with me, and we’re below the radar for the moment."
"They came at her, didn’t they? Those fucking bastards…"
Brett cut in. "I reached her in time, Micah."
"Thank, Christ."
"My sentiments exactly."
"If anything had happened to her…"
Brett cut in. "She’s safe, and she’s going to stay that way. End of story." He didn’t mention Leah’s concussion or her temporary amnesia.
"Make sure of it. I’ve had to face too many devastated families in the last ten years, and I’ll be God damned if I’ll have that kind of a conversation with my own parents."
"I’m not going to leave her side until this thing is wrapped up, Micah." He paused, and then he admitted, "I can’t."
The ensuing silence lasted for a long moment. "You poor bastard… you’re still in love with her, aren’t you?"
Brett ignored the question. "How are things at your end?"
"The Mossad guys are dispersed, and the Brits assigned some of their deep cover people to work with my team. We’ve taken down eighteen of Assad’s people, and we’re tightening the intel noose around him, his top deputy, and two of his lieutenants."
"What about his contractors? Any ideas?" he asked. "I’m talking about men who can get in and out of the U.S. without being flagged by immigration."
"We’ll find out."
"Sooner rather than later, Micah. I need to know what I’m dealing with. That Saudi detainee at Gitmo knows Assad’s entire organization. Have someone chat with him. Assad sent at least four guys after Leah. I took two down, but the others disappeared. They came back for another shot at her a few hours later, so I’m thinking a four to five person detachment. I may have wounded one on the second go ‘round, but I can’t be sure."
"God damn it. Leah must be ready to hand you your head on a platter if you killed two guys on her front lawn."
"She’s surprisingly cooperative… at the moment, anyway." He doubted that she would remain so once her memory returned.
"How’d you manage that?" Micah asked.
"My charming personality."
"Yeah, right." He chuckled.
"She’s changed."
"Not that much."
"She has a child now, and that’s had an impact. And you were right, she’s a hell of a lot more assertive." He exhaled. "Look, I need to check in with Hanrahan."
"I just did about an hour ago. Everything’s under control. Mom’s painting, and Dad and Matthew are fishing. Security is tight, and the cardiac doc you ordered up there for my father arrived by helicopter late yesterday afternoon."
Despite Micah’s reassurances, he phoned the remote Canadian fishing camp and spoke briefly with Hanrahan, the head of the security detail guarding Leah’s parents and his son. His final comment was an order that they would all remain in seclusion until they’d been notified that the last of the terrorists had been taken into custody.
Relieved that he could now focus on Leah, he quickly showered, shaved, and dressed. He heard her moving around in her bedroom and private bath as he walked into the sitting room. Calling room service, he ordered brunch for two and a fresh supply of coffee.
Brett poured a cup of coffee from a half–empty carafe he’d ordered earlier, and he drank it while he browsed the editorial page of a local San Francisco newspaper. He glanced up a little while later when Leah opened her bedroom door and stepped into the sitting room.
Clad in a pair of snug jeans, a pale pink tee, and a pair of deck shoes, she looked refreshed. "I smell coffee," she said by way of a greeting.
"There’s plenty." He gestured in the direction of a coffee service positioned in the center of the low teak table in front of the couch. "Help yourself. Room service should be here in a few minutes."
She smiled as she poured a cup. "I have a craving for eggs Benedict."
Her comment summoned Brett’s memories of lazy weekends, long hours of making love, and the leisurely morning–after brunches they’d shared at a bed–and–breakfast inn on the Virginia coast.
"They came at her, didn’t they? Those fucking bastards…"
Brett cut in. "I reached her in time, Micah."
"Thank, Christ."
"My sentiments exactly."
"If anything had happened to her…"
Brett cut in. "She’s safe, and she’s going to stay that way. End of story." He didn’t mention Leah’s concussion or her temporary amnesia.
"Make sure of it. I’ve had to face too many devastated families in the last ten years, and I’ll be God damned if I’ll have that kind of a conversation with my own parents."
"I’m not going to leave her side until this thing is wrapped up, Micah." He paused, and then he admitted, "I can’t."
The ensuing silence lasted for a long moment. "You poor bastard… you’re still in love with her, aren’t you?"
Brett ignored the question. "How are things at your end?"
"The Mossad guys are dispersed, and the Brits assigned some of their deep cover people to work with my team. We’ve taken down eighteen of Assad’s people, and we’re tightening the intel noose around him, his top deputy, and two of his lieutenants."
"What about his contractors? Any ideas?" he asked. "I’m talking about men who can get in and out of the U.S. without being flagged by immigration."
"We’ll find out."
"Sooner rather than later, Micah. I need to know what I’m dealing with. That Saudi detainee at Gitmo knows Assad’s entire organization. Have someone chat with him. Assad sent at least four guys after Leah. I took two down, but the others disappeared. They came back for another shot at her a few hours later, so I’m thinking a four to five person detachment. I may have wounded one on the second go ‘round, but I can’t be sure."
"God damn it. Leah must be ready to hand you your head on a platter if you killed two guys on her front lawn."
"She’s surprisingly cooperative… at the moment, anyway." He doubted that she would remain so once her memory returned.
"How’d you manage that?" Micah asked.
"My charming personality."
"Yeah, right." He chuckled.
"She’s changed."
"Not that much."
"She has a child now, and that’s had an impact. And you were right, she’s a hell of a lot more assertive." He exhaled. "Look, I need to check in with Hanrahan."
"I just did about an hour ago. Everything’s under control. Mom’s painting, and Dad and Matthew are fishing. Security is tight, and the cardiac doc you ordered up there for my father arrived by helicopter late yesterday afternoon."
Despite Micah’s reassurances, he phoned the remote Canadian fishing camp and spoke briefly with Hanrahan, the head of the security detail guarding Leah’s parents and his son. His final comment was an order that they would all remain in seclusion until they’d been notified that the last of the terrorists had been taken into custody.
Relieved that he could now focus on Leah, he quickly showered, shaved, and dressed. He heard her moving around in her bedroom and private bath as he walked into the sitting room. Calling room service, he ordered brunch for two and a fresh supply of coffee.
Brett poured a cup of coffee from a half–empty carafe he’d ordered earlier, and he drank it while he browsed the editorial page of a local San Francisco newspaper. He glanced up a little while later when Leah opened her bedroom door and stepped into the sitting room.
Clad in a pair of snug jeans, a pale pink tee, and a pair of deck shoes, she looked refreshed. "I smell coffee," she said by way of a greeting.
"There’s plenty." He gestured in the direction of a coffee service positioned in the center of the low teak table in front of the couch. "Help yourself. Room service should be here in a few minutes."
She smiled as she poured a cup. "I have a craving for eggs Benedict."
Her comment summoned Brett’s memories of lazy weekends, long hours of making love, and the leisurely morning–after brunches they’d shared at a bed–and–breakfast inn on the Virginia coast.
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