Closer (23 page)

Her words were his undoing. “I’m with you.”

They came together, their fluids mixing. She dissolved into him. She would never get close enough to him.

They had made love on the rug in front of the crackling fire, one of her fantasies. Once they both came back to center, they made their way, hand-in-hand, to her bedroom where they slept soundly in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Emma awoke to the smell of fresh coffee. She gingerly got out of bed and walked into her bathroom. She showered, brushed her teeth, and dried her hair, leaving it falling loosely at her shoulders. She dressed in a pencil skirt with a fitted cream colored silk button down blouse. Then she walked down the hallway to find Michael.

Michael sat at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee. Upon seeing her, he got up and met her as she entered the kitchen. He kissed her gently on the lips. “Good morning, Baby,” he said grinning from ear to ear. “You look mighty fine this morning.”

She returned his smile. “I am excited to get back to work. I really want to work out the bugs on the hummingbird and finish the project on time,” she explained, still in his arms.

She moved past him to the coffee pot to fill a mug. “I want to leave after my second cup. Will you be ready to take me then?” she asked, hope filling her chest.

“I am ready now if you want,” Michael said smacking her luscious behind with his hand.

“Michael,” she admonished.

She walked over to the bar, and sat in her usual seat. She started thumbing through the stack of mail that had piled up in her mailbox, which Michael had retrieved for her that morning. She paused halfway through the stack, a look of fear crossing her features, which had been radiant a few seconds ago.

“What is it?” Michael asked, reaching for the envelope that had caught her attention.

“It’s from the CIA, Lewiston branch, and it is hand-addressed to me,” she whispered as she handed the letter to Michael.

Michael inspected the front of the letter and nothing stood out. Then he used his index finger to rip open the envelope. He pulled out the folded letter. He read:
“You managed to escape last time. Next time, you won’t be so lucky. I know all about your boyfriend. It is amazing what a few words entered into the right database can produce. Please tell Michael I look forward to our next encounter.”
The letter wasn’t signed, and it was typed and printed on plain computer paper. Nothing about the letter would appear threatening to anyone but them.

“It’s from Ingrams, isn’t it?” Emma asked, cautiously.

Michael nodded his head and handed her the letter. She read it. She felt sweat start to form at her temples. What were they going to do? Ingrams knew where she lived, and he knew all about Michael.

How did Ingrams plan on killing them? She didn’t want to think about it. She had to continue on with her day the best she could and that involved getting to her high security office building. She finished her second cup of coffee and asked, “Are you ready?”

Suddenly the cheer and comfort she felt waking with Michael this morning left her. Project Hummingbird felt more and more like a burden, which was getting too heavy to carry. She knew Ingrams wasn’t playing with a full deck, and she had no idea when he would strike. He had complete access to top-secret databases and information through the CIA. He also had resources. He was able to get her to a cabin in the middle of a national park and had access to a boat to take her deep into the ocean and dump her body where no one would ever find her again. If Michael hadn’t of saved her, she would be shark meat. “Snap out of it,” she told herself.

Michael was there in a stride, comforting her, reassuring her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his fingers up and down her arms hoping to relax her.

She wanted to believe him, to trust him. He had saved her once from Ingrams, but he couldn’t prevent Ingrams from taking her or beating her. Could he stop Ingrams this time?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Michael said looking straight ahead unable to make eye contact with her. The guilt he felt was too much. Then he forced himself to look into her frightened eyes. “You’re thinking I couldn’t save you the first time. How am I going to save you this time?” He moved away from her, turning his back. Looking into those scared, blank eyes was more than he could stand.

“Actually,” she said as she walked up to him and hugged his body from behind, “I was thinking about how you saved me last time. If you hadn’t of showed up, he would’ve killed me.” She squeezed him tighter. He placed his hands over hers.

“Thank you for saying that, but I should have never let him take you in the first place,” Michael admitted.

