The Edge of Dawn (24 page)

The dogs launched themselves at Ridley. Jesse hit him high while James hit him low. The impact of the
Rottweilers' powerful bodies knocked both Narice and Ridley to the ground. Narice managed to roll clear but Ridley was screaming as the snarling dogs tore into him. Before anyone could move, the sound of helicopter rotors filled everyone's ears and they all looked to the sky. A black chopper with purple piping came in for a landing, sending up dust and whipping the trees. Saint gave the dogs a verbal command. The canines immediately backed off and took seats near the badly bleeding Ridley who now lay moaning on the ground. Saint ran to Narice. She hugged him and Narice stared up at the helicopter. Expecting it to start firing, she prepared to run for safety, but the sight of the woman at the copter's controls made her relax. It was Portia. A relieved Narice smiled. It was over.

Saint's eyes glowed at the sight of the cavalry, and he gave the dogs an affectionate pat on their heads. Confident that the police would take care of Ridley, he went to meet the chopper. First, though, he pulled Narice close and gave her a big fat kiss. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck in joy. He kissed her hair and held her as tight as his injured arm would allow.

Portia dressed in a sharp black leather jacket, matching pants, and dark glasses stepped out of the copter. The dogs looked questioningly up at Saint, and he told him, “Go meet her.”

They took off like kids running to welcome mama.

Portia knelt down to greet them then turned her attention back to chopper. While Narice and Saint
looked on, Portia stuck her hand up as if helping someone out. The someone turned out to be The Majesty. With her purple and black robes flying in the wind of the rotors, she crossed the clearing to where Saint and Narice stood.

The state trooper who'd attached himself to Saint asked, “Who's she?”

Saint still holding Narice against his side, said, “A queen.”

The trooper's eyes widened. Saint went to get his coat.

When he returned he handed the box to her. “Your Majesty, the Eye.”

She untied the rope, then opened the box slowly and reverently. When she held up the big blue diamond, it caught the light and the attention of everyone looking on.

The Majesty had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, St. Martin. Thank you.”

One of the FBI agents walked up and said, “I'll take that.”

The Majesty looked at him as if he were an insect. He turned beet red. Ignoring him, she then said, “Ms. Jordan, my country and I are forever in your debt. If you ever need anything, just call. Oh, and you both will be pleased to know that Farouk and Fulani are already on their way back home to stand trial for treason and conspiracy to kill their queen. Portia told me about your run-in with them.”

She placed the diamond back in the box.

The agent tried again. “Madam, as a representative of the U.S. government I must insist—”

“And I insist you talk with Mr. St. Martin about whatever you need to know. Portia, I am ready to go whenever you are.”

The Majesty inclined her head royally, then swept up her robes and strode regally back to the waiting chopper.

Portia said, “She's something else.”

Saint said, “That she is.”

The police were carrying the mauled Ridley away on a stretcher.

Portia said, “We should have let the dogs finish him.”

“I know but I've a feeling he won't escape jail this time. All this mayhem has to add up to some kind of charges.”

“He also confessed to killing my father,” Narice said. “That alone should put him away for a long time.”

Saint put an arm around Narice and they walked Portia back to the chopper. The dogs trailed behind them silently. “Thanks for your help. Portia. I knew you and the dogs were coming, but I didn't know you were that close.”

“I set them down at that house on the other side of the clearing. I figured you'd want them on the ground as opposed to in the air with me.”

“You figured right.”

Narice said, “Thanks, Portia.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and according to The Majesty
you have a tiny plastique bug in one of your earrings.”

Narice's fingers went to her gold hoops. “Is that how they kept finding us?”

“Yep. Fulani and Farouk gave up that info during their interrogation by The Majesty's security people.”

Saint said, “But I scanned everything Narice had.”

“A new kind of plastic. If you can find it bring it home. We'll take a look at it and see why it didn't set off your detector.”

“Okay.”

The FBI agent had had enough. “You all are under arrest for destruction of federal property, illegal possession of military weaponry, jewel trafficking, and anything else I can think of.”

