Out of the Dark (4 page)

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Authors: Geri Foster

BOOK: Out of the Dark
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“Yes, I put one in this morning.”

“Okay, then...” Mac started to say.

Suddenly, the door to their room crashed open and two guys rushed in. They were armed and ready to kill.

Glock in hand, Mac fired twice and took out men before the intruder’s eyes could adjust to the dim light.

W
hen Emily didn’t respond quick enough, Mac jumped off the bed and grabbed her arm. “We have to leave now. It’s going to get real ugly.”

“What?” she screamed. “This isn’t ugly?”

“I’ve seen worse.” He released her.

Obvio
usly, she hadn’t. No doubt, nothing like this ever happened in the normal world, especially hers. With her nice orderly life, Mac figured she’d probably never witnessed anything firsthand worse than maybe a car accident.

“What’s going on?” Emily had her hands to her mouth, her eyes the size of saucers.

“Nothing. Get the pilot on the phone. We leave now.”  Grabbing what he could, Mac snatched up his bag and threw in an assault rifle that belonged to one of the Russians, then Emily’s briefcase, laptop and purse.

Shouldering the bag, he jammed his Glock in the back of his waistband
and pulled his shirt down to conceal the weapon. He took her cell phone off the dresser, handed it to her and repeated, “Get the pilot on the phone while we move.”

Mac inched around the corner where the door used to be and checked the well-lit, carpeted hall. Clear.

Taking Emily by the hand, he led her out behind him. They darted for the stairwell. Security would investigate the sound of gunfire, and Mac didn’t want to be anywhere around when that happened.

Down two flights of concrete stairs, Mac stopped and leaned Emily against the cinderblock wall in the narrow
shaft. He took her chin in his hand. “Listen, we don’t have time for you to go screwy on me. Call the pilot now.”

“I don’t know...I don’t know.”

“Emily.” He shook her gently. “Call him and tell him to ready the fucking plane. You’re going to get us both killed.”

With shaking fingers, Emily punched several numbers before she actually got anyone on the line. “Mr. Malloy,” she gasped. “There is an emergency and we need to leave tonight.”

Listening for any sounds that they were being chased, Mac hugged the wall and kept an eye on the doorway. Nothing so far.

“I understand,” Emily said. “You have certain papers to file and all that, but we’ll be at the airfield in an hour. And you’d b
etter fucking be ready to leave!”

She disconnected the call and looked at him for approval then her eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth. “God, I dropped the F bomb.”

“You did good. Now stay close to me. When we go through the door to the lobby, we need to act as calm as possible.”

“Mac, I’m scared
.”

“Nothing to it, Em. Stay close. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He looked into her eyes
then brushed his lips against hers. “Not ever.”

The kiss sent a spark of something strange and wonderful through his body, and the shadows in her eyes relayed she’d felt something as well.

They made their way to the ground floor. Mac forced a smile. “This will be the easiest thing you’ve done all evening.”

Arm and arm, Mac felt her body trembling. “You’re okay, Em,” he said calmly. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

They entered the wide lobby with its tall white columns and comfortable seating areas then headed for the door. Her body crushed against his side.

Just as the front desk came into view, Mac turn
ed away and looked down at Em as they continued toward the revolving door.

The uniformed doorman tipped his ha
t when they walked out into the misting rain. The sidewalk and streets were wet and black.

A police car, with piercing sirens, pulled up in front of the hotel. Two armed men jumped out of the Volvo, and darted inside. Mac turned
in time to keep them from getting a look at his face.

Careful not to draw attention, Mac pressed Emily’s head to his shoulder and steered her down the sidewalk to the corner. They turned and melted into the darkness.

C
HAPTER THREE

 

Grasping Mac’s hand, Emily swallowed a scream. While recalling the scene in the hotel, Emily’s lips trembled and her knees wobbled. She longed to run like a demon chased her, but valiantly reined in that impulse as they strolled toward the exit. The fear of losing control and turning into a hysterical maniac tugged at her mind.

More than anything, she wanted to curl into a ball until
the horror passed. But she knew one wrong move on her part could get them killed. Unable to do anything but follow Mac’s lead, she shivered like a dog left out in the cold, and stayed close.

When they
had exited the hotel, cool night air slapped her in the face. The chilly temperature revitalized her briefly and braced her against the terror, but did little to calm her nerves.

