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The Target
Kay David
To some, the members of the bomb squad are more than a little left of normal. After all, when everyone else is running away from a bomb, they're heading toward it. In this line of work, precision, knowledge and nerves of steel are requirements–especially when a serial bomber makes the team his next target.Hannah Crosby and Quinn McNichol are perfect for each other–everyone thinks so. But sometimes being perfect isn't enough. Hannah wants more. Marriage, children, a future…Quinn doesn't think marriage–let alone children–is a good idea. He can never forget the dangers that people in their profession face every day. What happens if one of them doesn't come home one night? And now it seems as if a bomber is trying to help them answer that question.
“This is crazy, Quinn.
You can’t just crash in there.”
“But you can?” He found his jacket and turned to Hannah, holding it out so she could help him into it. She responded automatically, and he stiffened his arms as she put the coat on him, the protector hard against his spine, a trickle of sweat already rolling down his back.
She buckled him in, and he saw that her hands were trembling.
“We haven’t done enough recon yet….”
“Hannah! We don’t have time for that.” He plucked his helmet from the rear of the SUV and thrust it on his head. “We have to get those kids out first. Then we’ll deal with the bomb.”
“No,” she said, almost in a whisper. “This is wrong. All wrong…”
He stared at her in puzzled surprise. Her face was flushed and her blue eyes were glowing with alarm. She was the least prone to gut feelings. Why this? Why now?
He reached out and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear, the silk curl soft and fragrant. “Everything will be fine. We’ve got a date tonight, remember? I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.” He bent and kissed her, the taste of her lips lingering on his own. Then he ran toward the building.
He was barely over the threshold when the bomb detonated.
Dear Reader,
After September 11, 2001, the people of America, including me, began to understand and appreciate many aspects of our lives that we had previously taken for granted. The heroics of the police, firefighters and rescue personnel who responded so selflessly to that tragedy moved to the top of my list of “things I won’t forget.” I simply cannot imagine the courage it would take to race toward a horrible disaster that everyone else is fleeing. Think about that…. Could you risk your life for a group of total strangers?
I don’t believe I could, but on that day, hundreds of men and women did that very thing. And many more do it every day.
From the cop who stops a speeder to the soldier guarding a foreign hill, there are people whose job it is to keep us safe. We can worship as we like, live as we prefer, travel where we want because of these incredibly brave individuals.
The men and women in The Target, the fourth book in my series THE GUARDIANS, are representative of these people. Quinn McNichol and Hannah Crosby are members of a national bomb squad. Both are prepared to give their lives for strangers, but neither is happy about the other doing the same.
Nothing I can write comes close to explaining the experiences of the men and women who make up our bomb squads. Tomorrow morning when you walk into the grocery store for a loaf of bread or into the drugstore to pick up some cough syrup, take a moment to think about what you aren’t feeling. You aren’t scared that the trash can by the door might blow up. You aren’t anxiously thinking that the car pulling in next to yours might explode. You don’t give a second thought to the package the woman ahead of you in line accidentally leaves behind.
You feel safe and secure because you know the men and women of our law enforcement agencies are on the job, ready to give their lives for you. Next time you see one, express how much you appreciate him or her.
Sincerely,
Kay David
The Target
Kay David
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I’d like to take this opportunity to acknowledge some very special people: Dr. Lynch, Dr. Ripepi, Dr. King and the “real” Dr. Barroso. All of you will forever have a special place in my heart because of your dedication and kindness, which no words can possibly describe.
To Rhonda Whitton, Pat Herendon and Debra Fyles, my deepest gratitude for your continued understanding and help.
And finally to Reba. Your love and support mean more to me than I can say. Thank you for everything.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Prologue
HANNAH CROSBY LIFTED her head from the pillow and stared at the man beside her. After their lovemaking, he’d dropped into a light sleep, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm that matched the lengthening afternoon shadows. They’d been in the tangled sheets for almost two hours, and the rays now dipped low enough to bypass the blinds and raise the temperature of the bedroom. The overhead fan did little to help, but then again, Hannah wasn’t sure anything could cool the heated blood that still coursed through her body.