By now his buddies had joined him and they didn't look real happy about him being dissed.

A tired Saint asked, “You got a phone?”

“Of course.”

“Hand it here. I'll give you all the facts you need to know.”

He gave the phone to Saint who dialed, then waited for the call to go through. Then he said into the phone, “This is St. Martin. Is he there?”

Narice watched curiously and so did the police and federal agents. Saint spoke to the person on the line saying, “Got a bunch of Hoovers here who want to talk to you.”

He handed the phone to the agent and the man immediately barked, “Who is this?”

Where earlier he'd been beet red, he was now pale as the moon in January. “Yes, Mr. President,” he croaked. “Yes, sir. We will certainly give Mr. St. Martin whatever assistance he requires.”

The stunned-looking agent gave the phone back to Saint. Grinning, Saint said into the phone, “Thank you, sir. I think everyone's on board now.” Then his face lost its grin. “Right now?”

Saint looked to Narice. “But sir. I have plans, I—Yes, sir. I will be in L.A. by midnight.”

Narice sighed. She knew what that meant.

A grim Saint clicked off, handed the phone to the agent, then he and Narice walked with Portia to the chopper.

While they walked, Narice asked, “Another pressing engagement?”

He nodded. “I have to be in L.A. by midnight. He's doing a fundraiser there but wants to congratulate me personally. He and The Majesty went to undergrad together. When she needed help, he sent me.”

Narice tried real hard not to let her disappointment show.

“You can grab a ride with Portia. I'll have one of the cops get me back to Lily. I'll mail you your stuff.”

“Thanks.”

He pulled her into his arms and while holding her tight against his heart, whispered, “I didn't want us to end like this.”

Fighting tears, she lied, “It's okay.”

He looked down into her face, “I'll come to Baltimore to see you as soon as I can.”

She nodded.

He hugged her close again, “We'll talk when I see you.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too”

Portia cleared her throat. “The Majesty's getting impatient. Narice, if you're ready?”

She wasn't, but she had no choice. She looked around for her aunt. Camille was standing out of the way of the rotors, watching silently. Beside her was Mr. Bewick. Now Narice knew who'd alerted law enforcement. When her eyes met her aunt's, Camille inclined her head almost imperceptibly, then walked back towards her house.

Narice wanted to talk to her but Portia was waiting. Narice touched Saint's bearded cheek one last time in farewell, then got on board. The dogs moved over so she could find a place to sit, and then the chopper was lifting off. With her face pressed to the window, and her heart aching, Narice watched Saint until he turned into a dot on the ground.

Portia took Narice to the Atlanta airport. From there, Narice caught a plane home to Baltimore. After a costly cab ride from BWI, she walked into her well-furnished condo around eleven
P.M
. and fell exhausted onto her blue sofa. She thanked the Lord for getting her home in one piece. Saint's face flashed across her mind's eye and she let herself linger on his memory for a long melancholy moment, then set him aside. The first thing she wanted was a long hot soak in a bubble-filled tub, followed by a cool glass of her finest merlot. Taking off her hikers, she stripped as she walked and by the time she made it up the stairs to the second floor she was naked. Turning on the spigots and jets in the tub, she'd just padded over to the linen closet to get a towel when the phone rang. It seemed like an eternity
since she'd heard a phone ring and it took her a moment to recognize it and to answer, “Hello.”

“Hey, angel.”

The sound of his soft voice made her melt down the wall until she reached the carpeted floor of her bedroom. “Hey, yourself. Did you get your arm taken care of?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you on the way to L.A.?”

“No, still in Georgia waiting for the plane that's picking me up. You get home okay?”

Narice couldn't believe how much she missed him. “Yes.”

“Miss you.”

Her heart swelled in response to his soft declaration. “I miss you, too.”

“Just wanted to tell you that.”

“Thanks.”

Silence.

Then he said, “Plane's here. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I'll call you soon.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, angel.”

“Bye, Cyclops.”

He chuckled, and was gone.

 

Her belongings came a few days later. Included was the quilt, which he'd had framed. The note inside said
simply:
For you. S.
Tears in her eyes, she hung the beautiful black-framed piece on her bedroom wall.

