Shadows at Midnight (33 page)

Bowen screamed, his muscles bunched to deliver a blow and . . . he fell backward out of his chair, a red hole in his shoulder, the rifle’s report echoing in the hotel lobby.

Claire slumped in relief and realized that she was sweating like a pig. And shaking.

“Guys,” she murmured, knowing they could pick up the feed. “You can come out now.”

Dan, Jesse, Frank and Dave appeared from the shadows, hard-eyed men, cradling their rifles, prodding Bowen’s men in front of them. Bowen’s men had their hands hand-cuffed behind their backs.

Bowen was screaming obscenities, so enraged Claire wondered whether he even felt the gunshot wound. Adrenaline must have been flooding his body because he rose to his knees, then he stood up, slipping a little in the pool of his own blood on the white marble floor.

Two more men appeared, a tall, grizzled African American and a short, broad man. The short man was armed, a Glock in a well-used shoulder holster.

“Well done, Claire,” the tall African American said and smiled at her.

“Ambassador.” Claire sketched a tremulous smile. She knew she should offer her hand to the new US ambassador to Makongo, Calvin Cooley, the man she most admired and respected in the Foreign Service, but her hands were shaking.

The respect was mutual. When she’d asked him to come and witness the exchange with Bowen, he’d agreed without question.

The short man, Leo Kellerman, the new FBI legat, turned to Bowen. “On behalf of the US government, I hereby arrest you on charges of murder, treason, terrorism and massive fraud.”

Bowen swayed on his feet, eyes wild.

“Oh God, Boss.” The man Dan had prodded turned a teary face to Bowen. “I’m so sorry.” He sniffled, unable to wipe his nose. “They got the drop on us, I’m so sorry—”

“
You fucking son of a bitch, this is all your fault. If you’d killed the bitch the first time this would never have happened!”

Bowen was screaming, spittle flying, every cell of his body enraged. His hand snaked out, grabbed the legat’s gun out of its holster and before anyone could stop him, drilled a bullet through the man’s head.

Half a second later four shots rang out and Bowen crumpled, lifeless, to the floor.

Claire was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. The noise of the shots filled her head, deafening her. Bowen’s body on the floor was riddled with bullets, a small lake of blood already appearing under him, half his face and chest shot away.

She swayed and was caught in two strong arms. She finally was able to pull in a breath and smelled him. Dan. Gunshot and musk and . . . Dan.

Safety. Strength.

She gave a mewling sound and buried her head in his chest, gasping, trembling. He tightened his arms, covered the back of her head with a large hand, and simply absorbed her trembling into himself.

A weight on her shoulder, a large, gentle black hand.

“You did good, Blondie,” a deep voice rumbled way over her head. “Was any of that true? About the drugs being tested and the security camera that recorded everything?”

Claire shook her head against Dan’s chest and the ambassador laughed. It sounded like thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Gunny, you’ve got yourself a remarkable woman, there. You keep her safe, you hear?”

“Yessir,” Dan answered and oh, God, just hearing his voice made her feel better.

“She’s scary brave, Gunny. And wily. You’re going to want to watch your step in the future.”

She felt more than heard Dan’s laugh in his chest.

“Yessir. I know that, sir. But I’m willing to take the risk.”

She was
smiling
.

A smiling Claire and computers was not a happy combo. That smile, in particular, spelled trouble. Wicked and knowing, which usually meant that she was doing something she shouldn’t. Something probably illegal.

Dan sighed and she turned around, her face lighting up when she saw him.

Oh man.

He rubbed his chest. When she smiled at him like that, his heart just gave this enormous thwack inside his chest, even after a year of marriage. He should maybe see a cardiologist.

Claire held out her hand and he took it. “So,” she said. “How did it go?”

He’d just come back from talks with the CEO of a small, but very rich private bank.

“Really well. We’ve got the contract. 100K a year, for five years, plus expenses.”

She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Well done! You’ve got the golden touch.”

They were doing really well. They’d moved into new premises, in this swank high-rise near Crystal City with three times the space he’d had before. Roxanne now oversaw an office with two receptionists and four secretaries. Dan had six men on retainer, all ex-Marines, all excellent, for jobs that required physical security. More were in the pipeline.

Though Claire never took credit for bringing Bowen down, letting journalists think it was an FBI sting, the top echelons of government knew. They were grateful and threw work their way whenever they could.

Even the New Day Foundation’s backers showed their gratitude by offering a very lucrative contract.

They were starting to get feelers for jobs abroad, mainly in Latin America, though Dan was ambivalent about that. The thought of leaving Claire for even a couple of days was painful. But they were growing fast and soon travel would be routine.

His men were top-of-the-line when it came to planning and executing a security program in a dangerous world and word had gotten around. Dan was going to have to expand the company once again in a couple of months.

Weston and Weston Security was a runaway success.

But what W and W was
really
good at was computer security, and that was all Claire. Nobody could beat her. Nobody could even touch her. She was the rainmaker of the company.

Dan had landed the contract because the computer security program he had outlined for the bank was a dealmaker. But actually, it was Claire’s program. By all rights, it was Claire who should have gone to the incredibly plush office of the CEO on the forty-first floor to hear praise and then sign on the dotted line. But that way lay disaster. They’d tried it a couple of times, but the instant Claire opened her mouth, she lost the client.

The client would try to follow the first sentence or two, then his brain popped, whirred, shorted, then just shut down. Claire danced rings around the men at the top and they didn’t like it, so she stayed in the office, where she was happiest.

It was what she’d done as a DIA analyst and it was what she did in her own company and she loved it like that.

It all worked out just fine.

Everything had worked out fine. The New Day Foundation now randomly analyzed the medicine it sent, and the Bowen McKenzie scandal toppled the general. He was replaced with a young, energetic, Harvard-trained economist who was bringing the country back to life, according to Claire’s friend Aba. Claire and Aba spoke on the phone often and there were plans for a visit stateside.

They’d been married a year and Dan had no idea that happiness on this scale was even possible. He loved her and she scared the shit out of him.

Particularly when she smiled like that.

He dropped a kiss on her perfect little nose. But before he could get tempted to kiss her mouth—once he did that, he was a goner—he pulled away and looked sternly at her. Or tried to.

“What were you doing when I walked in?”

She batted her eyes at him and reached up to kiss him, knowing that would be the end of the interrogation.

But Dan was tough. He was a Marine, after all. He held her off.

“Come on . . . tell the truth. You were cracking some site, weren’t you?” He rolled his eyes at her innocent expression. “You know, honey, you’re going to end up in jail if you don’t watch out. I’ll spend the rest of my days bringing you cake and books in the brig.”

“Well, I did get some interesting info.”

“Interesting enough to go to jail?” he asked glumly and she laughed.

“And here I thought you were so brave. Tough guy, my ass.”

“Okay, I’m a wuss. Particularly when it comes to the thought of you being incarcerated. So . . . spill it. Who were you cracking?”

Claire twined her arms around his neck and kissed him, pulling away before he could take control of the kiss.

“I was . . . um . . . visiting the records of a lab in Baltimore. You know which one.”

Oh, God, he did. His heart started thudding. His mouth went dry. “Yeah? And what did you find out?”

She kissed him again. “Congratulations, Gunny. It’s a boy.”