My Spy (2 page)

“D.C. The bus is zigzagging up Pennsylvania Avenue, four miles from the White House, completely out of control. The driver might have had a heart attack. Then
he
appeared—
poof!
It's like some kind of miracle.”

With the rest of her staff, Annie raced for the television,
where an aerial news camera focused on a bus careening through crowded city streets.

A solitary figure crawled along the yellow roof.

“That's him,” the receptionist whispered. “I'm sure he's your man from the beach. Sam.”

Sam.

The word tore through Annie, reopening jagged memories.

It couldn't be. Sam was in Mexico.

“He's almost at the front of the bus. If he can't get to the wheel, those kids are goners.”

Annie sank into the nearest chair, mesmerized by the bus's wild swerving. She stiffened as she saw the man stretched out on the roof.

“They think he's Navy,” the receptionist said.

“Navy?” Sam wasn't in the Navy. He was on a boat headed to Mexico.

It had to be a mistake. Why would her rich, charming drifter with a new yacht turn up on a school bus in Washington?

“He's in dress whites.” Annie's chef bent closer to the television. “Definitely Navy, and the man knows what he's doing. In two more feet he'll be above the driver's window. I think he's trying to get inside and take the wheel. You didn't say Sam was in the Navy, Annie.”

Because she hadn't known until that moment.

The receptionist pushed closer. “Why don't they just shoot out the tires?”

“Because the bus is going too fast. I used to work in a school cafeteria,” the chef said tensely. “If that's a city school bus, it doesn't have seat belts, and those kids would be tossed around like human cannonballs.”

Annie shuddered. A news helicopter flashed by, circling low to capture the strained features of the unknown man on the top of the bus. In the brutal clarity of a telephoto lens, Annie saw him look up.

Strained face.

Black hair.

Keen eyes somewhere between blue and gray.

A powerful jaw and a scar above his mouth.

“Oh, my God, it
is
Sam.” Zoe locked her hands. “It really is your friend from the cove.”

Annie couldn't seem to focus. She blinked and looked again, fighting disbelief.

Sam was supposed to be sailing somewhere off the coast of Mexico, enjoying a long vacation after selling his Internet company. He'd told her that very clearly.

But cameras didn't lie.

So what was going on?

She barely noticed her nails digging into her palm as the helicopter swung low for a tighter shot. Now there was no mistaking that lean face and hard jaw. The sexy stubble was gone, but it was definitely Sam fighting his way across the roof of the swerving bus.

“He's falling!” Annie shot to her feet.

Annie's chef squinted at the set. “No, he's going for the open window.”

Suddenly the bus lurched sideways. Annie could barely watch as the man in the white uniform clung to the side of the bus and clawed his way forward.

The bus straightened abruptly, clearing a line of parked cars by mere inches. Without warning, all of the children vanished.

“What happened?” Annie pressed a hand against her chest, breathing hard. “Where did they go?”

“He must have told them to brace against their knees, the way you do before an airplane crash.”

That made sense. Annie joined in the wild applause as the bus held steady, joined by a phalanx of D.C. police cars with sirens flashing.

But the chorus of cheers was cut short as the aerial news
camera panned north, where a wall of concrete cut across the highway.

Annie heard the reporter explain that all traffic was being detoured up the side ramp. Sam had to stop the bus fast. Otherwise …

Otherwise he and his young passengers were headed into a deadly blockade of cement and construction girders.

Annie closed her eyes, feeling faint.

Zoe squeezed her shoulder. “You want a glass of water or something?”

“I'll—be fine.” Annie opened her eyes. “How far to the construction area?”

“About a mile. The police are stacking sandbags in case your friend can't stop the bus, but at the rate they're traveling …”

There was no need to finish.

Annie pressed a shaky hand to her chest as if she could hold off her terror. Suddenly the screen cut to a close-up. Sam was wedged inside the front window now, and he was pulling something from behind the driver's seat.

A hockey stick.

He was trying to reach the brake pedal, she realized.

The announcer was nearly drowned out by the shriek of sirens and the cries of bystanders lining the streets. “With less than a mile to go, the police are extremely concerned,” he said grimly. “At its current rate of speed, I'm told the bus has about three minutes until impact.”

So little time, Annie thought.

It would take a miracle to save Sam and those children.

“He's done it!” Coverage switched to a reporter in a news helicopter circling the scene. “The bus is finally starting to slow down. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we're watching a miracle take place here in Washington. A real miracle.”

The bus lurched into its final turn.

The cement wall lay dead ahead.

“He's still going too fast,” the reporter said shrilly.

Annie stood frozen, caught in a nightmare. She watched the hockey stick jerk free. With a desperate kick the man in the uniform jammed the stick down again. As he did, Annie got a good look at his face—and the bright stain covering his right arm.

“He's bleeding,” she whispered.

Suddenly the bus lurched.

The big wheels dug in hard, laying skid marks against the gray roadbed. The bus bucked in a wild dance, its rusted body screaming as smoke poured from the engine. In a cloud of dust and smoke, it flashtailed sharply, then slammed to a halt with one tire wedged against the half-built wall of cement and girders.

The force of the impact threw the officer backward, shattering the side window. He flew into the air, tossed over the bus, his powerful body twisting as he fought to control the fall.

But there was no chance at any kind of control. He struck the edge of a girder, then slammed down onto a row of scattered sandbags, his arms at an unnatural angle.

Blood welled up, staining his face and covering his torn uni form. The news camera captured every detail.

“No,” Annie whispered. “He's not moving.”

No one spoke.

Don't be dead, Sam. Please, please open your eyes.