On Monday, she returned to school and welcomed the staff and students back from the holiday break. No one knew anything about her activities during her time off other than she'd gone to Detroit to handle her father's funeral, and she kept it that way. No one needed to know that she'd fallen in love, too.

Narice spent the rest of that first week wondering about him. More than a few times she found herself staring at the phone on the desk in her office willing it to ring, but it didn't. She told herself to stop tripping and get on with her life.

But she couldn't. Watching the news a week later, she saw a story on Nagal. There was The Majesty in her flowing purple and black robes holding the Eye. Narice smiled. The election was underway and according to the CNN reporter, The Majesty's block of candidates were being projected as the winners.

Narice spent the rest of the evening working on school paperwork, then went to bed. As always, after she said her prayers, Saint came to mind. She wondered where he was, what he might be doing, and if he planned to be in Nagal for the post election celebrations. She still hadn't heard from him and for a woman who'd always been in control of her world, she didn't know what to do with a broken heart.

That night around two
A.M
., Saint was in a chair in the corner of Narice's bedroom watching her sleep.
The alarm on her door had been easy to bypass, and he made a note to himself to get her a better one. He'd been thinking about her so much, he had to see her, thus this late-night visit. Not calling her was tearing him up because what they had had been special. However, he was having trouble figuring out what to do. On the one hand, there was his job. Saint liked flitting around the world saving the day, but on the other hand, not having Narice in his life was killing him. He'd been so sure that once he became accustomed to her being gone the pain of missing her would ease; it hadn't. In fact, it was worse than ever. As time passed and his days without her turned into one week and then two, he began to dream about her, waking up hard and ready to play
Make the Principal Hot.
He couldn't cook, eat, or do anything without thinking about her.

He stood then. It was time to go. He forced himself to stay where he was and not approach the bed, because if he moved any closer he wouldn't be able to resist the intense urge to wake up her and kiss her until the were both old and gray. Instead he reached into his coat and withdrew the rose he'd brought with him. Placing it and the picture he'd brought along too down on the chair, a tight-lipped Saint left the room and exited the house the way he'd come.

Narice awakened that next morning and swore she smelled Saint's cologne. Deciding that was nothing more than wishful thinking, she got up to get ready for church. The sight of the dark red rose on the chair made her stop. Unable to believe her eyes, she ap
proached it slowly. Her hands shaking she picked it up. On the chair was a color photo of a cheetah. Narice brought the rose to her lips and let the tears run freely down her cheeks.

 

By the third week, Portia had had enough. At breakfast that morning, she asked Saint, “Are you going to call Narice or not? Your moping is upsetting the dogs.”

Saint looked down at Jesse lying on the floor. The dog looked back at him with such a sad face, he reached down and rubbed her neck.

Portia said, “Call her.”

“What if she doesn't want to talk to me?”

“What if she does? For an international super spy you're acting awfully indecisive. She must be really getting to you.”

Saint didn't lie, Narice had turned his world upside down.

Portia passed him the bowl of scrambled eggs. “Your sister called this morning while you were out with the dogs. She's worried about you, too. She says you haven't called her in weeks and your brother is waiting on your report on the SUV to send to GM.”

He ran his hands over his hair. “I'll call them later in the week.” He got up from the table.

Portia looked confused. “Aren't you going to eat?”

“Nope.” He headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To see the President and then to Baltimore.”

A smiling Portia spread her homemade strawberry
jam on her toast and began humming the Wedding March.

 

Saint stood in the Oval Office. Even for someone as jaded as he, the room and the history always overwhelmed and humbled him.

The President, a former five-star army general and the first African American to hold the job, finished his phone call and looked up. “That was The Majesty. She and her cabinet are settling in. She sends her regards.” The President studied him for a moment. “You look grimmer than usual, St. Martin. What can I do for you?”

“I need to resign, sir.”

“Excuse me? Why? You're one of the best in the business.”

Saint was silent for a moment, then said, “I think—no change that. I
know,
I'm in love, sir.”

