I'd Rather Be In Paris (34 page)

Conrad Flynn watched Vaughn assist the Medivac EMTs as they lifted Zara into the Army helicopter. He fully expected Vaughn to jump in, even if he had to kick one of the EMTs out to make room, so he could accompany her to the U.S. military hospital in Berlin.

When Vaughn stood back and let the helicopter rise into the air without him, Conrad sensed it was the hardest thing the Commander had ever done in his life.

As the helicopter's noise faded, Vaughn ran back to him. “I need ten minutes alone with Vos Loo."

"I've already downloaded the information on the flash drives to Del. He'll find the antidote."

"Zara doesn't have that much time. Course of treatment needs to start now."

"Vos Loo is zipped up tighter than Fort Knox."

"Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking for.” He pleaded with his hands out in front of him. “She's one of yours, Flynn. You can't let her die."

Conrad understood Vaughn's determination, shared the feelings of responsibility for Zara's condition. “Officially, I can't condone torture."

"No, sir. How about unofficially?"

He considered that for all of two seconds. “Unofficially, I want you to do whatever it takes to save my officer."

"That's the op plan."

A few seconds later, Vaughn disappeared into the bunker, John Quick following in his footsteps.

Julia slid up next to Conrad and circled his arm with hers. “I'm surprised you're not in there with him."

"Blame your boyfriend. Stone's turned me into a pansy-ass government official just like he is."

She chose to ignore his dig. “Lawson seems like a competent guy. I think Zara's life is in good hands."

"I sure as hell hope so."

Flynn had given him ten minutes to break Vos Loo. It took him three. Running out of the bunker with the combination of drugs to save Zara's life written on a piece of paper, he found Flynn standing exactly where he'd left him.

"I've already contacted the hospital and spoke to the doctor in charge of Zara's case.” He handed Flynn the paper and gave Julia a nod of recognition. “Requesting permission to use your helicopter to follow up in person."

Flynn took the paper and gave Lawson a look of disbelief. “Can Vos Loo walk out on his own or do I need to send in a stretcher?"

"I never touched him, sir."

A smile broke over Julia's face. “How did you get the antidote?"

"I offered him a job."

"A job?” Flynn's sharp voice caught the attention of those nearby.

It was all he could do to stand still and explain that once in a blue moon delicacy worked better than a sledgehammer. “If you don't want him working for someone else, you better put him to work for us."

For a split-second, Flynn just stared at him. Then he chuckled and shook his head. “Good work, Commander. Permission granted. Let's go."

Johnny fell into step with them and as they passed Christian, the man yelled at Lawson. “
Pas de deux
, Lawson. Take care of her."

He nodded at Christian and ran for the helo for all he was worth.

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Berlin Army Hospital

For Zara, the hours moved like a mouse inside a snake, stopping and starting in fits. First came chills, then deep, aching pain in her hips and shoulders. Her lungs filled with liquid and she coughed violently for stretches at a time. Her nose bled.

Inside the quarantined room with its white walls, white sheets and hard, linoleum floor, she shook and vomited and bled and cried. The worried faces of nurses and doctors peeked out of biohazard suits as they swarmed in and out of the room, checking her vitals every fifteen minutes and shooting her IV full of drugs.

No one else was allowed in to see her. When the pain got bad enough and Zara was sure she would die, she told the nurse washing her face, “I thought I'd die by bullet or explosion. Something cool, you know? Guess the gossips at Langley will still have something to talk about."

The woman nodded inside her face mask and hurried out of the room.

The next nurse received a litany of orders from Zara. “Tell my mother Lucie can have all my clothes and shoes. Tell my dad I want all my trust fund donated to the South Side Dance Studio in the Bronx.” She hugged her stomach and rocked in the bed, trying hard not to whimper. “Tell Flynn there's a safe deposit box in a bank in Naples under the name Anna Zara Pavlova he should retrieve. And tell Lawson..."

Tell Lawson what? What could she will to the man who had risked his own life more than once to save hers? She released a breath as the stomach cramp diminished. “Tell Lawson he was a good partner."

At twelve-oh-six, she gave in to the whimpers and lost consciousness.

When she woke, she was no longer in the white room. A window admitted bright sunlight. Framed pictures of painted houses decorated the wall next to her bed. Vases and baskets of flowers, balloons and cards covered every surface.

