The remaining guards looked around uneasily.
“Dammit, you can take him!” Knox shouted. “This is nothing but a bluff. He’s alone.”
“Wrong,” the Leduc woman said. Lewis heard the click of a safety lever as she brought her gun to bear on his men. “There are two of us.”
Petherick lunged forward to scoop Dodson’s gun off the floor. “Three,” he said, shouldering the weapon expertly as he leveled it at Lewis. He should have looked comical, a gray-haired fat man in striped pajamas. He didn’t. He finally did look like a man who had made a fortune manufacturing firearms. “Call them off, Knox. You’re finished.”
The thrum of a helicopter sounded overhead. Lewis glanced toward the wall of glass at the front of the Aerie. His first thought was that Molitor and Hillock were cutting out on him. But then a spotlight glared from the sky, piercing every shadow in the lobby. Light spilled over the deck and the rock slope beyond the windows. Figures moved at the edge of the darkness. They weren’t his men. There were too many of them.
“Shoot the hostages!” Lewis ordered.
His men ignored him. They had seen what he had. One by one, they laid their weapons on the floor and raised their hands.
“You cowards!” Lewis yelled. “Idiots! Whitby, I’m not going down alone. You better help me!”
Petherick started and glanced at Whitby. “Jim? What did he mean?”
The moment he looked away, Lewis bent forward at the waist, jerked his arms behind him as far as his taped wrists would allow and grabbed the barrel of Redinger’s gun with one hand.
He’d intended to wrench it from Redinger’s grip, prove to his men he was still in control and show them how to fight back.
But Redinger didn’t let go of the gun. Or the trigger.
Lewis’s death was instantaneous. He never realized that his own action had fired the bullet that killed him.
Chantal’s ears were ringing from Mitch’s gunshot. The sound of his voice seemed to be coming down a long tunnel. Something warm trickled down her face. She lifted one hand from her gun to touch her cheek and discovered the warmth was from blood. Knox’s blood. It had spattered all over her when the back of his head had burst open.
She gagged and dropped her gun, then scrubbed at her skin with her palms.
People came from every direction. They poured through the corridor beneath the gallery, rushed down the staircase and inside from the deck. Men and women in dark blue jackets that had FBI spelled out in large letters on the back converged on Knox’s men. Others went to the hostages.
No, the former hostages. They were free. They were all on their feet, laughing, crying, hugging. Everyone was safe. That fact penetrated her horror, yet her nerves had been strung too tightly for her to feel anything as simple as relief.
Help had come after all. The evidence was right before her eyes. Somehow, Mitch’s message had worked.
He placed the weapons he held on the floor and led her away while agents bent over Knox’s body. He didn’t stop until they reached the front windows. “Breathe,” he ordered. “Slow and steady. You’re okay. It’s over.”
Chantal dropped her forehead to his shoulder. He was a rock. How many times had she turned to him, held him, shared his strength?
But the time for that had ended. They were safe. It was over, just as he’d said, as she’d wanted, as she’d prayed.
“You did great.” He stroked her hair, then her back, his touch calm, as if they had all the time in the world.
But they didn’t. She forced herself to straighten. “Mitch! We have to stop the shipment of missiles!”
He nodded his chin toward the other end of the lobby. “I’d guess that’s tops on Graham’s agenda.”
She followed his gaze. Jim Whitby was being led away in handcuffs while Graham spoke heatedly with two FBI agents. They turned with him and hurried toward the back of the building, in all probability heading for the computer and the radio in her office.
A woman in a tweed suit separated from the knot of agents who were dealing with the freed hostages. She approached Chantal and Mitch. Before she could reach them, she was overtaken and passed by a tall, lanky man in a set of army fatigues.
Mitch tensed. “What the hell’s he doing here?”
The soldier was carrying what appeared to be a red tackle box that had a cross made of white tape on the side. He jogged directly to Mitch and gave him a crisp salute. “Major Redinger, you’d better let me take a look at that arm.”
His arm? Chantal focused on his sleeve. It gaped apart. She remembered the leather had been sliced during his scuffle with Knox’s man.
