Operation Willow Quest (19 page)

Her feet pounded on the
stairwell as she flew down the flight of stairs. She could hear the men
following close behind and pushed herself harder. The bag she’d hooked over her
shoulder and then over her head in order to strap it securely over her chest,
bounced against her as she ran. Veering sideways, she pushed her shoulder
against the doorway and ran along the corridor to the lift. Hitting the car
park floor button, she held her breath as the door slid shut. The lift would
hit the underground car park faster than taking the stairs would, and from
there she’d have precious seconds to reach the car. As her breath heaved and
her oxygen-starved lungs fought for breath, she took the opportunity to search
for her keys, clutching them tightly as she counted down the last few floors.

When the lift glided
soundlessly to a stop, the doors parted and Willow sprinted to her car—fumbling slightly
as she inserted her key and shut the door. A dark form burst through the
stairwell door. She threw the car into gear and let out the clutch, shooting
from her space with a squeal of tires that would have made a B grade action
movie director proud. Clearing the driveway with reckless disregard for any
form of common courtesy, she pulled out into the street amongst a blare of
horns and shouts of outrage from fellow drivers. With a frightened glance in
the mirror, she saw there was no sign of anyone who looked as though they were
trying to catch up with her and she let out a shaky breath, keeping her eyes on
the traffic ahead, ready for any chance to zip her way through it faster. She
kept to as many side streets as possible in order to avoid traffic lights, and
zigzagged her way across the city.

Pulling over on a side
street after driving in and around the city for an hour, determined to shake
even the most tedious of trailers, she parked the car and dropped her head on
the steering wheel in exhaustion. After a few moments, she dug in her bag and
pulled out her phone, growling as her fingers shook and bumped the wrong buttons,
taking longer than usual to bring up her contacts and find the right number.
She listened to the call connect and forced herself to breathe slowly. “Del, it’s me,” she said
finally, once she had herself under control.

“Where the hell are
you? Ox is going ballistic. Summer told him you’d left the house and you
haven’t been answering your phone—”

“Men are after me, and
I don’t know where to go,” she cut in, knowing she was sounding almost
hysterical.

His lecture ceased as
he registered the fear in her voice. “Hold on, calm down a minute. What
happened?” he asked.

“I was supposed to meet
my editor, but these two guys tried to grab me,” she said, running a hand
through her hair as she tried to get herself under control once more. “What the
hell is going on?”

She heard him swear
softly and Willow
silently echoed the statement. He paused for a moment before continuing in his
deep, calm voice, “Where are you now?”

“I don’t know, I’ve
been driving around—I’m not sure how to get back to Summer’s. I was too busy
making sure no one was following me to pay any attention to where I was
headed.” She felt like an idiot.

“Okay, go to a gas
station and ask them where you are then call me back,” he told her patiently.

Willow
closed her eyes and
silently groaned at her stupidity. “Okay,” she said and sighed, then
disconnected the call, dropping the phone back in her bag.

Heading back into
traffic, Willow
drove for a short while and then a sign with a place she
recognised
up ahead caught her eye and with a small sigh of relief, she switched lanes,
finally able to find her way back towards Summer’s.

Pulling up, she groaned
aloud when she saw the cluster of vehicles in her sister’s driveway. Before
she’d even closed the door behind her, Del
was out the front door and heading towards her.

“I thought I told you
to call me back,” he all but yelled as he reached her side.

“I worked out where I
was.” She watched as he brought his anger under control.

“That’s not the point,”
he said in a clipped tone that was beginning to sound more and more like her
controlling brother-in-law. “Why the hell weren’t you answering your phone?”

“Because, I was
driving
,” she told him.

“Have you heard of hands-free?”

“I can’t work the
stupid thing—stop yelling at me.” When he continued to stare at her as though
she’d lost her mind, she frowned. “What?”

“You
call to say you were almost abducted, and then you don’t answer your phone—are
you really so self-absorbed that it doesn’t even occur to you that we were
worried?”

“Self-absorbed?”

“You are, and it’s not
one of your finer traits,” he snapped.

The comment stung more
than she cared to admit. He had no idea the direct hit he’d made on one of her
deepest fears.

“Look. I’m sorry I
worried you, I wasn’t thinking, but it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve
had to report to anyone, so back off. You guys think you can just step in and
bark out orders like we’re all bloody Marines,” she yelled, poking him in the chest
and stepping closer. “Well I have news for you,
pal
, we’re not. I’m sick and tired of being treated like a damn
prisoner around here.”

“Well, excuse me for
trying to keep you alive,” he bit out sarcastically, then froze, sending her a
guarded expression that instantly caught her attention.

“Keep me alive? What
are you talking about?”

“You were almost
abducted and I gave you instructions which you didn’t follow,” he snapped, his
shuttered expression sending her instincts into overdrive. He wasn’t telling
her something and it was something big.

“Why did you even
bother calling me, if you have no intention of
doin
’
what I tell you?” he roared.

“Because you were the
first person I thought of—” she yelled back, and then shut her mouth abruptly
as she saw his gaze narrow as he zoned in on her unguarded reply.

Del
opened his mouth to
say something but Willow
clenched her jaw, and took a step around him. She hated that this damn man
seemed to
always
be right about
everything…
and she didn’t want to think
too hard about why he’d been the first person she’d called when she’d been in
trouble.