"Welcome back,” a nurse in a colorful smock said as she pushed a cart into the room.

"I'm alive?” Zara asked, wiggling her toes for good measure. Her stomach ached and her head felt heavy, but the clawing pain was gone.

"Very much so.” The nurse moved to the bed and pushed a button, causing Zara's head to rise. “You're one very lucky gal. It was touch and go for the past couple of days, but the doctors are sure you're no longer contagious or at risk."

She smiled to herself. “I'm alive."

Over the next several hours, her family, including Lucie, came and went, filling her in on the details. Her mother brushed Zara's hair and Lucie applied makeup to Zara's face, a truce having been struck between the two women who both loved her.

Christian brought her a package. She opened it to find a new Prada jacket. “From Lawson,” he told her.

Lawson. Where was Lawson?

Director Flynn and his wife, Julia, were the last visitors the nurse would allow that day.

"What am I going to do with you, Tango?” Flynn said, setting a basket on her bedside table. A bottle of Dom was surrounded with packages of Ding Dongs. He tossed a package at her. “You nearly ended my career as DO before I even got started."

She fingered the package and set it on the blanket. “Where's Lawson?"

Flynn and Julia exchanged a look. A look that made Zara's stomach ache again. “Never mind.” Tears burned behind her eyes. “I didn't really expect him to be here."

Julia squeezed her arm. “He was here, Zara. He even stole a suit and snuck in here while you were unconscious. He held your hand all night and yelled at the nurses who tried to make him leave."

Zara's stomach dipped again for a completely different reason. “Then why isn't he here?"

"My fault,” Flynn said at Julia's raised brow. “We needed Pegasus in the field."

"Oh."

Flynn stared at her in silence, Julia again giving him a look and a get-to-it nod. He made a face at her and said to Zara, “You coming back to work for me?"

Zara considered his offer. She was a damn good operative, whether she played by the rules or not, and being a spook was the only thing she wanted to do. “Yes, but next time I pick my own partner."

Flynn held out his hand. “Deal."

They shook.

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30,000 feet, Eastern Atlantic Ocean

Ten days later

Pegasus was finally going home. As the Learjet sped through clear skies away from the rising sun, Lawson looked out the window at the peach-colored clouds below and tried to relax. He'd been awake for the past forty-eight hours straight and he was mentally and physically exhausted. He'd earned every minute of the two-week leave Flynn and Stone had promised him.

Settling a blanket over his tired body, he closed his eyes and thought of Zara. Her blue eyes and smiling mouth had invaded his every waking moment since he'd put her on the helicopter that whisked her away to Berlin.

Flynn had reported that, even after the antidote saved her life, Zara had been kept for observation and treated for dehydration before being released. The Director of Operations had personally escorted her back to the States forty-eight hours later and debriefed her. She'd been examined again by the specialists at CIA headquarters and vetted clean.

Lawson and his team had also received a standard physical and a psych evaluation in Germany, but what had taken days in Zara's case had been condensed down to hours for them. The morning after she'd been admitted and still lay half-unconscious from the drugs, the CIA had sent them to Yemen.

Lawson had balked, but Flynn insisted the danger had passed for Zara and another person needed his help. So Lawson and Pegasus went to find the lost spook Hoffman had told him about. They found him, but it was too late. The man had had his head cut off.

From Yemen, they'd been sent to Afghanistan where a reporter for NBC had been kidnapped. They had hooked up with Lt. Redington and his SEAL Team and once again, the combined units had pulled off a Hail Mary. Thirty seconds before the reporter was sure to die at the hands of an al-Qaeda lieutenant, Pegasus and the SEALs made a daring rescue.

One man lost. One man saved. When Lawson tallied up his mental scorecard, there were still more in the saved column than the lost. He should have felt good about that. Should have felt pumped after the last rescue.

Instead he felt like crap.

An image of Zara rose in his head. And then another and another. The last one at the end of the tunnel.
Have you ever heard of transference?

He'd been about to pour out his heart to her, tell her how he couldn't breathe without her, and then she'd told him about her crush. Told him she was in love with him.

Not him, the
hero
who had rescued her. The revelation had sent him for a loop. She said she was in love with him, but he knew she was confused. She was in love with Superman, the leader of Team Pegasus. Not Lawson Vaughn.

