Читать книгу The Men In Uniform Collection - Barbara McMahon - Страница 38

CHRISTIE STEPPED INTO the safe zone in the kitchen, and signaled Boone to follow. Once he was there, she touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been sulking for the last two hours. Is there something wrong with the plan?”

“No,” he said, as if she were the one who was being all weird.

“Then what the hell is it?”

“I told you,” he said, looking at everything but her, “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar. Somewhere between the bathroom and the kitchen, you went south, buddy. And since we’re talking about luring a lunatic into my home tonight, it would be nice to focus on that instead of you. So get over yourself, or tell me what I did so that I can apologize.”

“You didn’t do a goddamn thing.”

She sat down and put her head in her hands. Milo whined behind her, which was the perfect accompaniment. “Great. I’ve got the bastard watching my every move, a show to put on in under an hour, and now you’re throwing a hissy fit.”

When she finally looked up, Boone was glaring at her. She just glared right back. It was a game of chicken, and no way she was going to give in first.

“Oh, forget it,” Boone said, turning his back to walk out of the room.

“What is your problem?” she called after him, not understanding at all. He’d been so sincere in his apology that she’d found her resentment completely overshadowed. So what on earth had gotten him so angry since then? Goddammit, his pissy attitude shouldn’t matter at all. Her chest shouldn’t hurt like this, her hands shouldn’t be curled into useless fists. In fact, it was good to see this side of him. Here she’d been thinking he was this incredible guy, someone she could talk to, trust in, be herself with. She’d even thought that the two of them…

Was her judgment that off? Could she trust any of her feelings for him? Oh, screw it. She’d probably be dead by tonight, so what difference did it make?

BOONE HEADED INTO THE living room, but he couldn’t stay there. The fucking geek was watching and if Boone couldn’t kill him, he didn’t want to think about him. Which left the kitchen, already occupied, and the bathroom, which was not a great place to hang out in, especially when there was nothing to punch.

Anything was better than the living room, so he went down the hall, stopped at the bathroom door, cursed himself for a fool, then went right back to the kitchen.

Christie was sitting where he left her, the anger in her expression softened not by forgiveness but by sadness. Which made him feel even more like shit.

“What?” she asked, looking up at him with her big, dark eyes expecting nothing.

“I—” He shut his mouth, wishing he’d thought this through before making his entrance.

“You…?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you.”

She shook her head at him. “It’s just your time of the month?”

“Something like that.”

“Right. You know what? Fine. Apology accepted. No harm, no foul. I’m hungry, and we don’t have all that much time.”

She stood up, pushed her chair into the table with enough force to let him know that it definitely wasn’t fine.

Boone closed his eyes. The whole thing was nuts. So she didn’t think that much of him, so what? This wasn’t a popularity contest. He was here because he owed Nate, that’s all. Because he wasn’t about to walk out on her before they’d caught the geek. So they’d had sex. Big deal. It didn’t mean anything. She didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Sure he was attracted to her, so what?

He opened his eyes to find Christie holding a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a spoon. “What the hell’s that?”

“Ice cream.”

“You’re not having that for dinner.”

“Wanna bet?”

His anger rose again, filling him with heat and tension. “I’ll make you something, okay? You don’t have to lift a finger.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she said, tossing the lid in the sink. She took a big spoonful of the chocolate ice cream and shoved it into her mouth.

“Goddammit,” he said, crossing the room in three steps. “Don’t you get it?” He pulled the container from her hand and shoved it into the trash can. “You’re fighting for your life here. It’s not a game. He wants to do you harm.”

Christie turned halfway to the sink, then swung at him so hard and so fast, she blindsided him with a punch right to the jaw. It hurt like hell, too.

Her left arm came at him, but he snatched her wrist halfway to his face. “Ow.”

“Let me go, you big oaf.”

“No.” He could feel her trembling with rage.

She pulled as hard as she could. “Let go. I’m not kidding.”

“Not if you’re going to hit me again.”

“Eating ice cream isn’t going to make a damn bit of difference,” she said.

He dropped her hand and walked out of the kitchen. It was everything he could do not to put his fist through the wall.

CHRISTIE WRAPPED HER ARMS around her stomach, nausea making her breathe hard for a moment before she could even look at Boone. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that? I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to say.”

He touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “Christie, look at me.”