Quinn McNichol had that kind of effect on her.
How did he do it? What secret did he know? Where had he learned to make her feel the way he did?
She’d pondered these questions for more than two and a half years—since the day, in fact, that she’d joined the federal bomb squad he’d already belonged to. A firefighter for several years before that point, Hannah had wanted to become a member of EXIT—the Explosives and Incendiary Team—for a long time, but what she remembered most about her first day at work was meeting Quinn, a senior tech in the New Orleans group. She could still recall shaking his hand that morning. His strong grip had set up a chain reaction inside her body unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
And it was still going on.
Sometimes he managed it with just a look. Sometimes he did it with a kiss. Usually, it was just a simple touch—his finger against her cheek, his hand on her arm, his mouth on her neck. Whatever it was, the result was always the same: she would lose control. Another woman would take over Hannah’s body and do things with it that the normal Hannah would never consider. Quinn unleashed something in her that no one else had ever been able to even find, much less set free. She’d throw herself into his arms and within seconds, their clothes would be gone. They’d made love in so many strange places, she’d lost count.
She edged closer to him, the scent from their bodies lingering between them. Quinn was a tall, striking man, his skin bronzed from the time they spent outside, the richness of the color spiced by his Cajun blood. His dark hair and even darker eyes garnered looks from women everywhere they went, no matter the circumstances. His looks alone couldn’t explain his effect on her, though. She’d been around goodlooking, macho men her entire career, from firefighters to cops. None of them had made her crazy.
Maybe it couldn’t be explained, she thought suddenly. Maybe it was simply magic. She looked at him a moment longer, then rolled to her back and sighed in frustration. Why did it matter what she called it? He had it and she fell for it. Every time.
Otherwise, she would have left him long ago.
The bed moved and she felt his gaze on her profile. He was a light sleeper—they both were, a habit born from years of dangerous work.
“What are you thinking about?” He reached out for a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. His question was rhetorical because he could read her mind as well as her body.
Her eyes met his and she felt their intensity all the way down to the bottom of her feet. “You.”
He grinned lazily and another zing shot through her. Using the tip of the curl he’d made, he brushed the ends of her hair over the tops of her breasts. “That’s good,” he said. “I like it when you think about me.”
“You do?” She turned to face him, their lips now inches apart. “Why is that?”
“It makes me think you love me.”
“You know I love you.”
“That’s true, but a little reinforcement goes a long way. Everyone likes to know they’re on the right track.”
She feathered her fingers over his stubbled jaw. The words she wanted to say would spoil this moment between them, but Hannah couldn’t stop herself.
“You’re right,” she agreed slowly. “Everyone likes to know that, including me.”
Their eyes locked and his gaze hardened, his voice becoming deceptively soft as he warned her. “We’ve had a really great day, Hannah. Don’t do this…”
She shook her head, her hair whispering against the pillows. “I have to, Quinn. It’s too important to me—to us—not to talk about it.”
He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “But it’s all we talk about.” The muscles in his back tensed and rippled tightly. He stayed silent for a moment, then he twisted around to look at her. His jaw was a single line of anger, his lips pursed tightly. “How many times do we have to go over this, Hannah? It just isn’t possible right now….”
In the quiet that followed, she could hear the excited cries of the kids down the street. There was an empty lot on the corner, and the evening stillness often rang with the noise the neighborhood children raised as they played tag and red rover and whatever else they could dream up. Hannah loved to listen to them, but right now, the sound was almost painful.
“It isn’t possible only because of you. I won’t see thirty-two again and time is passing. I want a family. I want a husband. I want—”
He stood abruptly and stalked to the window. “I know what you want, Hannah. Believe me, I know.”