Throwing the blanket off, he sat forward and rubbed his eyes with his fists. Hell, he'd always known getting involved with Zara was a bad idea. He'd known he wasn't good enough for her, but even now he still wanted her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. He wanted to watch her sleep, make her laugh, listen to her swear.

He missed her.

The guys of Pegasus were some of the best friends Lawson had ever known. He loved the camaraderie and the competition between them whether they were rescuing an injured pilot or shooting hoops.

But they weren't Zara. Teddy, Rooster, C.J. and Johnny combined could not replace his liberal-viewed, lip-gloss wearing, terrorist-hunting partner.

After unsnapping his seat belt, he moved through the cabin of the plane. Most of his men were snoring, dead to the world. Only Johnny's curious eyes followed him as he walked by.

In the rear of the cabin, he sat next to the SATCOM phone and picked up the handset. He dialed Hoffman and waited for the phone to connect with the nearest satellite.

"How's she doing?” he asked when his favorite techie answered on the other end.

"Jesus, Law, it's five o'clock in the morning.” Del yawned in his ear. “Normal people are still asleep."

"You and I are not normal. We work for the CIA."

"How did you get my home number?"

"I may not be a super geek like you, but I do know how to use the Internet. Now tell me how Zara's doing."

Lawson heard the crunch of bedsprings. “She started her new job for Flynn Monday."

"New job?” Lawson's heart tripped a beat. “He's sending her back into the field already?"

"She's at the Farm. Teaching one-day workshops on hostage survival. Flynn figured her firsthand experience made her the perfect teacher."

Lawson whistled softly under his breath, relieved Zara wasn't going back into the field as a case officer yet and intrigued she would agree to teach a class at the CIA's training center. “She's not going back to Paris?"

"Flynn was going to send her back next week, but Deputy Director Stone wants to keep her out of France for awhile. Give things more time to settle down.” Del yawned again. “Rumor has it she's asking for placement in London. She plans to tackle a female Palestinian group the government believes is planning death and destruction on the Arab world."

Lawson smiled to himself. That sounded like the woman he knew. “Anything else?"

"You mean in regard to you? Sorry, Law. All us techies know is that Zara went extreme again and you saved the day."

Lawson grunted. “Truth's more complicated."

"Always is. One more thing you might be interested to know, Zara bought an old house outside Arlington. Some run-down duplex that's been sitting empty. Annette told me she and Lucie are using some of Daddy Morgan's money to open a dance studio for underprivileged kids once they get the place fixed up. Lucie's going to run it."

"Is she living at this house?"

"Why don't you just call her, man? Annette's got her number if you want it."

"What happened with Annette?"

"She's out of a job, but because of the extenuating circumstances and the fact she helped take out Biaggio and Vos Loo, her jail time will be cushy. Her sister was found and brought back to the States. Annette says she's a little messed up, but she's going to see a good psychotherapist courtesy of Zara."

Lawson sat back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling over his head. He couldn't call Zara. He didn't know what to say. In between rescues, he had called other people to check on her: Christian and even her parents. Sitting forward again, he glanced at his watch. “I'll be checking in at the office at 0800 hours. We'll talk more then."

"I want details."

"Done."

Lawson replaced the phone as Johnny slid into the seat opposite him. He pointed at the phone. “Zara okay?"

"Sounds like it."

Johnny nodded. “How ‘bout her sister? She doing okay too?"

Lawson studied his point man carefully. “Lucie's staying in the States for now. She and Zara are going to open a dance studio."

One eyebrow lifted. “Cool.” He glanced out the window. “Where's this studio at?"

"You got something going for Lucie now?"

Johnny blushed and sent his attention around the cabin, checking to see if any of the other men were awake. Satisfied they weren't, he looked at Lawson and said, “We shared a ... a
moment
. You know, after the rescue."

"A ‘moment', huh?"

"Are you going to bust my balls about this?"

Lawson laughed. “Studio's outside of Arlington. Del says they're fixin’ up an old house."

Johnny nodded and went back to staring out the window. After a minute he fidgeted in his seat and shot Lawson a glance. “Think Zara and Lucie might need some help?"

Lawson's spirits began to rise. Love was like a dark tunnel. You went in blind, never knowing what you'd find or where you'd come out. But if you didn't get down on your hands and knees and get dirty with it, you might never see the sunlight at the other end.

"I doubt they need help,” he said, giving his friend an understanding smile. “But they might enjoy our company."