She met his gaze, fighting tears, fighting the urge to run until she couldn’t run anymore. She felt terrible about how they’d left things, what she’d said.

“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You’ve faced this thing for months, all on your own. Now we have a plan. A way to get your life back. We’re not going to let this prick take everything from you.” He looked at the front door, then back at her. “This is your home. It’s your right to have your privacy. This man is scum, you understand me? And he might have some sophisticated equipment, but underneath all that, he’s a coward. Nothing more. We can take him. We will take him.”

She took another deep breath, this time letting it out slowly, focusing on Boone’s eyes. She thought about that day at the supermarket, how that clerk had looked at him and turned white with fear. Boone hadn’t even been trying. Then she thought about last night. He might not have the kind of feelings she wanted him to have, but he cared whether she lived or died.

He was a warrior, a fighter, and he was putting all his fierceness and his focus on one thing. All she had to do was trust him. Trust that his plan would work. That Seth and Kate knew exactly what to say and how to act. And she had to trust herself. That was the big if, wasn’t it? Could she come through when it counted most?

“I believe in you,” he said. “I believe in you the way I believed in Nate.”

She sucked in a breath at the sincerity in his eyes, in his words. He meant that. He meant it from the heart, and dammit, she knew Boone Ferguson wasn’t a liar. He’d spent his whole life fighting for the righteous cause, just like Nate. And if he thought she could play this part, maybe she’d better believe him.

“Christie?”

“Okay,” she said. She sat up straight, put her shoulders back. “Let’s lock and load.”

“That’s the ticket.” He looked out the kitchen window one more time. “They’re gonna be here any second. Remember, you’re agreeing to all this because you’re in love. You’re going to be married.”

She nodded, resisting the urge to touch him. He needed to concentrate on the bad guy. Only that.

IT WAS TOO WEIRD, KNOWING the bastard was listening. Watching as Boone opened the door for Seth and Kate.

Christie had watched the tape of the bastard in her bedroom, pouring that horrible syrup all over her bed, and she hadn’t recognize him at all. Not on the first viewing or the fifth. She’d finally given it up, but now she wondered if she’d missed something.

“So what’s the plan?” Boone asked, walking his friends to the living room.

“Look, we tried, but this guy’s just not coming out. There’s really only two options,” Seth said, folding his arms over his chest. “Stay here and hope he makes a mistake, or get the hell out of Dodge.”

“I know what I vote for,” Christie said. “I have no interest in staying here. Not with him peering over my shoulder.” She moved closer to Boone. “Especially not now.” She held out her left hand, showing off the glittering diamond. “We’re going to be married.”

“Congratulations,” Kate said.

“Thanks.” Christie threaded her fingers through Boone’s. “So, will he know? That we’re leaving?”

Seth didn’t answer right away. He looked around the house, then met her gaze. “We got his cameras. And his microphones. He may be watching, however, so you’ll have to be damn careful you’re not followed.”

“We can be packed and out of here in an hour,” Boone said.

“That would be great, except we won’t have your papers until morning.”

Boone cursed. “I don’t want to be here a second longer than we have to.”

“We’ll be back by six,” Seth said, his voice so serious Christie believed him completely. “Be ready to go. Leave everything that could identify you here. If I were you, I’d destroy your address books and reformat your computer. Don’t take pictures or mementos. They’ll only come back to haunt you.”

“You don’t think I’ll be coming back?” she asked.

Seth shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, and took out a card that he handed to Boone. Christie glanced at it and saw it wasn’t a business card at all, but a note. She couldn’t read it though.

Boone put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the kitchen. Seth and Kate joined them, all in the corner by the fridge. Once there, Seth’s demeanor changed. He winked at Christie and clapped Boone on the back. “That RFID? It only had a half-mile range.”

“Which means he’s been close.”

“Too close. Be careful.”

“You think he’ll come tonight, right?” Christieasked, afraid even here where she knew there were no microphones.

“Yeah, we do.”

“Let’s get out there,” Kate said. “I want to reiterate the wedding thing.”

“Let’s get it over with.” Christie took Boone’s hand and led the group back into camera range.

“Thank you again, you guys,” she said. “It has to be expensive to get new identities.”

“No sweat,” Seth said. “And congratulations again on the wedding.”

“I thought about waiting,” Boone said. “But I’m not taking any more chances with her. No matter what, I want her safe. With me.”

“We won’t give up on finding him,” Seth said.

