Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

"Jealous of Jacobson or Russell? Get serious." John's lips curled with derision. "Jacobson was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Russell stuck his nose in my personal business. He had to die. He had to be punished."

"You keep saying that. We all need to be punished, right? Because little Johnny's feelings were hurt? Because his girlfriend dumped him as soon as she got old enough to see that he was nothing but a sick son of a bitch and a child molester?"

"Shut up!" John shouted, his face screwing up with rage. "Shut the fuck up and give me my goddamn book!"

"This book?" Luke asked, holding it up. "No problem. Just hand over Emma."

"You want the little bitch? It'll be a pleasure. Almost as much of a pleasure as putting a bullet in your brain."

As if in slow motion, Kate watched as John tossed Emma into the air. Luke rushed forward. A scream ripped from her lips as she dove for the infant, hoping at the very least to put herself between Emma and the ground.

Kate caught her, then went down hard, twisting to take the brunt of the fall and protect Emma. She skidded on the gravel; it tore at her arms, elbows and legs.

A blast rent the air.

"No!" Kate cried as Luke stopped dead, his body convulsing as the bullet slammed into him.

Suddenly the night went from dark to light as spotlights from the boats on either side of the pier snapped on, pinning John in their bright circles. Men with guns appeared as if from nowhere, at least a dozen of them, their weapons trained on John.

"Drop your weapon, Powers! CI-"

With a howl of rage, John swung toward Kate, leveling his gun on her and Emma.

Kate's life passed before her eyes. She lurched sideways, clutching her daughter to her chest, shielding the infant with her body, saying one last, silent prayer as she awaited the bullet's impact.

The agents opened fire. John's body jerked and twitched as round after round blew into him-blood, fragments of bone and bits of flesh flew as the shots pitched him side to side, forward and back in a grotesque dance of death.

As abruptly as it had begun, the explosion of sound that shattered the night ceased. But still, John stood. He hung there, gun clutched in his hand, blank gaze on Kate. In that moment, hysteria pulling at her, Kate wondered if John Powers couldn't be killed. If, monster that he was, he needed neither blood nor bone nor breath to survive. She wondered if it would ever be over.

Then, like a puppet whose wires had been suddenly severed, he went down, folding in on himself, hitting the ground without a sound.

Luke opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the bright light. His mouth was dry; his head felt as if it had been used as a battering ram. He moved his gaze, taking in the I.V., the bed rails, the TV mounted from the ceiling. A hospital, he realized. He was in a hospital.

He turned his head. Kate slept in a big chair beside the bed, Emma asleep in her arms.

They were alive. They were all alive.

He shifted slightly and winced as pain shot through his shoulder. With the pain, the events of the evening came rushing back, though in a confusing and disjointed blur. Kate's scream. The intense burning in his shoulder and the sensation of being propelled backward by a force beyond his control. The warm stickiness of blood, then the realization that he had been shot, that he was most probably going to die.

But he hadn't died. None of them had.

"I thought I'd lost you."

He turned his head toward Kate. His lips lifted. "I thought you had, too. Hanging out with you is damn hazardous, lady."

She smiled even as her eyes flooded with tears. "I'm sorry, Luke. I'm so-"

"Don't be. I'm not." He shifted his gaze to take in Emma. Only then did he see the angry red welt across her mouth and cheeks.

From the tape, he realized, fisting his fingers, impotent rage swelling inside him. "That son of a bitch. How could he?"

"It'll heal," Kate said softly. "She's alive and that's all that matters."

"Thank God for the cavalry. If not for them-"

He bit the words back. They both knew where they would be right now if not for Tom Morris and his men. Luke's hunch had been correct. Apparently, they'd had their suspicions about John Powers for some time. They'd used Luke and Kate to get them confirmation.

Kate shifted Emma so she lay in the crook of one arm, propped against her side. With her free hand she reached for his. She curled her fingers around his. "No," she whispered. "Thank God for you."

"For me?" He shook his head. "Some hero. I didn't even get my gun out of my pants."

Kate laughed and brought his hand to her mouth. She kissed his knuckles, then his hand. "Without you, Emma and I would be dead. I believe that, and I'll be forever grateful to you."

He laced their fingers. "It's over now, love. You're safe."

"I know. But it doesn't feel that way. If I hadn't seen him die, if I hadn't-"

"I know." He tightened his fingers. "But you did see it, we both did. He can't hurt you anymore."

The door to his room swung open and a man in surgical scrubs entered. "Morning, folks." He crossed to the end of the bed, lifted Luke's chart, scanned it, then turned to Luke.

He smiled. "How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Dallas?"

Condor. Luke narrowed his eyes. He must have been in on the Agency's plans, all along. "I feel like shit. How are you?"

Beside him, Kate made a sound of surprise. Luke glanced at her; she was staring at Condor, a look of confusion on her face.

"And here I thought you'd be happy to be alive."

"I am that." Luke motioned him closer, as if he had something to say that he didn't want Kate to hear. Condor bent slightly, and Luke grabbed a fistful of his scrub and jerked him down, so that they were eye to eye.

"You bastard. You could have helped us, but instead you stood back and let Morris use us as pawns to get Powers."

Condor closed his hand around Luke's wrist, his grip like steel. "I had a job to do, Dallas. It wasn't personal. We needed confirmation that Powers killed the senator and Russell, we needed to know why-you got us that. We needed his book to confirm his involvement in other activities. You got us that as well. We thank you."

"And I suppose you guys knew where we were meeting Powers because you tapped our phone?"

"That's generally the way it works."

Luke searched the man's gaze. Condor felt no remorse about having used them that way, at having put them in harm's way, no guilt or regret.

With a sound of disgust, Luke released him. "Fuck you."

"I helped you where I could." Condor straightened, automatically smoothing the front of his scrub. "I warned you to hold on to Powers' book. Hell, Dallas, I could have taken it that day. You would have given it to me."

"And I should be grateful?"

"Frankly? Yes. I could have let you die."

"And what about Julianna? You could have prevented her death."

His expression didn't change. "My loyalty is to the Agency, Luke. And to my country. For me, there was never a question of whose interests came first. I'm sure you can understand that."

"Powers talked about loyalty, too. About honor and commitment. And he was a psycho."

Condor smiled, the curving of his lips emotionless. "We all walk a fine line, don't we, my friend?"

He crossed to the door, stopping and looking back at Kate when he reached it. He smiled. "See you around, Kate."

As the door snapped shut, Kate turned to Luke in disbelief.

"That man was a customer of mine, a Dead Head. Only he looks completely different now. I wouldn't have recognized him, but for his eyes." She drew her eyebrows together. "My phone…the repairman. That man was in my house."

"He's with the Agency, Kate. He was probably sent to watch Powers. Take him out if need be. He probably tapped your phone. The Bean's, too."