Operation Willow Quest (22 page)

His lips thinned slightly. “Yeah, got
busted down from Gunnery Sergeant to Staff
Sargent
a few months ago.”

“What
for?”

“Hitting
an officer.” From the lack of remorse she read on his face, she gathered the
officer had more than likely had it coming. Rank was pretty important to these
guys and losing it wouldn’t have been something he’d have risked lightly.

“You back from leave then?” she asked as he
came to a stop before her.

“Passed the medical,
but I’m on light duties for a while.”

“So what was so damn
urgent I had to stop work for?”

“You’re needed at a
meeting.”

“What kind of meeting?”

“I’m not at liberty to
discuss it, just come with me.”

“What do you mean
you’re not at
liberty
? Where are we
going?”

Del
turned to walk back to
the car. Sliding his arm around her waist, he gently yet firmly propelled her onwards
and opened the passenger side door for her.

Del
’s serious expression
and lack of conversation did nothing to ease her concern. She knew she wasn’t
in any danger, but this wasn’t normal Delaware
behavior. She almost preferred his usual barbed innuendoes to this stone-faced
Marine man beside her now.

As the gates to the
base came into view though, she was instantly on guard. “What are we doing
here?”

He didn’t answer and
before she could press him on it, they were showing ID and passing through
security checks. Then, slamming the door, she followed Del across the manicured,
military-perfection lawn into a building and down a long corridor. The room was
informal enough for a military base, with a long conference table and
whiteboards covering the walls. With her arms folded across her chest, Willow stared at Del
pointedly as she watched him take a seat and lean back casually, his fingers
laced together behind his head, eyeing her calmly.

“Take a seat, Miss
Sheldon,” a clipped voice said, startling her, and she turned quickly to discover
an older, distinguished man in uniform stride into the room with the confidence
of a seasoned military man, to take a seat at the head of the table.

Tupper, Maloney, Tate
and another two men—in suits, not uniform, she noted—all filed into the room
within a matter of moments, bringing yet another frown of confusion to her
face.

Willow
stared at the
collection of men in the room and remained silent. She had a feeling she was
about to find out why she was here, and something told her it wasn’t going to
be pleasant.

“Gentlemen, and Miss
Sheldon,” the older man said as soon as everyone was seated around the table, “we’ve
had a break through, our assassin has made an attempt, and thankfully failed,
but I think you’ll all agree it’s become a little too close to home for
comfort.” He paused and Tate gave a loud grunt in agreement.

“These men are federal
agents who’ve been working on the
Trèago
case, and
they think they’ve made some progress, so I’ll hand over now to Special Agent
Graham to fill us all in.”

“Thank you, General.”
Special agent Graham was a rather plain-looking middle-aged man who would blend
into his surroundings quite well. There was nothing particularly memorable
about him, even though he seemed quite capable and every inch the professional,
confident FBI agent. “We’ve managed to limit the contact
Trèago
has had over the last few weeks, and we’ve ascertained there is indeed a leak
within the prison. We believe we’ve narrowed down the number of our suspects,
with some intensive surveillance, so it won’t be long until we’re able to shut
down his line of communication. Until then, we need it open so we can continue
to monitor the situation. The bad news is we’ve intercepted a phone
conversation that gives us a great deal of concern.
Trèago
has upped the anti, and seems to be in a hurry to make sure his targets are
eliminated as soon as possible…” He paused again, his glance bouncing off each
of the people seated around the table. “He’s doubled the bounty.”

A reaction, so fast and
painful in Willow’s
chest, made her gasp softly at the agent’s news.

The General spoke.
“Added to the latest development, we can safely say things are getting too
dangerous to continue with the original plan. We feel it’s time for drastic
action to force the hand of this assassin—whoever he may be.”

“What are we talking
about here, General?” Tate asked, swiftly.

“We want to use live
bait,” Agent Graham answered with blunt simplicity.

“You want to draw them
out with one of us as the bait?” Del
clarified in a steady voice.

The agents both nodded
and the men around the table all seemed to release a breath at the same time,
as they considered what this new plan would involve.

“Okay, so what do you
want us to do?” Tate asked.

“You, nothing. It’s
Miss Sheldon we want,” Graham, announced, turning his nondescript eyes upon Willow with a steady,
calculating expression.

“No way,” Tate said,
shaking his head swiftly, his glare hardening on the agent.

“We understand your
reaction,
Gunnery
Sergeant
Maddox.
However, your sister-in-law seems to be the person
Trèago
has put the most emphasis on eliminating first. It makes sense we use her as
our lure if we want to put an end to this matter,” he explained coolly.

Tate gave another shake
of his head, but the Agent cut in smoothly. “Miss Sheldon is a civilian, so it
will be entirely up to her. She can refuse if she feels uncomfortable, and
we’ll leave it at that,” he told Tate, his gaze coolly professional, before he
slid it across to rest on Willow.
“However, I must point out, she is our best option at the moment, and I
strongly suggest we consider this as our optimum choice.”

Willow felt all eyes
watching her—the intense observation though was Del’s, and she briefly allowed
her gaze to touch upon his, reading the concern and fear for her safety without
much trouble before she switched her attention to Special Agent Graham. “If it
means we can end this madness, count me in,” she said in a voice that barely
shook, despite the fact her hands were trembling so much she needed to thread
them together on the table in front of her to stop them.

