“Let me trade myself for her,” Rowan said through clenched teeth, determined. “I’m a trained agent. I can protect myself.”
John laughed without humor. “I’m not sacrificing you for Tess. Or Tess for you. I’m going to get my sister out alive, and then I’ll kill the bastard for touching her.”
“He’ll know. Trading me is the only chance that everyone will make it out alive.”
“Everyone except you!”
“I’m prepared-”
“What? You’re prepared to die? Stop it, Rowan! You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for anyone. There’ll be more than a dozen agents-trained as well as or better than you-who will be around to make sure no one gets hurt. Sometimes, you just have to realize there are people as good as you out there who can do the damn job!”
He hadn’t meant to yell at her, but he was so stressed and worried about Tess he couldn’t think straight.
Her eyes narrowed and she pulled away from him. “You’re wrong. About this, you’re wrong.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He worked to control his fear. Scared people made mistakes. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not when the women he loved were in jeopardy.
Tess. And Rowan.
“Rowan,” he said, his voice softer, “please don’t make me worry about you. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
She stared at him for a long minute before saying, “And how do you think I’ll feel if Bobby kills you? Or Tess?”
There was a knock on the door and they both drew their weapons. John glared at her, and she stepped into the kitchen while he returned the knock.
Knock knock. Pause. Knock. Pause. Knock knock knock.
John opened the door. “Flynn?” the large, beefy man asked, his voice deep and low.
“Yes.”
“I’m Reggie Jackman. Collins sent me.”
John opened the door all the way and let Jackman in as he holstered his gun. Jackman was a large, broad man who looked like he could break someone’s neck without much effort. He extended his hand and John shook it.
“Thanks for coming on short notice.”
“No problem.”
John glanced at Rowan. He hated to do this, but it had to be done. “Ms. Smith isn’t too happy about being kept out of the op. I’d keep a close eye on her.”
Rowan’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. John had expected her to be pissed off. He didn’t expect her to look so betrayed.
But what choice did he have? She was safe here in Cambria. She’d be a sitting duck in L.A. He had to rescue his sister, but he couldn’t keep an eye on Rowan at the same time.
Without a word, Rowan left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. It sounded final.
Reggie nodded. “You can count on me. No one gets the drop on me, Mr. Flynn.”
John packed his weapons and ten minutes later was ready to go. He started for the door, then stopped.
He dropped his bag and strode to Rowan’s room. He didn’t knock, just let himself in. She sat in the lone chair in the corner, her laptop on the nightstand she had pulled over and converted into a makeshift desk. But the screen was blank.
When she looked at him, he saw her struggle to control her emotions. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but none fell.
He pulled her out of the chair and kissed her hard, holding her face in his hands. He didn’t want to let her go, but he had to. He hoped she understood. And would forgive him.
He looked her in the eyes. “I love you, Rowan. I will return. I promise.”
Before she could say anything, he turned and left.
Rowan sank back into the chair, her hand touching her lips. She still felt his kiss and heard his voice.
She breathed deeply, a hitch in her chest forcing a sob from her lungs.
Everyone she loved ended up dead.
She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall. Trapped, alone. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bodyguard she didn’t know, who didn’t understand her. John off fighting her battles, his sister held hostage by her sick, twisted brother.
She wouldn’t let them die.
It didn’t matter what John thought; during the last few weeks Rowan had learned an awful lot about her brother. And she had her memories. Bobby wouldn’t be fooled by a decoy. He’d want proof. Certainly Quinn and Roger knew that!
They probably thought they could talk him down. Or find a clean shot. And most of the time, either of those scenarios would work. But Bobby had been planning this for years. He’d been in prison. He probably had skills and ideas they couldn’t plan for. Tess was a hostage; he would not give her up.
Roger would understand that. Shoot to kill.
Rowan didn’t feel good about this. Something was wrong. Bobby wouldn’t walk into that situation without complete confidence he’d be able to walk out-with Rowan.
He wouldn’t kill her on sight. No, he wanted to play with her. Torture her. Show her who was boss, who had won, who was going to kill her. Had she been in her house last night, he wouldn’t have kidnapped Tess. He would have tried for
She slammed the laptop closed. Damn, she should have been there!
She didn’t fear him anymore. Not personally. But she feared what he would do when she didn’t show up at the exchange. She wanted no more dead bodies on her conscience.
John had written the directions on a notepad next to the phone. He’d taken only the top sheet. She had one ace up her sleeve, and she was going to use it.
She rose and crossed to her bag. Pulling out her toiletries, she found the bottle of prescription sleeping pills a doctor had given her years ago. She rarely used them, because she feared sleeping too deeply would prevent her from pulling herself from the nightmares that hounded her. But it had become a habit to take them with her, a reminder of her weakness.
Silently, she locked the door. Then, she took out her knife and cut the pills as best she could, pounding them to dust with the dull end.
She didn’t want to hurt poor Reggie Jackman. He was a big guy. Four pills should knock him out.
Roger paced in the Dulles terminal and waited for his flight to be called. His assistant stood several feet away, knowing better than to disturb him when he was in this pensive mood.
Once he landed in Burbank, he’d have six hours to orchestrate the trap. Bobby would be expecting something, so he had to make it
Roger’s gut churned knowing that Bobby had Tess Flynn captive. He had no doubt she was alive at this point, but for how long? And in what condition? He should have killed Bobby MacIntosh when he had the opportunity twenty-three years ago. It would have cost him his job, his career, and his family, but the bastard would be dead and all these people wouldn’t have suffered. His quiet complicity in their deaths would haunt him to his grave. While he’d never lied to his boss or the government, he’d made several missteps over the last few weeks that could still cost him a reprimand or worse.
He should have checked on Bobby after the first murder, but Roger never thought he could orchestrate such an elaborate, undetected escape.
