either.
Where had he gone? He couldn’t buy or rent a car without leaving a trail, and Bianca knew that was the last thing he’d do.
As a Navy SEAL, he had extensive training in the art of evading the enemy. He’d led his team into a myriad of foreign countries, taking out terrorists, rescuing Americans, and keeping the peace in a world bent on war. A real live hero who never wanted glory, only justice.
Few Americans knew about his successes or the long list of threats Cal and his platoon had disposed of. But Bianca knew. It was one of the only reasons she slept soundly at night…knowing Cal was out there protecting her and the United States. Even without their extensive history, she would have considered him one of the few men in the whole world who could help her. With their history, she knew he was the only man she wanted to help her.
Shrugging off her nerves, she moved back into the main area of the kitchen, locating a pantry behind a false cabinet face. The shelves were stocked with a large assortment of nonperishables, mostly kid-friendly foods. Cookies, graham crackers, and cans of Chef Boyardee. She smiled, wondering if the canned pasta meals were for Emit’s children or him. He’d practically lived on raviolis for years.
Cans were out; they were too heavy. The shelf to her left held boxes of prepackaged cupcakes and crème-filled goodies. There were two boxes of Pop-tarts. All the expiration dates were in a few weeks, and since there was no telling when Emit and his family were coming back—and she never could waste a good chocolate cupcake or box of Pop-tarts—she packed several of the boxes into a separate bag.
Water was next. The pantry had cases of bottled water next to stacks of soda and sports drinks. On the floor in the corner was a white Styrofoam cooler. Bianca put a dozen bottles of water into it.
Heavy, but water was essential.
The ice maker in the freezer had been shut off, so there was no ice for the cooler. There were several cold packs, so she took those and put them in with the bottles.
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, where she’d left it, with an incoming text. The touch screen showed a message from a number she didn’t recognize.
It also showed she’d missed two calls and three texts. Cooper, Ronni, and the taskforce’s tech guru, Bobby Dyer, had tried to contact her. On top of that, the FBI director that headed the taskforce, Director Dupé had also called. She was definitely in deep shit.
Need to contact them. Let them know I’m all right before they put out an All-Points Bulletin.
But she wasn’t all right. And Cal had said she wasn’t to contact anyone for any reason.
There was one outlier. A number she didn’t recognize that had left a text. She twirled the phone on the counter for a moment, watching the sparkly purple case as it caught the late-morning light. “What do you think, Maggie?” she asked the dog. “Should I read it?”
Maggie perked her ears and gave a short bark. Good enough.
Bianca opened the text. Be ready to move in fifteen. C.
Cal. He didn’t have a cell phone but must have scored a disposable one.
She lived on her phone and had tricked it out to handle just about everything in her life she could. Without thinking, she started to text him back, then caught herself. The phone was encrypted and had a variety of firewalls and security, but nothing was fail-proof. She had no idea who had been trailing her or how sophisticated their tracking abilities were. After all the things she’d heard about and seen in the halls of the NSA, she knew nothing was impossible when it came to tracking someone down and learning everything about them.
The thought made her shudder. No contacting anyone. That’s what Cal had said and he was right. Even if he was using a phone he’d just picked up, and no one could trace that, it was better not to chance a reply because someone could be tracing her outgoing communications.
Slipping the phone into a
Where had he gone? He couldn’t buy or rent a car without leaving a trail, and Bianca knew that was the last thing he’d do.
As a Navy SEAL, he had extensive training in the art of evading the enemy. He’d led his team into a myriad of foreign countries, taking out terrorists, rescuing Americans, and keeping the peace in a world bent on war. A real live hero who never wanted glory, only justice.
Few Americans knew about his successes or the long list of threats Cal and his platoon had disposed of. But Bianca knew. It was one of the only reasons she slept soundly at night…knowing Cal was out there protecting her and the United States. Even without their extensive history, she would have considered him one of the few men in the whole world who could help her. With their history, she knew he was the only man she wanted to help her.
Shrugging off her nerves, she moved back into the main area of the kitchen, locating a pantry behind a false cabinet face. The shelves were stocked with a large assortment of nonperishables, mostly kid-friendly foods. Cookies, graham crackers, and cans of Chef Boyardee. She smiled, wondering if the canned pasta meals were for Emit’s children or him. He’d practically lived on raviolis for years.
Cans were out; they were too heavy. The shelf to her left held boxes of prepackaged cupcakes and crème-filled goodies. There were two boxes of Pop-tarts. All the expiration dates were in a few weeks, and since there was no telling when Emit and his family were coming back—and she never could waste a good chocolate cupcake or box of Pop-tarts—she packed several of the boxes into a separate bag.
Water was next. The pantry had cases of bottled water next to stacks of soda and sports drinks. On the floor in the corner was a white Styrofoam cooler. Bianca put a dozen bottles of water into it.
Heavy, but water was essential.
The ice maker in the freezer had been shut off, so there was no ice for the cooler. There were several cold packs, so she took those and put them in with the bottles.
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, where she’d left it, with an incoming text. The touch screen showed a message from a number she didn’t recognize.
It also showed she’d missed two calls and three texts. Cooper, Ronni, and the taskforce’s tech guru, Bobby Dyer, had tried to contact her. On top of that, the FBI director that headed the taskforce, Director Dupé had also called. She was definitely in deep shit.
Need to contact them. Let them know I’m all right before they put out an All-Points Bulletin.
But she wasn’t all right. And Cal had said she wasn’t to contact anyone for any reason.
There was one outlier. A number she didn’t recognize that had left a text. She twirled the phone on the counter for a moment, watching the sparkly purple case as it caught the late-morning light. “What do you think, Maggie?” she asked the dog. “Should I read it?”
Maggie perked her ears and gave a short bark. Good enough.
Bianca opened the text. Be ready to move in fifteen. C.
Cal. He didn’t have a cell phone but must have scored a disposable one.
She lived on her phone and had tricked it out to handle just about everything in her life she could. Without thinking, she started to text him back, then caught herself. The phone was encrypted and had a variety of firewalls and security, but nothing was fail-proof. She had no idea who had been trailing her or how sophisticated their tracking abilities were. After all the things she’d heard about and seen in the halls of the NSA, she knew nothing was impossible when it came to tracking someone down and learning everything about them.
The thought made her shudder. No contacting anyone. That’s what Cal had said and he was right. Even if he was using a phone he’d just picked up, and no one could trace that, it was better not to chance a reply because someone could be tracing her outgoing communications.
Slipping the phone into a
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