Quinn dropped down to the ground next to Brent just as a gunshot shattered the rear window. The man Quinn had been searching immediately broke free and took off across the side yard toward the trees. He turned to shoot at Brent and Quinn but he never got the chance. From his post twenty feet away, Kel pulled the trigger of his rifle and dropped him in one shot.
An instant later the man in the back seat scrambled out of the car, squeezing off a round of gunfire to keep the SEAL unit at bay as he started toward the backyard.
“Check Blondie,” Brent yelled at Quinn, referring to the man Kel had shot. Knowing that Quinn would comply, Brent scrambled to his feet and started after the man sprinting around the side of the house.
Brent was within fifteen yards of catching him when the man turned and aimed his gun once more in Brent's direction. Anticipating the shot about to be fired, Brent stopped abruptly and dove behind a mature oak tree in the backyard. His back pressed against the thick trunk of the tree, Brent crouched down and waited as shots were fired in his direction.
A rapid burst of gunfire sounded. It was over in an instant, the silence of the backyard once again broken only by quick footsteps. Satisfied that the terrorist was once again retreating, Brent peered across the yard in time to see the man duck into the woods. Perfectly aware of the threat this man was to Amy, Brent angled across the yard at a dead sprint, glancing back in time to see Seth trailing behind him.
Their training took over as both men moved quietly and steadily through the trees, listening for the man they were tracking. Brent stayed in the lead, and several minutes passed before he finally caught sight of his target. Now winded, the man still held his weapon in his right hand as he reached a small clearing.
Brent picked up a stick and tossed it a few feet away. The moment the man turned toward the sound, Brent pounced forward and kicked the weapon free of his hand. As the man bent down to retrieve the weapon, Brent dove forward and used his body to knock him to the ground.
The man bucked to get Brent off of him, but Brent just sat up and shoved a knee into the middle of his back, pulling one of the man's arms behind him. He heard Seth approaching to back him up and fought against a grin when Seth squatted down beside them, and deliberately cocked his revolver.
Seth waited for the man to turn his head, waited for the acknowledgement in the man's eyes that his struggles were in vain. Then he said, ever so casually, “Now, I think it's time you cooperate.”
Brent patted the man down, confiscating a pistol, a knife, and a fake set of Secret Service identification papers. A few minutes later when the police arrived to take the prisoners into custody, Kel stood looking down at the forged documents.
“It isn't a very good forgery. Looks like they didn't want to take the time or spend the money for the high grade stuff.”
“Or they knew that their IDs weren't going to be looked at closely anyway,” Quinn commented. “After all, their victims were expecting them.”
“What's the status on the other hostages?” Brent asked Kel, glancing briefly at the real Secret Service agents who were currently sweeping the area.
“Three of them are still in the hospital, and the security has been increased there. The Brits took our advice and pulled the same stunt at the other hostage's place in London. They only sent two assassins for her.”
“Now what?” Brent asked.
Kel shrugged. “Secret Service will provide protection for the Whitmore family for the foreseeable future, and customs will red-flag anyone coming into the country who has been in Abolstan in the past couple of years.”
“Hopefully this attempt was the one and only,” Quinn said, though he didn't sound very convincing.
“Thanks for trying, but we all know better than that.” Brent shook his head. “Dagan is ruthless. No matter what battles he is fighting in his own country, if he wants revenge, he isn't going to stop until he gets it.”
“I don't think it's just revenge he's after,” Seth interjected. “He knows one of the hostages helped stop that subway attack.”
“Even if he did make that connection, that's water under the bridge,” Quinn pointed out. “Why go after the hostages now? The damage has already been done.”
“Unless the subway attacks were just the beginning.” Brent looked at Seth, concerned that he might be right. “He thinks the hostages have details about another attack.”
Kel dropped a hand on Brent's shoulder in a gesture of support. “It doesn't matter what his reasons are. We'll get Dagan eventually. It's only a matter of time.”
* * *
“I can't believe this is happening.” Katherine sat down on the living room couch, gripping her husband's hand.
“Everything is going to be okay.” Jim patted her hand with his free one and looked over at Brent. “I appreciate what you did today.”
Brent simply nodded.
Amy leaned against the arm of a chair and looked from her dad to Brent. She sensed the lingering tension from both men and was afraid of what it meant. “You think something like this will happen again.”
“I wish I could tell you that this failed attempt will be the end of it, but Dagan isn't known for giving up,” Brent told her, his voice serious. “The Secret Service is already assigning agents for your protection.”
“Hopefully just their presence will keep Dagan's men from trying again,” Jim suggested, trying to hide the doubt in his voice.
“I hope so,” Katherine added.
“Me too,” Brent agreed, though he was relieved to see the doubt in the senator's eyes. Brent took a step toward the door. “I had better get going. I have some reports I need to take care of before church tomorrow.”
Amy stood. “Thank you again for everything.”
“My pleasure.” Brent gave her a quick smile. He turned back to the senator. “Senator, you should probably change the codes on your security system.”
“Oh, I will.”
“I just don't understand why you don't want to go to church with us.” Jim adjusted his tie, annoyed that his daughter was skipping to go off with Brent Miller again, especially after the scare they'd had just the day before and the lingering threat of a repeat performance. “Everyone really wants to see you.”
“Dad, you keep telling me that it's going to take some time for me to get over what happened in Abolstan, but then you get mad when everything isn't normal.” Amy let out a frustrated sigh. “I feel like I can't win.”
“After yesterday, I think it's going to take a while before any of us feel normal again.”
Amy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She still couldn't believe that someone would try to kill her because of a grudge any more than she could believe two of the other hostages were dead. Hearing about the men who had been sent after her still seemed surreal, and she already dreaded having two Secret Service men following her around everywhere. More, she worried that they would serve as a constant reminder of how her day could have ended yesterday had Brent not been with her. “I don't want to think about it, okay?”
