Striking Distance

He’d never told her he loved her, but Laura knew it all the same. Those words were proof to her. She wrapped her heart around them, held on to them.

“You’ll be leaving on Sunday. I’m going to finish the VA story tomorrow morning, and then I’m taking the rest of the day and Friday off. I don’t care what Tom has to say about it. I want to spend that time with you.”

Javier kissed her temple. “I’d like that.”

* * *

LAURA WENT INTO the paper the next morning and rewrote the VA article, pulling out the bogus interview that Kimball had given her, and left the paper early, telling Tom not to expect her till Monday.

Tom wasn’t happy. “You

do

plan on returning to work full-time at your full-time job at some point in the near future.”

“Yes, starting Monday.”

“And when Carmichael needs to interview you for a follow-up piece on your abduction and all this shit with Al Zahrani and Edwards—”

“He can call me at home.”

She arrived at the loft to find a surprise waiting for her.

Derek Tower.

The only thing more astonishing than the sight of him sitting on her sofa was the fact that Javier hadn’t thrown him out.

“I didn’t call because I knew you’d say no,” he said. “I came to apologize. I was hired to keep you safe, and I failed. I’ve read the report. I know how Kimball turned your cell into a roving bug. I’d heard of that technology, but never imagined anyone outside federal law enforcement or military intelligence could get their hands on it. I wish I’d taken it more seriously. I’ve already issued a statement to the press retracting my allegations against you and taking responsibility for Tower Global’s failure to protect you. Bottom line, Ms. Nilsson, I owe you, and I’m a man who pays his debts.”

He handed her his card. “Call if you need me.”

Laura was left speechless.

* * *

LAURA AND JAVIER had just come back from di

Zach went first. “Over the past twenty-four hours, we’ve been following Ted Hollis’s trail—that’s Theodore Hollis Kimball—and we’ve been able to piece together a good picture of his activities using his cell phone records, a laptop we found in his motel room, and the information he gave you, Laura. Fill them in if you will, Petras.”

“Kimball has been hiring himself out as a mercenary in the Middle East for some time, using a series of aliases and falsified documents. But after you came back to the U.S., Ms. Nilsson, he began working his way back here. He arrived in Denver roughly four months ago and began pla

Petras told them how Kimball had gotten reacquainted with his old war buddy Sean Michael Edwards, taking advantage of the man’s cognitive disabilities to use him to buy materials for the bomb. Always careful to wear gloves, he’d mixed the ANFO and assembled the detonator at Edwards’s house.

He’d found Ali Al Zahrani’s name on a list of members of the Middle Eastern Co

“On the morning of the bombing, he shot and killed the boy when he was on his way to class, stuffing him into his own car, packing it full of ANFO, and rigging it to explode. Careful to avoid streets with surveillance cameras, he drove it to the newspaper, parked, and walked a few blocks away to a coffee shop, which is where he was when he detonated the bomb.”

A cold chill ran down Laura’s spine. “He told me he wanted to hear me die.”

“He didn’t get that chance, did he?” Javier said.

“When the car bomb didn’t work, Kimball waited for another crack at you,” Zach said. “That opportunity came when he heard about your appearance on Cha

“A very ill-advised television appearance, I might add,” Petras said.

Zach ignored him. “We’ll probably never know exactly what went on with Edwards. We believe Kimball tried to get Edwards to hate you—which may explain the photos of you on his wall. Most came from old articles about the investigation that exposed them. It could be that he hoped to use Edwards as a weapon against you, Laura, but that didn’t work. Then Kimball decided to use Edwards in another way. If he could convince police they’d found their killer, your security detail would be called off, and he’d have another chance at you. All the evidence was in place—the traces of explosives at Edwards’s apartment, the firearms Kimball stored there. All he had to do was put Edwards in an incriminating position—and make sure he couldn’t talk.”

Javier finished the thought. “So he groomed Edwards to commit suicide by SEAL, playing games with those replica pellet guns, and then handing him the loaded M1911 with the painted muzzle.”

Laura squeezed Javier’s hand. She knew how much he regretted causing Edwards’s death.

“That’s it exactly,” Zach said. “And it almost worked. You played a key role at a critical moment, Corbray. You both played key roles in this. Laura, your insights into what had really happened with Ali Al Zahrani were vital.”

Petras took over again. “From what we can tell, he pla

“A garage door opener?” Laura was astonished. She looked over at Javier. “Did you know it wasn’t a detonator? Is that why you just went ahead and shot him?”

Javier shook his head. “Stupid

cabrón

had it clutched tight in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was.”

“Thank God it’s all over.” Laura didn’t want to think about it any longer.

“Being on a terrorist kill list is a lifetime commitment,” Petras said.

What did he mean by that?

Javier glared at him. “A month ago you gave her shit for wanting you to take the threats against her seriously, and now you’re telling her she faces a lifetime of this?”

“I don’t know that it’s that grave.” Zach glared at Petras, too. “In the wake of the bombing, various federal agencies that monitor suspected terrorist sympathizers found an uptick in interest in you, Laura. As a result, we’ve upgraded our threat assessment. There’s no immediate danger, but you should continue to take precautions. You have my word that we will stay on top of it.”

Laura refused to let this news shake her. “Thank you, Zach. Thank you both.”

* * *

LAURA AND JAVIER ignored the world for the next two days. No news. No Internet. No e-mail. Javier played his guitar and sang love songs for Laura in Spanish. They talked and laughed and made love with the same abandon they’d known in Dubai. Except that this wasn’t a fling between two people determined to maintain their independence. It was love between a man and a woman who knew how easy it was to lose

everything

.

* * *

AS MUCH AS Laura tried to ignore it, Sunday came, dawning far too early. She made Javier’s breakfast while he packed, checked in with his flight, and printed his boarding pass. They ate together, Laura doing her best to be cheerful when inside she felt like she was breaking.

She’d vowed to herself she wouldn’t cry. He was returning to his job, a job for which he’d spent his life training, a job few men could do, one that was vital to the security of the nation. How selfish it would be of her to try to hold him back or make him feel worse about leaving by forcing him to deal with her tears. He was a special operator, a SEAL, and loving him meant accepting the fact that he would be gone—and in danger—much of the time.