Hard to Hold (12 page)

“What did he say?” he asked as she set her phone aside, her fingernails tapping nervously
across the surface of its screen.

“That he’d never doubted me for a second. Smug bastard. I hope he rots in hell.”

He ducked as she threw the phone hard at the wall behind him, knowing that, for once,
he wasn’t the intended target. He ordered his feet to stay planted where they were.
If he crossed to her now, took her in his arms, he’d find himself promising he’d make
everything all right. And then, despite his best intentions, he’d break her heart
again.

He looked up from the shattered electronics lying dead beside his boot. “You told
him there’d been no further attempts on your life. Did he say anything about having
neutralized the threat?”

She shook her head. “Other than to reassure me I was safe, and say he was in control,
no.”

Arms folded across her midriff, she crossed in front of him to stand and stare out
the bank of windows overlooking the courtyard below. She raised a hand and placed
her palm flat against one of the glass panes. “I loathe feeling so trapped, Nick.
It’s impossible to breathe. Like when we were kids and they used to lock me down for
time-out, because I’d broken some stupid rule or another.”

Maybe it was the sudden unnatural silence, the inexplicable vacuum that always seemed
to precede impending disaster, but the hairs on the back of his neck pricked, his
instincts roared. “Anna, get away from the window. Now!”

She turned, her eyes wide with shock. He threw himself across the divide separating
them and lunged for her, his arms fastening around her to minimize the impact as she
hit the floor.

He rolled her tight against the low wall supporting the knee-to-ceiling windows. The
blast hit, splinters of glass scythed above their heads.

Dear Christ, a one-second delay, and Anna would have been cut to ribbons.

He twisted his head as two agents burst through the front door, crouching, weapons
drawn. He yelled at them to stand down, that he had Anna safe. His voice sounded distant
through the ringing in his ears

The acrid stench of burning rubber drifted in through the shattered panes fouling
the air. He looked down. Anna’s eyes were already red from the smoke. A quick glance
through the decimated window frame confirmed the car in which they had traveled back
from the clinic, was totaled.

“This isn’t Antila, Nick. It can’t be.”

“I know,” he said tightening his grip on her, “and that’s what scares me. He wants
you alive, Anna, but not half as much as someone else wants you dead. Come on, I’ve
got to get you out of here.”

Her fingers curled into his shirt and held him fast. “What about my staff? I need
to know they’re unhurt,” she said desperately.

“There are no windows on that side of the building; they should have been fine.” He
ordered one of the guards to go check, though frankly, he didn’t give a damn. Anna
alive was enough for him.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder. One look at her colorless face, and he knew
she wouldn’t stand up to further questioning, and questions would be fired thick and
fast. He had to get her out of here; hell, he had to get out of here. Bombs going
off in London would put the Service dead center of the investigation.

Anna had issues about involving the Service. So did he. But, whereas she was concerned
they’d use her and the baby for bait—he’d kick ass if they tried—he was more concerned
about in-house security. Though it had been his job to plug the leaks that had at
one time threatened to sink the Service, he couldn’t be sure he’d got them all. What
if Antila discovered she was having a girl? What if her location was revealed? Fuck,
what if one of the agents assigned to protect her got close enough to do Antila’s
dirty work for him?

All of which meant he had little choice but to go absent without leave. AWOL. Something
for which the Commander was certain to tear him a new one. Like right now he gave
a fuck.

He hoisted Anna to her feet as gently as he could and frowned when his arms refused
to release her.

“Where’s Will Berwick?” he demanded of the agent who had remained behind to guard
them. “He hasn’t been around for a couple of days. And put your goddamn gun away.
She’s scared enough as it is.”

“Will’s on compulsory time-out. He’s gone up to his house in North Wales. I guess
you’ll want these.” The man tossed him some keys. On reflex, his hand shot out to
grip them. One arm still tight around Anna, he moved her forward fast, thanking God
she wasn’t putting up any resistance.

Will Berwick was a Service man through and through. But he was a friend first. And
right now, with danger coming at Anna from two fronts, one unknown, and him about
to walk into a shit storm on the work front, he needed all the advice he could get.
Fast.