Boone pulled her close. “Good. We’ll pack it up and be ready to leave before six.”

Seth held out his hand. “We’ll see you then. Don’t worry about it. By this time tomorrow, you’ll have disappeared.”

They walked to the door, and watched as Seth and Kate got into his truck. The whole thing had lasted twenty minutes, and everyone had played their part to perfection.

When Boone closed the door, he surprised her with a kiss. Not a fake one, either. She knew it was for the camera but she didn’t care. He held her tightly, both tender and anxious, and she forgave him for being a jerk, because who wouldn’t be with everything they had to face? By the time he let her go, she’d even forgiven herself.

“Let’s get packing,” he said.

She wished they really were leaving. That the ring on her finger wasn’t borrowed. And as long as she was wishing, it would be great if her feelings for him were real, and if he truly did care.

BOONE WATCHED HER AS SHE folded clothes, putting them neatly into her large suitcase. She was all business, and she wasn’t even terribly freaked out by being in the bedroom.

She really was remarkably strong. She’d held up better than most men would have, and he wondered again why there were no women allowed in Special Forces. Yeah, they went into dangerous situations, but the women he knew were amazing warriors. Kate had faced things no one should. Kosovo had been as tough as it gets, and all she’d been concerned about was saving lives and making sure justice was served. Not easy when corruption was the order of the day, and no one cared who died in the pursuit of power.

Then Harper and Tam, they’d nearly been killed too many times to think about. Not a whimper out of either of them. They just did what needed to get done efficiently and smartly. He was proud he’d gotten to serve with them, and it pissed him off royally that they were in hiding now, afraid for their lives, living in the shadows, like him.

And if they didn’t catch the geek? He wouldn’t wish his life on anyone, let alone Christie. It was lonely and difficult, and there wasn’t a moment that went by that he wasn’t aware he was hunted.

He’d thought a lot about the geek, and the possibility that he was connected to the Company. Just thinking about that made him angry, and he had to get up from the bed and walk off some steam.

Christie looked at him, but he just paced, waiting for her to get done with her business. Jesus, he wanted to get his hands on that prick. If he was connected, then there was no choice, they’d have to take him out. Then they’d have to find his place and clean it out. All that before going deep underground yet again. A new name, a new place to live.

He wished they could just leave L.A., but that wasn’t possible, not if they wanted to ever get out of this mess. The men they were hunting had their headquarters here. The team had followed the evidence here, and this is where they’d get it back.

“Uh, Boone?”

He stopped. Christie stood a few feet away, concern all over her beautiful face. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Right. I’m done in here. I have to get Milo’s stuff put together.”

“Okay. I’ll get your suitcase.”

She watched him as he went to the closet, and he forced his thoughts to the here and now. Tonight might be the last time he ever saw her. If they were successful, and he had no doubt they would be, she would go back to her life, and he would go back to his. Maybe he’d figure out a way to check up on her. Make sure she was getting on all right.

No, that would be too difficult. He’d cut it off, make it quick. Say goodbye, and forget about her. When he was back in the world, that’s when he’d find her again. If she were still available—

“Boone?”

“Yeah, right. Suitcase.” He got the bag, in which she’d clearly packed bricks, and headed toward the living room. Christie followed until they reached the kitchen, where she went off to put together a bag of Milo’s supplies.

Boone put the suitcase near the door, then went to the window. It was too soon for the geek to make his move, but he’d be listening. For the next few hours, they’d have to appear happy, confident that they’d be making a successful escape.

Nothing was happening on her street. No one was walking a dog or watering the lawn. It was almost nine, after the dinner hour. Time for TV or homework, or whatever happy families did on a weeknight.

“Is someone out there?”

He turned. Christie was standing in the light from the kitchen, her hair dark and shiny, her T-shirt snug across her breasts and loose in the middle where it hid her Glock. “No, nothing.”

“I know it’s going to hurt your puritan soul, but I’m going to make cookies. You can come and scowl at me if you want.”

“Cookies? Again?”

“See? All’s right with the world.” She shook her head as she headed to the stove.

What the hell. Cookies, ice cream. She was right. Now was no time for denial. She could eat any damn thing she wanted tonight. Tomorrow, when it was over, he’d talk to her about her diet, and see if she’d be willing to make a few—

Shit. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t say a word. She could eat cookies for dinner forever, it was none of his business. He went to the kitchen table and sat down. Milo came over for a pet, and Boone obliged.

