Gone Too Far (46 page)

Out in the hall Jazz and Stan intercepted them, standing up and making a very large wall between this room and the admiral.

He could hear the senior chief. “I’m sorry, sir. Only immediate family are allowed inside the ICU.”

Nice try, Stan. Tom squeezed Kelly’s hand.

“I think I’m getting more out of my being here than you are,” he told her even though her eyes were closed. “So maybe it’s okay if I have to go. I love you so much, Kel. I need you to fight for me. Whether I’m here or not, I’m with you. Just listen to that monitor, okay? Because that’s my heart, too.” His voice broke. “Every beep, that’s me saying that I love you. God damn it, I don’t want to have to leave you, but Tucker’s here, and—”

Her fingers moved. Her fingers
moved
and her eyelids fluttered.

“Nurse!” Tom shouted. “I need a nurse in here!”

Jay Lopez, the hospital corpsman from Team Sixteen, was beside him in a flash. Where the hell had
he
come from? The ICU nurse, an African-American woman who was nearly as tall as Tom, was just a few steps behind.

“She’s waking up,” Lopez said. “Man, you scared me, sir. I thought I was going to have to use the defibrillator.”

Mother of God, nearly the entire team, and their wives and girlfriends, too, were out there. They were standing back to give the medical staff room to maneuver, but they were all there.

“She’s okay,” Lopez called to them.

“She certainly is.” The nurse pulled the curtain around Kelly’s bed, giving her some privacy. “Good morning, Mrs. Paoletti,” she said as she adjusted the oxygen tube that fed into Kelly’s nose, as she checked the IV. “We’re very glad to see you today.”

“Tom,” Kelly whispered. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” he promised her. “I won’t.”

“No, he’s not going anywhere,” the nurse told her. “We’ve got an entire SEAL team guarding this door. And me, as well. I may not be a SEAL, but I am not afraid to call security to remove an admiral who has no business being here.” She glanced at Tom, then leaned closer to Kelly. “Oh, honey, don’t you love a man who’s not afraid to cry?”

“No,” Whitney said. “I’m having fun with you guys. Besides, Ashley’s a bitch.”

The phone rang, and the girl rocketed out of her seat. “I’ll get it.” She picked it up. “Hello?” A pause, and then a shriek. “Finally! Yes, send him up.
Definitely.
Front door. Thank you, Jim, I looove you!” She hung up the phone.

“Was that Jim from the gate?” Mary Lou asked.

“Yes, it was.” Whitney danced toward the door. “I’ll be right back. There’s a . . . a package I’ve been expecting, and it’s finally here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

She ran out of the room. A package.

They colored in silence for a while. In blessed, blessed silence. Even Amanda and Haley didn’t make any noise.

Please, dear Lord, don’t let Whitney’s package be firecrackers. Or a case of whiskey. Or a new powerboat. Or—

“What’s a bitch?” Amanda asked.

“That’s not a very nice word, honey,” Mary Lou told her as mildly as she could manage. She smiled at Haley, who was all eyes—and ears. “So we won’t use that one again, okay?”

“Mrs. Downs is a bitch,” Amanda said.

“No, she’s not,” Mary Lou said, even though she was thinking, Oh, yes, she is. “Mrs. Downs is just a little grumpy sometimes. If we smile at her, maybe she won’t be so grumpy.”

“And maybe the sky will fall.” Whitney was back. “Look who’s here,
Mary Lou.
”

What did Whitney just call her? Mary Lou looked up, and, dear Lord God in heaven, Ihbraham Rahman was standing just inside the playroom door.

“How did you—”

“It’s this new device that sends a signal that messes with the receiving cell phone. The last number you dialed shows up on your screen instead of my real incoming number. Slick, huh?”

“Very.”

“So who’d you think I was?”

“None of your business,” she said much too sweetly. She was definitely still pissed at him.

“I wish you’d called me back. I really have to talk to you.” Max didn’t sit down at the desk, knowing if he did, he’d automatically start reading files. This conversation deserved 100 percent of his attention. He looked out the window, instead.

Florida’s sky was its own special shade of blue. He could see the water from here, sparkling in the sunlight.

“I’m a little too busy right now to return phone calls to jerks,” Alyssa told him. “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” he said. “But I’ll make it quick. I can’t marry you because I’m more of a jerk than you think. I’m sorry. I, um, really screwed up last night and—”

“Oh, Max,” she said. “I already know. You don’t really think you could stop answering your phone for all those hours and not have anyone notice?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I figured there’d be rumors. I just wanted you to hear it from me first. And I wanted you to hear the truth.” He took a deep breath. “God, Alyssa, I slept with her.”

She laughed, a low, warm sound. “About time. Are you okay?”

“No,” Max admitted. It was possible he was never going to be okay again. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Uh-oh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I’ve handed in my letter of resignation.”

“Max—”

Max rested his head against the warm glass of the window. “Effective as soon as this mess is over or by the end of the month, whichever comes first.”

“My God—”

“I’ve recommended that Peggy Ryan take over as team leader,” he said, “and that you be moved into the position she’ll be vacating.”

“You can’t do this!”

“I screwed up, Alyssa,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have slept with her. She’s still so vulnerable and . . . and that’s not even taking into consideration that not even forty-eight hours earlier I’d asked you to marry me, which, by the way, was also completely inappropriate.”

“I said no,” Alyssa reminded him.