Chapter Eleven

Even when they finally hit the straight length of the M40, Anna dared not twist her
neck to glance out the rear window. Frankly, she didn’t care if they’d picked up a
tail. Not the way nausea was rising and retreating like a swollen sea in her stomach.
Motion sickness, how lucky could a girl get? She blamed Nick’s choice of a hideously
circuitous route out of London.

A half hour passed, and she shifted the blame to the Land Rover. A solid, utilitarian
model apparently not built for speed. Not the way it juddered, threatening to dislocate
her bones, under Nick’s too-heavy boot on the accelerator.

Surreptitiously, she cracked the window. Five minutes later, she wound it fully down
and sucked gratefully on the fresh air rushing past so fast she didn’t even have to
inhale for it to inflate her lungs.

“You okay?”

She had difficulty moving her lips. “For now, but you’re going to have to pull in
at the Service rest stop ahead. Motion sickness I can cope with. A burst bladder?
Not so much.”

His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, Nick kept her close to his shoulder as
they entered the rest-stop complex. He stopped her when she went to enter the narrow,
tiled corridor signed
Women
and steered her toward a heavy single door marked
Baby Change
.

“I can’t accompany you in there without attracting attention,” he explained with a
nod back to the mouth of the corridor, “but here I can stay close and stand guard.”

She smiled weakly and pushing into the facility, relieved to find the room large,
the walls thick, and the door heavy and solid. She didn’t want Nick eavesdropping
on the telephone call she was about to make. He’d freak out.

She slid the door lock home, crossed to the far corner of the room, and dug her cell
phone free from her pocket. Then, she hit speed dial.

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed when her call dumped to voice mail.
She left a message. A warning. “Antila, I don’t rate your security worth a shit. You
swore you could protect me from whomever it is who is trying to kill me. Massive fail
on your part, given the bomb that damn near killed me a few hours ago. So I’m resetting
terms, and, by God, you better listen up, because if you don’t, you can kiss good-bye
to your anonymity. And to
ever
meeting your son.”

She stated her terms succinctly. Clear enough for a cabbage to understand. She disconnected
the call, her fingers trembling. Christ, she hoped she hadn’t pushed Antila too far.
She availed herself of the facilities before rejoining Nick. Whose edgy scowl suggested
he’d been seconds away from kicking down the door.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Heat hit her cheeks. Ducking his stare, she stepped
forward and patted him on the chest. “Stand down, Agent Pissed, I’ve dealt with the
army of ninjas hiding out in the mothers’ restroom, so we can go shop now. I have
a craving for grapes…and ketchup.”

Her teasing might have been false, but her craving was all too real.

…

Will was waiting for them when they finally drew to a halt in front of his isolated
farmhouse. He didn’t smile. His arms were crossed. He seemed oblivious to the rain
plastering his hair to his skull.

“Great,” Nick muttered sourly. “He looks about as pissed off as I feel.” His mood
wasn’t improved by the alacrity with which Will moved to help Anna from the vehicle.
Wrapping a protective arm round her—and ignoring him—Will shepherded Anna into his
home without a backward glance.

He left the front door open. Nick read it as an invitation, albeit a reluctant one—bordering
on hostile.

The large square hallway was dim, lit only by a single inadequate lightbulb. Plaster
naked, the stone wall spilled complicated twists of electrical cabling and half-finished
tracks of copper piping.

It was also empty.

Two sets of footprints, wet and shiny against the gun-metal gray slate floor tiles
led to the foot of a threadbare carpeted staircase told him Will had taken Anna upstairs.
Pulling up his collar against the creeping chill in the air, Nick hoped to God the
remodeling didn’t extend through the rest of the house.

Choosing a semi-ajar door on his right, he found a vast space in even worse condition
than the hall way, floorboards gaping gaps, jumbles of building materials skirting
each wall. Two ancient armchairs and a half-collapsed sofa, a tea chest for a table.
Christ, they couldn’t take refuge here. If the damp didn’t kill them, the dust—layer
upon layer of it—would.

