Pamela Clare - Striking Distance

Laura watched as the twins turned back for Klara, each of them taking her by one hand and leading her toward the water, Heidi behind them.

“Aw.” Javier grinned. “Now that was cute.

“Those girls really do love her.”

Javier chuckled. “Look at that poor bastard.”

Clearly the family’s beast of burden, Erik had appeared dragging a rolling cooler while carrying two beach bags and five folding beach chairs, two for adults and three little ones for the girls. Wearing a blue tropical shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button over a green pair of swim trunks, and a pair of loafers on his feet, he reminded Laura of every Swedish father she’d ever seen on the beach—indulgent of his family and not very fashionable.

Laura looked back toward the girls playing in the sand. Klara sat, legs splayed, digging with a plastic shovel and making dubious contributions to a sand castle that her two older sisters had begun. Heidi knelt beside them, a happy smile on her face. She looked up, saw Laura watching, and motioned for her to join them. “Would you girls like your aunt Laura to play with us?”

“Yes!” the twins answered, Stella looking over at Laura and waving.

“You go spend time with that sweet baby girl of yours.” Javier sat up, kissed Laura’s cheek, then called to Erik. “You look like a man who needs a hand.”

“Oh!” Erik laughed, two of the little beach chairs slipping from his fingers. “I suppose I do.”

Laura walked across the sand, her pulse picking up as she sat down beside Klara. “What are you all building?”

“A sand castle,” the twins answered.

Klara looked up at Laura with guileless blue eyes. Speaking in Swedish, she parroted Anette and Stella. “Sand castle.”

Laura met the gaze of the wonderful woman who was raising her child. “Thank you, Heidi, for letting me join in. Thank you for everything.”

Nineteen years later

Los Angeles, California

JAVIER STOOD AT the side of the stage, watching as Laura gave the commencement address at Klara’s college graduation at USC Annenberg’s School of Journalism. Earpiece discreetly in place, he listened as his men checked in with one another. Tower was directing this operation, but Javier had come strapped anyway, body armor and a concealed 9mm beneath his suit jacket. Although it was unlikely that anything would happen today, he wasn’t taking chances.

College officials had let slip that Laura would be addressing her goddaughter’s graduating class, and the media had picked up on that. One paper had even run a photograph of Klara. Though almost twenty years had gone by since Javier had carried Klara out of Pakistan, there was a possibility, however remote, that someone would put the pieces together. He, Tower, and a team from CIS were there to make sure no one got near her.

And then there was Laura’s safety to consider.

Her very presence here had caused a stir. As the face of the nation’s top prime-time news program—the network had fired Gary Chapin and brought her on board the moment they’d heard she was interested in returning to broadcast journalism—she was more of a celebrity than she’d ever been, her ordeal a matter of public knowledge. Although there hadn’t been a credible threat against her in a decade, the public nature of the event would give anyone who wanted to harm her an opportunity.

But so far, all had been quiet.

“It is true that reporters see both the best and the worst that human beings have to offer. Over time, it gets hard not to be cynical. It will take a lot of integrity on your part to keep your mind and heart open, to see beyond the brokenness and dysfunction of the people you meet, to be that voice for the voiceless.”

Javier knew Laura’s speech by heart. She’d been nervous about it and had asked him to listen as she’d read it a half dozen times. Javier knew the cause of her nerves wasn’t a lack of confidence in her own abilities, but the fact that Klara was in the audience. Their little angel was graduating summa cum laude with a degree in journalism. She’d been inspired by her aunt Laura, whom she looked up to and loved, and despite Laura’s suggestion that she follow a new and exciting path that was all her own, Klara had been determined. She wanted to become a reporter.

Journalism was clearly in the girl’s DNA. She had already lined up an internship with the L.A. Times-Sentinel , and she’d done it without Laura’s help. Her excitement for the job reminded him so much of Laura that it scared the shit out of him. So far she hadn’t talked about going overseas to work, and for that he was grateful.

He loved the girl, loved her like she was his own daughter.

“Remember that life is not just your career. A career is what you do. It’s not who you are. This was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. You’d be surprised how fast your priorities rearrange themselves when there’s a knife being held to your throat.”

Laura’s speech was almost done. Javier could see that her audience was transfixed. He knew what they saw when they looked up at her, because it was what he saw every day—a beautiful woman with a big heart, a courageous survivor, a person who’d been through the worst and had come out stronger and more determined to make a difference in her world.

They saw a hero.

“When you leave this ceremony today, you walk in the footsteps of a dozen generations of American journalists whose job it has been to shine a light into the darkness. They made their mark on the history of our nation. Stand strong, think with your heart, and you will make yours. Congratulations, graduates of the class of 2033.”

The audience of students and parents rose as one to its feet, the applause deafening. Onstage, Laura shook the university president’s hand and those of several professors, a smile on her face. She took her seat, while the president asked the students to stand, invited them to move their tassels, and pronounced them graduates.

Cheers. Flying beach balls. Mortarboards in the air.

Laura came down the steps, the question in her eyes.

He answered before she could ask. “You nailed it. That was fantastic.”

“You think so?”

“Did you miss that standing ovation?”

She smiled. “I didn’t want to disappoint Klara.”

He saw Klara making her way toward them, a bright smile on her sweet face. “I don’t think you did.”

“Aunt Laura!” Klara ran up, dressed in her black robe, and threw her arms around Laura. “That was beautiful. I got tears in my eyes.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart! I’m so proud of you. We’re both so proud of you.”

Klara hugged Javier and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “You look so handsome, Uncle Javi. I’m not used to seeing you in a suit. But what’s this?”

She punched his body armor lightly, teasing him. She knew what he did for a living, had seen him in body armor more than once.

“That’s my toned and muscular body.” Javier flexed his bicep. “You think your beautiful aunt would hang around with just any guy?”

Klara laughed, her smile making her look even more like her mother. “Are you coming to dinner with us?”

“Of course!” Laura glanced at her watch. “I want to head back to the hotel and change, but we’ll meet you in the hotel lobby in an hour and go together.”

“Perfect!” Klara danced off through the crowd, beaming, her long, dark hair spilling down her back.

LAURA STRETCHED OUT beside Javier, bliss still singing through her. Sex was the best way she knew to release stress. “We may be old, but we’ve still got it.”

“Who’s old?” He drew her closer, kissed her cheek. “You’re a hot and sexy fifty-two, and I’m a badass fifty-eight. Fifty is the new twenty. You think any of those kids at today’s graduation has a sex life that comes anywhere near to ours? We’re just getting started, bella .”