Iris Johansen - Star-Spangled Bride

She didn't answer him.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to send the helicopter back to Marasef and we'll both drive to the border."

"You can't do that," she said.

"Try me."

Her hands clenched into fists. "You're going to spoil everything. Do you want to end up a prisoner again?"

"No, and I don't want you to, either."

She wasn't going to be able to sway him so she gave in. "There will be too much coverage."

His eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your helicopter will probably be met in Marasef by half the reporters in the Middle East and the CIA and-"

"What difference does that make? You're a reporter yourself."

"It's very different," she said fiercely. "No one pays any attention to just one reporter on a news crew, but you'd be in the spotlight and some of it would be bound to spill over onto me. I can't have that."

"Why the hell not?"

"I have my reasons."

"None that are worth your life."

"That's my decision to make," she said. "And if you really think you owe me something, you can pay me back by getting on that helicopter tonight and stop trying to mess up my life."

"How the devil would I be-" He broke off as he met her blazing eyes. His lips tightened. "Okay, I'll take the helicopter."

"And you won't nag me to go along?" she persisted.

"Why should I waste my time?" He got up and turned away. "I give you my solemn promise I'll not make the slightest damn attempt to nag you to save your own neck."

The helicopter hovered and then landed with a soft thud on the grassy plateau.

"Come on." Ronnie grabbed Gabe's arm and started running toward the aircraft. "We have to get you out of here. Those lights can be seen for miles."

Gabe's long legs were easily outdistancing hers. "Leaving you right on ground zero," he muttered savagely.

"The sooner you take off, the sooner I'll be on my way too."

The door of the helicopter was opening and a slim, wiry man wearing a leather flight jacket jumped down.

"Bredlowe?" she asked as she came within calling distance.

"Right."

She reached into her bag, drew out her camcorder, and told Gabe, "You go ahead. I want to catch a shot of you two together."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Nevertheless he sprinted forward and grasped the man's hand.

Bredlowe's eyes were glistening in the lights of the helicopter as he said something to Gabe. She couldn't hear over the roar of the rotors, but there was no mistaking either the emotion or the drama of the greeting between the two men.

Gabe turned to her. "Put the camera down and come meet my friends." His voice was gruff and his eyes as moist as Bredlowe's. She reluctantly switched off the camera and hurried forward. It was great stuff, but she had enough footage and Gabe needed to get under way.

"Dan Bredlowe, Ronnie Dalton," Gabe said. "Ronnie tells me you've already met by phone."

Bredlowe's hand enveloped Ronnie's. "Lord, I didn't think you could pull it off. You're a bloody miracle."

At closer range he looked to be in his late twenties, with a shock of curly brown hair and hazel eyes that gazed at her as if she were Mother Teresa and Michelle Pfeiffer rolled into one. It made her uncomfortable. "Hi," she said awkwardly. "You'd better get him out of here." She turned to Gabe and thrust out her hand. "It's time for you to go. Good-bye."

He took her hand and warmth flowed through her as it had the first time he had touched her.

He was staring at her, his face impassive, but she could sense the storm of emotion in him. He didn't like this. Well, she didn't either, but she didn't have a choice.

"Oh, will you do me a favor?" She withdrew her hand, opened her camera, and took out the cassette. "Will you keep this for me? I'll send for it as soon as I'm safe."

"So you won't get caught with it?" he asked caustically.

"I won't get caught. It's just safe practice to guard the story. Will you?"

He took the cassette and jammed it into his jacket pocket. "Come with me."

She shook her head, a tremulous smile on her lips. "Not possible. And you promised not to nag me."

"I won't nag you." He gestured to the pilot in the plane. "This is David Carroll, my pilot."

She turned her head to see the brown-skinned pilot, his wide smile gleaming in the lighted dash of the cockpit as he leaned forward to offer his hand.

"A pleasure," he said softly. "Nice to meet-" Pain exploded in her jaw! Blackness followed.

Dan gasped. "Gabe, what the hell are you-"

"Grab that camera," Gabe rapped as he caught Ronnie's slumping body. "She'll castrate me if anything happens to it."

Dan grabbed the camera as it fell from Ronnie's lax fingers. "She might do it anyway. A right to the jaw isn't the way most people show gratitude for saving their lives."

"It was that or let her risk her neck again trying to reach the border." He carried Ronnie to the helicopter, settled her in one of the backseats, and fastened her seat belt. "No way was I going to let that happen. Let's get the hell out of here, Dave."

The pilot watched him climb into the seat beside Ronnie and fasten his seat belt. "Is she okay? She's out like a light."

"You hit her pretty hard," Dan accused.

"Shut up and get in the helicopter," Gabe said through his teeth. He was feeling enough guilt; he didn't need any more heaped on him.

Dan jumped into the helicopter, taking the other front seat, and slammed the door. "Take off, Dave." As the helicopter became airborne he turned back to look at Gabe. "I suppose you had a reason for this. Why didn't she want to come with us?"

"Something about not wanting to be in the limelight." He gendy tilted Ronnie's head so it lay more comfortably on the headrest. The bruise was already showing on that exquisite peaches-and-cream skin. He felt like one of those creeps who battered women. When she woke up he'd be lucky if she didn't use that.357 Magnum on him. Hell, maybe he'd let her. "How bad is the reception committee going to be at Marasef airport?"

"There will be our own reporters, of course." Dan made a face. "And we had no choice but to tell the CIA you'd been released so they could pull their men out of the danger zone. That means there will probably be leaks to other news services."

"So we can expect a media circus."

"But with our own network in the center ring," Dan said quickly. "And once the officials whisk you away to Frankfurt for medical tests, we'll be the only ones permitted to-"

"No Frankfurt."

"You know all hostages go to the hospital there for medical assessment."

"That doesn't mean I have to go." He turned back to Ronnie. She looked as fragile and breakable as one of the porcelain dolls in his aunt's collection.

I'm not going to let you mess up my life.

Ronnie had known the risks of staying, but she had been willing to take them for reasons of her own. He had not been able to leave her, but he had no right to judge the consequences of her plan of action when he was ignorant of the nature of those risks.

He leaned forward and spoke to David. "Change direction. Head south, we're not going to Marasef airport."

She was being carried down a gleaming ivory-and-gold tile hallway, passing magnificent paintings, priceless panels with intricate frets…

"A museum?" she muttered. "What the devil-am I doing in a museum?"

"Not a museum. A palace," Gabe said. "Open the door, Dan."

A palace?

Gabe strode into a chamber as magnificent as the corridor through which she had been carried. "Thanks, Dan. Now get out of here before the fireworks start."

"Gladly," Dan said. "See you later."

She was being placed on something silken and cushioned, a chaise lounge. Then Gabe was gone.

A moment later an ice pack settled against her jaw. She flinched, her eyes focusing on Gabe's face a few inches from her own.