Honey Moon (21 page)

A government agent—the pilot.

The man released her head, supporting her with one arm as he clutched at the straps holding the chute to his back. The chute rippled up and blasted open as burning chunks of chopper fell about them. Heat snatched at her, bathing her, and a horrible hope blossomed in her chest. Good chance she’d still follow after Sam. Be incinerated, along with the fool who’d risked his all to help her.
I hate myself.

A tug of the pilot’s hand on a rope and they swirled to the right and downward, away from the wreckage. The bite of the wind lessened as the canopy puffed out and she sobbed. Nausea swirled into her throat. Specks, bits of metal debris pinged against the thin material of the orange chute sheltering them. Their descent smoothed. Instead of plunging, they began floating down.

She sobbed again and the man drew his head back. “Stop that. You’ll be fine,” he rasped.

“D-d-dead. He’s dead.”

“Look.” The pilot angled, dipping and bending their bodies farther to the right. Beneath them was a pair of orange umbrellas, two intertwined bodies hanging under one. The third canopy was opaque and silver. The center figure wore the silver uniform of WS-man, and he held a long body clutched one-handed to his chest. A third man had one arm wrapped around the man’s thigh, his other arm reaching up to clasp hands with the guy he clung to. The three fell fast, drifting past the chute with the couple and heading toward the solitary figure almost to the ground.

She gasped. “That agent had a chute?”
Sam’s alive!
“Security saved Sam? That’s Sam and Lav?”

“Has to be. Hang on.” The pilot dipped his head, peering below. “Gotta bring us down faster before we drift into…obstacles everywhere.”

She clung to the arm wrapped around her chest and followed his gaze to the tops of sparse trees, hundreds of pointed skyscrapers with lethal steel peaks, and people bursting outside doors from every direction. They looked so tiny, scurrying about and staring up. The pilot began fussing with straps, and the graceful float went back to the breathtaking plunge.

The crowd grew closer and closer, the wind whipped at her dress, stirring up the smell of burnt silk, and her head pounded from the intensity of the relief filling her. Assuming the security guy had been strong enough to support two men without dropping or crushing them on impact, Sam should be on the ground by now. She couldn’t see the other chutes, her vision caught in a tunnel as they fell in a direct descent, and she braced for painful contact.

The pilot held her securely when his boots hit not tree, building or person, but concrete. A rough stumble, manly oomph, but he landed with the grace of a falcon carrying a heavy load.

The sheer material of the chute billowed around them, wire-thin straps attached in a grid pattern to the corners, and she realized she’d been rescued by an experienced jumper. If only Sam and Lav were as fortunate. Not face first, impaled on a building, crushing a small child…

Sam-Sam-Sam. Must find him.
She pushed at the pilot’s arm and he lowered her to her feet. The ground swayed but she held her balance—barely—as orange material tumbled over her.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tried to step out from it. The damn dress was designed to glide down an aisle, not maneuver out of a parachute. Orange fabric spun up and away. All sizes of hands helped, the rushing noise in her ears subsided and she became aware of the surrounding chatter.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”
I am now.

“What happened?”
Dumb question.

“Need a medic?”
God, no. Hope he’s dead.

“Move aside. Let go of me. Get the fuck out of the way.”
Is that
…

“Sam? Sam—”

Sam seized her, his hands feeling warm and familiar, and his deep green eyes stared down at her.

She pressed into him and blurted, “Oh God. I thought you were dead. Then falling like that… You’re all right?”

He winced. “Yes. No. A touch sore. My arm”—he tightened his grip on her—“feels fantastic now.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” the pilot said. “We need to get somewhere out of the open.”

“Thanks for saving my wife.” Sam loosened his hold on her and stuck his hand out. “What’s your name?”

“Welcome.” The men shook hands. “Tim Lourde. My own wife will be glad I’m not collateral damage—yet.”

“You want escort to a medical center?” a voice called out.

“No,” snapped Sam, Jenna and Tim at the same time.

“Where’s the others? My co-pilot, Lander?” Tim asked the crowd.