As if in a daze, Emily marched stiffly beside Mac and prayed
no one followed. With every step she had to fight the urge to glance back because to do so could call unwanted attention to them and prove fatal.

A breath caught in her throat when
Emily realized she’d never seen Mac like this. Fast, cunning, deadly...and totally in control. Not a hint of concern or worry wrinkled his brow or affected his outward demeanor. It scared the hell out of her in one sense and yet eased her traumatized mind in another. 

After a block Emily
no longer resisted the urge and looked back. She turned at the scream of more sirens and saw emergency vehicles with flashing red lights speeding toward the hotel.

Again she wanted to break into a run but Mac gripped her hand and gave the appearance they were doing nothing more than taking a stroll in the night air.
That he carried his duffel bag meant nothing in this area of hotels and tourists.

As the hotel faded into the mistiness, they turned east toward Gorky Park. Mac hailed the only cab in sight. When the small
yellow vehicle stopped, Emily gladly jumped inside to get out of the elements and away from the scene that fueled her fear. She hoped the metal surrounding the vehicle would somehow shield her from harm.

After the door shut, she
wrinkled her nose. The interior reeked of sweat, booze and vomit. Her stomach rebelled violently but knew she had to control herself. She swallowed hard and rolled down the window to take a gulp of fresh air.

Finally her heart rate slowed.

“Where is the plane?” Mac asked.

“It’s at the private section of Sheremetyevo Airport.” She pointed to the sign stretched above the highway. “Exit here. This will take us to the right terminal.”

While her brain refused to work fast enough to translate, Mac repeated what she’d said in Russian as smoothly and calmly as a judge rendering a verdict.

As they headed in the right direction, Mac slumped back in the seat and pulled h
er against him. She hated being weak and frightened. Yet she clutched Mac’s shirt in her fists and buried her face in his chest. Nothing had felt better or more reassuring in her whole life. The strong, steady beat of his heart melted her fear like warm sunlight on snow. At the moment, his hands gently rubbing her back soothed her more than any professional massage.

“It
’s okay, Em,” Mac said. “It’ll all work out.”

She looked up as the driver maneuvered one of Moscow’s busier streets and mingled with the usual airport traffic. To add to her stress, the slow drizzle hindered their progress, but at least they were moving in the direction that would get them safely out of the country.

Moments later they arrived at their destination. Emily noticed rain had turned the private airport’s tarmac black, and fog flirted with the horizon. Hopefully they’d get out before the weather crippled their escape.

Recognizing the pilot, Emily exhaled and found the courage to release Mac from her death grip and get o
ut of the cab. Sam Malloy stood with the airport officials signing the necessary papers for them to leave. Ed Myers, the co-pilot, hadn’t arrived yet. Taking her purse from Mac’s bag, Emily found her wallet and paid the cabdriver. She and Mac moved toward the small terminal

She smiled at the
customs agent and presented her papers. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Mac’s documents were in order. Falcon worked wonders when it came to protecting their agents.

“Welcome
, Miss Richards and Mr. Finch,” said the clerk.. She gave Mac a questioning glare. He winked. She wanted to smack him.

As they left c
ustoms, Emily leaned closer. “Finch?”

“Tony is our resident passport guy. At the moment, I’m Atticus Finch.” He look
ed at her and smiled. “To Kill a Mockingbird...?”

“I guess that’s better than Elmer Fudd.”

“Oh, I’ve been him before.” Mac laughed. “Tony has a bitch of a sense of humor.”

“Sounds like it.”

They moved quickly through all the necessary channels and were waiting for the final okay to leave.

With a nod of approval, Mac and Emily departed
the terminal and walked a hundred feet to the waiting plane. She looked up the portable stairs to the entrance of the plane. “I think that open door is the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

“Hey,” Mac teased. “I’m offended by that remark.”

Before they could take the first step, Sam Malloy, the pilot walked over to them. “Who is he?” he asked, flipping his pen against the clipboard. “I need to give the authorities the names of all passengers.”

“He’s Atticus Finch. We’ve been through
customs already. Where is Ed?” she asked, hoping to distract Sam before he questioned Mac’s fake name. She peered toward the parking lot. “I made it clear we leave tonight...now.”

“He couldn’t be reached, but we’ll be fine.” Sam nodded toward the plane. “It’s a Cessna 500,” he explained, as he studied the overhead clouds. “There’s no problem flying solo, as long as the weather doesn’t become a hazard.”

