In His Sights. Danica Winters
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man behind her. If she closed her eyes, she could make out the shapely contoured goatee and the slight curve of his lips. Oh, those lips. She could kiss those lips.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and once again brushed him—making a fire course up from where their bodies had touched, burning into her cheeks.
When the elevator doors opened, she nearly sprinted out—it was her only chance of escaping. Yet, as soon as she reached the glass doors at the front of the building, she turned around and waited for him.
She could control herself. If nothing else, this was a test. If she could refrain from jumping his bones, she had made significant strides in her personal development. If not, well… She’d have a little more work to do when it came to her boundaries.
“You okay?” he asked, finally catching up to her.
She nodded. “Absolutely, though I have to admit I have a hard time in such enclosed spaces.”
He gave her an odd look, like he was deciding whether or not he should believe her. “From the meeting, it seems as though Hans has something against you. What did you do to the poor guy?”
She was thankful he was changing the subject. “Actually, Hans has always had a thing against my family. My father purchased a building and started developing it for H&K’s expansion some five years ago. Hans has been blocking our move into their country ever since. We’ve finally reached a place in our growth where we’re going to have to do something or start looking at other countries. Unfortunately, our father invested a large sum of money into the development of this plan and if we walk away now, we’d lose all of the time and money that has gone into it.”
Jarrod gave a thoughtful nod. “Did your father ever let you in on why Hans didn’t want you there?”
She shook her head as they walked out into the New York air. She both loved and hated the way the city smelled of people—sweat and body odor—cars and industry. In many ways, she didn’t miss this city when she spent time at H&K’s DC offices.
Though she hadn’t talked to him in a couple of days, Daniel was probably chomping at the bit to learn how this meeting had gone. They had a lot riding on this deal and it was her first run of this kind. Just the thought of letting him down made her stomach ache.
Ahead of them in the mash of people was Hans. His bald head looked like something on a bobblehead doll, bouncing as the man walked among his guards and the other members of the parliament.
Her heels clicked on the concrete and they stopped at the crosswalk. “From what I know about Hans,” she said, motioning in the direction of the devil in question, “he had a distaste for my father. I think it had something to do with a former business deal gone bad. Something in the nineties. My father never went into great detail, but it’s abundantly clear that Hans is the kind of man who can carry a decades-long familial grudge.”
“I know all about those,” he said.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
He looked at her for a moment, like he was deciding if he wanted to answer. Or maybe it was more about how much he wanted to reveal to her—she couldn’t be sure.
“My family is from here, the Bronx, actually. However, we just moved to Montana. I’m here finishing up some last-minute things before heading west.”
“Montana?” She’d heard wonderful things about the state and its picturesque scenery and wildlife. “Aren’t you afraid of the bears?”
“Once again, I find angry women far more terrifying.”
“That sounds like it comes from some dark and horrific place. I’m going to need to hear that story,” she said, giving him a teasing smile.
“I wish I were kidding, but I have a faint bite mark from one of the women I had to guard. It’s just above my knee,” he said, lifting his leg like she could see the mark beneath his dress pants. “I swear it gets sore to the touch before any major storms.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. And I would hate to ask what the woman was doing that had her at knee height.” As she spoke, he seemed to gain a bit of color.
The crowd shuffled and they were pushed nearer to Hans, who was standing precariously close to the passing New York traffic.
“Sir,” Mindy said, tapping Hans on the arm, “you may want to take a step back. Cabs pull right up to this curb.”
Hans gave her a look like she had murdered his first grandchild. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, his voice flecked with his Swedish accent. “First you think you can tell me what I should do with my power inside the parliament, and now you even wish to dictate how I cross the street? You Americans think you know everything.”
As the last words fell from his lips, there was the screech of tires and a man’s yelling. The sound was strangled, some foreign tongue that Mindy didn’t recognize. But even not knowing exactly what the man was saying she could tell by the look on Hans’s face that it wasn’t good. As the car grew closer, something pitched out of the window. From where she stood, it looked like an envelope. As it hit the ground a plume of white powder erupted into the air. Jarrod grabbed her and threw her to the ground, covering her with his body.
She couldn’t breathe, but she wasn’t sure whether it was because of his weight or how he had pinned her. As she struggled, her throat burned and her eyes began to water. She tried to push Jarrod off out of some instinctual need to survive. After what seemed like an excruciating amount of time, he rolled off her. As she took a breath, her lungs burned.
He looked as she felt. Tears were streaming down his face and there were dabs of saliva at the corners of his mouth and goatee. She glanced around, a few paces away from them, where Hans was lying on the ground. He was coughing, his body in a fetal position. When he rolled over, she could see that his eyes were swollen shut and blisters had erupted on the skin of his eyelids. There was blood dripping from his face and mouth.
Hans moved as though he was looking at her, even though he couldn’t possibly have been able to see her. And then she heard the scream, her scream. Hans reached out in her direction, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.
Though she knew she should act and help the man, she feared moving any closer to him. Hans rolled on the ground, his body convulsing.
Whatever the man in the car had thrown at them, it must have been some sort of poison.
Reaching into her purse, she grabbed a wet wipe. It would probably do nothing to help, but she couldn’t simply watch Jarrod deteriorate like Hans.
Jarrod took the wipe from her and cleaned his face. “Thank you.” He looked dazed, but he got to his feet, tugging her up with him. “We have to get out of here. Now. You’re not safe.”
From what she could see around her, no one was safe.
She grabbed her phone, dialed 911 and threw the device to the ground in hopes that it would be traced—she could get another phone, they were a dime a dozen.
Jarrod took her hand and pulled her away from the area. She wanted to stay to help, but Jarrod was right. The safest place for them right now was as far away as they could possibly get from the effects of the powder while they waited for EMTs to arrive. For once, she didn’t just have herself to think about… Now, she also had Jarrod.
It had been a long and painful night stuck in the confines of Mount Sinai Beth Israel Hospital. The place was constantly in motion, just like the rest of New York City. It reminded him entirely too much of Camp Delta. Every time he tried to close his eyes after the nerve agent attack, he found himself thinking of all the lives that had been extinguished around him just within the last month. First Trish, then Daniel, and now Hans—everywhere he went, it seemed as though