Freefall (23 page)

Amy shook her head. “I still can't believe it was Jared. I don't think I've seen Dad this shaken up in a long time.”

“Your whole family really should look into some kind of counseling. Your dad and brother have had their share of stress over the past few weeks,” Brent said as another couple walked in and sat down a few rows in front of them. He glanced back at the special agents in the back of the theater and added, “Not to mention having a security team tagging along behind all of you now.”

“Mom already arranged for counseling,” Amy told him. “I think she's worried about how Dad is since the whole thing happened. Of course, she's just as worried that I seem too normal.”

“Everyone reacts to things in their own way,” Brent replied. “We have to go through a psych evaluation every six months for that reason. No one wants to find out the hard way that someone is having trouble dealing with the pressure.”

The lights dimmed as a few more people entered the theater. Brent reached his arm around the back of Amy's seat and drew her closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling so completely normal that she could almost forget about the terrorists, the subway threat, and even Jared.

They laughed together at the movie, both grateful to be able to laugh again. The movie was almost over when Brent sat up and reached for his cell phone. She looked over to see him read the lighted display. He leaned over and whispered, “I've got to go make a call.”

Amy nodded, then watched him leave the theater. She turned her attention back to the movie for about a minute before she decided to follow him out. When she reached the lobby, Brent was already heading toward her.

“I'm sorry, but I've got to go,” Brent told her.

“Where?”

“I can't say.” He nodded at the theater door and the two men who had just emerged from the theater. “If you want to stay and watch the rest of the movie, I'm sure the Secret Service can take you home.”

Amy shook her head. “That's okay. Do you have time to drop me off at home on your way?”

Nodding, Brent took her arm and started outside. “I'm really sorry about this.”

Amy got into the car and turned to look at him as he started the engine. “Brent, I understand. We both know that your job isn't exactly nine-to-five.”

Brent gave a brief nod, already concentrating on where he would be going. A few minutes later he pulled up in front of her house. He turned his attention to Amy for a moment. “I'll talk to you later.”

“Be safe.” Amy reached over to give him a quick kiss good-bye.

“Always.”

With that, Brent pulled away and disappeared down the street.

Brent scanned the dark water, listening to the water ebb and flow around him. Even the moon was dark, and hazy clouds blocked the stars from his view. He turned his attention back to the only visible light for miles, the lamplight coming from the windows of the white yacht that was now only a half mile away.

He sensed Quinn beside him, not so much because he heard him but because he knew that was where he was supposed to be. Beyond Quinn were the other members of the squad. Steadily and stealthily they moved toward their objective.

The owner of the yacht, Fahid Ramir, was suspected of a number of crimes in the United States, among them providing weapons and training to known terrorists. Ramir himself was an American-born citizen, but his family still lived in the Middle East, and the latest intelligence showed that while he was American by birth, Ramir was anything but loyal to his countrymen. Intelligence also indicated that Ramir was on board his private yacht for a pleasure cruise with his family and that only two bodyguards had accompanied him.

Brent reached the yacht first, grabbing hold of the thick chains of the anchor while Quinn reached for the ladder at the back of the vessel. Simultaneously, they boarded the vessel with Seth and Kel right behind. Tristan had drawn the short straw and was waiting in the SEAL boat, ready to move in at their signal.

Dark as the night in their wetsuits, they drew their weapons and prepared to move forward. When Kel gave the command, they spread out and prepared to take over the vessel and hold those on board for questioning.

Silently, Brent moved downstairs with Seth right behind him. The first cabin they checked was empty, but when they moved to the second, they got more than they had bargained for. Four armed men were positioned around the room, one of them holding a boy of about nine or ten in front of him, a handgun aimed at the terrified boy's head. A couple was sitting on a couch in the center of the room, and the woman was sobbing.

The man holding the boy looked up as Brent and Seth entered. Brent saw the intent in his eyes and didn't hesitate. He fired, his shot merging with another. He could only watch in horror as his target collapsed along with the now lifeless child. His training clicked in when one of the other men turned his weapon toward Brent. The woman's cries merged with the gunfire as Brent and Seth neutralized the remaining threats.

He already knew, but Brent forced himself to move forward and check the boy for a pulse. The woman already had him in her arms, her dress stained with his blood. Her eyes looked up into Brent's, her hopes and prayers to be left unanswered as Brent shook his head and uttered a useless apology.

Behind him, Seth laid a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of comfort as well as a reminder. Despite the tragedy, they still had a job to do. With a subtle nod, Brent straightened and proceeded to help his team secure the rest of the boat. When they had finally completed their task and were on their way back to their ship, Brent closed his eyes and fought the images that just wouldn't go away.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Seth asked when Brent opened the door to their quarters on board ship.

“Yeah,” Brent replied, referring more to the fact that the ship psychologist had cleared him for duty rather than whether he was able to deal with what had happened. He laid down on his bunk and closed his eyes but immediately opened them again. Because Seth had been there and understood, he let himself speak. “I can't get that kid's face out of my mind.”

“I know.” Seth shook his head. “But there wasn't anything you could have done to save him. If we hadn't gotten there when we did, the boy's parents would probably be dead right now, too.”

“How could intel be so wrong?” Brent asked, frustrated. “No one had a clue that Ramir was holding that family there, or that he had a small army on that boat with him.”

“It happens,” Seth said simply. “It sure would have been nice to have had Amy Whitmore on intel for this one.”

At the mention of her name, Brent propped himself up on his elbow and looked across the room at Seth. “What do you mean?”

“She sees things more like we do, not just what everyone expects her to see.”

Brent shook his head and leaned back onto his pillow. “I doubt she could have made much of a difference this time.”

