Into the Night (62 page)
"Mike..."
"You promised."
Joan groaned and closed her eyes. "Seven years is nothing in the grand scheme of things and if you don't fuck me harder, I'm going to die."
"Close enough." He did as she asked. "Better?"
"Uhhhh," she said. "Oh, God!"
"My turn for a line." It was getting harder for him to think, let alone talk. "I say,. 'If you're worried about what people will think when they see us together, don't be. You say, 'Why not?' "
"Why...not...?"
"Because people will think, 'Wow, he really loves her. And they'll be right."
She opened her eyes and looked right up at him, shock on her face. "Did you just say... ?"
"I love you," he said. "Yeah, that's what I said."
He reached between them, knowing exactly where to touch her to push her over the edge.
"Oh, Michael," Joan gasped as she exploded.
He had to grit his teeth and think about differential equations to keep from joining her.
And when she finally lay beneath him, limp and exhausted, he was still hard inside of her.
Her eyelids fluttered open in surprise as he began moving again. "You didn't...?"
He shook his head. "No. We have a little time left, and, well, I still have this one thing that I really want you to do. Something that'll completely get me off. Something that'll rock my world for a long, long time."
"Ask me," she said. "I'll do it. Just tell me what to do."
Muldoon nodded. "Promise?"
"Yes."
He took a deep breath and said it. "Marry me."
Chapter 26
As Mary Lou drove to work, she saw Ihbraham walking along the road that led to the base.
What was he doing, walking?
She passed him, but then pulled over, out of the heavy stream of traffic, reaching to roll down the passenger's-side window as she waited for him to catch up.
"Where are you going?" she called.
He came and leaned in the window. "To see the President speak at the Navy base," he told her. "I knew there would be much traffic and trouble with parking, and it's a nice enough day to walk, so..."
"Hop in. I'll give you a lift."
"That's not necessary." He started backing away.
"But I wanted to talk to you. It's important. I had dinner with Bob Schwegel last night."
Ihbraham stopped moving, but he didn't lean back down so she could see his face. "And you are telling me this because... ?"
"You were right about him," she said to his blue T-shirt. "He's a creep. I think he's a con artist. He asked me to run away with him to New York—can you believe that? I was supposed to pack a bag and bring it to work today. He said he'd meet me here and then we'd go pick up Haley and leave town. Of course, we'd make a quick stop and clear out all of Sam and my bank accounts before we hit the road. I called Medway Insurance—that's where he said he worked—and they never even heard of a Bob Schwegel. He was scamming me right from the start."
Ihbraham sighed, and then crouched down next to the car. "I'm sorry."
"Will you please get in?" she said.
"No," he said. "I don't think that's wise."
"Don't be a dope. I'm not going to jump you in the short amount of time it takes to drive to the base. I mean, while I'm driving? In busy traffic? I'm good, but I'm not that good."
He sighed again, then opened the door and climbed in.
Mary Lou put the car into gear and signaled her intent to move back into the line of cars. It was moving even more slowly now, looking to be stop-and-go all the way to the base. But that was okay. She was very early, and the more time she could spend with Ihbraham, the better.
"Did you call the police about this Bob?" he asked.
"No."
"You must."
"How'm I supposed to do that without everyone in the world finding out I had dinner with a scum ball?" She sighed. "I don't know... maybe it doesn't matter who finds out. Sam asked me last night if I was screwing around with my next-door neighbor. You know, Crazy Donny? Can you believe that? He actually thought ... But he wasn't even angry or even the slightest bit jealous. Just kind of curious about it— which is pretty depressing, don't you think?" She glanced at Ihbraham. "So I went to see a lawyer this morning, about a divorce."
Well, now she had his attention.
"She said I'd get child support from Sam, and alimony, too. I had no idea it would be as much as this lawyer said—at least until I get married again. If I get married again." She sneaked another look at him.
He was silent as they rolled up another few car lengths. "Sam may not agree to give you this divorce."
"Yeah, he will," Mary Lou said. "I'm, like, 99.999 percent certain this is what he wants."
"You seem quite certain it's what you want, as well."
"I am," she told him. "I'm scared, sure, but, see, well... I'm not in love with Sam anymore. And I wasn't even remotely interested in Bob—I was just real mad. At you." She glanced at him again.
He was just silently watching her, a slight furrow in his brow as if he were struggling to understand what she was saying. She didn't really blame him for not getting it. She hadn't been particularly clear.
"I was mad because, well, you've been hiding from me, and... I've gotten kind of used to you being around." Come on, girl, just say it. "I'm kind of in love with you," she told him.
But he still didn't utter a sound, didn't move, didn't jump up and down or cheer.
So Mary Lou forced a laugh. "How'd that happen, huh? I mean, we're so different from each other, and, well, different. In every way. But... if you maybe still have feelings for me, I thought... After Sam and I separate, which will probably be tonight or tomorrow ... maybe you could come over sometime and I could cook you dinner. If you want."
She was actually blushing. She could feel her cheeks heat, remembering that conversation they'd had when she'd invited him in for iced tea. She wondered if he thought she was inviting him over for more than dinner—and if he would mind very much if she was.
But when she glanced at him again, he was shaking his head. "I was sure you would never leave him," he admitted. "I promised my brothers..."
"What?" she asked, but he just shook his head.
They were in a line of cars waiting to get into the base. The guards at the gate were doing full searches, both of the interior and the trunk. They were even checking under the hood.
Ihbraham opened his door. "I should get out here. They'll check your car more carefully and take twice as long if I'm riding with you."
