Don't Look Down

Chapter 16

"So you're going to make nice when we go to the meet," Wilder said to Lucy when he'd met her back at the camper and explained it all to her.

"Why?" Lucy had that stubborn look again. "Why can't I just tell Finnegan it's over? He's not going to be suing me if he's got the Russian mob on his butt. I think it's definitely past time to cut our losses. Stephanie's going to be okay, Bryce didn't get hurt, you didn't get knifed, so I'm thinking we're pushing our luck here if we keep going. Let Finnegan have his stupid helicopter without my people on the bridge. We can put up the lights so the cops think we're shooting and then just leave-"

Wilder shook his head. "No good. We can't spook them with the change in plans. The stunt has to go off, and then Nash will take Finnegan to Letsky, probably with the jade in the cargo net. Letksy is a bad guy and he needs to go down, Luce. We have to do this."

Lucy took a deep breath. "I'm having a bad day."

Wilder nodded. "I need you to play nice when he calls with the meet location. Follow my lead. Do not tell him you're shutting down the movie unless I say that's what you're going to do. Let me handle this." He saw her face flush and added, "It's my mission, Lucy. Tonight it's your movie, but today it's my mission."

"No," Lucy said. "Tonight it's my movie, but today it's my crew, my cast, my family, my people. I am not sacrificing anybody for the fucking CIA."

She shifted away from him, and he slid his arm around her and pulled her close, needing her warmth next to him.

"I'm not the CIA," he said, looking into her eyes. "I'm on your side. You have to trust me."

"Right," she said. "So about these two ex-wives-"

Her cell phone rang.

"That's Finnegan," Wilder said, and let her go. "Answer it."

Lucy took a deep breath and answered the phone.

Wilder drove up to the entrance to the Savannah Wildlife Refuge, following the directions Finnegan had given Lucy, and stopped the Jeep.

'"What's wrong?" Lucy asked.

What's right? Swamp mixed with forest lay all around. Indian country, his team sergeant would have said-perfect for an ambush. A metal bar was slid off to one side and a sign warned that the refuge closed at dark. Another sign indicated the road through the refuge was one-way. They had passed the exit about a half mile north of here. Bad omens, both of them.

"J.T.?"

Wilder tried to give Lucy his "no problem" smile but it was one he couldn't remember using before so he wasn't sure how it went over. "Everything's cool." He wondered if that qualified as lying as he drove down the gravel road that was set on top of a berm with swamp on either side. He slammed on the brakes as the metal bar rattled shut behind them. An even worse omen.

"Uh, still cool?" Lucy asked, her voice a little higher than usual.

A trap or somebody just making sure no one else joined the meeting? And who had shut it? Someone who had surveillance on them.

He did not like that at all. He slowly looked about. The cranes in the port to the south. The paper-mill towers. Hell, someone could be in the swamp itself with an angle on the road. Could even be Moot, lying out there licking her chops for her next meal to come down the road. Of all the possibilities, Wilder liked the idea of facing Moot the best. At least he knew what to expect with a gator, having been fully briefed by Pepper at lunch after she'd run out of Wonder Woman facts. Wilder smiled grimly. Pepper was better than Crawford at intelligence.

"J.T.?" Lucy's voice cut through the stillness.

This was why they'd used hand and arm signals on his old team and nobody had spoken when they were tactical. "It's all right." He opened the metal box between the seats and took out a Beretta 9-mm pistol in a well-worn leather holster. He pulled the gun out of the holster, checked the magazine, chambered a round, then nipped the gun and held it by the barrel, the grip toward Lucy. "Here."

She looked at him as if he were nuts. "This is your version of 'It's all right'?"

"Just in case," he said, extending the gun farther.

She took it reluctantly. "I thought you weren't going to give up your gun to anyone else again?"

Women and their memories. Never cut a guy any slack about the past. "It's my backup gun. You can have my primary if you want. Anything for you."

"That's really sweet, J.T." Lucy looked at the gun as if it were going to bite her. "Next time, try jewelry."

"Safety is on," Wilder said, pointing. "Flip it and then pull the trigger. There is a round in the chamber, so be careful. You have fifteen bullets."

"And double-tap, right?"

So she had been listening. "Yep." He took the gun back, slid it into the holster, then gave it back to her. "Loop your belt through this. Strong hand side."

As Lucy armed herself with no enthusiasm, he put the Jeep in gear and drove. He felt like he was back in Iraq, waiting for a roadside bomb to go off. But Finnegan wouldn't do that. He needed Lucy. He wanted this meeting to convince her to go with the stunt and they had already decided to go with the stunt, so everything was going to be fine. Right, Wilder thought to himself. Lucy lifted her shirt over the holster, hiding it from sight, but there was a distinctive bulge. "Don't take the gun out unless you mean to shoot and don't shoot unless you mean to kill."

"That will be never."

Her face was tense and he felt bad. The only sound was the tires' crunch on the gravel. The road went into a patch of trees, and Wilder used one hand to pull out his Glock and place it between his legs, at the ready.

