He looked at his watch again. Forty minutes. What the fuck was going on in there? He was anxious and doing his best to contain it, but he felt like a time bomb about to explode.
Guilt was not a small part of it.
But what else could he have done? It would never have worked out. He was supposed to be dead and he and his surviving teammates—as well as anyone close to him—could be in danger if the people who’d tried to kill them found out they weren’t all dead.
He could have asked her to wait for him, but that wouldn’t be fair to her. Who knew when this would all be over, and wait for what? Was he ready to leave Nine? The team was the only family he’d ever known.
No, it was better this way. Annie would go back home and forget about him just as he was going to do. It might hurt like a motherfucker now, but it would go away. Eventually.
At least that was what he kept telling himself.
He looked at his watch again—0835 hours. Forty-five minutes.
Fuck it. He’d had enough. He pulled out his phone, intending to call the room, when the door opened and she walked out.
The pain was visceral. It reminded him of the fiery blast in Russia that had blown him back at least ten feet. He would have staggered if he’d been standing.
She was wearing that black dress and sweater again. It looked just as stunning as it had the night they went out to dinner, but this time it made him think of mourning.
Her dark hair was slicked back and twisted into a knot at the back of her head, but the short strands were fighting confinementand a few had broken free to catch the morning sunshine around her head. She was too far away to see her face, but he swore he could see the red rims around the brilliant green.
His gaze was too fixed on Annie to pay more than cursory attention to the uniformed officer that he’d had Kate arrange by her side.
It was also too fixed to notice the woman who’d come up to stand in front of him. “Hey, you’re up early. I hope there weren’t any problems last night?” It took him a moment to recognize the receptionist from check-in. “With your room?” she added helpfully.
“No, it was fine.” He tried to brush her off brusquely, but the girl wasn’t noticing.
He glanced toward Annie. Fuck, the officer was opening the door for her. She was about to get in the car and drive off. Forever. And he felt as if he was watching the best thing that had ever happened to him get away.
The officer said something, and Annie looked up in his direction, which also happened to be Dean’s direction.
Her gaze flickered on the woman and then...
Oh fuck. To him.
He was too far away to read her expression, but her body’s reaction said it all. She seemed to gasp and visibly stiffen.
He felt as if he’d slapped her.
What would she do? Would she call out to him? Come running toward him? Would she cry, bang on his chest, and demand to know why he’d made love to her like that and walked out after?
Would she unintentionally blow his cover and give him away to the policeman?
She did none of those things. She turned away as if he weren’t there. Telling him what he already knew: it was over.
Thirty-two
He’d sent a babysitter.
Annie had known as soon as she saw the uniformed officer through the peephole that Dan was responsible. He might not be able to see her safely back to Lewis, but he had sent someone who would.
He thought of everything, all right, and covered all his bases. The quintessential operator, always watching his “six,” even when he was walking away.
That he’d stayed to make sure his babysitter found her only made it worse. Seeing him had sent a fresh whipcord of pain shooting through her all over again. But she didn’t delude herself that it meant anything. He was just finishing the mission like a good operator. She didn’t want his guilt.
Annie’s babysitter was a thirtyish sergeant from Police Scotland’s Oban office, which was part of the Argyll and West Dunbartonshire division. Sergeant Brooks had been conscripted into service early this morning by the assistant chief constable and told very little other than that she was an important witness to the double murder and now international terrorist plot whom he was to escort to Lewis, where he would be met by Ministry of Defense Police (MDP) and other local officers.
Reading between the lines, Annie figured Sergeant Brookshad the misfortune of being close, qualified (he was authorized to carry a firearm), and available.