He watched as she got out yet another package of frozen cookie dough, then turned on the oven. She wasn’t shaking, or looking over her shoulder. In fact, she seemed remarkably calm. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low now that they were in the safe zone.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

She came to the table and sat down next to him. “Shockingly, yes. It’s going to go the way it’s going to go. I can’t do anything else to prepare, and I can’t sit here and worry because that wouldn’t do any good, either. So, it’s cookies and hot chocolate. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.”

“Damn,” he said.

Her lips quirked up on one side. “What does that mean?”

“It means I think you’re pretty amazing.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

She leaned over to brush her lips over his. “It’s mutual,” she whispered.

He held her steady with both hands and kissed her, hard. He hoped like hell it wasn’t their last.

THEY FINALLY GOT INTO BED at two. Of course, neither of them would sleep, but they had to keep quiet as well as stay alert. Christie had managed to feed him a half-dozen cookies, and he felt weighed down, even though he knew he was imagining things. Before a battle he liked to feel hungry.

The only thing he was hungry for was more time with her. Now that it was all coming to a close, he felt as if it had gone by in a flash. Forgetting her would take a hell of a lot longer.

Dressed and with her weapon snug in the waistband of her jeans, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her body. He got in next and once he was settled, he listened carefully, but there was only the soft sound of her breathing to break the early morning silence.

The worst part of the evening had been taking Milo out. They’d let him run in the backyard, both of them watching, and waited while he found the perfect spot to do his business. The whole time Boone been incredibly aware of Christie’s fear. She hadn’t said anything, but man, the vibes pouring off her were palpable.

He’d comforted her as much as he could, but in the end the only thing that had helped was coming back inside. Of course, that was where the real danger lay. If the geek was going to make his move, it would be sometime in the next few hours. Had it been Boone’s operation, he wouldn’t wait too long. The best time would be when the targets were in the REM cycle, about forty-five minutes after they’d first fallen asleep.

He stiffened as he felt Christie move, but realized quickly that she’d simply touched his side with her fingers. He found her hand with his and gave her a squeeze. What he wanted to do was hold her, but he couldn’t take the chance. They had to mimic sleep, get their breathing slow and steady. Holding Christie would make that impossible.

“I can’t stand this,” she whispered, so softly he just made out the words.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe deeply, visualize shooting the target. Go through every motion carefully and slowly.”

She tugged at his fingers and he heard her take in a long breath.

He, on the other hand, didn’t think at all about shooting, but about who it was that had done this to Christie. His vote was for an ex-boyfriend, someone she’d let go. He could understand being upset about that. Christie wasn’t your average woman, and for a man to find he didn’t measure up would be a real blow. The road from hurt to obsession wasn’t long. Given time, desire had morphed into the need for revenge, coloring his whole existence.

And that made this plan the right plan. This man, this sick bastard, wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of someone else taking “his” Christie away. He’d have to do something tonight, before she could be stolen. But how would he get into the house?

The last time, he’d cut open a window. If he did the same tonight, Boone would know it before he finished the first cut. Seth had put sensors on every windowpane in the place including the bathroom, even though the geek would have to be a child’s size to get in there.

If the geek were smart, and he was, he’d try another route. The garage, perhaps. There was only the one door which was locked, but not with a dead bolt. It wouldn’t be that difficult to jimmy the lock, and get in the house. The disadvantage there was his lack of a camera or microphone. He couldn’t know if someone was lying in wait.

He wouldn’t try the front door. The dead bolt, the likelihood of being spotted by a neighbor. The risks were too great. Which left what?

Milo whined, got up, turned in a circle, then lay down in the exact same spot next to the bed. His head went to his paws, then lifted again, looked about, then down. Boone supposed he was feeling Christie’s anxiety, but didn’t know what to do about it. He could just reach far enough to give the old boy a pet.

His hand went over Milo’s head and neck, and the dog snuffled his appreciation. Boone didn’t mind the contact, either. His thoughts turned back to the geek as he let his hand roam idly down Milo’s flank as he eliminated one entry way then another. His finger brushed against something that stopped him cold.

He touched it again. A dart. “Oh, shit,” he said, throwing off the cover and bringing up his gun.

“Too late, Boone. Why don’t you just put that down on the floor before I put my bullet through your brain.”