The array of anxious faces surrounding them turned. People stepped aside and a long splash of purple hair came into view. Lav looked either unconscious or dead, carried by two men. Another pair of guys held the elbows of the silver-suited security man who was moving slowly. Lander and Kurt took the lead. No sign of Thomas.

A young woman eyed Sam then glanced uneasily over her shoulder. “Black sedans and suits are closing in.” She glanced to another woman at her side. “We can take them to our place, right?”

The older woman blanched. She refused to meet Jenna’s gaze as she muttered, “Er… The kid is home. I’m not sure.” She jerked her chin up. “It’s not safe. I’m sorry.”

A stocky, middle-aged man scurried forward. “I can help.” He dragged his gaze over to Jenna and she tried not to shiver. The guy’s grin widened as he turned to Sam. “Name’s Cain.” He jerked his thumb toward a nearby ‘scraper. “That place is mine. At least part of the first floor is. Have a lobby area for my business—a law firm—and a connecting suite where I live. Struggling economy, I’m open only by appointment so the place is currently empty. You all could come in while the rest of these kind people form a barricade around the entrances.”

Provide more bodies the government would have to explain if they attacked the building?
God, I love people.
Strangers willing to risk their lives. Jenna eased back, closer to Sam as the man—Cain—stepped forward to glance at their bare arms.

“No wrist phones?” Cain scowled, shaking his head at the atrocity of being disconnected from mankind. “At the least you’ll have computer access and a chance to regroup. Maybe we can figure out what’s happening.”

Sam held tightly to Jenna’s hand. Maybe he too noticed that Cain seemed a bit squirrely. Too eager. But the sooner they got off the street the better. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

People parted, men slapping Sam on the back and nodding at her as they followed Cain into the entrance of a spiraling, thin ‘scraper. Adrenaline and joy propelled Jenna through the double plated glass doors held open by multiple hands. No matter if thousands of soldiers stormed the place and made them all disappear or in this moment a missile was being directed to take out the entire block, she solemnly swore to herself she’d never let go of Sam again. The chatter of the crowd lessened as they entered the plush lobby, and he bent to her ear.

“I thought you’d died in that explosion. I can’t… This is real. We’re really here? Together?”

She stopped, peered at him, and her stomach clenched.
God, I could look at that raw stubbled chin, chiseled jaw, penetrating eyes and hot bod for a lifetime.
A sense of unreality filled her as well. She floated in a dream bubble that’d burst any time now. How could such a gorgeous man stare at her as if she held his heart in her hands? The obvious solution was to never let him close those eyes. After a good night’s sleep, Sam Dexter might come to his senses and run for the hills.

He’d crash-landed the shuttle, hung to a man holding Lav—her unwitting friend who may be dead because he’d come to their sham of a wedding—while parachuting into a crowd, and yet Sam still looked so damn sexy her knees wobbled.

Is he really mine? Wants to stay mine?
He arched his brows, obviously wondering why she stared at him with I-want-you-so-badly-sparkles in her eyes.

She swallowed hard and squeezed his fingers. “I understand how you feel. I too thought you were dead and never expected WS-man was so awesome.” She glanced at the exhausted agent stumbling through the doorway. “Can’t imagine the expense to make a silver suit not only insulated against bullets, but a chute compressed into the back of the jacket so perfectly, who knew it was there? And wow, to hold the both of you like that.” Her breath caught. The second pair of men entered, carrying Lav by feet and shoulders. “Lav’s still breathing, isn’t he?”

“Was when we hit the ground.” Sam started walking with her through the lobby after Cain, who was pressing his wrist phone to the lock pad of a door in the far corner. “But not even me landing on top of him woke him up. Our good friend Thomas had to have drugged him with something quite strong.”

Sam turned, gesturing Kurt, Lander, Tim the pilot and the WS agent who’d saved Sam and was now helping Tim carry Harding, to precede them into Cain’s home. He shifted that solemn gaze back on her. “Er… You said you’ve known Harding for a few days?”