“Over my dead body,
Sheldon,” Del
all but growled across at her. “I’ll do it. I’m on his list, and I don’t care
how far down it I am, they’re hardly going to pass up a change to get one of
us. There’s no way in hell you’re going to let her out there in some lunatic’s
sights. General, think about it—if this goes bad, can you really risk the
fallout from the international incident this would cause?”

“International incident
my
ar
—” Willow
started, but was abruptly cut off when Tate jumped in quickly:

“I agree with Staff
Sergeant Delaware,
we can’t let a civilian take a risk like this, sir; it’s not negotiable.”

“For the love of God…”
she said, leaning across the table to stare angrily at Tate and Del, as their
jaws clenched into twin faces of stone, and both gazes snapped on to her
furiously. “Delaware,
would you stop being such a bloody hero all the time? Let the man talk.”

“Sir—” Del turned to his
commander urgently but the general put up a hand to stop his protest.

“Miss Sheldon seems to
be an intelligent woman, and she is going into this with her eyes open. Let
agent Graham walk us through his plan—if at any point Miss Sheldon wants to
pull out, then she can. She will not be pushed into this by anyone,” he said,
sending a pointed look toward the FBI agents before his gaze settled once more
upon Tate.

A disgruntled Tate and
even angrier Del
glared daggers at the FBI men as they walked the room through their plan, and
at the end of it, Willow couldn’t bring herself to meet either one of their
pleading gazes. They had every reason to be concerned—it was dangerous, and if
she were in their shoes, she’d be worried too. But a greater fear drove her to
do this—the fear that until
Trèago
was stopped, she’d
never have her life back.

He still tormented her,
with every nightmare, every memory of the horrors he’d inflicted upon the
people in her life—she needed to do this, to face him and know he would never
be able to hurt her again.

*
* * *

Del
had never felt more
helpless or frustrated in his entire life.

As he sat and watched
Willow listening to the FBI as they ran her through their big plan, he studied
her face, seeing the fear below the surface that even as she tried to hide it,
he still glimpsed, and his gut twisted when he saw her lift a hand to smooth
her hair from her face. She was putting up a brave front all because of some
weird obligation she thought she owed Terry Sinclair—to see this through to the
end.

An image flashed before
his eyes from two years ago, of Willow as he’d carried
her from
Trèago’s
mansion in Cambodia—beaten,
broken and bruised, to the helicopter. A shudder ran through him at the memory.
There was no way in hell he was going to stand back and allow this woman to be
put through that kind of trauma again.

After the meeting, Del hung back, lifting
his chin toward Tate to let him know he’d be out in a minute. He closed the
door behind the retreating Marines, leaving him alone in the room with the
General and two FBI agents. He knew they saw the fire in his eyes by the
nervous glances the two FBI men swapped, but he focused on his commander—waging
his very own mini assault.

*
* * *

Willow
was given a day to
think it over, while the men went over the logistics of the plan. She was told
they’d be bringing her in the next afternoon for a final briefing if she still
wanted to go through with it.

Her main concern was if
she wanted to do this, she was going to have to give Summer an excuse as to why
she wouldn’t be around for next few days. It turned out not to be the problem
she’d envisioned, since Del and Tate swept in and took care of it in one fell
swoop. Del, still on light duty with his leg
not quite a hundred percent yet, announced he was taking Willow away for a few days. The bright smile
that almost split her sister’s face in half only made Willow feel worse. She hated toying with her
sister’s emotions like this, even if it
were
the only way to keep her safe…it didn’t make her feel any better.

Tate would tell Summer
he’d been called into work when the time came, and hopefully it would explain
their absence without raising too much alarm.

It did surprise Willow, though, to discover Del had actually been serious when he pulled
into a tourist resort after dinner, and she knew her face reflected the turmoil
inside her.

“This is part of the
plan, Sheldon. If you’re determined to go through with this—then this is the
condition I’m placing on it—we do it together,” he growled, turning to face her
in the front seat of his car.

“The FBI didn’t say
anything about you being a part of this,” she protested weakly.

His gaze swept across
her taut features. “That was before I stepped in to tell them it would be in
their best interests to make a few adjustments to the plan.” Willow shook her head in exasperation. “Can’t
you guys ever just butt out?”

“Not when it’s
something this important.”

“Unbelievable,” she
fumed. His scowl did nothing to calm her frazzled nerves.

“Take it or leave it,
Sheldon, we do this together—or you turn them down.”

“Fine. I don’t care; I
just want this thing over.” She dragged her gaze away from his tense face and
sighed.

“Join the club,” he
snapped, pushing open his door and walking to the rear of the vehicle to
retrieve their overnight bags. Willow
followed reluctantly, watching as he dropped the bags inside the doorway, crossing
the room to check the latches and openings at the window and in the
bathroom—she knew it was an automatic reaction.

“What now?” she asked.

“We wait. They’ll call
when it’s time to go over the plan a final time,” he said, dropping his large
frame onto the queen-size bed in the middle of the room.

“What do we do until
then?”

“I’m open for
suggestions,” he muttered sarcastically, as he reached for the remote for the
television.

“I’ve got a suggestion
for you,” she muttered beneath her breath as she moved across the room to look
out the window.

“Stay away from the
windows,” he called from his spot on the bed without taking his eyes from the
football game playing on TV.

With a frustrated
growl, she spun away from the window and stalked toward the small bar fridge.

“We need to keep a
clear head for this, Sheldon,” he warned, watching her rummage through its
contents.

Slamming the door shut,
she turned to face Del
angrily. “What would you suggest I do then, Del?”