Actual Stop (31 page)

“You look good, Ryan,” Lucia said, eventually. “Happy.”

“Uh…Thanks. So do you. Look good, I mean.” Her mere presence was like a hot poker being thrust into my chest and twisted around. It threw me off balance. I blinked and then fumbled in the backseat of my car where my bag was stowed. After retrieving her cell phone, I handed it to her. “I’m sorry I didn’t return it sooner.”

Lucia glanced at the phone I held before taking it. I noticed she made it a point not to touch me as she did. She put her phone in the pocket of her suit jacket and continued to watch me. Then her eyes flicked down to where the wire for my surveillance kit peeked out between the collar of my shirt and my neck and back up again. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, and her eyes hardened, but I couldn’t have said exactly why. Perhaps this was as difficult for her as it was for me. The idea only intensified the ache inside me.

The moment stretched out forever. I cleared my throat and held out my hand, dismayed that it was trembling. Pinpricks of pain scraped behind my eyes, and a lump welled up in my chest and lodged firmly in my windpipe, making it tough to breathe. All the best and happiest moments of our relationship played in vivid Technicolor in my mind and made me want to cry.

“Do you have my phone?” I asked finally, my voice barely more than a whisper. I don’t think I could’ve spoken any louder than that. It was taking too much effort not to burst into tears.

“I do.” Lucia reached into the cell-phone holster on her belt and withdrew it. She held it aloft but didn’t hand it to me.

The pressure in my chest increased exponentially. “Can I have it?”

“Not until you tell me something.” Lucia’s words were brittle, her tone icy. The coldness in her eyes chilled me and seeped into the marrow of my bones.

“What?”

“Was it good?”

I was stumped. “Was what good?”

“Fucking Allison. Was it good?” Her features twisted into something cruel, and her voice was hard as she glared at me.

“What?” She’d completely blindsided me. No way could I have seen that coming.

Something resembling triumph flickered behind her eyes, and she wiggled my phone for emphasis. A mean smile contorted her lips as she said, “Despite how it ended, I really enjoyed last night. You were incredible. Call me when you can.” She was clearly quoting a text message, and I cringed, horrified and embarrassed. “You forgot to tell her not to send any incriminating texts until you got your phone back. Not to mention, you didn’t do a very good job hiding the evidence.” She gestured toward my throat as she snidely said that.

Okay, so she hadn’t been looking at the wire for my surveillance kit. She’d been scouring for telltale traces of my night of passion with Allison. And even though it’d been days, and the mark Allison had left on me had faded considerably, Lucia didn’t miss it. I’d never hated the fact that my fair skin bruised so easily as I did now. And I’d never been so disappointed I’d so poorly judged another human being. Why the hell had she been reading my text messages? What happened to honor and respect for someone else’s privacy?

Lucia and I stared at one another, the atmosphere between us thick with tension. I wasn’t sure what to say. I hadn’t meant for her to find out like that and was sorry she was upset. But I also wanted to lash out. She’d broken up with me—after she’d slept with someone else. It was no longer any of her business what I did or with whom. I could run naked down Seventh Avenue during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and she should have nothing to say about it.

A click sounded in my left ear, indicating someone was about to transmit radio traffic. “Grayson Follow-Up from lead. Be advised, it looks like we’re breaking up. Stand by for imminent departure.”

As soon as the mic clicked off, the block buzzed with activity. Agents hurried back and forth to their respective cars or posts. Other agents took up positions surrounding the limo. The uniformed NYPD officers on scene rushed to shut down the street for our next movement. One of the hulking black Suburbans raced off to secure the route with a roar. And I suddenly didn’t have to say anything.

“We’re getting ready to move, Luce.” It was time to work. I couldn’t do this with her now.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat, and she sneered. “So that’s it? I ask you what it was like fucking your new girlfriend, and you run off to play
In The Line Of Fire
. Nice.”

I barely refrained from shooting back a scathing reply. I wanted to—oh, how I wanted to. But I bit my lip so hard I literally tasted blood. Instead, I reached out to retrieve my cell phone from her hand.

