Man of Mystery: A BBW Romantic Suspense (13 page)

“You wanna tell me where the bomb is, or do I have to find out for myself?” I ask. He won’t tell; I already know that. But at least I already know it’s probably in my car, somewhere inside that train.

He just grins at me, his smug face suggesting he’s either too stupid to realize that he’s lost and I’ve won, or he’s just plain crazy. Considering he’s Nexus, I’m going to assume he’s bat shit crazy.

Ignoring the sharp sting in my right knee, I get up, dragging him onto his feet beside me. We both limp back to the first platform, where I can already see one more black sedan, just like my own, parked up beside the police cars. Backup from HQ. As I get closer, I spot Clark pacing around Tess’s wrecked car. Great.

I continue to drag the suspect along with me. Whatever happens, I’m sure as hell not handing him over to Clark, the Nexus mole.

“Everson.” Clark squints at me suspiciously.

I return an equally distrustful glare. “Clark.”

“What’s happened here?” He looks at the suspect in my custody, then back at me.

“Nexus trying to blow shit up, same old.”

“Uhuh,” Clark grunts. “Funny, how Nexus seems to have a real hard-on for involving you and your girlfriend in their little plans, don’t you think?”

“Funny, indeed.” I stare at him as he stares at me. Neither of us shows signs of backing down.

Tess
… I’ve got to check on Tess. I tear myself away from my little pissing contest with Clark and wrestle the suspect into my car, locking him inside.

“Nobody takes him anywhere without me, you understand?” I bark at Clark, who just shrugs in response. “I’m going to go question Tess if she’s awake, but meanwhile, there’s still a bomb on board this train, most likely planted in my regular vehicle. I suggest you guys get on that as soon as possible.”

At the mention of the word ‘bomb,’ Clark finally stops glaring at me and nods in agreement. He gets his phone out and tells Jenkins to call in the bomb squad, in case we find something that we cannot disarm ourselves. Then he gets the position of my car from Eurotunnel security.

Within moments, they start to evacuate the platform. My stand-in car and the ambulance are the last vehicles to be moved.

I call over the other agent who had arrived in Clark’s car and hand him my keys, asking if he can keep an eye on the suspect while I’m inside the ambulance. It’s a risk, letting the cuffed man out of my sights, but I have to see how Tess is doing.

When I open the rear doors of the ambulance and step inside, Tess is still lying there in the same position as when I had checked on her before.

“Update?” I ask the paramedic, who just shrugs.

“No change.”

I sit down and take her hand.

The ambulance jerks into motion, taking us further away from the train and towards safety. Within minutes, we’re parked up at the new perimeter and the engine is switched off again.

She looks so fragile. Her hand feels small in mine. What if she won’t wake up? What if the paramedic has missed something, and she’s in a much more serious state than he suspects?

It takes a lot for me not to panic, not to insist they check her again. It’s not rational. I shouldn’t be dictating how this guy does his job. The truth is, it’s not his fault I’m scared for her. It’s not even
her
fault, but my own. I involved her in all of this, and now she’s gotten hurt. Because of me.

Earlier today, I had been determined to call it quits. For her safety as well as my own self-preservation, I would let her go. I hadn’t planned on seeing her again, knowing that the moment I’d lay eyes on her, I’d feel compelled to change my mind.

How could I deny myself the feeling she instilled in me whenever we were together? The sense of belonging, the irresistible urge to try and make her smile, knowing it will light up even the darkest part of me. If she does wake up, she’ll be angry with me, and I’ll deserve it. But won’t she understand that
this, right here,
is exactly what I had wanted to prevent? Hopefully, she will.

She stirs, and my heart skips a whole lot of beats.

“Shhh…” I try to calm her as she struggles to open her eyes with a wild, panicked look on her face. “Don’t speak.”

When I wake up, my entire body feels stiff.
Where am I?

I try to open my eyes and look around but have to blink against the bright lights surrounding me. I can’t see anything clearly, just blurs of colors and blinding white. When I try to speak, my voice doesn’t sound like my own, I can only manage a pathetic croak.

“Don’t speak,” a familiar voice says.

Someone touches my hand, fingers thread through mine.
Ouch, my head.

I try to reach up to see where the sharp pain is coming from but can’t lift my arm.

“I can’t…” I try to say, but the rest of the sentence doesn’t make it past my lips.

“You need to rest. You’ve been in an accident.”

I blink again a few times until finally my eyes adjust to my surroundings. Above me, a concerned pair of eyes meets my own. Beautiful, familiar, green. Dark brown hair frames that face I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since last week against a backdrop of clinical equipment and tubes and things. A hospital? No, there’s a lot of commotion nearby, as well as the occasional siren. I must be in an ambulance, still at the Eurotunnel complex.

“Liam,” I sigh.

Am I hallucinating? Is he really here?
I blink at him in disbelief, half expecting that he’ll just vanish on me.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Did you get the guy? Did you secure the bomb?” I ask.

He looks away, avoiding my question. Then his eyes are fixed on mine again.

“What were you thinking? Driving your car into a train, really?” He sounds upset. Why is he upset? Did something go wrong?

I don’t know how to respond.

“I… Someone had to stop the train,” I explain at last.

“I was on my way. I had it under control,” he says. “Plus, you could have called in a bomb threat, just like we had agreed at the airport last week.”