He shucked his jacket and pushed up his sweatshirt sleeve to regard his forearm. Both she and the soldier relaxed when they saw there wasn’t even a scratch on Mitch’s skin. “How did you get here, Norton?” he asked.
“We hitched a ride with the FBI. Officially, we tagged along as advisers.”
“We?”
The soldier grinned. “The whole team’s here, sir. You’ve pulled our butts out of the fire often enough. None of us would miss the chance to return the favor.”
An answering smile deepened the lines beside Mitch’s mouth. “You almost did miss it, Sergeant.”
“We would have dropped in earlier if it wasn’t for those pesky rules about not deploying on American soil. None of us know how to get around red tape as well as you do, Major.”
“A fact the army should be grateful for. Chantal, this is Sergeant Norton, Eagle Squadron’s medic. Sergeant, this is Miss Leduc, the owner of the Aerie.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Norton said. He paused to look more closely at her face. “Whoa. Is any of that blood yours?”
“No. It’s…” She swallowed hard and glanced back toward the spot where Knox had fallen. The remains were being loaded into a black body bag.
“Knox was leaning in front of her,” Mitch said. “She caught the spray.”
Norton took a plastic box of diaper wipes from what she now realized was his med kit and handed them to her. “Here. I’ve found these are good for cleaning all kinds of things besides babies.”
He spoke as calmly as Mitch. She didn’t want to think about how many times they might have needed to wipe off blood. She nodded her thanks and took one of the moistened cloths. “Major Redinger hurt his ankle,” she said. “You’ll need to get him to a hospital to have it X-rayed.”
“Evac’s standing by, Miss Leduc. We’ll start moving people out as soon as the area’s secured.”
“We’ve got a prisoner locked up in one of the old cabins near the base of the hill,” Mitch said.
“Duncan already got Captain Fox to point the sats this way. She’s using infrared to help track down the stragglers. She’ll spot him and guide the feds.”
“As I recall, Norton, most of you were on leave this week.”
“That’s why we were late getting your message. We weren’t there when Deputy Hennessey called Fort Bragg to check out your credentials. We mobilized as soon as we heard.”
“What about Deputy Hennessey?” Chantal asked quickly. “And his wife? We saw Knox’s men destroy their plane. Is there any chance they survived?”
Norton shook his head. “Sorry, no. Were they friends of yours?”
She nodded. In spite of how horrible Knox’s death had been, she couldn’t be sorry he had died. “And Waterfalls Resort? It’s at the north end of the lake. It looked from here as if…”
“We’re sorry, Miss Leduc.” A woman spoke from behind her shoulder. When Chantal turned, the woman held out her hand. “Special Agent Sandra Templar,” she said. It was the agent in the tweed suit. “The resort was leveled. I’m afraid your neighbor didn’t make it, but without your efforts, many more lives would have been lost. We owe both you and Major Redinger our sincere thanks.”
“Agent Templar,” Mitch said. “It’s good to see you again, but isn’t Maine out of your area? I thought you were based in Denver.”
The woman smiled. “It’s good to see you too, Major. When I heard it was you calling for help, I found a way to tag along.” She returned her gaze to Chantal. “Major Redinger and his team helped us out on a case a few years ago. You were fortunate he was here.”
Yes, she was. Everyone was. Yet only four days ago she’d wished he’d been anywhere else. She took a fresh diaper wipe from the box. She was reaching to clean the blood she’d smeared on Mitch’s neck when she was separated from him by the impact of a small body.
“Miss Leduc!” Henry wrapped his skinny arms around her waist. He laughed as he clung to her. “I
knew
you’d come back. I told them!”
“Chantal, I’m so glad you’re all right.” Tyra engulfed her in a hug that included her son. “It’s been a nightmare. I still can’t believe what happened.”
Walter reached her next. His forehead bore a crusted gash and a large bruise from where he’d been struck during the initial assault, but his smile was beaming. Within moments, Rhonda and Tommy took their turns hugging her. Even the rest of Graham’s staff joined the group to embrace her. Everyone talked at once, yet there was a brittle edge to their excitement.
