CARRIE'S PROTECTOR by REBECCA YORK Page A

didn’t talk to me a lot about his business.”
    “But you do know something.”
    “He and a guy named Quincy Sumner had a pretty public fight over a piece of land they both wanted.”
    “And your father won.”
    “Yes.”
    “We’ll put Sumner on our list. Where does he live?”
    “Fairfax, Virginia.”
    They had arrived at the drugstore. This time they went in together. After buying four cell phones, Wyatt took Carrie on a quick run through the cosmetics and toiletries departments, where they bought some of the basics that they’d been forced to abandon at the safe house. He also bought her a sun hat. When he’d removed the tag, he put it on her head, pulling it down firmly to cover part of her face.
    As they returned to the parking lot, he turned to her. “I’m going to call Patrick back, but I want to do the talking.”
    “What if I want to talk to him?”
    “Let me deal with him. I’ll put on the speaker so you can hear.”
    She gave a little nod. She didn’t like it, but it was probably the best course, given the state of her emotions.
    On the prepaid phone Wyatt dialed the Mitchell house.
    Patrick picked up immediately.
    “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
    “Getting phones. Tell us what happened.”
    “Is Carrie there?”
    “Yes,” she answered, then forgot all about letting Wyatt handle the call. “When did you find out I was in trouble?”
    “Your dad got a computer alert about a shoot-out in the Federal Building. He turned on the television, and we were both watching, so we didn’t hear anything until armed men appeared in his office and threatened to kill him.”
    Carrie moaned. “Was he all right?”
    He repeated what he’d said earlier. “I told you I was on the floor at the time. I couldn’t see much, but he walked out under his own power. They said they’d exchange him for you.”
    “Surrendering to them would be foolish,” Wyatt snapped.
    “Then what are you going to do?” Patrick asked.
    “I’ll get back to you on that.”
    “If you come home, we can work together on this.”
    “You’re kidding, right?” Wyatt said. “You just told me that they strolled into the house. It’s not safe for Carrie there.”
    Patrick made a frustrated sound. “I guess you’re right.” Then he asked again, “Where are you?”
    “It’s safer if you don’t know. What if they came back and tortured you for information?”
    “I wouldn’t talk.”
    Wyatt answered with a mirthless laugh. “Everybody talks when they’re in enough pain.”
    “I have to know Carrie’s going to be okay.”
    “I am,” she answered, the response automatic. She wasn’t okay, but she was still alive, thanks to Wyatt Hawk.
    Patrick’s voice was an unwelcome counterpoint to her thoughts.
    “You need more protection,” he said.
    Before she could answer, Wyatt jumped back into the conversation. “Like I said, that didn’t work out so well last time.”
    “We need to discuss this,” Patrick countered.
    “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re not in charge of keeping Carrie safe.”
    “I could fire you.”
    Wyatt laughed. “I work for Douglas Mitchell, not you, and we’re getting off now.”
    “Wait. When will I hear from you again?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What if the kidnappers call?”
    “Tell them to email me.” Wyatt gave an email address.
    “I may need to get in touch with you.”
    “You can use the same method.”
    “I may need to have quicker access.”
    “I’ll keep checking my mail.”
    He clicked off before Patrick could ask another question.
    Carrie closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. “If you’re guessing wrong, they could kill my dad.”
    “I don’t think they will.”
    “But you’re not sure.”
    “I’m sorry. We can’t be absolutely sure of anything—except that they want you dead, and they’ll try any method to get to you.”
    “My dad’s health isn’t that great. I was already worried that the stress of my being in danger would give