With a catch in her throat, Hannah sat up and pulled the sheet around her. Because her own childhood had been just the opposite, she’d always wanted a houseful of children and a special place to call home. Her father’s job had demanded constant travel. He’d never been home. Her mother, Barbara, had finally divorced him, saying he was never there, anyway, so why should they stay together?
The answer had become quickly apparent. Without his income, Barbara had had to return to work to support the two of them. They’d sold the home where Hannah had grown up and moved into an apartment on the other side of town. Hannah and her mother became even closer in their adversity—and were still—but with no siblings and none of her friends nearby, Hannah had ended up spending more time than ever alone and she’d been miserable and lonely.
To compensate, she’d made up another family for herself, complete with a set of twins and three other brothers, a mother who stayed home and baked cookies and a father who went to work at eight and came home at five. It’d been a fantasy, but it’d sustained her for a long time, even leading her, she was now convinced, to her earlier career as a firefighter. Living in the firehouse with all the other firefighters had made her feel like part of a huge family and she’d loved it. Until she’d heard about EXIT. Nothing less than the excitement that assignment had promised could have taken her away from her substitute brothers.
She took a deep breath and continued the running argument. “Then if you know what I want, when are we going to do something about it?”
“People who have children have to be responsible for them.” He faced her. “As long as we do what we do, I’m not going to bring a child into this world. It’s too risky.”
Grabbing the sheet, Hannah rose to her knees and shook her head. “I disagree! And even if that was true, I’ve told you—”
“I know what you’ve told me—you’d quit. But a kid needs two parents, a mother and a father—”
“I’m well aware of what—”
“No, you aren’t aware of anything or you wouldn’t be asking for the kind of commitment you are. It’s not fair. To me or to the poor kid we’d leave behind if one of us got blown to hell and back!”
This certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard Quinn say something so harsh, but for some reason, the words cut deeper than usual. Hannah stayed where she was a second longer, then she got out of the bed. Her legs were shaking with anger, but she remained silent. If she spoke right now, she’d say something she’d regret later.
Quinn crossed the room, reaching for her. Knowing it was pointless, but trying anyway, she ducked his embrace. He took another step and captured her, his hands on her bare shoulders, his eyes cajoling as he stared down at her.
“You know I’m telling you the truth.” He moved his fingers as he spoke, his thumb rubbing her collarbone, his other fingers massaging her shoulders. Hannah fought to ignore the sensation he was creating.
“I know you’re telling me what you think is the truth,” she said. “But you’re wrong, Quinn. Very, very wrong. Our jobs are only dangerous if someone screws up.”
“Which does happen.”
“But not often.”
“It only takes once.”
“Then we’ll both quit.”
A tense moment passed, then he bent his head and kissed her, the feel of his mouth blanking out everything else. She swayed in his embrace, but he held her tight. When the kiss was over, he raised his head and looked at her, his breath soft on her cheeks. “I’m not going to quit. And neither are you.”
“But—”
“That’s not the answer to this problem. You’d resent the sacrifice every day for the rest of your life. You’d end up hating yourself…and me.”
She tried to think of a counter to his logic, but thinking was impossible with his body pressed to hers and his hands stroking her back.
“You have to be responsible for the children you bring into this world, Hannah. Kids can’t raise themselves, and when they try, they get piss-poor results.”
Hannah had always thought she could change Quinn’s mind—she’d changed everything else in her life she didn’t like—but she was beginning to despair. With dogged determination, she tried one more time.
“But we’ll be here,” she said. “We’ll raise them ourselves. We can be responsible for them—”
“Hush, Hannah, hush…” he murmured, bending down to nuzzle her neck. “We don’t need kids at this point in our lives. Maybe sometime in the distant future—but not just yet. I can be enough for you now if you’ll let me—”
“But, Quinn—”
He cut off her protest with a kiss, pulling her down with him to the bed they’d just abandoned.
She cursed herself and her weakness, then she gave in—once more—and closed her eyes. Quinn’s magical touch banished the argument from her mind.
But not from her heart.
CHAPTER ONE