Lucy drew back a little. "Should I do that? I am not going to shoot anybody but should-"

Wilder shook his head. "You're the backup. Finnegan will expect me to be packing. You, he'll wonder about."

"I'm wondering about me too," Lucy said. "Two days ago I was making a movie, then I hooked up with you, and now I'm carrying a gun to meet an international thief."

"Yeah, sorry," Wilder said but she kept going.

"You know, when I thought about us together, I figured I'd probably have to jump out of a plane for our anniversary or something, but I never thought the first thing you gave me would have a safety."

That's good, Wilder thought. She's making jokes. He stole a glance at her. He thought they were jokes. "My life has never been dull."

Lucy gave him a look. "How about we compromise from now on and go for 'not facing death daily'?"

They cleared the patch of trees and saw two hundred yards of straight road through the swamp before the next stand of foliage. The old oak trees they were approaching were so large that the gravel road was a pathway into a green tunnel. They entered and Wilder rolled the Jeep to a stop because there was Finnegan, sitting on the hood of a maroon Jaguar, wearing a loud blue Hawaiian shirt under an expensive-looking jacket and smoking a large cigar. A cane with a silver tip and a silver handle shaped like a stallion's head was within his reach. He looked like a rich, badly dressed Jolly St. Nick. An asshole, Wilder instinctively felt.

The sign behind Finnegan's car where the forest met the swamp read, it is a violation of state amp; federal law to feed or harass alligators. Too bad. Finnegan looked big enough to keep a couple of them stocked for the winter.

Lucy got out of the car and went toward him.

"You're even more beautiful than your picture," Finnegan said to her, grabbing his cane in his left hand and leaning on it as he slid off the hood of his car. He switched his cigar to his cane hand and extended his right hand toward her, but Wilder noticed that the Irishman's clear blue eyes were on him.

Lucy did not take his hand. "You wanted to meet me?"

"Ah, Lucy, my darlin'," Finnegan said with a heavy brogue, which Wilder also figured was bullshit.

"You've been threatening me for two days," Lucy said. "Don't call me darling."

Wilder scanned the area, but there was no obvious security, even though he was sure Finnegan was not out here on his own. He slid his Glock back into the holster and got out of the Jeep.

"Oh, darlin', that's how business is." Finnegan shifted the cigar to his right hand again and gestured toward Wilder. "And who might this strapping lad be?"

"My friend," Lucy said. "Captain Wilder."

"Captain Wilder." Finnegan didn't bother to extend his hand toward Wilder. "I've heard of you." He drew hard on his cigar and looked back at Lucy. "And why do we need a captain of the Army here at a nice civilized meeting?"

" This isn't civilized," Lucy said, her eyes steady on him.

"Your 'friend,' eh?" Finnegan put just the right spin on the word to let them know he knew what their relationship was. "And poor Connor? Is he not your 'friend'?"

"No." Lucy looked annoyed, which was better than afraid, but not by much, Wilder thought. "Mr. Finnegan, people on my movie are getting hurt."

"Unfortunate," Finnegan said affably. "But accidents will happen. Nothing to do with me."

Lucy drew in her breath, and Wilder knew she was going to blow. He walked past Finnegan and checked out the car. "Nice wheels."

"You admire a fine automobile, Captain Wilder?" Finnegan said, turning away from Lucy as if she didn't matter.

"No. But since you want to talk bullshit, I thought I'd join in."

Finnegan nodded. "Ah, a man who likes to get to business quickly." He turned back to Lucy. "This really isn't negotiable, Lucy. We have a contract."

Lucy shook her head. "Oh, no. You-"

Wilder moved next to her, trying to draw Finnegan's attention. "Why are you so concerned about this movie being finished?"

"I want to see my name on a movie screen." Finnegan shrugged, tapping cigar ash on the ground. "Glory, if you will. An old man's whimsy.'

"No," Lucy said.

Women. Wilder kept his face impassive.

"Lass-"

Lucy rolled over him. "The last time we did a stunt, we had injuries. We almost lost our lead actor. And now somebody's in the hospital."

Finnegan smiled at her over his cigar. "Lucy darling, I cannot be held accountable for someone falling asleep at the wheel. That happens every day."

"Not to people on my crew. Not like this. Nor do I have meetings in swamps every day." She shook her head, furious. "This is ridiculous. I-"

"We'd like a guarantee," Wilder said, his hand in his pocket, palming the bug Crawford had given him. "Nobody else gets hurt. Whatever it is that you're doing, you do away from the cast and crew."

He smiled, which made Finnegan pull back a little. Now all he had to do was figure out how to plant it on Finnegan. It didn't look like they were going to be hugging when they split, and pointing at the sky and saying, Look, Halley's Comet! didn't appear to be a good move, either.

Finnegan nodded, leaning forward, one hand on the silver handle of his cane. "Just finish the movie and all will be well. I'll throw in a one-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus for you, deposited right after you finish filming tonight."

While you're flying away? Wilder glanced at Lucy, hoping she kept her cool.

She looked enraged. "You think I'll risk my people for money?"

She was practically spitting, so Wilder figured it was time for a little interference for his wingwoman. "You keep the action away from the civilians, and the movie will be done tonight."

