants to give up our jobs?”
He stiffened, following her to the edge of the bed and then remaining seated when she backed up with her hands out. “No.” He shook his head. “Not a chance in hell. We are not going to break up. Ever. Got me?” He watched her bite her bottom lip, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “Baby, you mean more to me than any stupid job. The only reason I didn’t tell you about the Atlanta gig yet was because I was trying to come up with a solution.”
She nodded. Too hard. A tear slid down her face. “Let me quit. Please, Mike. It’s not that one of us has to be a martyr. Don’t look at it that way. Think of it as us making the most economical choice. My job pays shit. It’s practically below the poverty level. So let’s keep yours. I’ll find work in Georgia. I don’t have to work in New Haven. They hire lawyers all over the country.”
He stared at her for a while, watching her body language as she folded her arms and cocked a hip. She hated the idea of leaving New Haven. No matter what her words were, they didn’t match her stance. He groaned and rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “That’s not a good option.”
“You have a better one?”
“Yeah, I already said it. I’ll move to New Haven. I can also easily get a job. I can do lots of things.”
“They have a big call for FBI agents who specialize in biological warfare in Connecticut all the sudden?”
“No. But I’m a biologist first. And an agent second. I don’t have to continue to work for the FBI.” Could he do it? Could he quit and walk away?
Fuck yes. And he would.
“That idea sucks, Mike. You can’t do it.” She shook her head again.
“Another reason to stay in Connecticut is because your dad is there. You’re the only one of us who even has family, and I know you’ve always been close to him. I don’t want to move you away from your father.”
“Right now I’m kinda pissed at him, and you should be too.”
He shrugged. “We’ll both get over it. He’s your father. He’s only ever had your best interests at heart. Maybe he made some poor choices, but he meant well.”
“He meant well?” Her voice rose as she unfolded her crossed arms and held them out. “He ruined twelve years of my life with his antics, Mike.”
“I know, baby.” Mike spoke calmly, hoping to convince her to forgive the man. It wasn’t that Mike wasn’t also seething inside over lost time, but he wanted her to reconcile with her dad and move on at the same time. His spine wasn’t so flexible that he would permit the man to continue to manipulate the two of them, but the past was the past. It was time to forgive. And it seemed in the few conversations he’d had with Richard that the man genuinely wished them well.
A tear finally slid down her face. She wiped it away. “Maybe I need some time away from Connecticut to cool off anyway.”
“Come here.” He held out a hand.
She wiped away another tear and padded toward him until he could reach out and grab her around the waist, nestling her body between his knees.
He wiped the next tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Forgive him. It will eat at you until you do. And moving to another state won’t make things better.”
“How can you be so forgiving?”
“I told you. Because I know what it’s like to not have any family. I’d give anything to see either of my parents, and I’d take them any way I could. Drug addicts, criminals, I don’t care. It would be worth it to have one hour with them. I won’t let you squander that ability.”
She didn’t say anything, but she watched his face.
Suddenly, he was certain he would quit. He had no idea why he’d been hesitant. It was a job. He could get one anywhere. She meant so much more to him than his position with the FBI. “It’s just a job, baby. I would be miserable in Atlanta without you. And I would fret about you leaving your position all the time. It’s final. I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and resign. We’ll go back to Connecticut and I’ll move into your condo.”
A sob escaped her lips. “You’re sure? It’s not even that big.”
He rolled his eyes. “You have a bed?”
“Of course.”
“Is it a twin?”
“No. You’ve seen my place.”
He gave her a wry smile. “That’s all I need.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. I would even sleep with you on a twin mattress. Or hell, the floor. I don’t care where. I just need to be with you.” He hugged her body against his tighter and leaned forward to set his lips on her ear. “Discussion over.”
She shuddered.
“I love you, Zola.”
“I love you too, Mike.”
“Settled. We’ll get married, move into your place, and start working on those kids. You still want 2.6 kids, right?” he teased. “That’s what you always told me when we were young.”
She sniffled. “Stop making me cry.”
He closed the distance and set his lips on hers, whispering against her mouth. “Maybe we could do something to lighten the mood.”
“I thought you were tired,” she mumbled back.
“Changed my mind. I can sleep next week while you work and I’m jobless. Perhaps I could become a kept man.” He lifted his brows. “I like that plan. I’ll lounge around all day while you work. Maybe pick up a soap opera or two.”
She smiled. “You wouldn’t last two hours.”
“Try me.”
* * *
Greg Lambert leaned back in the comfortable leather armchair, threading his fingers behind his head. He met the gaze of Vice President Warren Angelo and sighed. “You realize the stakes are higher than you thought, right?”
“Yes. I’m clear on that.” Angelo nodded, taking a sip of his bourbon.
Benedict Hughes cleared his throat. “We’re fighting this war on several fronts now. The CIA is aware of the new development.”
Greg shot his gaze toward Hughes. “It’s hardly a new concept. Our own citizens have turned against us before. I’m just pointing out that everyone you hire needs to be diligent and aware that they aren’t always looking for a Middle Eastern profile. Terrorists come in all flavors. No one has a monopoly on hatred.”
“You think these thugs the Johanssons hired were working for a terrorist organization?” Angelo asked.
Greg shook his head. “I don’t think it matters. The point is, they took this job just as easily as anyone else could have. And terrorists can easily prey on locals to do their dirty work for them. People join extremist movements all the time for a variety of reasons, including our own citizens. Half the time I’m not even convinced they realize what they’re fighting against or for. They’re just messed up individuals who feel the world owes them for some conceived wrong.”
Hughes sighed. “Point taken. You got your next SEAL lined up?”
“Yes. I’ll be in contact with him tomorrow.”
“We appreciate your service, Lambert.” The vice president was stoic as he spoke, his brow furrowed. “Without you, countless lives would’ve been lost in recent months.”
“It’s my pleasure to serve my country.” Greg stood, set his glass on the end table, and headed for the door.
There was no doubt the job was thankless, but he wouldn’t want to be in any other position at the moment. Serving his country. Saving lives.