I love you.
He had a lot of reasons to get out of this alive, not the least of which was saving Tess. But also important was to build on this precarious relationship with Rowan. He didn’t want to lose her.
So he sat in the command center a half-mile away with Colleen Thorne, Quinn Peterson’s partner, and waited. Two other agents and a pair of SWAT team members hunkered down over communications equipment, but everything was quiet, tension simmering hot and silent beneath the surface.
The exchange point was in the middle of a fallow field outside of Ventura, accessible from all sides. The soil was dry, hard, and lumpy, the landscape impossible to position support troops in. Bobby had insisted that Collins and Rowan drive to the field from the north and when he saw them, he would drive in for the exchange.
The SWAT and FBI teams had changed into dark fatigues, but they couldn’t get too close-barely close enough to take a clean shot.
So many things could go wrong. John stood rigid at the edge of the makeshift command center, where he could observe and hear what was said. He was used to being responsible-for himself and his small team of loyalists. He hated not being in control.
Nearly six o’clock. Time for action.
“Has the suspect been identified?” Agent Thorne asked the field.
“Negative,” the SWAT commander stated. “Hold on.” He listened to someone talking in his earpiece.
John’s skin tingled. This was it.
“We have a possible approaching from the northwest. Dark green sedan.”
John frowned and glanced at the map. That part of the field was impassable with a car. You’d need a four-wheel drive to get through the rough terrain and irrigation ditches.
“It’s not him. The car stopped. A lone driver emerged. Female.”
“Tess?” John asked, but doubted Bobby would have let her go.
“Negative.” The commander called in for a description. “The female is approximately five foot eight, wearing jeans and beige jacket. Blonde.”
Rowan. John slammed his fist on the table. “Goddammit!”
Roger Collins called in from the far north of the field. “Eighteen hundred hours,” he said. “We’re proceeding to the exchange point.”
Agent Thorne said, “Sir, we’ve just identified a lone female on foot approximately half a mile from your location who may be Rowan Smith.”
The SWAT commander spoke. “Possible suspect vehicle coming from the southwest. SUV, tinted windows, Arizona plates. Heading straight for the exchange point.”
Silence. “Flynn?” Collins’s voice commanded.
John didn’t need to hear the question. “I’m on my way.”
It had taken a lot longer than Rowan anticipated for the drug to affect Reggie Jackman. Reggie drank coffee like water, downing two pots over the course of the night and not sleeping a wink. Finally, she added more powdered sleeping pills directly into the pot. By one that afternoon he was out. By one-fifteen she was on the road in his car, headed down to Ventura County.
She got stuck in afternoon commuter traffic in Santa Barbara and ended up a half-mile or so from the field just before six. She was cutting it close, but she didn’t dare park any closer. This was the nearest approach from her direction, but there was no way she’d make it over another irrigation ditch. She’d almost bottomed out on the last one.
She checked her guns and pulled on a lightweight beige windbreaker to better blend into the surroundings. She dreaded the weight of the jacket, however minimal. It was a hot day, and the heat radiating off the dry soil made it seem even hotter, with no breeze carrying in the nearby coolness of the Pacific Ocean. The cloying air sat in her lungs and she breathed through her mouth, tasting dirt.
On foot, she headed to the field, keeping low.
She spotted one of the SWAT teams about a hundred yards west of the field, but couldn’t see any other men. That was good. An SUV was already there-Roger. She saw him in the passenger seat. Waiting. Waiting for Bobby.
There was no way Bobby could escape. At least in theory. The whole exchange plan smelled rotten. Bobby wouldn’t come here if he thought he couldn’t get out. He had a hostage, which increased his chances, but there were likely dozens of men in the area waiting for a clear shot. Bobby had to suspect it.
He had something planned, and she feared for Tess’s life.
And John’s. She hadn’t seen him, but she sensed he was close. Tess was his sister. His responsibility. Just like Dani had been hers.
She’d failed Dani, but she wouldn’t fail Tess. John might blame himself, but Rowan knew exactly who was responsible. And she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Tess died.
Keeping low, she scurried closer. To her right, she saw dust being kicked up by another large vehicle.
Bobby had arrived. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the realization she would soon be face-to-face with her murderous brother, but she pushed on.
Someone had to stop him.
John spotted Rowan lying low on his left at the same time Bobby MacIntosh’s SUV came surprisingly close on his right. John hugged the ground, gun in hand, hoping for a clean shot but knowing he couldn’t take it without knowing exactly where Tess was.
He caught a glimpse of the driver, and it wasn’t Bobby. It was Tess. In the brief moment he saw his sister’s drawn face, he realized she was terrified.
Bobby had to be in the passenger seat. He called in the information to headquarters.
“Did you get a visual on the suspect?”
“Negative. Must be in the passenger seat.”
“Hold your position.”
“Like hell I will,” John muttered.
Rowan had already moved much too close to the exchange point for his comfort. He followed parallel to her path. It was difficult to stay near to the ground, but tumbleweeds and low-lying brush obscured him, as well as Rowan.
A hundred yards in front of him, Tess stopped the SUV. John sucked in his breath but felt surprisingly calm. This was an op, after all. Something he was trained for. As long as he could separate his emotions from action, he would be fine.
The passenger door of Roger’s SUV opened and the assistant director stepped out, staying behind the door. He put his cell phone to his ear. Through his ear communicator, John heard the conversation.
And broke out in a cold sweat, even in the dry heat.
“Prompt.”
It was Bobby MacIntosh on the phone.
“We’re ready.”
“So am I. I want to see Lily.”
“I want to see Tess Flynn.”
“Can’t you see her? She drove in.”
“I want to make sure she’s okay.”
Bobby sighed. “What, you don’t trust me?” His voice was mocking, overconfident.
“Let me see her.”
“Very well.” He hung up.
“MacIntosh?” Roger said into the dead receiver. “Shit, where is he?”
A minute later, the driver’s door of MacIntosh’s silver SUV opened. Tess slowly got out of the car and shut the door behind her.
“No!” John exclaimed, breaking into a run toward her.
“Goddammit,” Roger said over the mike. He punched numbers into his cell phone. “Bobby, pick up the damn phone!”
Tess stood next to the car wearing a vest wired with explosives. Even from his distance, John saw her visibly shaking. She made no move toward Roger. He had no doubt Bobby controlled her every move.
He had to get to her. He could disarm any bomb if he had the time. Just a few minutes. That was all he needed.
He scrambled as close as he dared but lost sight of Rowan. His eyes searched for her. Dammit, where was she?
Over the mike, Bobby finally picked up Roger’s frantic call. “What fucking game are you playing, Bobby?”
“My, my, losing your cool, Mr. Big Shot.” He laughed.