Page 46 of Engaging his Enemy
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Why don’t you and Wyatt set the table?”
She made it through the meal without sobbing into her plate and actually enjoyed watching the two of them joke back and forth. It seemed Zach was off to a good start being a father, and she could wish for no more than that.
She was clearing the table when Zach asked, “What do you say we get some ice cream for dessert?”
“Yeah!” yelled Wyatt.
“You two go,” she said. “I’ll clean up here.”
Zach touched her arm. “Come with us.”
“I really don’t want ice cream.” She scooted around him and into the kitchen. He followed her, carrying several plates. “Please, just go. Let me get this.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Honestly? I’d just like to be alone. Take Wyatt. He’d love to go.”
He stared into her eyes, then sighed. “Okay. We’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Take your time.”
His flight was in the morning. She knew the others had already gone. What was he hanging around here for, anyway? Just to prolong the goodbye? She dropped the dishes in the sink, ran some water, and poured herself more wine, the bottle slipping from her wet hands and shattering on the floor.
“Goddamnit.” Red wine was splattered all over the floor and cupboards. She sank down and began picking it up, the very first piece slicing into her finger. “Shit!” She threw the glass into the garbage, cursing a blue streak. Nothing was going right this evening, not dinner, not Zach, nothing. She let out a cry of pure frustration, just as the door to the garage opened wide.
There stood Zach. “Are you okay?”
“Why are you here?” she screamed. “Can’t you just leave for one freaking second?”
“I forgot my wallet.”
“Well, then get it and go.”
“I can help you—”
She turned on him. “I don’t want your help! I want you to go. I want you to take Wyatt for ice cream and then bring him home, then get on a plane and get out of my life. Can you do that for me? Please?”
He crossed to the island and picked up his wallet, leaving without saying a word.
She threw half a loaf of garlic bread at the door, letting the tears come as they would.
30
Moto stood at the main computer terminal at HERO Force New York, tracking a terrorist through cyberspace. “You stupid fuck, get back here. I see you, and I’m not going to stop until I catch you.”
Champion did stomach crunches on the floor. “Does it help when you yell at them?”
“Of course it fucking does.” The tango was routing his signal through hubs all over the world. Each was its own little puzzle, a certain type of encryption or a different language to overcome. It was painstaking work, and he did it quickly and accurately, targeting his mark and gaining on him.
Razorback walked into the room. “Jax just called from Atlanta. Another note was found.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Moto. “What is it this time?”
“A ransom demand.”
Moto’s eyes shot to Razorback’s. “He kidnapped someone?”
“A little girl named Molly Esposito, daughter of a Spanish diplomat. She’s seven.”
