Rob Thurber and Jordan Blake were off to one side, deep in discussion. Fletcher was standing by Jordan. Sam couldn’t help noticing Fletch glance at the FBI agent every so often, even when she wasn’t speaking. There was a clear attraction between them, though Sam could see Jordan was doing her best to remain neutral. Interesting.
Unlike her less than charitable thoughts this morning, she realized Jordan would be really good for Fletcher. Smart, pretty, clearly a hotshot at the FBI. Sam thought she was a better match for him than the incredibly intense and sometimes overbearing Andrea Bianco.
Baldwin walked up, his body armor in place. Sam was wearing a bulletproof vest, too, and was chafing in the heat.
“You okay? Any word from Xander?” he asked.
“Nothing yet.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she was very worried.
“He’s fine, I’m sure. Like you said, he knows what he’s doing. Everyone here is aware that he’s in the field, and what he looks like, so don’t worry. The rules of engagement have been laid out, and they are very tight and very specific. This is a rescue mission, and everyone is under strict orders not to shoot at anything unless in extreme self-defense. With any luck, we’ll be able to get in and out without any bloodshed.”
“Any sightings of our friend in the Pathfinder?”
He shook his head. “Maybe he bolted. The truck was found several miles away. It’s possible he found himself another ride and left the area.”
“No way. From everything we know, Adrian Zamyatin isn’t the kind to run from a fight. These people are his home, his world. He’ll be back, if he hasn’t already managed to get in. He could be waiting for us.”
“Or he could be lying dead on the side of the road somewhere. You heard Davidson. He’d been shot badly enough to leave a trail of blood to the car. There’s a good chance he had to stop for medical help.”
Sam watched the second HRT unit start moving into the woods, the dog, Dry, going first. Thurber went with them, Jordan and Fletcher following at a respectful distance.
“What’s their plan?” she asked.
“Thurber’s going in as the hostage negotiator. He knows the most about this group. He’s even had contact with Curtis Lott before. They’re going to have a chat with her, get her to surrender herself and her people, then start searching for Rachel.”
“Where the hell is Kaylie Rousch?”
Baldwin looked around as if she might appear. “No idea.”
Sam drummed her fingers on the hood of the car. “So what am I supposed to do out here? Sit around and wait?”
“Yep. And keep trying to connect with Xander.” He press checked his Glock out of sheer habit, made sure he had a bullet in the chamber, then holstered the weapon. “I’m going in with them. You sit tight, and keep out of harm’s way.”
Being left behind annoyed her more than she could express. Her face must have shown her thoughts, because Baldwin thrust a radio into her hands. “You can listen. But they’d have my ass if I let you come into the extraction zone. You’re not FBI. Not yet, anyway. You shouldn’t be here at all. So don’t fight me on this, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll just sit here like a good little girl, wait for the menfolk to do the hard work.”
“Sam. We’re trying to keep you safe.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He patted her on the knee and jogged off into the woods after the rest of them.
She wasn’t alone. There were plenty of people milling about, support staff doing the procedural end of things—setting up tables and cameras, checking radios. She was safe enough. But damn it, she wanted to be where the action was.
It would take the team an hour to hike in and get into position, barring unforeseen problems. Xander was out here somewhere, with Thor at his side. Safe, she was sure, but it had been hours since he last checked in. Granted, there weren’t any cell towers out here. Though surely he’d heard the thwap, thwap, thwap of the Little Bird chopper when it came into range, and knew the cavalry had arrived.
She waited for ten minutes or so, realized she needed to go to the bathroom. At least she was in the woods. She could find herself a quiet tree.
She slid off the hood of Baldwin’s car, leaving the radio behind so she’d have some privacy. Twenty yards into the woods, she unbuckled her jeans and laughed to herself. Before Xander, she would have held it until she found a bathroom. Preferably with marble fixtures. She’d learned living in the woods did have its advantages.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
The voice came from behind her, and Sam froze. She pulled her jeans up and turned slowly. Kaylie Rousch was leaning against a tree, wearing one of Sam’s good cashmere T-shirts, and the knee-high cognac riding boots she’d bought on a trip to New York two summers earlier.
Kaylie didn’t look like a scared little girl on the run anymore. She looked very much in control of the situation, and Sam knew she was at a disadvantage.
“You little bitch,” Sam said. “You could have killed me last night. After everything I did for you, you shove a knife in my throat and steal from me?”