“Nope. Few hours. But we never made it into a bathroom in a bar or a hospital room. Spent the time talking about this other man I met.”

The blatant relief on Sam’s face filled her heart. He chuckled. “Well, I can see why you like the guy. All that hair made a fantastic pillow.” His hand wrapped around hers, he tugged her forward into the foyer.

The surprisingly spacious apartment held a small table and pair of chairs in a kitchen area off to the side. In the living room, easily double the size of her own, Kurt, Lander and the WS agent made a beeline for the com-desk.

“Kurt’s on it,” Sam said. “He and that agent will find some help that follows the Hippocratic Oath instead of their wallet.”

“Come inside,” Cain called out, and Sam and Jenna stepped into the living room. Facing the long couch they’d settled Lav on were monitors that covered the wall, sectioned into six gridded and muted screens. She cringed as an image of an intact helicopter from different angles filled two of the screens, and the aircraft burst into flames. Her name stood out in the print scrolling beneath the pics in seven languages.

“Balls.” Sam glared as his image filled another grid. The feed showed him striding tall in his pressed pilot uniform, heading toward the shuttle wearing that cocky half-smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. A stark contrast to how he looked now. Soot on his cheek and chin, black tux rumpled and torn under the armpit, he stared blankly at the picture out of dark eyes rimmed with exhaustion.

Jenna cleared her throat. “Kurt? You’ll check with an online medic whether we should bring Lav somewhere or let him wake on his own?”

Kurt glanced from the desk area where he stood over the WS agent seated in front of him. “Yeah.”

Cain didn’t even look at Lav. Still wearing that cheesy smile, he stared at her as he approached her and Sam. “You both look exhausted. If you want to wash up, rest a bit, there’s plenty of towels and a pair of robes in my bedroom.” He snapped his fingers toward the hallway across the room. “Can’t miss it. At the end of the hall.”

Sam grasped her elbow. “Jenna?”

Kurt’s head reared up. Blood rose in his face. “Er…shouldn’t you wait here, Sam? This isn’t over, you know.”

Sam snorted. “If that’s your polite way to say remain on guard, mate, instead of screwing around, I get it.”

Kurt scowled. His brooding expression caught more than Jenna’s attention. Cain outright laughed. “Lighten up,” Cain told Kurt. “Let the lovers have their moment.” He winked at Sam and muttered in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “Your friend there seems somewhat jealous you’ve a bride on your arm. Not my business but—”

“You’re right. It’s not,” Sam snapped. “Kurt, Reese—you want me and Jenna to help?”

The WS man, whom Jenna gathered was named Reese, looked up. “Go on. Two hours. We’ve enough eyes on this.”

Sam nodded while Cain turned from them to approach the group huddled around his desk. “I swear you’re all safe.” The guy shrugged at Kurt. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Let me make it up to you. I’ve got a bottle of Jack with your name on it. Come tell me what happened while I get some food…”

Jenna stopped listening as Sam bent to her ear. “What do you think?
Carpe diem
?”

Of course Cain was thrilled to have a hero in his home. The identity of the person who offered shelter, despite the long arm of the LC, would be all over the news, Cain applauded as a kind and brave man. Why not take him up on the offer to get in a shower?

Warmth bursting in her chest, she squeezed Sam’s hand and smiled. Chin down, Jenna felt everyone staring at their backs as she and Sam hurried from the room.

“Be warned,” Sam whispered as they walked down the impressively long hallway. “I aim to regress to a teenager. If they nuke this building, I want you to die happy.”

But I already did that. In my imagination.
And now, in reality, she could have her husband hold her on a real bed. Nope, she couldn’t get any happier. Her breath caught as Sam stopped in front of the last door and scooped her up into his arms.

“Your ribs,” she protested.

He grunted. “I’m fine.”

Heat pooled in her stomach, pings of happiness escaping from her in the form of a nervous giggle as he toed the door open and swept her into a bedroom. The neatly-made double bed with a blue coverlet was centered in the spotless room—no visible cams and the window curtains were pulled closed.