I didn’t get a chance to repeat Dan’s words to Greg because just at that moment, Quinn spoke over the com. “You need to get out of there now. Buhari’s military police just arrived and I don’t think they plan to leave any survivors.”
“Explain,” I said, handing Greg my semiautomatic pistol and motioning him to follow me to the entrance. I was too tired to be a reliable shot. My body was exhausted and my brain was fried.
“They’re setting up a repeating grenade launcher. I’m guessing they plan to blow up the building.”
“Fuck a fucking fuck!” Dan growled. I saw him shift on his feet impatiently. He was waiting for us, but his eyes were trained on some point behind us. “Move! They’re coming down the stairs.”
I moved. And I didn’t stop moving. I ran straight out of the building and jumped for the fence, sparing a split-second glance over my shoulder to make sure Greg and Dan were behind me. They were. Greg ran for the fence as Dan shoved a pipe into the handles of the door, trapping the remaining hostiles inside. I sat on the top of fence and offered a hand up to Greg first, then Dan in turn. As soon as they cleared the chain link, I again dropped into Greg’s arms—this time without him asking or me requesting.
We sprinted for the tanker. And when we reached it, Dan climbed the ladder first, Greg handing me up hastily, then climbed up after.
Just as Greg wrapped his arms around me, our chests heaving, gasping for breath, I heard the first explosion. The tanker trembled, but the sound was muted thanks to the steel walls and insulation.
Yet, even if it hadn’t been muted, I don’t think I would have registered it. Not really. Because finally, finally we were together and we were safe.
Echoing my thoughts, Greg repeated over and over, “You’re safe. You’re safe.” Kissing every inch of my face and squeezing me to him with punishing strength.
“Greg—”
“Why? Fe? Why would you do that?” he demanded, shaking, his whole body caught in adrenaline withdrawal.
Seeing stars, I blinked against the blackness encroaching on the edges of my vision. Streaks of pain, hot and stabbing, pierced my temples and the back of my eyes. “You left me—”
“Because I needed you to be safe. Because I need you.”
“I need you, too.” I closed my eyes and the sound of my heart thumping—my blood whooshing—filled my ears.
He was still berating me, his voice fierce and irate, but I couldn’t hear him. Everything went black, and for the second time in a week, I passed out in my husband’s arms.
CHAPTER 20
Dearest Husband,
You are an endless source of patience to my crazy.
-Jenny
Letter
California, USA
Married 19 years
Present Day
Fiona
I woke up to the sound of arguing voices.
Specifically, Greg and Spenser’s arguing voices.
“. . . swear to God, if you so much as touch her—”
“Making threats against a federal agent is an arrestable offense.”
“Your face should be an arrestable offense.”
“Boys. Boys. Enough.” This came from Marie. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, mostly because my eyelids felt glued shut, but I could approximate each of their locations based on the proximity of their voices.
Greg was standing next to me, to my left. Marie was directly in front of me. Spenser was farther away and to the right. If I had to guess, I would say Marie was standing between him and Greg, likely trying to keep them from ripping into each other.
“Now I repeat, my client has nothing to say to you. Partly because she’s unconscious and partly because if she sees you, as she mentioned earlier today, she might cut your balls off.”
“Not likely, since she’s cuffed to the bed.”
At the mention of the restraints I felt the cold metal pressing against my wrists. I fought a frown.
“Yes, likely. Because your boss gave me the keys to the handcuffs.” Presumably Marie was waving the keys around, because I heard them jingle. “And I’m just about to un-cuff my client, as per the amnesty agreement signed off by both you, and your boss, and your boss’s boss, and recorded for prosperity by me. You have no grounds for arresting Mrs. Archer.”
Spenser’s voice turned gruff as he asked disbelievingly, “How can you be an AP reporter and a lawyer?”
“And how can you look yourself in the mirror after leaving my client to die, Agent Banks?”
He muttered a few choice words under his breath, after which the room fell into a tense silence.
“Time to go.” Marie clapped once, and heals clicked on the floor as she moved away from me. I heard a door open. After a beat, I heard Banks’s retreating footsteps.
Greg, obviously unable to restrain himself, added just before the door clicked shut, “Yes, better get back to it. Your inconsequential, lonely life isn’t going to live itself.”
Spenser growled something inaudible in response, but it was too late. Marie locked the door as Spenser banged on it once, causing her to huff loudly at Greg’s incendiary statement.
“Really, Greg? Really? While you’re at it, why don’t you poke him in the eye?”