hole, and her name wasn’t Alice, but any minute now she half expected to see a white hare in a waistcoat and top hat—
The bubble of hysteria that rose in her throat frightened her almost as much as the events of the past hour. Had it only been an hour? She rubbed the empty spot on her wrist where her watch should have been. She felt naked without it, but she hadn’t been able to find it when she’d been scrambling in the dark for her clothes, and then she’d gone to answer the door, and Flynn had talked his way inside, and her life had turned upside down….
Oh, God. She had to get a hold of herself. She took a deep breath, and her head reeled at the strong aromas of canvas and dusty cement. This cubicle was the only private area of the hidden tent Sarah had brought her to. It was tiny, with barely enough space for a small table and a handful of folding metal chairs. A bare lightbulb hung on a cord from one of the poles that propped up the roof, adding a stark glare to the already-grim surroundings.
“These are standard government nondisclosure forms, Miss Locke. You’re welcome to read them over before you sign.”
Abbie jerked as a sheaf of papers was pushed across the table in front of her. She looked at the man who sat on the other side.
Major Mitchell Redinger wasn’t wearing a uniform—in his knit golf shirt and pleated khakis he should have looked more like a lawyer on his day off than an army officer—yet he radiated an air of authority. Maybe it was from the distinguished-looking silver that threaded the dark hair at his temples or the ramrod stiffness of his posture. Or maybe it was the unwavering gray steel in his gaze. Whatever the cause, the overall effect made her grateful she was facing him across a table and not a battlefield.
She took the papers from his hand, but when she tried to focus on the words, her shaking fingers made the print blur.
“We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” the major continued. “We’ll take you home as soon as it’s safe to do so.”
Inconvenience? she thought wildly. Was that how they described having her door broken down by three armed men and being kidnapped by a bunch of soldiers?
Abbie moved her gaze to the third person in the room. Sarah Fox stood by the canvas flap that formed the door, her arms folded over her chest. Like the major, she didn’t need a uniform to assume an air of command. Even in her lemon-yellow sleeveless sweater and her short skirt, there was something intimidating about her. She was only a few inches taller than Abbie, but she was one of those people who had the kind of presence that made her appear larger than she actually was.
She had seemed so nice at first, Abbie thought. Before they’d left the garage, Sarah had identified herself as a member of the United States Army and had done her best to stem Abbie’s budding panic. She’d explained that Abbie had accidentally put herself in the middle of a ransom exchange, then she’d calmly taken off the cardigan that matched her yellow sweater and loaned it to Abbie to cover up her wet blouse.
It had been a kind gesture—Abbie hadn’t realized how indecent she had looked with that soaked cotton plastered to her breasts. Had Flynn noticed?
What a stupid thing to worry about. How could she be concerned about herself at all? She wasn’t the only one who had been kidnapped. A child’s life was at stake here, and she had unwittingly made things worse. The papers crumpled in her grasp. “What’s going to happen now?” she asked.
“As Major Redinger said, you’ll be taken home as soon as possible,” Sarah replied.
“No, I meant to the child? Is he going to be all right?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Who is he?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Locke, but in the interests of national security, we can’t give you any more details,” Sarah said.
“I hadn’t meant to interfere. I hadn’t realized what was in that pack. I had thought that one of my students had left
The bubble of hysteria that rose in her throat frightened her almost as much as the events of the past hour. Had it only been an hour? She rubbed the empty spot on her wrist where her watch should have been. She felt naked without it, but she hadn’t been able to find it when she’d been scrambling in the dark for her clothes, and then she’d gone to answer the door, and Flynn had talked his way inside, and her life had turned upside down….
Oh, God. She had to get a hold of herself. She took a deep breath, and her head reeled at the strong aromas of canvas and dusty cement. This cubicle was the only private area of the hidden tent Sarah had brought her to. It was tiny, with barely enough space for a small table and a handful of folding metal chairs. A bare lightbulb hung on a cord from one of the poles that propped up the roof, adding a stark glare to the already-grim surroundings.
“These are standard government nondisclosure forms, Miss Locke. You’re welcome to read them over before you sign.”
Abbie jerked as a sheaf of papers was pushed across the table in front of her. She looked at the man who sat on the other side.
Major Mitchell Redinger wasn’t wearing a uniform—in his knit golf shirt and pleated khakis he should have looked more like a lawyer on his day off than an army officer—yet he radiated an air of authority. Maybe it was from the distinguished-looking silver that threaded the dark hair at his temples or the ramrod stiffness of his posture. Or maybe it was the unwavering gray steel in his gaze. Whatever the cause, the overall effect made her grateful she was facing him across a table and not a battlefield.
She took the papers from his hand, but when she tried to focus on the words, her shaking fingers made the print blur.
“We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” the major continued. “We’ll take you home as soon as it’s safe to do so.”
Inconvenience? she thought wildly. Was that how they described having her door broken down by three armed men and being kidnapped by a bunch of soldiers?
Abbie moved her gaze to the third person in the room. Sarah Fox stood by the canvas flap that formed the door, her arms folded over her chest. Like the major, she didn’t need a uniform to assume an air of command. Even in her lemon-yellow sleeveless sweater and her short skirt, there was something intimidating about her. She was only a few inches taller than Abbie, but she was one of those people who had the kind of presence that made her appear larger than she actually was.
She had seemed so nice at first, Abbie thought. Before they’d left the garage, Sarah had identified herself as a member of the United States Army and had done her best to stem Abbie’s budding panic. She’d explained that Abbie had accidentally put herself in the middle of a ransom exchange, then she’d calmly taken off the cardigan that matched her yellow sweater and loaned it to Abbie to cover up her wet blouse.
It had been a kind gesture—Abbie hadn’t realized how indecent she had looked with that soaked cotton plastered to her breasts. Had Flynn noticed?
What a stupid thing to worry about. How could she be concerned about herself at all? She wasn’t the only one who had been kidnapped. A child’s life was at stake here, and she had unwittingly made things worse. The papers crumpled in her grasp. “What’s going to happen now?” she asked.
“As Major Redinger said, you’ll be taken home as soon as possible,” Sarah replied.
“No, I meant to the child? Is he going to be all right?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Who is he?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Locke, but in the interests of national security, we can’t give you any more details,” Sarah said.
“I hadn’t meant to interfere. I hadn’t realized what was in that pack. I had thought that one of my students had left
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