The President's brown eyes widened. “With whom?”

“Narice Jordan. The Keeper's daughter.”

The President surveyed Saint for another few moments. “You know, the First Lady had her niece all picked out for you.”

Saint allowed a small smile to peek through. “I know, sir. Please send your wife my regrets.”

The President smiled. “Are you sure about resigning, son?”

“Yes, sir. I am. I can't live without her, and to have her I have to step away from my covert life.”

“Can I still call on you for jobs like the one you handled in Belize?”

Saint nodded. “No more coups or assassinations, though.”

“I understand. Okay, soldier. I accept the resignation. I'm not happy about it, but I understand love. If I had to choose between love for my wife and love for the country, she'd win hands down.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go with God, St. Martin.”

Saint nodded and headed for the door.

“Oh, St. Martin.”

Saint turned.

“I expect you to bring Ms. Jordan to see me sometime soon. I want to meet this Wonder Woman.”

Saint smiled. “Yes, sir.”

 

Narice was seated in her office going over some budget items when her secretary Juanita stuck her head in the door and said, “There's a piece of eye candy out here asking to see you.”

Narice looked up from the figures. “Eye candy?”

“Yep. Says he's here to take you to Tahiti.”

Narice's heart began to race and she had to catch her breath before she could regroup and say calmly, “Send him in.”

Juanita gave her a sly smile then disappeared.

In the two seconds she had while waiting, Narice debated whether to meet him standing or sitting behind
her desk. She opted to stand and was in front of the windows with her back to the room when Juanita came back.

Narice turned and said, “Thank you, Juanita.”

Juanita closed the door softly after her exit and Narice's eyes met Saint's. The sight of him made her jaw drop. He had on a suit! “Where are you on your way to? You look good.”

He checked himself out. “I do clean up pretty good, don't I?”

“Yes, you do.” Narice couldn't believe he was here. She also couldn't believe how seeing him filled her heart, even if she hadn't heard from him in almost a month, but she kept that to herself, for now.

“So,” she said, “have a seat. How are Portia and the dogs?”

He sat and they spent a few moments chit-chatting about the dogs, then Narice said, “The police in Detroit called me. Ridley's been charged with first-degree murder. He'll go to trial sometime this summer.”

“That's good news. Heard anything from your aunt?”

“No, but I'm going back down there when school's out and see if I can't help her get her place fixed up. I know she's not going to move.” Narice smiled looking at him in the suit. “I can't get over you in that suit.”

He met her eyes. “I wore it so you'll know I'm serious.”

“About what?”

“Loving you.”

Narice went stock-still, then her hands went to her mouth.

“Before I talk to you about the other reason I'm here, I want to say two things. First. I apologize for not calling. I had some issues to deal with, but once I figured I can't live without you, the issues were resolved.”

Narice was so outdone she couldn't speak.

He chuckled. “Whoa, you speechless. That's different.”

She wanted to sock him. “Go on,” she told him with a smile in her eyes.

“Secondly. I quit my job. Well, the gun-carrying parts of it anyway.”

Narice couldn't believe her ears. “Why?”

“Because I want to marry you, sidekick.”

Narice was really speechless now.

“She's still speechless, folks.”

“Serve you right if I say yes.”

“Then say it.”

She looked into his shade-covered eyes and whispered, “Oh yes, Saint. Yes, I'll marry you.”

His grin filled the room. He stood, “So, do I get a kiss now?” He held out his arms and she went to him.

The kiss left her breathless and him wanting so much more, he asked, “Do you get recess?”

She looked up at him and chuckled. “Recess? Why?”

He nibbled her ear. “Thought we'd get in a quick round of
Make the Principal Hot
before I kidnap you and take you to Tahiti.”

She laughed, then reached around him and hit the button on her intercom. “Juanita. If anybody asks, I'm unavailable until after recess.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Juanita responded, sounding amused.

Narice's smile met Saint's and he pulled her into his arms, saying, “I love you, angel.”

She could hear his heart beating against her cheek. She said the only thing that could be said, “And I love you too, Cyclops.”