But the hero in the torn uniform didn't move.

“Is he alive?” she rasped.

Even the announcer was silent, stricken by the life-and-death struggle played out in grim detail.

“
Is
he?” she demanded, her whole body shaking.

She fought to breathe, but the air felt hot and thick. Then her legs went weak and the floor simply wasn't there.

A
NNIE
OPENED
HER
EYES
SLOWLY
AND
INHALED.

Why was she lying down in the middle of the day? And why was she stretched out on the couch with her staff crowded around her?

Her confusion grew as she tried to sit up. She heard voices, sirens, the drone of helicopters.

Suddenly she remembered.

She struggled to see the television. “What happened to Sam? Is he—”

“Calm down.” Zoe held out a glass of water. “Drink this and take a deep breath. You're sheet white.”

“
Tell me!
” Annie wobbled toward the television, where an ambulance raced through crowded streets, trailed by a full police motorcade. “
Is he alive?
”

“No one knows. At least they're not saying.”

Swaying, Annie reached for the corner of the couch. “What about the children?”

Reynaldo, her maintenance chief, answered. “Upset, but all safe, thanks to that man in the white uniform.” His eyes narrowed on Annie. “He is the one who was here before, but he never spoke of the Navy. Was he on leave?”

“I don't know, Reynaldo.” Annie's eyes locked on the television. “
Someone
must know. What are the news people saying?”

“Not much. There's a complete blackout.” Her chef frowned. “Why didn't Sam tell you he was in the Navy?”

Annie stared at the ambulance, her heart racing right along with the swift wheels.

She hadn't known Sam was in the Navy. She hadn't known
he was going to Washington. He'd said very little about himself, shifting the talk to his boat and the weather and the voyage ahead of him. Annie hadn't pressed for information, since it was clear he wasn't going to be staying long.

For two weeks they'd laughed and sailed and explored the cove.

For two weeks they'd toasted marshmallows on the beach and watched the stars through his big telescope. Annie had been busy, but she'd made time to slip away. One star-swept night she had leaned against his strong chest, tugged off his shirt, and pulled him down onto the teak deck.

Afterward, they'd kissed slowly, without words or regrets.

Both had been very careful not to talk about love.

Now he might be dying in a pool of blood at the back of an ambulance three thousand miles away.

Footsteps raced down the hall. The door to the office flew open.

“Where is she?” Annie's older sister surveyed the room, stunning in tight black trousers and a black silk blouse. Only Annie noticed the ink smudges on her wrist and palm, a dead giveaway that she'd been in the middle of editing a new book.

Annie sat up straighter. “What's wrong?”

“You are.” Taylor O'Toole threw up her hands. “I was in the middle of a delicious murder of a very nasty villain when I got a call from your assistant saying that you'd fainted. You've been overworking again, haven't you? Missing meals, too, probably. Why didn't you tell me you needed help?”

Annie avoided her sister's anxious gaze. “I'm fine, Taylor. It was the bus.”
The blood. Sam's blood.
She drew a strained breath. “All those children. It just took me by surprise.”

“You and twenty million other Americans, who are glued to their TV sets even as we speak.” Taylor sank down beside Annie on the couch. “You look like the walking dead. I'm calling Dr. Royland.”

“I'm fine, Taylor. Don't overdramatize.”

Her sister's eyes glinted. “One more word and I'll carry you out to the car myself.”

Annie felt her sister's hands tremble and realized Taylor was terrified, but working hard to hide it. “I'll make an appointment next week, I promise. But not now. I'm too busy to be sick.”

“Last time I checked you had a staff,” her sister said acidly.

“A very fine one.” Annie watched her anxious employees drift outside. “But they're overworked already,” she added quietly.

“And
you
aren't?” Taylor barked. “You're getting me seriously pissed off.” She glanced at the television, watching a replay of the miraculous rescue, ending in a tight shot of the fallen officer.

Taylor leaned closer, studying the man's features. “Wait a minute. Isn't that …” There was new understanding in her face when she turned and took Annie's arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you up to the house. After that, I'm doing something I don't do often enough.”

Annie's brow rose. “Giving up leather pants?”

“Very funny.” Taylor opened the door. “I'm going to take care of my baby sister.”

“I'm no baby.” Annie took an irritated breath. “I told you I can't take time off right now.”

Taylor examined the cuff of her silk shirt. “Too bad. As the co-owner of Summerwind, I would be bound to conclude that my manager needed a vacation. An
enforced
vacation.”

Annie stiffened. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me.”

“That's cheap. No, that's rotten and low-down.”

“Isn't it, though?” Taylor smiled coolly. “Now, are you coming or not?”

“
LET'S
HAVE
THE
DETAILS.
”

Annie didn't turn as she searched for her house key. “About what?”

“About that gorgeous man on the school bus. He's the hunk who moored his boat in the cove last month. You told me he was sailing down to Mexico.”

The key trembled in Annie's hand. She didn't want to remember Sam's lazy grin or lean, tanned body. She didn't want to think about his first kiss or the moment it had raced out of control.

“Last month?” She tossed down her coat, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the bank of windows overlooking windblown trees and brooding coast. “It did look like Sam, didn't it?”

“Don't pretend it wasn't. I saw his face on the television and that's the man you described to me, the one who had just sold his company and was headed on a long, leisurely trip to Mexico and the Caribbean.”

Annie opened one hand slowly on the cool glass. “Did I?”

“I'm your sister, not one of your staff, for God's sake. I was gone, remember? So give me the details.” Taylor's eyes narrowed. “Were you lovers?”