Chapter 26
T hey were tracking her. Even Maggie, inexperienced amateur she was, could tell. Did they wonder where Ridge was? Did they know he was on the other side, tracking all of them? They could take her out at any time. That was the tricky part of the plan. Once she was in their sites, there was nothing to stop them from killing her. A shot to the heart, a shot to the head, and it would all be over.
“Don’t be an easy target,” Ridge had told her. “Zig, zag, never stop running and never run in a straight line. Very few people are good shots. They’ll aim for your stomach because it’s the easiest part of you to hit. So you have to keep moving, back and forth.”
She had nodded, pretending she had any understanding of what it meant to be a human target. But it had been her idea to make herself one. There was no backing out now. And with her as the target, it freed Ridge to do what he did best, become the hunter’s hunter. While the uncles traced her steps and followed, waiting for their shot, Ridge would be doing the same to them, waiting for the opportunity to take them down.
The problem, Maggie now realized, was that she was a woman and they were all men. As much as she wanted to pretend all things were equal, the reality was that they were faster with more staying power. Her energy was flagging, something neither she nor Ridge had factored into the plan. The farthest she had ever run was five miles, and that was on a paved track during the daytime. Now it was night, she was barefoot, cold, and numb, and almost at the limit of her endurance. Though she continued to dart, as Ridge had told her to do, her pace was getting slower, and the uncles were getting closer. She could hear them now, rustling behind her as they moved through the leaves. They were true hunters, waiting her out, waiting for her to drop from exhaustion. At the rate she was going, they wouldn’t have to wait long.
She kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, until at last one bare toe caught on a root and she went down, down, down, landing hard on the cold, wet earth. Move, move, move. She could practically hear Ridge’s voice in her head telling her not to be a target. So she rolled, ducking behind a tree as a bullet whizzed by her head. If they were close enough to take a shot, they must be very nearby. One eye peered around the tree, searching the stillness.
“Maggie, stay,” Ridge called from somewhere to her left. She spun in that direction but of course saw nothing until he stepped into the clearing, a gun to his head as one of the uncles frog marched him forward. Where was the other one? She had no idea. She stepped from behind her tree and raised her weapon, training it on the uncle who was holding on to Ridge. He continued forward as if she weren’t armed, as if her gun were nothing more than a water pistol.
“Stop,” Maggie said. He did, but probably more because he was already planning to do so.
“Where is the flash drive?” the uncle asked in Arabic.
“Let him go and I’ll tell you,” Maggie said, in English for Ridge’s benefit.
“Tell me now or I’ll shoot him in the head,” the uncle replied. Maggie found it curious he hadn’t told her to lower her weapon. He must believe her incompetent. It was time she showed him she wasn’t. She took aim and fired, her bullet ripping through the hand that held the gun, mere inches from Ridge’s temple. The uncle screamed and fell back. Ridge grabbed the fallen gun and spun toward the woods as the other uncle stepped into view.
Maggie wasn’t quick enough to take the shot, but Ridge was. He fired, a belly shot that dropped the uncle where he stood. They remained silent, except for some adrenaline-fueled panting that might have come from either of them or maybe both. When it was clear the scene was secure and no one else was coming for them, Ridge spoke.
“You shot through his hand,” he said, sounding half-awed and half-amused. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hit a target that precise from that far away?” Beside them, the uncle screamed in pain, hurling expletives at Maggie. Ridge took a zip tie from one of the pockets on his pants and secured the man, binding his whole hand to what was left of the one Maggie had disabled.
“At Quantico, I discovered a secret talent for shooting. I wasn’t so good at running or fighting, but I could hit targets really, really well. And I told you I was an expert marksman,” she reminded him. “Your amused reply was fairly misogynistic.” She turned away from the uncle, not wanting to see the fruits of her handiwork. It was definitely different than shooting a target, but also easier when the life of someone she cared about was in danger.