He crossed to the huge fireplace and dropped to his haunches and stoked moodily at
the dying embers of the fire. Spotting a basket of logs he did his best to encourage
a flare of flames but the wet wood just hissed and belched smoke. Coughing, he drew
back.

“I take it you’re not impressed.” Will’s voice, rich with amusement, practically bordering
on laughter—pissed him off. Pushing upright, he turned and glared at his second-in-command.
“You could have fucking warned me when I called. Christ, Anna—”

“Is fine,” Will cut in, passing him a glass, generously filled with amber liquid.
“Just tired and copping a quick nap. In my bed.”

Nick sucked down a hefty slug of the whisky to stop from decking Will for that unnecessary
taunt. And grimaced. Christ, Will’s liquor was as rough as his house.

“You better start talking, mate,” his friend continued, “because I’ve already had
the Commander on the phone. You. Anna. A shooting, now a bomb. The both of you going
AWOL. The boss is going ape-shit. I’ve covered for you—again—but I’ve got to tell
you, I don’t much like being compromised. So what the hell is going on?”

The whisky might have been rough, but a warming glow was already spreading through
his veins. He swirled the liquid in his glass a couple of times while he ordered his
thoughts. “Someone wants Anna dead, and it’s not the father of her child. He’s desperate
for her to go full term, because he wants his son. Only Anna’s carrying a girl—a fact
I’ve buried until I can figure out a way to get to Antila before he kills her for
that deception.

“You mentioned Antila. Where the hell does he fit into all this?”

“Sorry, I thought I made it clear. Niva Antila is the goddamn father of her baby.”
He threw the hearty measure remaining in his glass down his throat. The fluid hit
his gut. He couldn’t decide whether the resulting agonizing burn was the fault of
the whisky or down to the fact he himself wasn’t the father of her kid. He wanted
to be. Or a crazy, reckless part of him wanted to be. Fiercely.

Thank God his logical sense was stronger. With the telling character traits—the temper,
the bent for violence—that he’d inherited from Mad Mickey, him fathering a child,
hell, him even being around a child for longer than a couple of hours, was something
he could not, and would not, ever allow.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You have to brief the Commander on this one, mate; it’s too big
for you and I to handle off the books. Jesus, Niva-bloody-Antila. Trust Anna. She—”

“She didn’t exactly ask for this,” Nick interrupted. He alone knew the real Anna behind
the wild, frivolous facade she pretended to the world, Will didn’t. He had earned
the right to judge her; Will hadn’t. “And, despite the bravado she’s hiding behind,
she’s bloody terrified.”

“So, get the Service involved. Make her protection official.”

Ah, what the hell. What didn’t kill you made you stronger. He waved his empty glass
to signal he needed a refill. “Anna doesn’t trust the Service. She’s worried they’ll
use the pregnancy against Antila, and she and the baby will be caught in the crossfire.
And I don’t want them involved either. I can’t rule out the possibility of Antila
having someone on the inside. You know the type of men the Service attracts. We screen
rigorously, but we can never be certain some rotten bastard hasn’t got through.”

“Even on your watch?”

Nick nodded. He was an arrogant son of a bitch, but he’d accepted long ago that human
nature being what it was, betrayal could never be fully eradicated. He was well aware
policing every agent was damn near impossible. Some moral compasses just pointed straight
to hell. Fact.

“Okay, it’s your decision, and I’ll do what I can to help,” Will conceded, his expression
grim. “But this problem isn’t just going to go away, and you can’t run indefinitely.
She’s pregnant, for Christ’s sake. You need to figure out something more permanent.
And staying here for more than one night isn’t an option. This place, the condition
it’s in, an assault with a peashooter would level it.”

“What’s his decision?”

Both men froze, like hares caught in too-fast approaching headlights, then turned
to watch Anna pick a cautious path from one patch of floorboards to another as she
made her way over to them.

“Where the hell we go next. We can’t stay here.” He saw little point in sugarcoating
his aggravation that they were fast running out of bolt holes.

“Well, I’m going nowhere. Not tonight. And not in that bloody Land Rover.”