"I don't care," she said, knowing that he was talking about more than just passing this checkpoint.
"My sons may have skin as dark as mine," he told her. "You said you don't want that. You said—"
"I wanted life to be easy," she said. "But there's no such thing. You're the best person I've ever met, Ihbraham. And if you want to be with me, then... But if you've changed your mind—"
"No, I didn't, but I also didn't expect you to change yours," Ihbraham said. "I've agreed to help my brothers and... You must give me some time to figure out what to do. Will you do that, please?"
She nodded. "Help them how?"
"It has to do with a woman," he said, and her heart sank. "I'm supposed to take her to dinner tonight and then ... But I'll get out of it—I'll get out of all of it." He climbed out of her car.
She leaned over so she could see him. "Will you call me tonight?"
"Yes—if I can."
"I love you," she said.
He smiled, and her morning got even brighter. "It is a day, I think, for miracles all around."
"How are you, Lieutenant?" Vince said as he greeted Mike Muldoon in front of the VIP dais that was set up catty-corner to the spectator stands. "Crazy night last night. Thanks for being there for Joanie."
He nodded. "It was my pleasure, sir."
Vince nodded, looking out onto the field where SEALs from Team Sixteen would fast-rope down from two helicopters and take out a large piece of artillery. He knew from his own experience that it wouldn't take much to prevent a gun like that from firing. Putting all of the various parts out of commission would take a little more effort. He suspected that was what they were going to be doing here today.
Either way, it was going to be so fast that most people would have no idea exactly what they had witnessed.
This entire shindig had a carnival-type atmosphere. Families with little kids and tourists of all shapes and sizes had come out in force on this gorgeous—but hot—day to see this show.
"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked the kid.
Muldoon smiled and answered him honestly. "No, sir."
That was some smile. It must've been one hell of a night. "Ask her to marry you yet?"
The kid seemed surprised for only a second. But then nodded. "Yes, sir. She's, um, thinking about it."
Vince turned to face him. "Really?" Joanie, thinking about getting married! "I'm impressed."
Every now and then a chopper flew overhead, making it impossible to hear. Muldoon waited for this latest one to move off a bit before answering. "Yes, sir. I, uh, kind of put her in a position where she didn't want to, urn, disappoint me by saying no right away. So she said maybe. I consider that to be something of a victory."
"I'd say so," Vince said. "How on earth did you... ?"
Muldoon was shaking his head. "Sorry, sir. I can't, uh..."
Oh ho, so it was like that, was it? Vince had to work to keep from laughing. Good for him. Good for Joanie, too. "Well, if you want some advice from an old man, persistence triumphs. Just keep coming back—whatever she throws at you. Don't quit. Just keep showing up."
"That's my plan," Muldoon said. "Do me a favor and don't tell her we talked about this, okay?"
"I wouldn't dream of it. No point making her go postal."
Muldoon laughed. Yeah, he knew Joanie pretty well. "Is there anything I can get for you today, sir? Do you have everything you need?"
Vince glanced over to where Charlie was talking to Joanie and several other ladies who were part of the White House staff. She had color in her cheeks—no doubt about it, she was enjoying this very much.
"I'm perfect," he said, giving the boy a smile. "Thanks."
Husaam Abdul-Fataah walked into the Navy base without being searched.
Sure, he walked through a metal detector, and he'd had to take off his shoes and get them checked, but other than that, he was just waved on through.
Despite claims that this country avoided racial profiling, there were far more places he could go with his fair skin and light-colored eyes and hair than could most people who had such an obviously Muslim name.
Of course, Husaam Abdul-Fataah was the name he took seven years ago, after his first meeting with al-Qaeda leaders, when it became obvious that embracing the Muslim faith would be a smart business move. He'd converted, enthusiastically. He'd worship zucchini squash if it would help him bring home the kind of money he was earning these days.
And as for his new name, it roughly translated into "sword and servant of the opener of the gates of sustenance."
And those gates were open, indeed. He was steadily and quite gainfully employed. And the work was laughably easy. It was amusing indeed that, after years of working as a hired gun, a shooter with an ability rivaled by few, his biggest "skill" now was his ability to blend in in America. His greatest asset was the genes he'd inherited from Glen and Irene Canton of Lenexa, Kansas.
As Husaam watched, an obviously Arabic-looking man was pulled from the line and swept with the metal detector wand, even though he hadn't set off the walk-through alarm. The man was patient and serene despite the obvious indignity of being singled out.
And look at that. It was Ihbraham Rahman. Wasn't that provident? Maybe there was something to this blessings from Allah thing after all.
Husaam hadn't been intending to stay here on the base for long. Once the bullets started flying, it was going to get very dangerous in this vicinity. In fact, he was expecting a call on his cell phone warning him when the President's motorcade crossed the causeway.
But Ihbraham's presence was too neat a gift from God to pass up. And Husaam knew where the martyrs were intending to stand. He could position himself well out of range of their weapons.
Husaam hung back and waited. And as Ihbraham finally was allowed into the area, he followed him.
Sam Starrett watched the crowd filtering in through the gates from his bird's-eye perspective in Seahawk One.
As the helicopter made another pass overhead, he could see the metal detectors and the security personnel hard at work, bomb-sniffing dogs nearby. Everyone's shoes had to come off and get sent through the X-ray machines. Bags and packages weren't allowed inside, but ladies' purses were. It was ridiculous—like women couldn't be as murderous as the next guy?
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