“I wasn’t being sexist. I’ve known plenty of women who can shoot. But you’re so adorable. It’s like believing a baby sea otter can shoot you. It doesn’t add up,” he said. He checked the second uncle and secured his weapon. Withdrawing a cell phone from the man’s pocket, he turned it on and called the Colonel.
“Did you just call me a baby sea otter?” she asked. Exhaustion was beginning to creep in. She no longer had the capacity to decipher what was real and what was her imagination .
“Yes, but you should know I love baby sea otters,” he said. He rested his hands on her shoulders and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”
“My feet have seen better days, and it’s likely I’ll have some interesting nightmares after this, but yes, I’m all right. Are you all right?”
“Am I all right?” he echoed, and now he was back to sounding angry. “You disobeyed a series of orders, and then you saved my life.”
“So it kind of balances out,” she said.
“No, Maggie, it doesn’t,” he said. “When I am in the field, I have to be in charge of the situation.”
“Look at it this way—how many more times do you think I’m going to be in the field with you?” she asked.
“I’m mad,” he declared. “We’re going to have to figure something out, if we’re going to continue to work together.”
“Of all the things we have to figure out right now, our work relationship is fairly low on my priority list,” she said.
“It’s foremost in my mind,” he said.
She scowled. “Really?” Not the mixed up feelings between them? Not their friendship? Not romance? Did he really care about work more than any of those other, in her mind, more important things?
His thumbs began making little circles on her shoulders. “Maggie, when we’re together, I need to know…” he began in a serious tone, but the whir of a helicopter interrupted him. The Colonel landed in the clearing by the cabin and stalked toward them, a team of people jogging to keep up. After that, they had no more time for conversation. Swarms of humanity descended on the cabin. Despite the fact they had caught the uncles, and despite the fact the information Sam gave Maggie prevented a sophisticated attack on Times Square that li kely would have had ten thousand casualties or more, he was cranky.
“We found the mole,” he announced to Ridge as soon as the uncles were safely secured. “You were right; it was none of your team.” He sighed and forced out the words he obviously found painful. “It was my secretary. Woman’s been with me for a decade. I fed a false location for you to several factions, your team included. I told my secretary the true address but failed to tell her about all the fakes. She was the only person besides me who knew the truth, and she sold the information just as quick.” He shook his head, disgusted.
Maggie and Ridge made eye contact, and she smiled, relieved. She knew no one on their team had been the mole. They could go back to work as if nothing had happened. That is, if Ridge didn’t fire her first. He was angry enough to do it, and she probably had it coming.
“Colonel, sir, where’s Sam?” she asked when she could get a word in.
“Not sure yet. We’re preparing a siege and search on the compound as we speak. I’ll let you know when I hear something, little miss.” He nodded toward the uncle with the damaged hand. “That your handiwork?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He whistled appreciatively. “I don’t suppose you’d consider becoming an assassin? Too few people are a good shot these days. A woman with those skills could be lethal.”
She wasn’t sure if he was joking. Previously she would have thought so, but half a year in the world of espionage had taught her nothing was ever too bizarre to be true. “I’ll give it my full consideration,” she said, making sure Ridge overheard. If he wanted to threaten her job, then she could let him know she was entertaining other offers .
Medics arrived on the scene and, when they had bandaged the wounded uncles, tended to her feet. They weren’t too bad, considering. They cleaned and bandaged them, and she was able to put weight on them without pain, something she hadn’t been able to say a half hour ago. When that was done, she sat on the periphery of the group, thinking. Not too long ago she had lived in a small college town and worked at a library. Tonight she shot a terrorist. She put her head to her knees and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. If she ever did write a movie, everyone would find it too far fetched to believe.
Several hours later, another helicopter flew her and Ridge back to headquarters. Despite the fact she had never flown in a helicopter before and didn’t want to miss it, she fell asleep. When she woke, her head was on Ridge’s shoulder, and he was holding her hand.
“Okay to do the debrief?” he asked.
She nodded, dazed. What time was it? For that matter, what day was it? She felt like she hadn’t rested in ages and their last meal was only a memory. Had it been last night before they fought? Before they kissed?