“We haven’t got a choice,” he insisted widening his stance and crossing his arms across
his chest. “Will’s right. If Antila hits this place, we don’t stand a chance.”

“Good thing I’ve got him backed tight in a corner then.”

Alarm bells went off in his head at the way she was grinning. “Oh, Christ, Anna. What
have you done?”

She lost her grin and shot a help-me look at Will. Who, he was relieved to see, looked
about as conciliatory as he felt.

“Um…I made a call from the rest stop. To Antila. But,” she hurried on with a wild
flapping of her hands, “I didn’t tell him where we were or where we were heading.
I just made it clear what would happen if he didn’t neutralize whoever is trying to
kill me. I also demanded that he leave me alone for the next few weeks. I figured
that should buy me enough time to work on the ‘what next.’”

Incendiaries went off in his head. “You threatened him?”

Will put a cool-it hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I did. And what’s he going to do about it? Kill me? I don’t think so. Not while
he believes I’m carrying his precious heir.”

Her bullet-straight stare was certain enough. The fact she held one fluttering hand
protectively across her abdomen told him she was scared. But somehow he didn’t think
it was of Antila. Something else was going on.

“What exactly did you threaten him with, Anna?” Will asked quietly.

“I told him that unless he backed off, I’d announce—or rather denounce—him as the
father of my baby. A son for who he’ll do anything. Online. To every one of the millions
of subscribers to my
Hinterland Heroes
game. That I’d make sure the news went viral, and that if he was finding it difficult
to protect me against one threat, how he’d cope if every one of his rivals and enemies—and
I bet he’s got a lot—came after me at the same time.”

Well, didn’t that just suck the oxygen from the room? He was certainly having difficulty
breathing. “How did Antila react?” he asked, his chest performing mini-push-ups.

Anna shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I left a voice mail.”

Will released a string of profanities that had even the back of his neck blistering.

…

Even after six hours of deep sleep—he knew because he’d kept checking on her—it was
obvious Anna was still smarting from being sent back upstairs rather than be included
in the discussions that had kept him and Will up half the night. Will had mooted the
possibility of the Service organizing witness protection. He’d kicked
that
idea into a cell and slammed the door on it. At least, for now. Yes, he wanted Anna
safe. But he also wanted her with him. And didn’t that admission make his balls retract—every
goddamn time it slapped him in the face. Which was every second or so.

“There had better be a railway station around here somewhere, Marshall, because I
have no intention of hiking my way back to London,” she said.

Without missing a step, he hitched the weighty backpack to his other shoulder, keeping
his arm nearest to her free should she try and make a run for it. “If we were returning
to London, I’d have taken the Land Rover. We’re heading north. And, if it makes you
feel better to ditch calling me ‘Nick,’ good. Because I don’t think you’re going to
much like, let alone want to know, the type of person I’ll become if you’re obstinate
about this.”

She stopped.

He did the same, tipping the backpack from his shoulder. Damn, he was going to need
two hands.

“You promised.”

“No, I said I’d think about returning,” he countered evenly. “Which I did, before
tossing the idea. I want as much distance between you and Antila as possible. You
are better off out of London for the time being.”

“Jesus, Nick. When are you going to learn you need to speak with me first?”

He wanted to grin at her slipup with his name, but one look at the heat in her eyes
was warning enough. “It’s not about controlling you, Anna, or cutting you out of any
decisions. I’m just trying to keep you and the baby safe.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” she said spreading frost, “except that you should
have consulted me first. You see, I
need
to be in London. This baby
needs
to be in London.”

The emphatic urgency in her tone stilled the blood in his veins. He looked down at
the small elegant hand trying to wrap itself round his forearm, the knuckles whiter
than white. “Why?”

“In case it happens again.”

From her expression, she’d retreated into a world of solitary mental pain. Reaching
forward, he smoothed her long, uneven fringe to the side and then slid his hand to
the nape of her neck. His stomach constricted at the tightly knotted muscles lying
beneath her skin. She still didn’t trust him to keep her safe. He pushed passed the
sudden urge to shake her.

“You’re going to have to help me out a little here, Anna. To stop what happening again?”