“I’m home!” Plastering
a carefree smile on her face, she called out to Summer, who sat reading a
magazine, unaware of the ruffled feathers of the two men around her. They were experts
at keeping their cool in stressful situations.

“How was it?” her
sister asked, referring to her editorial meeting as she sipped her coffee,
glancing up from her magazine.

“I was run off my feet,” Willow
told her in a dry tone that made Del’s
jaw tighten and his eyes flash an un-amused warning.

Chapter 13

The sand was cold beneath her feet as she
ambled along the deserted beach. It was beautiful at this time of the morning—the
sand, pristine and white, showed only the solitary set of her own footprints.

The crash of the waves on the rocks nearby
roared loud, blocking out everything except for the sound of nature and her
breath. If only she could drown out her thoughts, this would be the perfect
moment, she reflected with a small twist of her lips.

After her terrifying experience the day before,
she’d found it hard to relax, something emphasized by the extra stress of
keeping it from her sister. It was no wonder she found herself unable to sleep.

Who the hell were the men who’d tried to abduct
her? She’d dismissed calling the police—not wanting them coming to the house to
take her statement and involving Summer, and knowing there was no way she’d be
able to account for the hours she’d be needed at the police station. Besides,
what would she tell them when they asked if she could think of anyone who would
want to cause her harm? Well, actually, officer—I’ve not long returned from a
trip to Colombia
where I acquired evidence that the United States Government felt contained
highly classified information on the possible coup of a South American
country…of which I illegally have copies on my computer…

So she’d given up on sleep and sat down to try
and write up the story in the wee hours of the morning, but had been unable to
work up the enthusiasm to do more than rearrange the notes she’d already written.

She’d hoped that after a bracing walk along the
beach, she’d have her drive back and the words would flow out onto the page. It
didn’t help that her fight with Del
in front of the whole damn Marine division the other day had made her feel like
some kind of traitor. Not for the first time, she wished she could be more like
Summer, and just go with the flow. It would be nice not to always have someone
on her case about something she’d done.

Tate and the others were in an occupation that
placed them in far more danger than she’d ever been in, and yet no one got on
their cases about it. Bending down, she picked up a stick and began to doodle
aimlessly in the smooth wet sand by her feet.

Do I get
in Del’s face
and forbid him to do his job? Do I stick my nose into his business?
 
She cringed a little when she admitted maybe
she tried on occasion to poke about in subjects she knew the men wouldn’t talk
about, but that was her job—she had a professional obligation to the public to
investigate things the government tried to cover up. Besides—it was fun to poke
at their shutter-like exterior.

With a deep sigh, she looked down at her
drawing and gave a small gasp. Del
in a heart? Was she insane? What had she been thinking? She was acting like
some silly schoolgirl—doodling all over her notebook with the name of some
puppy love crush. Scrubbing the sand with her foot, she erased the ridiculous
picture and threw the stick away.
Get a
grip,
Sheldon
, she instructed
forcefully. Retracing her earlier steps with a renewed determination, she
decided to shake off her big-girly-blouse attitude and harden up. She had a
story to write.

* * * *

However as Willow sat chewing the end of her
pencil as she read over the documents on the screen, it seemed like nothing was
going to spark her inspiration and fire.

The assassination lists in Spanish that Del had read over before
stared back at her. The names meant nothing to her, but it would have been
better if she could have had them translated so she knew what they said for
herself. There were so many names, she wondered how many had been crossed off
this original list, and gave a slight shudder. As she clicked on the next page,
her gaze roamed over the screen—then froze as familiar names jumped out at her.

Maddox
, Delaware,
Tupperoni
, Maloney,
Summer Sheldon-Maddox and Willow
Sheldon.

Willow
felt her mouth go dry.
Small dots danced before her eyes and she felt her heart go into a strange, out
of time rhythm.

They were on a
hit list
? Someone had marked the people she cared the most
about—for death. Somewhere out there was a maniac with her name on his list.
Then another thought surfaced.

Del
knew.

Now she understood. This was the reason he
hadn’t wanted her to write the story and why they were all acting so paranoid
about her whereabouts—he knew what was on the file.

It took a long time for Willow to drag her gaze from the computer
screen, but when she did, she’d re-gathered her composure, and with it came a
burning rage and a desire to hurt, maim, and reek havoc upon Samuel
Trèago
. She decided instead to funnel all her energy into
writing her exposé, and for the rest of the day, threw herself into doing what
she did best—putting a story on paper.

* * * *

Summer knocked on Willow’s
door that afternoon to inform her that Del
and the other two were coming over. When she saw Willow’s eyes flare, she held up a hand and
shook her head. “I don’t care what happened between you, it’s none of my
business, but I want this fixed. I won’t have two people I love avoiding one
another and making the rest of us walk on egg shells around you both. Fix it, Willow,” she ordered.

When the sound of male voices carried down onto
the beach later that evening, she dragged herself back up to the house to face
the uncomfortable situation of sitting across from the man she’d humiliated in
front of his closest friends—
Can
it get any better than this?

It didn’t matter—by the end of the night it was
destined to get a hell of a lot worse, once she had a chance to find out why
they were keeping her in the dark about
Trèago’s
hit
list.

The dinner wasn’t a total disaster. Tate and
the men kept the conversation flowing and Summer filled in the gaps, but Willow had to concentrate
on forcing each mouthful of her meal down without choking.