I press my lips together tightly. The pain in my forehead is getting progressively worse, and for the umpteenth time today, my eyes start to burn. Ugh. Why is he being such a douche about this? He wasn’t here, and the car was already on the train. Doesn’t he see that something needed to be done right then and there?

“Whatever. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to figure it out.” I close my eyes and turn my head away, not wanting him to see my tears. Rather than showing the slightest amount of appreciation for what I’ve done, he seems more intent on giving me a lecture. “What do you care? After today, we’re probably never seeing each other again!” I complain.

“Agent Everson, are you in here?” That same horrible voice interrupts us, which had done so less than twenty-four hours ago in my own bedroom. The redhead he works for. Ugh, I hate that woman. I refuse to even look in her direction.

“Ma’am,” Liam responds.

“How on earth did this civilian end up here again? Please step out, and explain why you would go against my orders like that?”

Liam lets go of my hand and does as asked, presumably, but I don’t open my eyes. The ambulance door creaks partially shut, though muffled voices of his conversation with his boss are still filtering through loud enough for me to hear every word.

I try to ignore them. It’s harder coming face to face with Liam now than I’d thought. It hurts too much to know that he’s right there in front of me, but I can’t have him anymore.

“It’s a long story,” Liam sighs.

“Did you secure the bomb?” the redhead asks.

“Clark and the local police are on it.” Liam sounds impatient.

“And the girl, have you questioned her yet? This time, I’d like to debrief her myself as well.”
Ugh. I’m not looking forward to that at all.

“She was knocked out when she drove her car into the train. She’s awake now, but it would be best to give her some rest,” Liam tries to dissuade his boss. I doubt it will change her mind, but I’m glad he’s trying anyway.

“Fine. Nothing promotes clarity like a little rest.” My eyes snap wide open at Liam’s boss’s statement.

A weird saying, one I’ve heard only once before… Fletch said that to me while he was questioning me in the warehouse yesterday!

Holy shit, does that mean what I think it does?
I’ve got to get off this stretcher, out of this ambulance if that woman is going to come in here and ‘debrief’ me, whatever that means. In my panic, I knock over a tray with some cotton wool and antiseptic that was probably meant to be used on me at some point, making a loud clattering noise at it hits the floor.

The door opens, and Liam steps inside, looking even more worried than before. “Everything OK in here?”

I can’t breathe, and my eyes are about ready to pop out of my head. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Right. Be careful.” He turns like he’s about to leave again. I can’t let that happen.

“Wait,” I say.

He pauses, with the door still ajar. I can’t be sure if we’re overheard, and I can’t take the risk if we are.

“Come here for a moment,” I whisper.

He looks out for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do. Then he finally steps inside all the way, shutting the door, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

“What is it, Tess?” His voice sounds strangely raw, but I don’t have time to analyze his state of mind right now.

“The woman, that weird saying she quoted just now. Nothing promotes clarity like a little rest.” As I start to explain, suddenly my genius observation seems a lot stupider than it did in my head. “Yesterday at the warehouse, the guy in charge said exactly that. He said it was something his mother used to say.”

“Right.” Liam looks me in the eye. I don’t know if he’s trying to figure out just how badly I got bumped on the head, or if he actually takes me seriously.

“Think about it. Have you ever heard anyone say that?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” He’s right. I sound like a crazy person right now. Just because someone uses a weird turn of phrase doesn’t make them a terrorist.

“I’ll be right back,” Liam says, patting me on my hand and heading straight for the door.

Outside, I don’t hear voices anymore, just distant sirens. I try to tell myself I’ve done my part, and it’s up to fate, or Liam, to make sure things work out, but the knot in my chest refuses to budge.

Liam

Tess’s observation seems outlandish, insane, and yet… it would make sense, wouldn’t it? What if all this time, the mole inside our unit wasn’t an agent but the team leader? It’s perfect, elegant even.

I decide to take a risk to test the theory. What are the chances of Nexus having multiple people inside our little unit? Low, I’d say. I’ve already shared my suspicions about Clark with Mrs. H., and what happened? Nothing. She didn’t act on it, instead sending Clark out as my backup immediately after. Perhaps because she knew I’m wrong, because she herself is involved.

“Hey, Clark.” I catch up with him as he pulls into the wide parking lot. He lowers his window and gives me a nasty stare.

“Everson.”

“Threat contained?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’ll just come right out and say it. I told H you might be involved with Nexus,” I say, while keeping my gaze fixed on him, gauging his reaction.

His eyes widen in surprise.

“But… wait, you did what?!” he exclaims. He’s pissed and rightly so.

Strangely, he doesn’t seem concerned, though, just angry. He shows no signs of guilt or nervousness.

“When I got the phone call, and all of a sudden our prisoner ends up dead before he tells us anything of use, that didn’t look good, you have to admit.” I wait as Clark gets out of the car in a huff, slamming the door behind him and getting up close to me with balled fists. What is he going to do, punch me in the face? Let him try.

“Well, similarly you have to admit it didn’t look good to accept a phone call from Fletch in the middle of an interrogation, to lie about it, and then to run off, leaving me to deal with a dead witness. How do I know you’re not the one who’s involved?”

“Touché,” I say.

We’re only a few inches apart now. His forehead is turning sweaty; his cheeks are flushed with residual anger, and he seems to be completely tense. Every muscle in his body seems to be preparing for a fight. So that’s his story. While I’m suspecting him of wrongdoing, he’s doing the same to me. It makes sense.