Chantal felt sick at the thought of what they had endured. They needed food and rest more than she did. She turned to Agent Templar, demanding to know what would be done for her people. She was quickly assured the mental and physical health of the former hostages would be their top priority. It wasn’t enough. Chantal still felt responsible for their welfare.
She glanced at Mitch. The army men who had been Graham’s guests congratulated him with handshakes and hearty slaps on the back. Three more soldiers in fatigues like Norton had joined the group around Mitch. Judging by their size and their muscular builds, they had to be more commandos from Eagle Squadron. Though they kept their distance from him, their body language was unmistakably protective. It was obvious to her they were as concerned about their commander as the medic was.
The circle of her friends pulled her farther away as the soldiers around Mitch did the same. The distance between them grew. So did the lump in Chantal’s throat.
It truly was over. Once more, she would return to her world just as Mitch would be drawn back to his.
She’d known this would happen. It had been inevitable from the start. As if he could feel her gaze, Mitch looked her way. Somehow, she dredged up her hostess’s smile, or as close to one as she could manage. Turning away, she tried to regard the scene from a professional perspective.
The place was a mess. There were ragged bullet holes in the floor. Who knew what shape the kitchen and the guest rooms were in? Her watercraft were ruined. Everything in the drive shed had likely been burned to cinders. She would need to refund Graham’s deposit. See? She had more than enough to fill her time and occupy her mind. Just sorting through the insurance issues alone would keep her too busy to dwell on any emptiness she might feel.
“Chantal?” Mitch touched her arm.
She jumped.
Damn, would that pattern never change?
“Chantal, we need to talk.”
“Yes, I should thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I have yet. You handled this crisis better than anyone could have expected.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What? Don’t thank you? Don’t be modest. We owe you more than words can express.” She blinked hard, struggling for control. She looked around. Her staff were watching her, just as the soldiers were observing Mitch. She tried for a smile again. “Any time you want a holiday, you’re welcome to come back and stay, compliments of the Aerie, of course. It’s the least we can do for you to show our appreciation. Hopefully, we’ll have the damage repaired by the time we open for the season next spring, although I’m not sure whether we’ll be able to replace the mahogany launch.”
He clenched his jaw, then put his hand on the small of her back and turned her away from the onlookers. He didn’t stop until they had crossed the lobby and he had led her outside to the deck.
The stench of smoke and burnt rubber wafted on the breeze, along with the sound of voices on the hill and approaching helicopters. Her home was still being invaded, although this time by law enforcement personnel instead of thugs. For the moment, at least, she and Mitch were alone.
“Don’t treat me like a stranger,” he said. “It won’t work.”
She stepped away from him and walked to the railing at the side of the deck that overlooked the lake. The air that came over the water was fresher. It helped steady her. “Is that why you brought me out here? To complain about my manners?”
“We never finished our conversation in the cabin. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“I think we already said everything there was to say. Probably more than we should have. We worked well together, but the situation is over and we have to go back to real life.”
He moved beside her. “Is that what you truly want, Chantal?”
No, I want you to love me.
He inhaled sharply. For a second she thought she might have said it aloud, but her lips were still pressed tightly together. No, she didn’t want his love. She knew better than that. Love meant pain. Love left you weak and powerless. “I want to part as friends.”
“Friends,” he repeated.
“Yes. Considering our history, don’t you think that’s quite an accomplishment?”
“Define friends.”
“Someone you know well. Someone you care what happens to.”
“Like a friend who only comes to visit for a while and then leaves?”
“Three days, no matter how intense they’ve been, can’t wipe away the effects of a lifetime, Mitch. A friend would understand that.”
“We make a good team, Chantal.”
“You have a team. They’re waiting for you inside.”
He fisted his hands on the railing. “As good as they are, even they have never managed to enter an enemy’s stronghold and defeat a force of armed men with nothing more than matches, some confiscated weapons and a roll of duct tape. If we can do that, we can do anything, even work through the past.”
“I told you, it’s not the past that’s the problem. It’s who we are now.”
“Then let’s take more time to learn who we are now. You said three days weren’t enough. I agree. Come back to Fort Bragg with me.”
“No. My life is here.”
“You’ll be closing up the Aerie for the winter.”
“It will take me months to see to the repairs.”