Sam handed the ground crew the clipboard then walked up the stairs to the plane. Emily made sure she and Mac were right behind him. With the engines revving, Emily couldn’t help taking one last look back at Moscow.

What if there were more bad guys?

What if the authorities found out Mac was a special agent?

What if they didn’t make it into the air?

At the entrance of the plane, Sam turned and stopped them. “Am I to assume you have cleared this with Stromberg?”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Emily managed
. “I’ll settle everything with the CEO when we land.”

“You seem awfully nervous, Miss Richards,” Sam said, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is anything wrong?”

Emily took a deep breath and inhaled the damp air deep into her lungs. Slowly she exhaled through her mouth. She released her clenched fists and smiled a grimace.

“No
, nothing,” she replied, mentally forcing her voice to remain calm. “I just finished my business early and decided to leave tonight. I have a briefing in Dallas and I’d like to get there in time to prepare.”

Sam looked at Mac then walked back down
the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

Emily watched with dread as he
practically ran toward the customs office, cell phone pressed to his ear.

“I think he knows you’re not legitimate. He’s probably calling the police.”

“Don’t worry. We’re okay.”

“How can you say that?”

Mac shrugged. “Take it easy, Frank and the CEO of Stromberg are close. Do you don’t think I would have been sent to you if Frank didn’t have everything planned out?”

The pilot
returned and instructed Mac and her to make themselves comfortable.

Stunned, Emily could only stare. “W
hat just happened?” she turned and asked Mac.

“My guess is he called his boss.”

Emily shook her head. “So everything must have been in order.”

“I told you.

Inside
the plane Mac flung his bag in the captain’s chair in front of him then dropped into the large two-seater in the middle aisle.

Emily reached up and
took several pillows from the overhead bin and handed two to Mac before taking her seat. It would just be the three of them. Sam would fly them to Heathrow, and they’d catch a commercial flight from there.

After they were in the air,
she’d make arrangements to get them home. Also, Brenda needed to know where she was, as well as her office staff, and her sister, of course.

For now,
Emily couldn’t keep her eyes off Mac. Before today, the last time she’d seen him he had been knock down gorgeous-decked out in a sharp gray pin-striped suit with a red power tie and a crisp white shirt, Rolex and all. By all outward appearances he’d looked every bit the well-tailored businessman. Certainly not a man accused of punching Mexico’s ambassador and holding him at gunpoint until he secured a team member’s release.

No, not Mac.

Of course, she knew Mac didn’t wear a suit and tie every day. Not in his line of work. She guessed camouflage, black tee shirts and combat boots.

The things these elite warriors managed to accomplish would astound the American public. But again, they kept the country safe and constantly battled evil forces.

Sam came to see that they were secure. “I talked to Stromberg and everything is fine. We’ll be leaving any minute. We’re waiting for the okay from the control tower.”

Emily looked out the window at the wet tarmac and wondered what had happened bac
k at the hotel, and why. Who wanted to kill Mac? And why put all those innocent people in harm’s way?

Needing a drink, Emily stood and went to the fridge in the galley. She brought back two bottle
s of water and handed one to Mac. He took several gulps before looking at her with a smile on his lips.

The luxurious interior of the plane was top of the line. Oversized, beige leather recliners, an eating area, a lounge, a fridge full of food and cupboards stocked with liquor. There was even a nice warming oven for hot towels.

No galley, but there was a great sound system, and pillows. Lights everywhere, but you could darken the cabin for sleep with the touch of a button.

A mixture of clean vanilla and expansive leather drew her into a
comfort zone she badly needed.

All the comforts of home, but she was wet and dirty.

The radioed voice from the cockpit announced they were to prepare to taxi to runway number two. It had seemed they waited an eternity. The plane crept backwards from the terminal and Sam lined them up perfectly for takeoff. Soon they’d be on their way home.

“What the hell?” Sam shouted.

Emily released her seatbelt and moved to the cockpit. Two vehicles raced toward them from the right. Sirens blared, red lights flashed. In the lead car a man hung out the window with a huge weapon pointed at them.

Sam hit the brakes as a loud boom shook the aircraft. Unable to tear her gaze away, Emily watched as a large projectile with a fiery tail streaked toward them.

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