“Maybe not, but we might have at least gone in a little more prepared for what to expect,” Seth suggested. “Are you going to see her when we get back?”

Brent had been asking himself that same question for the past thirty-six hours since he had watched that little boy die. She had been completely understanding when he had been called in to work three days ago. He imagined she expected him to call when he got back, but he thought he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't going to sit around waiting by the phone until then either. Feeling Seth's eyes still on him, he shrugged. “I don't know.”

“If you're not planning to hang onto that girl, you may need to get back in there and have your head reexamined,” Seth told him. “She's one of a kind.”

He could feel the truth of Seth's words as panic welled up inside him. Wanting the conversation to end, he forced himself to close his eyes, hoping that he could finally find some peace. Thoughts rattled around in his mind—first memories of the mission, then his analysis that nothing he could have done would have changed that boy's fate. Still, he felt a fresh wave of panic when the moment that the shots echoed flashed into his mind. When he let himself think of Amy, he felt another wave of panic rolling through him.

He couldn't love her, he assured himself, even though he knew it was a lost cause. He had never met anyone like her, and Seth was more right that he could possibly realize. She really was one of a kind. She was the only woman he had ever loved. And in time, she might come to love him, too.

For a brief moment, he let himself consider what life would be like if they married. He would be gone more often than not, never being able to tell her where he was or when he was coming home. If by some miracle they managed to have kids, she would basically have to raise them on her own. Once again the vision of the woman holding her lifeless son flashed into his mind. She had been helpless to stop his fate, just as Brent would be helpless to protect Amy and whatever children they might be blessed with.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he realized that if he truly loved her, he had to let her go. She deserved a rich, full life, one with a husband to share it with. She was entitled to have a husband who could fit into her lifestyle, one that included backyard barbeques and horseback riding on the weekends. He could never give her that, only a brief illusion of it every few months or so.

He waited until he was sure his eyes were dry before he opened them and looked over at Seth, who was sitting at the desk. “How soon do you think we'll get sent back to Virginia Beach?”

“I wouldn't worry about it yet,” Seth told him, assuming that Brent wanted to stay at Quantico a while longer. “I think it's going to be at least another month or two.”

Brent just nodded, wondering how in the world he was going to be able to stay away from Amy when she was only an hour away.

* * *

Amy really hated to shop. She reminded herself of this about six times on her way to the mall on Saturday morning, and another dozen times as she carried clothes in and out of various dressing rooms. Since she was six feet tall, most clothes just didn't fit right. She browsed through racks of clothes, her security detail following closely.

The majority of her wardrobe was still in Abolstan, and it was highly unlikely she would ever see any of it again. Yesterday her parents had pointed out the obvious—that she needed an entire new wardrobe before she could start work in just two more days. She had been managing for the past month with the few clothes she had left at her parents' house, but she had to admit she was getting tired of doing laundry every three days. In her wallet was her father's credit card, something she hated to use, but for once he had insisted and she had let him.

Frustrated that yet another store didn't have anything that fit her, Amy crossed over to the men's section and pulled two pairs of Levis off of a set of shelves. She checked the size on the label and then moved to a rack of T-shirts. Within ten minutes, she was able to round out her casual wardrobe to include jeans, workout clothes, and a couple of shirts. After paying for her selections, she then left the store in search of work clothes.

She wondered briefly what Brent would think if he realized that a good portion of her clothes came from the men's department. She didn't think he was the type to care, unlike Jared, who had been appalled that Amy would stoop to buying men's clothes instead of just having her clothes tailor-made.

Her father was still upset about everything that had transpired with Jared over the past few weeks. To give him some time to find a replacement for Jared, Amy had helped out in his office for a few days. If nothing else, it gave her something to take her mind off of the fact that she felt smothered by the presence of the Secret Service and the fear that someone might really want her dead.

Twice already she had been forced to stay home when potential associates of Namir Dagan had been discovered in the U.S. Each time, Amy felt like the house was closing in on her a little more. As much as she hated shopping, at least today she had successfully made it out of the house.

Though they had only attended one family counseling session so far, it did seem to help them deal with the stress a little better. If nothing else, her dad was recognizing that he had been as traumatized by the hostage experience as he thought Amy should be.

In her private session with the psychologist, Amy had found comfort in knowing that it was okay to have adjusted well. Admittedly she still had some apprehension at times, and occasionally a bad dream would startle her awake. But overall the psychologist agreed that she had moved past the experience and was ready to move forward. Now she just had to figure out how to find some kind of normalcy with two men following her around everywhere.

She walked past several stores, slowing when a dress in a store window caught her eye. Hopeful that she might be able to at least find one outfit she could wear for work, she walked into the shop, smiling when she realized that the store clerk was nearly as tall as she was.

“May I help you with something?”

“I sure hope so,” Amy said with a smile. “I'm looking for work clothes, and I'm having a little trouble finding things that are long enough.”

With a sincere smile, the girl nodded in understanding. “Let's start over here.”

Amy followed behind her, pleased that the store carried clothes in tall sizes. She tried on one thing after another, enjoying herself for the first time all day. Four skirts, six blouses, and three dresses later, Amy noticed an elegant cocktail dress. Her mind turned to Brent, and she thought it would be nice to have something dressy to wear in the event they went out to the officers' club or an upscale restaurant.

She tried on the dress, first in a midnight blue and then in a cream. She chose the cream, and wondered if Brent would approve. Her hair was down today, but she imagined she would wear it up in some sort of elegant hairstyle with this dress. She moved to buy shoes to go with the dress, for once choosing heels instead of flats like she normally did.