Jane Sullivan - One Night In Texas

“It’ll take a few hours, max,” Derek said.

“I’m getting married.”

“Not until tomorrow.”

“So why aren’t you sending Lambert?”

Derek sighed. “He has the flu.”

Gus looked flabbergasted. “The flu? The flu?” He glanced over his shoulder, then dropped his voice to an irate whisper. “I once flew a C-5 Galaxy over enemy territory when I had malaria, for God’s sake. Tell him to get his ass out of bed and fly the freakin’ plane!”

“I was with you when you flew that plane. My life flashed before my eyes.”

“This is my wedding we’re talking about. Find yourself another pilot.”

Derek glanced over to see a few of the groomsmen staring at them. He lowered his voice. “Look, I know it’s a hell of a lot to ask. But there’s a guy I have to get to D.C. for interrogation, and I have to do it right now. I took this job, and it’s my responsibility to see it through.”

“Right. Your responsibility. Not mine.”

“Gus—”

“No! There’s a reason I’m out of the business. So I can have a life that doesn’t involve having to do this short-fuse crap anymore.”

“Fly to D.C., hit the tarmac, unload the cargo, do a one-eighty and head back. That’s all I need.” Derek could see his friend starting to waver. “Come on, Gus. Haven’t we always watched each other’s backs? Always?”

Gus blew out a breath. “Playing the loyalty card is really low.”

“Hey, I’m stuffing myself into a tuxedo for you tomorrow. The least you can do is fly to Washington for me today.”

Gus closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s really no big deal,” Derek went on. “You’ll be back in time for the rehearsal dinner tonight. Hell, all we were going to do this afternoon is play golf anyway.”

“I like golf.”

“You also like to fly. Get in the van, and I’ll fill you in on the way to Love Field.”

“I need to talk to Sally first.”

“No. If you talk to her now, you’ll never get out of here. Phone her from the airfield. Tell her something came up, but you’ll be at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Derek opened up the passenger door. Gus stared at the van, then back at Derek. “You owe me for this.”

“You bet. Just name your price. After you get the guy to Washington.”

Gus hauled himself into the van. Derek stepped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and hit the gas. He wanted to get out of there before Gus saw his bride and changed his mind.

“Unbelievable,” Kevin said from the back of the van. “He talked you into it.”

Gus gave Kevin a deadpan look. “I’m a sucker for a sob story.” He turned back to Derek. “So, fill me in. Who’s my cargo?”

Derek gave him the short version of the predicament they were in, judiciously leaving out the part about Alyssa. No need to go there, particularly when it was a loose end he planned to tie up on his own later.

“So we’ve got to get this guy to Washington for interrogation,” he told Gus, “or come Monday morning, either the president’s trade bill is going down because a few congressmen don’t want to see themselves in compromising positions all over cable news, or cable news is going to have a field day when they get hold of—” He stopped short, looking in the rearview mirror. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“Somebody’s following us.”

Gus glanced in the side mirror. “That blue Mustang?”

“Yeah. He’s been hugging my bumper for the past few miles. This makes the fourth time I’ve changed lanes and he has, too.”

“It’s Barry Sutton,” Gus said. “Hard to miss that car. I saw him getting into it as we were leaving.”

Derek came to a red light and braked to a halt. “Any idea why he’s after us?”

“He’s a reporter who used to cover big stories but got busted to the society section. Maybe he’s looking for news from my wedding that’s a little more interesting than what color the mother of the bride is wearing.”

“Then we’d better lose him.” Derek put two hands on the wheel. “Hang on.”

Derek hit the gas and wheeled hard to the left, hopped the curb to the median and made a U-turn against the red light. He gunned it for fifty yards, then turned into a strip-center parking lot and headed down the service alley. Checking his rearview mirror, he saw Sutton’s Mustang still sitting at the red light.

“He’s not following,” Derek said.

“Hell, no, he’s not,” Gus muttered, rubbing his neck. “Did you have to jump the damned curb?”

Derek grinned. “You’ve gotten soft, Gus. That’s tragic.”

“No. Tragic is having to miss my golf game this afternoon.”

“Golf. Now, there’s some excitement.”

“It’s all the excitement I’m looking for these days.”

“Come on. Think about all the fun we used to have. You loved every minute of it.”

“Yeah. I did. But I love Sally more.”

He spoke with such conviction that Derek knew there was more to his relationship with his fiancée than some hot sex with a pretty lady. Gus had quit the team and started his own business for one reason only: so he could have that one special woman to come home to for the rest of his life.

When Derek thought about that, for some reason Alyssa’s face flashed through his mind.

No. Stop thinking about her like that.

He told himself, as he had for the past six months, that thoughts like those would eventually get him into trouble. Soon he’d be roped and tied like Gus, playing house with his wife and golfing with his buddies. But he just wasn’t cut out for that kind of life, and he had yet to meet a woman who could convince him that he was.

FORTUNATELY THE REST of the job went off like clockwork, which was a big relief for Derek after everything that had gone wrong. Wilson and McManus had Owens waiting at Love Field when they arrived. In fewer than three hours, the blackmailer would be in Washington. With any luck, Owens would crack and give the interrogators the name of his client and the location of the blackmail material. Then they’d call Derek in one more time to retrieve it, and this problem would be put to bed once and for all.

But right now he had to deal with Alyssa.

Kevin stayed in the van across the street from the Waterford, punching his computer to let Derek back into the building. As Derek ascended the elevator to the penthouse, his heart was pounding a little harder than usual. He’d rather take a beating than face Alyssa after what had happened in there.

As the elevator doors opened, he spoke into the microphone, telling Kevin he’d be out of touch for a short time and to stay put until he contacted him again. Then he flipped the microphone off and made his way to the master bedroom.

Alyssa sat on the bed exactly where he’d left her, but the anger she’d displayed earlier seemed to have disappeared. Instead, when she looked up at him, her green eyes were full of the pain of betrayal. And he was the reason why.

Stop beating yourself up. You had no choice.

When he settled beside her on the bed, she shrank away from him. He sighed heavily.

“I’m going to untie you,” he told her, “but I can’t let you leave yet. We need to talk. Agreed?”

She nodded.

He removed the gag first, easing it away carefully, wincing when he saw the red, irritated skin at the corners of her mouth. She stretched her jaw stiffly, refusing to look at him. When he untied her ankles, then her hands, he was dismayed to see the ties had left their mark there, too.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she said, rubbing her wrists. “I can’t believe—”

He touched his hand to her arm. When she jerked it away from him and stood, he wondered if she intended to bolt from the room. Instead she merely walked several paces away and stopped, her back to him, rubbing her upper arms with her palms.