She surprised me again by throwing it down onto the pavement with enough force that it shattered, spewing bits all over the place. Spite glittered in her eyes, hard and poisonous, and she smiled that simpering smile again.

“Oops,” she deadpanned.

I closed my eyes and pressed the tips of my fingers to my temples. I was dying to let her have it. But we were about to leave, and the last thing I needed was the entire detail seeing me get into a knock-down-drag-out shouting match with my ex on a street corner at the arrival-departure area. Talk about an international incident.

I clenched my hands into fists and dug my fingernails into my palms, seized by the urge to hit something. I even gave in and settled for childishly banging the side of my fist into the passenger-side door of my car once. Or twice.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Michael rushing up the block carrying two paper cups of coffee. Perfect timing, because just then someone came over the air and said, “We’re moving to the elevators.” I glanced over Lucia’s shoulder toward the side door to the Intercon.

“Luce, I’m very sorry you’re hurt. But we can’t do this now. You have to get back to your car before he comes out.”

“You know what, Ryan? You can go fuck yourself. Or fuck Allison. I don’t really care.” Her voice grew louder with each word, and by the end of that statement, she was practically shouting.

A few people on the street glanced our way—agents and bystanders alike—but no one said anything, which I considered a minor miracle. I looked around to see whether I could identify any threats on the street. The click sounded in my ear again.

“Can someone grab the door?” a breathless voice asked over the air. “I had to take the stairs, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”

“O’Connor copies direct. I’ve got it.”

I brushed past Lucia and cracked the door to the limo, threading my fingers between it and the frame to make sure it wouldn’t latch again. I wouldn’t open it all the way until he was out—I wanted to be certain no one would be able to throw anything inside—but I wanted to be able to swing it open quickly once he was.

My head was on a swivel, and my eyes were everywhere at once as I tried to size up everyone I could see with a single glance. I wiped the palms of my hands on my pants one at a time and tightened my grip on the doorframe. I hated arrivals and departures. They edged out my second least favorite place, motorcade choke points, and my third, any scenario involving the protectee in a crowd. I always felt like if something went wrong, those would be the most likely places.

“Coming out,” a voice transmitted over the air.

I glanced around one last time and waited a beat for the delegation to start exiting the hotel before I swung the door open completely. I kept my gaze on the surrounding area and held my breath, waiting for the president to get into the car. He was maybe two feet away when he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to finish a conversation he was having.

My fingers twitched on the door, and I tried not to roll my eyes as I clenched my jaw. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned, but it was just the shift guy who’d had to take the stairs barreling toward the car. He took the door from me with a grateful look.

“Thanks. That elevator was packed.”

I smiled. “No problem. That’s always the way.”

I clapped him on the shoulder as I scooted swiftly by to take up position next to my own car, careful not to touch the president as I slid past him. I’d made it maybe four steps before I ran almost bodily into Lucia. My pulse jumped, and an icy stab of fear pierced my heart. What the fuck? Why was she this close to the limo? I mean, I know some NYPD guys can’t help themselves around a protectee and tend to spend more time watching them than actually doing their jobs, but this was too much. She knew better than to step into the protective bubble. Especially now.

“Luce, what the hell are you doing? Get to your car. We can finish this when we reach the next stop.” I chanced a quick peek over my shoulder toward the president, who was now lingering in the limo’s open doorway shaking someone’s hand.

I moved to push past Lucia, but she grabbed my arm and spun me to face her. I saw a blur and barely had time to register the rage on her face before I caught her left hook on the right side of my jaw.

Pain, jagged and white-hot, exploded behind my eyes, and I heard a loud crack when her fist connected with my face. It must’ve been one hell of a hit, too, because I felt a sharp stab near where my right shoulder met my neck as my head snapped to the side. Not being prepared to be sucker punched by a woman I cared about, I was a little off-balance and stumbled at the impact, smacking the area just above the outside edge of my left eye against the open trunk of the limo where a staffer had been loading bags.

