Page 132 of Tate
He handed the mic to Ford, who examined it while Tate rounded on Glo. “You need to leave too.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Sloan came onto the stage then, and Ford stepped back, watching out of his periphery in case this turned ugly.
“Glo, you’re leaving with the rest of us.” Sloan reached out and took her arm.
Ford had the bottom open and examined the contents. “She’s right. There’s no explosive in here.”
“What kind of game is this, Marshall?” Senator Jackson strode onto the stage. “You ruin my event?—”
“Get out.” Tate rounded on her. “Get out of here right now.”
Oh. Ford knew that voice. Tate had used it a few times on him in his youth when he’d found Ford in his room.
Ford raised an eyebrow as the senator recoiled. “Fine. C’mon, Gloria.”
“I’m not going, Mother.” She slipped her hand into Tate’s. Ford noticed Tate didn’t close his hand around hers.
“Glo—” Tate started.
“No. Listen, bossy pants, I should have never let you walk away, and I’m not leaving you now. Or ever.”
Tate blinked at her, and Ford sort of wanted to high-five her.
Except, well, Tate was right.
Ford walked up to Glo. “Sweetheart. I know you’re crazy about my brother. And it’s about time, but the fact is, you need to leave. Forhissake. Because he won’t be able to think with you here. Trust me on this.”
She stared at him, then Tate, who nodded.
“Fine.” But then she reached up and pulled Tate’s head down.
And gave Sloan his definitive answer to his proposal, right there on the stage. Hel-lo.Ford averted his eyes and headed over to a table with the microphone. But kept an eye on Sloan just in case the man didn’t takeNo way, I love another manfor an answer.
As it were, Sloan’s mouth tightened, and he shook his head.
Glo let Tate go. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
He took her face in his hands. “I promise to do everything I can to come back to you.”
“You’d better, Captain America. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pining for you.” She kissed him again, hard. Then turned and left the room.
Ford’s chest tightened as he watched her go. He pulled out the battery and noticed another set of electrodes attached to the battery.
He eased the assembly out onto the table.
Two wires attached to a tiny timer, the count at two minutes, forty-eight seconds.
His entire body went still, only his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“No time for EOD,” Tate said.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Scarlett said, her voice soft, solid in his earpiece. He looked up and spied her standing at the door, watching him through the glass. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear, probably talking to Nez.
“There’s a timer,” Ford said. “It’s attached to a battery, counting down. My guess is that it’s on a frequency, and when the count gets to zero?—”
“Boom,” whispered Tate.