“Nonsense. He would have killed me in your car if you didn’t. Letting him take me gave you a chance to save my life.” It was her turn to reassure him. She stood on her tip toes and kissed the back of his neck.

He turned in her arms and was surprised to find strength and resolve in her eyes. What he didn’t find was blame. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest, and he could finally breathe again. He exhaled as he moved closer to her lips. He hesitated for a moment, lingering, feeling her breath against his. Time stood still. They were suspended in an endless moment. A million thoughts rushed through his head, but the one that helped him, was the thought of her belief in him. He leaned a little closer and touched her lips with his.

“Let’s get going. I have a lot to get done today,” she said turning to grab her purse from the counter.

They put on their coats and made their way to the driveway. Both the rental car and her Subaru were parked next to the back door. He walked her to her car. After three strides arm in arm with Emma, he stopped her.

“Wait!” he said as he peered down at the ground. “When is the last time you were at your car?” he asked.

“The day you arrived at my house. Why?” she asked, following his eyes to the ground.

There, visible in the packed snow were a set of large footprints leading to the car. “Someone was here.” He pointed to the footprints on the ground. “And they did something to your car. Look,” he said as they followed the tracks to the driver’s side of her SUV. “There is something under the car.” He looked straight into her eyes expressing his fear for her safety and his love for her being.

“How could you possible know that?” she asked, hoping he was wrong.

“Do you see that print there?” He pointed to the print next to her car door. “Those are knee prints. Somebody planted something under your car.” He knelt down beside her car door. “Go in the house until I tell you it’s safe.”

She didn’t want to leave him alone to find whatever it was planted under her car.
First the letter from Ingrams and now
…

“It’s a homemade pipe bomb,” he growled, lying flat on his back, his neck straining at an awkward angle to see under the car.

“A bomb?” She stared at him wide eyed.

The spark of life that had returned only a few minutes ago was now gone. It was replaced with horror. Her face froze at the impact of Michael’s words, which hit her like a piano falling from the sky. “Can you disarm it?” she asked, afraid of his answer.

“Yes,” he said confidently. “But I need a mirror. Do you have a hand-held mirror?” he asked.

“On my dresser,” was all she could manage. She stood frozen in place. It was so cold it looked like she was exhaling cigarette smoke each time she exhaled. She hadn’t put on her gloves. She was regretting that choice now. She placed her hands into her pockets watching in horror as Michael’s head lay underneath the bomb. She willed herself not to tremble. She didn’t know exactly what would set off the bomb, and she was deathly afraid of losing Michael.

“Get inside now and get me that mirror,” he demanded leaving no room for argument. She went inside the house and shut the door.

Who would plant a car bomb? The terrorists were dead so that only left Ingrams. It had to be Ingrams. He knew where she lived. He had sent the letter. He probably didn’t know about the terrorist cell being out of play. He probably thought he could make it look like the GIA. How complicated was the device? Michael had told her he worked with explosives in the Army. Thank God for small miracles. He said he could disarm it. Why was she still questioning if she could trust him? They both had confessed feelings for each other. Was something so inherently wrong with her that she couldn’t even trust the man she loved?

She returned with her grandmother’s pearl-inlaid hand mirror.

“Here’s the mirror,” she said as she placed it in his hands. His hand looked extra rough juxtaposed to the delicate mirror.

“Get back in the house,” he grunted. She didn’t want to disobey that voice. She ran back into the house and peered out the kitchen door window.