I blinked, dazed for a second or two before I dragged myself up off my knees to yell at her. I winced at the agony in my shoulder as I used the bumper of the car to push myself up. The staffer was staring at me like I was a moron, and I was starting to feel like one.

I glanced toward the limo door, pleased that the staffer was the only one who appeared to have seen what’d just happened. Good. The last thing I needed was for my boss or the protectee to watch me get laid out by an officer of the law. Although we were standing so close to them, I had no idea how they could’ve missed it. Perhaps it was tough for them to see through the press of ever-present hangers-on that always had to surround the president wherever he went.

Embracing the blistering fury roiling beneath the surface of my skin, I sought out Lucia. The angry words died on my lips when I saw her lying on the ground flat on her back. I frowned. How the hell had she ended up there? And where had all that blood come from? A whole lot of it was pouring out of the area near her jugular notch. Holy shit!

“Gun, gun, gun!!” someone screamed frantically. It took me a second to realize it was me.

I dropped to my knees, straddling Lucia’s body, and covered the wound in her neck with my hands as I felt two hard hits to my back, like someone had whacked me with a sledgehammer. I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see anyone.

I shifted my weight to my right knee and leaned in that direction to give myself room to turn Lucia to my left and into the car, but as I did, I felt another jolt on the back of my right hip. I rolled back left and tried to shimmy Lucia and myself closer to the limited cover the car provided, but not before I felt a painful slash on the outside of my right thigh.

I looked up again and saw that the working shift was busily attending to their “cover and evacuate” protocol with the protectee. As I watched, the detail leader shoved the president’s friend out of the way, elbowed a few staffers, and hurled the president bodily into the car before leaping in after him and pulling the door shut. All around me were shouts and scuffling and car doors slamming. Someone’s foot caught the edge of my biceps in their attempt to escape, and I cried out as the impact caused my shoulder to burn.

I gazed down into Lucia’s eyes and saw her terror. My heart seized, and bile rose in the back of my throat. I applied more pressure to her wound with my hands, trying to staunch the crimson flow without suffocating her. My own breathing was ragged, just this side of hyperventilation, and the horror on her face scared me.

“Go, go, go!” someone was shouting.

More car doors slammed, and the motorcade started to take off with a squeal of tires. Unfortunately, with such an enormous motorcade, it took what felt like an eternity for it to actually get rolling. It probably wasn’t more than ten or fifteen seconds but seemed like forever.

The entire situation was surreal, so close to mirroring a training scenario that I half-expected to hear a booming voice yelling, “Actual stop,” halting the action around me so we could huddle up and debrief. I would’ve given anything for that to have happened, but unfortunately no JJRTC instructor was waiting to save us by calling an end to this nightmare.

I was shaking now, perhaps a result of exertion, shock, or pure terror. Not that it mattered. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to hold myself up enough to keep steady pressure on Lucia’s throat without cutting off her air supply completely. I wanted so badly to just collapse on top of her and close my eyes. I had to force myself not to give in.

“Luce, hang in there, baby,” I told her, trying to appear calm.

I tried to use my elbows and my knees to scoot us closer to the front of the PI car, still sitting at the curb next to us. I winced and sucked in a harsh breath at the raging inferno the motion produced in my right shoulder, clenching my teeth. Why was the car even still sitting there? Why hadn’t it started rolling with the rest of the motorcade? But I didn’t care, as it provided at least a little cover.

Darkness was creeping around the edges of my vision now, and fear shot through me. Every breath I drew was agony, and a woman I cared about was bleeding out on the street corner while I watched, powerless. The red of her blood contrasted sharply with the whiteness of my skin, loudly blaming me for this.

“Somebody call an ambulance!” I screeched, panicking. All sorts of shouting and commotion were echoing up and down the street, but I heard it only dimly and in snatches, as if someone were constantly adjusting the volume on the world at large. I think I was only tuning in long enough to attempt to determine whether help was on the way and then immediately tuning back out again. Apparently, I could no longer multi-task.