“I guess I do remember a few of those sorts of delayed birthdays when Benjamin was on active duty, but he didn’t stay in the Air Force long enough for the kids to remember him missing anything significant.”
“You’re lucky.” The memories of those years parted like the windshield wipers slapping away the sheets of snow. “My young’uns remember well. They would say it didn’t matter…but I knew better. A live-in nanny wasn’t enough, yet it was the best I could do.” He studied the road ahead, a narrow path cut by the slim double beams of light. Much like he’d lived his life. “I still wrestle with the guilt over not having gotten out of the military and taken some nine-to-five job.”
“Your children grew up into amazing adults, and they all joined the Air Force.” Her hand in a black leather glove rested halfway between them on the seat, reaching in comfort, almost there, patting. “I think it must mean they understand that for some people like you, the calling to serve in the armed forces is not something you can deny. It’s in your blood.”
“They sure each found their own paths. Alicia is one helluva a fighter pilot. That girl never took gruff off of anyone.” His daughter with the call sign “Vogue” had an eclectic style to go along with a strut that cut a swath through a very male-dominated world. Damn, but he was proud of her. He was proud of all three of his kids—even if his relationship was easier with some than with others. “Hank Junior and I don’t get to talk as much as I would like.”
“It’s tough flying in your father’s plane in the shadow of your father’s stars.” She leaned her chin on her elbow, staring out the window as they drove past a small pond where a few kids braved the weather to skate by the light of a bonfire.
“I try to stay out of his business.” More like his son tried to stay out of his old man’s way, which seemed to include not talking all that often.
“But then when it comes to Darcy—”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s my baby.” His youngest daughter had been kidnapped briefly as a teen in an attempt to get to him. So, of course, his knee-jerk reaction was to check up on her. He tried to rein himself in, and she was a tough cookie who didn’t hesitate to tell him when to back off.
He couldn’t stop a deep smile from digging into his face. He’d never admitted it to any of them, but Darcy had always been the one who reminded him most of himself. Actually Jessica had pointed out the similarity for the first time.>The reality of it hit her. They were truly stuck out here. Alone. Not only was her life at risk, but she’d put Hank in danger, too. That more than anything struck her in the gut, stinging her eyes with tears.
What the hell? She never cried anymore. She knew better because she never knew when cameras might be trained on her. Except, maybe that was the point. For the first time since her husband had raised his right hand and become a senator, since she’d assumed his seat after his death, since she’d won reelection on her own merit—for the first time since then, there was no threat of cameras.
A tear leaked free. “Do you think officials have told my children and yours? I hate to think of how afraid they’ll be. They’ve already lost one parent too early—”
Hank’s bodyguard facade slid away and her pal reappeared with a handkerchief in hand. He reached across to swipe the cloth over her cheek. “Hey, hey, now. Nothing’s going to happen to you on my watch. Besides, if your boys have been told what’s going on, they’ve also been told you’re with me. They know full well I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She clutched his hand as she had done hundreds of times in the past. Except today the sensation of his skin on hers felt different against her heightened nerve endings. She almost tugged her hand back but found she really didn’t want to. “What do we do next?”
A double-meaning question if ever she’d heard one. Which way would he choose to answer?
Hank glanced at their clasped hands now resting on the table and then at the cell phone. His gaze lingered longer on the phone, his chest heaving with a sigh. “We’re on our own until the director of the CIA gets back to me or I can figure out a way to get us to a safe house I know.”
A safe house? “How far away is this place?”
“If the weather is kind, we’ll be there by morning.” He squeezed her fingers. “We’re going to be fine, Ginger.”
She nodded, soaking up the comfort of his broad hand clasped in hers. She couldn’t help but be aware, though, of how in the past he would have given her a comforting hug rather than keep his distance. However, things had changed for them in a silly instant when he’d seen her wearing her favorite red camisole.
“I’m sorry to have pulled you into this mess, but lordy, Hank, I can’t help but be glad it’s you here with me rather than one of those babies fresh out of secret service training.”
“Thanks, but I wish we had a couple of those secret service babies around to watch our backs.”
“Fair enough.” She couldn’t help but think of their battered car outside. “How do you plan to take care of transportation?”
“It’s dark enough that the couple of bullets the Mercedes took shouldn’t be visible. I’ll slap some sludge up over the marks on the back bumper. For good measure, I’m going to swap out our license plate with someone else’s in the lot in case someone runs the plates.”
“Do you think it has a tracking device?”
He shook his head. “The guy driving it was more of a rent-a-cop variety and the car is older. It’s as safe as we’re going to get. Stealing another car is risky. Someone might catch us. Even if they don’t, there’s also the risk of having them report it missing, which gives away the fact we came through here.”
“Okay, I can see that.”
“Lucky for us, Mercedes are a dime a dozen in this area, which offers a certain anonymity. That should buy us enough time to get where we need to be.”
Get there by morning? “It’s going to be a long night.”
“Then we’d better eat up.” He attacked the last bite of bratwurst in front of him.
She shoveled a couple more spoonfuls of soup in her mouth and forced herself to swallow. She reached for her roll just as Hank stared past her, frowning. Her jangled nerves jarred back to life. She followed the direction of his gaze. A burly man leaned over the bar to speak with the guy on duty. The bartender nodded, kept nodding, and Ginger could almost foresee his arm slowly rising, pointing…
Directly at them.