He lowered himself back down until he was lying on the ground, head placed slightly under her car. He angled the mirror to see exactly what type of homemade device he was working with. If he didn’t know better, he would say the terrorists planted it. It was a dirty bomb, exactly up their alley. He found what he was looking for – the 9volt battery. The air was extremely cold, yet he found himself wiping sweat from his brow. He had done this a hundred times in the Army, but this time was different. This time it wasn’t just himself or his brothers at risk; this time it was the love of his life. The muscles of his neck strained at an awkward angle to see the power source. He couldn’t make a mistake, not with Emma’s life at stake. Carefully, so as to not touch any part of the bomb, he popped the power source from its housing. Confident he had disarmed it, he stood back up brushing the snow from his clothes. He didn’t feel the cold that had settled into his bones. He was more concerned about removing the bomb from her car. He didn’t have his car, so he didn’t have the tools he needed. He said a silent prayer and then placed his hand on the car’s door handle. She peered at him through her kitchen window, their eyes met. She willed him not to die. She looked like a frightened child experiencing her first haunted house.

“I’m going to open the door,” Michael said.

She squeezed her eyes shut again and held her breath. He lifted the handle and slowly opened the door. After a few seconds, nothing happened. She peeked at him with one eye. Once the door was the entire way open, she raced out of the kitchen and flung herself into his arms. She had never been so frightened to lose another human being in her life. They stood in the cold February morning air, wrapped in each other’s arms. Tears of relief flooded her eyes. She hugged him tighter. He was her savoir, her protector. She couldn’t remember what her life was like before he broke into her home, and she didn’t want to.

They arrived at her office building in the rental car a little later than she would have liked. Always the gentleman, he hopped out of the car and raced around to her side to get the door for her. He extended the crook of his arm to her. She placed her arm through it and was escorted into her office building.

They stood just inside the doors of the lobby. He looked around and saw marble and concrete adorning the space. It was a modern building with Paul stationed at a desk separating the lobby from the rest of the downstairs. There was even a little coy pond with a waterfall at the entrance next to the security desk, complete with plants hanging in the water. Of course, the decorative coy pound served as a barrier to the rest of the downstairs. The soft sound of the falling water was rather soothing. He wondered if it was placed there to deter questions about what really went on upstairs.

“I programmed my number into your phone. Call me when you are ready to leave.” He bent his head to give her a kiss on the lips.

She was a little shy about him making such a public display of affection, especially at her place of employment. People were coming into work and making their way past security. But once his lips met hers, she melted into his touch. She forgot about the people in the building. She forgot about the cameras. She forgot about Paul watching her. He had that effect on her. She had never wanted anyone with the intensity with which she wanted him and all it took was a kiss. “Let’s go back home,” she said with a devilish grin.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be, if I let you play hooky with me, especially when I know how important finishing your project is to you?” he asked playfully nipping at her bottom lip. She groaned. He was right.

“You’re mine. Remember that, Emma. Let me hear you say it,” he said before releasing his hold on her body.

“I’m yours,” she professed with a knowing smile. Tonight was only a few hours away. She would just have to wait.

He released her and said, “Have a good day, Emma. Remember: call me. Do not leave this building without me.”

She didn’t need his reminder. After this morning, she would do whatever he said.

She had been gone from work so long, she was incredibly behind on her project. The Hummingbird dominated her thoughts as she made her way to the security desk.

“Hi, Paul,” she said blushing, handing over her purse and cell phone.

“I missed you around here, girl. Where have you been?” he asked trying to avoid eye contact after just witnessing her kiss with Michael.

This was it. She had to get good at lying and quick. “I have had a terrible case of the flu. I didn’t want to risk spreading it to anyone.” The lie rolled off of her tongue smoother than she thought it sounded.

“Well, I am sure glad to see you back and feeling better, Ms. Welby,” Paul replied.

“Thank you, Paul. It’s good to be back,” she said with a smile as she started to make her way around the desk to the entrance.

She pulled out her security card and swiped it through the reader. The green light indicated she could proceed. She made her way to the stairs and swiped her card again. Again, the green light. Truth be told, she was nervous her card would no longer work. Whatever Homeland said to her bosses, it must have done the trick, because she was walking up stairs to her fourth floor office. She pulled the door opened, and the welcoming hum of busy workers filled her ears. She walked with a false sense of confidence to her lab. No one had stopped her yet. That must be a good sign.