Kilo looked back at the female cop. She didn’t want to shoot. He knew he could take both cops out before she even got off one round. He glanced at McCann. No threat there, either.
They’d already wasted too much time. He had to finish the job.
He spun and lifted his pistol with a speed that he knew was unmatched by anything these greenhorns ever faced. A gun fired. Kilo thought it was his, but suddenly he couldn’t find enough strength to fire a second shot. His pistol dropped to the floor. A second shot fired.
That one wasn’t his, either, he thought with surprise as the floor rose up to meet him.
Chapter 72
“The school bus will be here in fifteen minutes,” Amy warned her rambunctious children.
This morning, Kaitlyn couldn’t seem to decide between the white sneakers or the blue clogs.
Zack had been in the bathroom for more than five minutes, which meant there’d be some kind of disaster waiting for Amy in there. Yesterday, he’d created a mummy out of her bathroom magazine basket with toilet paper. The day before that, he’d poured an entire bottle of bath bubbles into the toilet. She didn’t want to guess what would be waiting for her today.
As Amy finished packing the two lunches and put them in the school bags, she found herself thankful, as always, for the noise and the mess and the bickering. She also found herself dwelling on changes that were in store for them.
After the hijacking, she’d taken a week off. Upon going back to EB the following week, however, Amy had realized that she couldn’t do it. She was ready for change. New hours. A different job. Something. She had to get out of the shipyard and away from the reminders of what she’d gone through.
These feelings were helped along by the fact that it was inevitable for another wave of layoffs to take place. The security problems associated with the Hartford hijacking were a smear on the shipyard’s reputation that wouldn’t be erased too easily. She was planning on putting a new resume together next week.
Amy’s gaze drifted for a second to the folded newspaper sitting on the counter. Darius smiled back at her from his photo in the Accent page, and she felt the now familiar tug on her heart. Darius McCann’s handsome face was worthy of a thousand articles, and he was a story that never got old. America loved its heroes, and he’d become even bigger news than John Penn’s narrow defeat of Hawkins in the Presidential election.
As far as the press and the public knew, the hijacking had been the work of a group of home-grown terrorists, although the details were still sketchy. Barnhardt’s name had reached the press, but not the others. The rest of the culprits had died in the plane crash. The tabloid press was still fuming daily at the secrecy with which the “ongoing investigation” was being handled.
Interestingly enough, since the recovery of the submarine, there had not been one whisper about any possible involvement on the part of William Hawkins or anyone else in his administration.
Sarah Connelly had called Amy the week following the ordeal. With the election turning out as it had, she’d told Amy that there probably wouldn’t be any immediate action to remove the President, but that the Vice President would be assuming most of his duties, without fanfare for the final days of the term. Still, she and Bruce were working with an elite group at the Justice Department to build the criminal case against the President, his campaign manager, and a handful of their helpers and financial backers. Admiral Meisner had not been implicated, Sarah told her.
Criminal charges would be brought against Hawkins and the others once he left office in January. Of course, there was always the chance that John Penn would sign a pardon for his former rival, but Sarah doubted that would happen. Knowing what she knew, Amy couldn’t help but agree.
Meanwhile, stories had leaked to the press about Commander Darius McCann’s bravery. He’d granted very few interviews. He’d made a point of flying to Florida to visit his parents and make sure his mother was recovering well, but he had yet to show up on the talk shows. The navy wanted to show him off, but he wasn’t ready to step into the limelight.
Amy had also been approached by reporters wanting her to talk about her experience, but she’d refused all of them — even the movie people. She wanted no reminders and no attention. She wanted to forget that she had ever been there. Beside, she had someone much better than Tom Cruise in her life.
Due to the investigations, Darius had been needed in Washington while Amy and the kids were in Connecticut. But for the past month, he’d come every Saturday and Sunday to visit. There was something very right about the time they all spent together. The twins had accepted him right away. He was fun, and he showed genuine interest in them, in their activities, their interests, and in Amy.
At the same time, she continued to have the nagging fear that he’d soon realize she was no fun. She and the kids were a package deal. There had been no crazy weekends with just the two of them. Their romance had to wait until the twins were tucked in bed. And even after that, she couldn’t let him stay the night.
Still, the sex was…
Amy let out a shaky sigh, wishing it was already Saturday. Then again, in spite of what he’d said, there was no guarantee that he’d even come this weekend.
“I want to wear the clogs, but I don’t have any blue socks.”
Kaitlyn’s voice from the doorway drew Amy’s attention back to reality. She fought back a moment of guilt at allowing herself to daydream like this, but she couldn’t help but feel the heat on her face. She looked at the clock.
“Five minutes till the bus,” she said, hurriedly zipping up the lunch bags. “Honey, you don’t wear blue socks with blue shoes. White socks will look better.” She knocked on the bathroom door. “Zack, did you fall in?”
“But I want to try blue socks.”
“You don’t have blue socks. Why don’t you wear white ones today, and I’ll buy you blue socks over the weekend.” She turned in the direction of the bathroom again. “Zack, it’s time to go.”
Kaitlyn disappeared inside her bedroom. Amy glanced at the kitchen and all the dirty dishes and cringed. She’d made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
She caught a glimpse of her daughter passing by the doorway. Kaitlyn was undressing. Amy rushed to the bedroom.
“Honey, what are you doing?”
“I’m changing my clothes.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz I’ve decided to wear my black boots.”
“Your black boots will go perfectly with the blue sweater and checkered skirt you have on.”
Kaitlyn crinkled her nose as she looked at herself in the mirror. “No, it doesn’t look good.” She continued to undress.
The bathroom door opened at that moment and Zack stepped out. Amy gasped.
“How do you like my hair?”
Zack had rubbed about a quart of mousse into his hair. He had it spiked up with the ends standing three inches from his scalp.
“Do you like it?” he asked again.
Amy cracked up. The whole situation was just too ridiculous. Over this past month, she’d lost her rhythm. They all had. But she’d certainly lightened up in general, and Amy didn’t think that was such a bad thing.
“I like it, but you might have used just a tad too much hair gel.”
He stepped back in the bathroom, looking in the mirror again. “I think you’re right, Mommy. Maybe I could fix it.”
“Just don’t get close to any open flames, Zack.”
There was a knock on the apartment door. She figured it had to be Barbara. Perhaps the older woman had forgotten something. Amy rushed to the door and opened it.