She glanced at Ridge, the memory of his kisses still fresh on her lips. He was still wearing the hoodie, and her heart turned over. While he was dressed down, he felt like hers. Soon he would enter his office and put on a suit. Would the magic that had been between them disintegrate? Other people were in the helicopter with them. Ridge leaned in to whisper.
“You’re going to have to stop looking at me like that.”
“Or what?” she asked.
“Or I might do something that will get us both fired,” he replied, his lips skimming her ear as he spoke.
Maggie shivered, and it had nothing to do with the icy air blowing through the chopper .
They landed on the helipad on top of the building. Anyone who was looking might wonder why a boring logistics company had a helipad, but then again this was DC, so maybe not.
“Duck your head,” Ridge said, putting his hand on the top of Maggie’s head and forcing it down as they disembarked the chopper. They took the elevator to the conference room and began the long debrief meeting, going over everything that had happened since the beginning of the party. Maggie couldn’t allow herself to feel or even think too much. Every cell of her being felt drained and exhausted. She had no more left to give, but this was the nature of her new job. It didn’t always keep regular hours, and it was no respecter of mental health or energy. Ridge wasn’t complaining, and he’d had the same amount of sleep she’d had the last few days, which was to say hardly any. If he could do it, she could do it, and so she pushed on, answering deeply personal questions almost by rote as they came at her one after another after another.
“Din Chatti, the man you call Sam, came to see you in your cell when you were being held captive, is this correct?” A woman was asking the questions, someone from internal affairs who had seemingly been trained to remove all emotion from her voice. She didn’t care about Maggie, didn’t care about her answers. It was as if she were a robot that had been programed to get the truth, no matter the cost.
“That’s correct,” Maggie said.
“Relay the conversation to me in its entirety,” the woman demanded.
Maggie rubbed at her forehead, trying to remember. It felt like it had been years, and yet it was only a day. “We talked about our former relationship a bit. He told me his uncles murdered his mother and threatened to do the same to me, that was why he went away, to keep me safe. He said he worked for them as their business liaison—he’s tri-lingual, in addition to English and Arabic, he speaks Farsi, and I’m not sure if they are. I only ever heard them speak Arabic.
“Did you tell him you were an American agent?”
“I told him someone would be coming for me.” Briefly, she made eye contact with Ridge who was watching her with an intensity that made her look away. “He drew his own conclusions from that statement.”
“And that was why he gave you the flash drive?”
“I presume. He promised to help me get away, and then he gave me the information. Please, do you have any information on him? Is he safe?”
“I am not here to divulge information; I am here to ask questions and get answers,” the robot woman answered.
“We don’t know anything yet, Maggie,” the Colonel said, surprisingly gently.
“What else happened?” this question came from Ridge.
“He kissed me. He told me he loved me, and he asked me to consider renewing our relationship, if we both survive.”
“Did you kiss him in return?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Did you tell him you would consider his proposal?” he asked.
“I told him survival was our primary objective and I couldn’t think beyond that,” she said.
“And what was his reaction to that?” Ridge asked. His tone was clinical; his gaze was anything but.
“He said I had always been good at playing hard to get,” she said, and his lips twitched slightly.
They glossed over her time in the cabin with Ridge, for which she was thankful. She wasn’t sure how truthful she was expected to be about the kisses they’d shared. Was that supposed to be public domain, too ?
“You heard an engine approach the cabin,” the interviewer said.
“I didn’t. Agent Ridge did,” Maggie clarified.
“What were you doing at the time of their arrival?” the woman asked, and Maggie bit the inside of her cheek to stop the inappropriate smile that began to spread.
“Enjoying a pleasant daydream,” Maggie said. Ridge coughed and reached for a bottle of water. “There wasn’t much else to do in the cabin.”
“You left the cabin and took your service weapon with you,” the robot woman prompted.
“No. It was my personal weapon, not my service weapon. The service weapon is too large for my hand. I prefer to carry my own gun.”
“Where is your service weapon?” the woman asked.