“I just don't understand why you couldn't go to the singles ward here.”
“Then I would have to deal with Jared. I hardly call that an improvement,” Amy said as the doorbell rang.
“What's wrong with Jared Elliott?” Jim asked, his voice rising. “The man's been in love with you for years.”
“No, he's been in love with my trust fund for years,” Amy returned evenly. She picked up her purse, pulled open the door, and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. She nodded at the two men guarding her door and turned to Brent, “Ready?”
Brent looked at her, confused, but nodded. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Amy headed for his car, impatience shimmering from her as the two special agents got into their car and prepared to follow them. “Just trying to deal with those problems I tried running away from.”
They were almost on the beltway before Brent broke the silence. “I should have called and asked you earlier, but my mom invited us to dinner after church tonight. That is, if you're up for it.”
Amy nodded, trying to shake off her mood. “I'd like that,” she said, but then thought of her dad once more. “I have to ask, though, are your parents going to be as tough on me as my dad is on you?”
Brent laughed. “Are you kidding? My mom was so excited when I mentioned you to her that she even decided to forgive me about her garden.”
“Happy to help.” Amy grinned, her previous argument with her father temporarily forgotten.
When they arrived at the church in Fredericksburg, the parking lot was nearly empty. Brent helped her out of the car, keeping her hand in his as they walked inside. The opening hymn was just starting when they took their seats, but Amy was surprised that only about forty people were in the chapel. Her protectors followed them inside and took seats in the back.
She shook her head at the thought that she needed protection inside the chapel, but still she glanced around the room before training her attention on the pulpit.
Two members of the congregation spoke, followed by a member of the stake high council. The talks were predictably on temple marriage, and Amy wondered if she just always happened to pick the ward that had chosen that topic, or if it was used more frequently in the singles wards.
As soon as sacrament meeting ended, Brent slipped an arm around Amy's shoulder. “We just stay here for gospel doctrine class.”
She was just starting to relax, thinking that this might be a stress-free evening after all, when the teacher singled her out and asked her to introduce herself. Reluctantly, she stood up. “I'm Amy Whitmore. I'm just visiting from northern Virginia.”
She felt the ripple of whispers go through the congregation as she sat back down. Awareness dawned in the teacher's eyes as he stumbled over his words. “Well, um, welcome.”
The teacher then asked the two men in the back to introduce themselves, and Amy could feel a blush rising to her cheeks as one stood, nodded at Amy, and said simply, “We're with her.”
Beside her, Brent ran his fingers lightly over her back. He leaned closer, and she expected him to make some funny comment. Instead, he said simply, “I'm glad you're here.”
After the closing prayer was said, Brent stood and led her into the hall, anticipating his friends and acquaintances wanting to meet Amy. “Do you want to go to Relief Society, or would you rather just head straight to dinner?”
“Dinner sounds nice,” Amy agreed quickly.
As soon as they were in the car, the two agents quietly trailing them, Brent commented, “I'm sure things will calm down after a couple of weeks.”
“I guess I didn't expect people down here to know who I was,” Amy admitted. “Especially since the problem at my house yesterday was kept out of the news.”
“That's true, but not many people are reported to have fallen from a helicopter one day and then reported fine two days later.”
“What?” Amy's eyes widened, and she turned to face him. “That was on the news?”
“Yeah.” Brent glanced over at her. “I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Someone leaked information out while we were still trying to get out of Abolstan.”
“Mom said something about how she couldn't watch the news anymore, but I just thought it was because of the hostage situation in general.” Amy rolled her eyes with disbelief. “No wonder that destroyer was looking for us when your team pulled us out. Who in the world could have been dumb enough to leak that information?”
“I don't know, but that's one of our top priorities next week,” Brent admitted. “In fact, Kel put me in charge of the investigation since I'm the only one they know couldn't have slipped up. Unfortunately, this is just the latest in a string of security breaches over the past couple of years.”
“I hope you find whoever it was.”
* * *
Brent hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Amy that his mom was excited about her coming to dinner. She had set the table with the good china, polished the silverware, and had even made Zeke, her beloved black lab, stay in the backyard. Even now Zeke was lying on the deck, looking mournfully through the glass and waiting for someone to let him back in.
The two agents who were following Amy around had opted to wait outside rather than intrude, so for the moment Amy felt almost normal.
“Sister Miller, you have a beautiful home,” Amy said as she and Brent sat down on the stools next to the breakfast bar that separated the modest kitchen from the family room.
“Thank you. We actually moved in here about a year before Brent was born. I imagine he's one of the few around here that spent his entire childhood in one house.” She glanced up as the front door opened. “Oh, good. That must be your father. He had a meeting after church.”
“Am I late?” Tom Miller asked as he entered the kitchen and kissed his wife's cheek.
“Right on time.” Dana Miller smiled up at her husband. “Tom, this is Amy Whitmore.”
“Good to meet you.” Tom stepped closer and reached over the counter to shake her hand. His dark eyes were quietly appraising, his smile warm.
“It's nice to meet you.” Amy said as she shook hands with the tall, lanky man who looked a great deal like Brent.
Dana glanced at her watch. “Dinner is just about ready. Brent, why don't you get the drinks.”
He nodded, crossing the kitchen and pulling glasses out of the cabinet. He glanced over at Amy and asked, “Do you just want water?”
“Yes, thank you.” Amy stood and crossed to him. “I can help you put the drinks on the table.”
Brent handed her two glasses and then proceeded to fill two more before leading her into the dining room.
A few minutes later they all sat down to eat. After the blessing was said, Brent's mom dished out the chicken parmesan. Brent eyed it suspiciously, cutting off a small bite to sample.