“You said you’d think about it.”

“Yeah, but I was going to say no, and you knew it. Come on, Max, we both knew you weren’t serious.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was.”

“Please don’t quit,” Alyssa said. “How can you quit? We
need
you.”

“How can I
not
quit?” he asked. “Look, I have to go. I just wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“Running away is not the answer,” she told him. “
Damn
it, Max—”

“You get an update this morning from Jules?”

“Yes. Max—”

“Be careful,” he said. “The threat is very real. This is not just a terrorist cell we’re dealing with, with their two weeks of terror-camp training. This is a professional, a high-level operative—I’m guessing a mercenary—who doesn’t want his identity known.”

“Max,” she said. “Please listen to—”

“I’m terribly sorry if I hurt you—”

“You
didn’t
.”

“I’m still sorry,” he said. “And I do have to go.” He hung up the phone.

Florida’s sky was still its own special shade of blue. He could still see the water from here, sparkling in the sunlight. He could see pelicans gliding effortlessly along on the air currents. He could see the causeway over to Siesta Key.

Where Gina was getting ready to check out of her room.

Max turned away from the window. “Laronda!” he shouted. “I need my car!”

By the time he opened his office door, his assistant was already off the phone. “It’s waiting for you out front,” she told him, giving him absolutely zero crap for shouting.

He hadn’t told her about the letter yet, but she knew something big was up and she was worried. He could see it in her eyes.

“I don’t know how long this is going to take,” Max said. “Field my calls, will you? I don’t want my cell to ring unless it’s the President or someone calling to tell me we’ve located Mary Lou Starrett.”

“Yes, sir.”

He headed for the elevator.

“How did you find me?” Mary Lou breathed. But she looked at Whitney, and she knew.

Yesterday—probably after she’d called Ihbraham—Whitney had referred to Mary Lou’s ex-husband as Sam, even though Mary Lou had never used his real name.

That
was what had been gnawing at her, making her anxious.

“Whitney called me,” Ihbraham told her in that musical, faintly British accent that was so familiar to her. “It didn’t make much sense at first—I didn’t know who she was talking about—but then I realized that it must be you. She said Sam is trying to kill you? I don’t understand this. When you spoke of him before you said he’d never hurt you. But she said you were here and that he was after you, and that you needed me, so I got in my truck and . . . here I am.”

Oh, Lord, oh,
Lord . . .

“I found him by calling information. There was only one Ihbraham Rahman in San Diego.” Whitney smiled, proud of herself. “Aren’t you going to kiss him?”

Mary Lou nearly slapped her. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve killed us all!” Keeping her voice low so Haley and Amanda wouldn’t freak out, she pulled Ihbraham with her out the door and into the hall. “What I
needed
was for you to stay
away
from me!” She couldn’t believe this was happening. “I needed you not to get killed, like Janine!”

“Your sister is dead?” he asked.

“Yes, they killed her. Oh, my God, Ihbraham! My
God
! We have to get out of here. Right
now
!” Whitney was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Get Haley and Amanda,” she ordered the girl. “Take them to their room, and get Pooh and Dinosaur and sweatshirts for everyone. I have to get something out of my apartment, then we’re heading for the garage. We are leaving here. Now.”

“
Who
killed Janine?” Ihbraham asked, catching her arm. “Sam? Mary Lou, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

It was his hand, with his long, graceful, dark brown fingers, so warm on her arm, that made her start to cry. She grabbed for him, holding him tightly as she kissed him, her arms around his neck.

“Ah, Mary Lou,” he breathed. He held her just as close as he kissed her, too, just the way she remembered, the way she’d dreamed about for months and
months
, with real love—his lips so gentle, his mouth so soft. “I prayed for you to call me. I thought you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t call because I love you,” she told him through her tears. “I was afraid they’d kill you, too.”

“Who?” he said, pulling back to look at her.

Whitney, of course, was still standing there, gaping, along with the girls.

Mary Lou wiped her face. She’d promised herself she’d never cry in front of Haley. “Run ahead and get Pooh Bear and Dinosaur,” Mary Lou told the two little girls as cheerfully as she could.

Then she told Ihbraham, and Whitney, too, as she led the way down the hall to her apartment.

About the gun she’d found in the trunk of her car. About the way it disappeared before she could show it to Sam. About seeing Bob Schwegel, Insurance Sales, again, outside Janine’s house. About Janine lying dead in the kitchen. About Mary Lou’s frantic flight and her attempt to hide.

About the fact that Bob knew of her relationship with Ihbraham, and that he’d surely followed him here.

“Get sweatshirts,” Mary Lou told Whitney again as she went into her bedroom, went into the closet, and started loading all those guns she’d taken from King Frank’s office into her beach bag.

She’d never heard Ihbraham curse before, and she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him curse now, because whatever he said, it wasn’t in English. She suspected, though, that it was the Arabic version of
holy shit
.

“Wait,” he said, kneeling down next to her on the floor. “Mary Lou. Wait. This is . . . No, this is not the answer. If you are so certain we’re in this much danger, we need help. We need to call the police.”

“They’ll arrest me,” she told him.

He caught her hands. “If they do, they will quickly see you’re innocent of any wrongdoing. This is not the answer. Running and hiding and living in such terrible fear.” He pushed her hair back from her face. “Please listen and trust me. It’s time to ask someone in authority for help.”