“Secured in a safe in my bedroom closet, per agency regulations,” Maggie said, and the woman nodded approvingly before continuing.
“What happened next?”
“We proceeded into the woods. Agent Ridge found a safe spot for me to stay while he went to, er, take care of the two guards.” She had no idea what to call what he had done. It seemed callous to say he had disposed of two humans, but that was the outcome; the guards were dead. She glanced at him, wondering how he felt about taking two lives. Then she realized it was likely not the first time he had done so and he had probably long ago found a coping mechanism for the realities of his job. She added it to the long list of things they needed to discuss.
“He returned and suggested we split apart so he could draw the uncles to him, giving me a chance to escape through the woods.”
“But that wasn’t what happened,” the woman deduced .
“I don’t know which way is west,” Maggie said and the Colonel surprised everyone by snickering.
“You refused a senior agent’s orders because you didn’t know which way is west,” the woman clarified.
“No, I refused a senior agent’s orders because they sounded like needless suicide in order to keep me safe. I’m an agent too, and a good shot. I knew I could provide adequate backup to give him a better chance of survival.”
“What was Agent Ridge’s reaction to your suggestion?”
She quirked an eyebrow in Ridge’s direction. “He was not pleased.”
“But apparently you won the argument,” the woman said. Maggie was beginning to not like her at all. She seemed to be morphing from uninvolved spectator to instigator with an agenda.
“It was a split-second, tense environment, not given for a lot of back and forth debate. I pointed out to Agent Ridge that I could offer him backup and told him I refused to leave without him. He made the split second decision to change the plan and use me to draw their fire, since we both realized I was the intended target anyway.”
“So you ran toward them and drew them out while Agent Ridge flanked from behind and provided cover.”
“That’s correct. Only they must have realized the plan because one of the uncles somehow got the drop on him,” Maggie said, frowning. She had no idea what happened.
The woman paused and bestowed her attention on Ridge. “Agent Ridge?”
“The suspect had a clear shot of Maggie, and I had no clear shot of him, so I tackled him. We engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle until he was able to retrieve his weapon.”
Maggie frowned, staring hard at the table while her heart thudded painfully with renewed adrenaline. Despite her best efforts, he had still offered himself up on a platter to save her. The uncle could easily have killed him. It was only by some miracle he had decided to use Ridge as leverage instead of shoot him in the head and have done with it. She shivered, trying to push away the what-ifs.
When the woman was done grilling Maggie, she turned her attention to Ridge. They heard the entire story again from his point of view. While he didn’t disclose what went on between them in the cabin, he also did nothing to disguise his frustration with Maggie over her disobedience. Dredging it up again seemed to renew his anger at her. He was practically seething by the time his interview was finished.
“Colonel, Agent Eldridge has had a rough few days. Can she be dismissed, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, I think we’re done here,” the Colonel said. “I ordered a car for you, Maggie, to take you home.”
“Thank you, sir. I need to check on my do…” she paused, remembering with sudden horror that Samson was no longer there, impatiently waiting for her return. To her embarrassment, she burst into tears and, despite her best efforts, couldn’t get them to stop.
To her surprise, the Colonel stood and pulled her into a hug, gently pressing her face to the metal on his well-decorated uniform. “Now, there, little miss, you go ahead and cry. I’m a dog man myself, and I know what it is to lose one. It’ll be all right,” he soothed.
Ridge sat back trying not to let his jaw drop. He had known the Colonel for nearly a decade, since he was a young SEAL and the Colonel whispered in his ear, urging him toward espionage. During all of that time he had never seen one drop of softness from the man. He was old-school, the kind of career military guy who sprinkled nails on his morning cereal for the extra roughage. And now he was gently cuddling a woman while she cried over her lost dog. Ridge smiled and dropped his gaze to the table to hide it. Apparently he wasn’t the only one susceptible to the magic that was Maggie.
At last Maggie’s tears came to an end. The Colonel released her and she stepped back. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re dismissed, Agent. Go get some rest.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She crept tiredly from the room, not making eye contact with Ridge again.