"The hell it will," Lucy said, turning on him. "I decide-"

Finnegan's eyes narrowed as he pointed his cigar at her. "I decide. It's my movie, lass. My money. My movie."

Wilder noticed that the brogue faded with the rise in anger.

"Then you film it tonight," Lucy said.

Finnegan swung his cane up and shoved the tip at Lucy. "You do what I tell you-"

Thank you. Wilder snatched the cane, palmed the end of it, and then twirled it and put the point on Finnegan's throat. "Talk nice to the lady. Or else."

Finnegan froze, his eyes small and hard. "Are you threatening me? Boyo, you have no idea who you are messing with."

Wilder nodded. Then he reversed the cane and offered the handle to Finnegan. "Sorry. Just concerned for the lady's welfare."

"I'm still here," Lucy said, her eyes flat on Finnegan. "And I can take care of myself. This is ridiculous."

Then do what we talked about and agree to finish the damn movie, Wilder thought as Finnegan took his cane back.

"The movie will be done tonight," Wilder said once more, with a glance at Lucy. Her face was flushed with anger.

Lucy looked furious. "I do n-"

Wilder put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "Lucy knows I'll be keeping an eye on everybody's safety, and now with your guarantee, she'll finish the shoot. Right, Lucy?"

The silence stretched out, and then she nodded once, sharply.

"So there is no problem," Wilder said. Except that I have to face this woman alone in a minute.

Finnegan looked back and forth between the two of them, then he slowly nodded also. "Very good."

Wilder stepped away from Lucy. "Time to go."

When she didn't move, he tapped her arm, and she pivoted and stalked back to the Jeep. Fortunately, it didn't have a door for her to slam. Wilder nodded at Finnegan before getting into the driver's seat. He carefully drove around the Jaguar and then accelerated away, looping around toward the exit gate.

"What part of 'follow my lead' didn't you get?" Wilder asked Lucy.

Lucy turned eyes like razors on him. "The part where you suck up to the bad guy, boss me around, and put my team in danger.' She was so mad, she practically bounced in the seat. "You saw him, J.T. He doesn't give a damn about anybody; he'd blow up the whole set if it'd get him what he wanted. That son of a bitch is a lying, thieving bastard, and you're flipping his cane around like a majorette on speed and then giving it back to him like-"

"Hey." Wilder held up the small tracker Crawford had given him.

"What's that?"

"A tracker. Homes in on a small transmitter-a bug. That I just planted on Finnegan."

Lucy blinked. "When did you do that?

"Just now. On his cane. Under the horse's head."

"Oh." Lucy's face eased. "Oh. That was pretty good." She looked over at him. "You think he's going to keep his word?"

"I think so," Wilder said. "It gets him nowhere to hurt people on the movie, Lucy. He just wants his helicopter so he can do what he needs to do."

"Which is?" Lucy said.

"Meet Letsky somewhere with the damn art."

Lucy took a deep breath. "All right. All right then."

"Plus, LaFavre will back me up if I need him."

"That hound?"

"He's the best at what he does," Wilder said. "We've been in some rough places together and we're both still breathing and have all our working parts because we have each other's backs."

Lucy considered that. "Okay. So now you tell me what the plan is for tonight. You do have a plan, right?"

"Right," Wilder lied.

"Good," Lucy said. "I'm waiting."

"Give me a minute." A plan, Wilder thought, and concentrated on that all the way back to the hotel.

Wilder was in Lucy's hotel room, checking his gun and trying to figure out all the places the plan he'd come up with could go wrong, when she came out of the bathroom wearing a thick, fluffy white robe, looking delicious with no makeup, her long, dark hair wet from her shower.

Different plan, he thought, but the look she gave him was cool.

"What are you doing?" she said, dropping her eyes to the Glock.

"I called room service," he said, trying not to think about how naked she was under the robe.

"Oh." Lucy nodded at the gun. "Usually you don't shoot them. Tipping is good, though."

Somebody knocked on the door, and Wilder got up and hovered near Lucy's shoulder as she checked the peephole.

"It's the waiter," she said, patiently.

"All right, all right." Wilder put the gun back in the holster as he went back toward the window. Lucy signed the check and thanked the waiter, and when Wilder fumbled for his wallet, she said, "I tipped him on the check."

Damn. He'd have to learn how to do room service. Lucy tied the sash on her robe tighter and smiled at him. It wasn't the warmest smile she'd ever given him, but it was a smile.

Lots of room service, he thought.

As the door shut, Lucy turned over two cups on the tray and poured them each some coffee from the large white carafe. "You're better with your gun than your wallet."

"I told you, I never had room service before."

"Where have you been staying? Under a rock?"

"Almost. Afghanistan. Iraq. Kuwait. Thailand. Other places. No room service." The coffee was good, Wilder thought as he drained the tiny cup in one gulp.

"I can just give you the pot and you can drink from there." This time her smile was better.

"So we okay?" he asked, and her smile faded.

"Yeah."

Damn. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my two ex-wives, but you have to trust me."

"I do," she said, not meeting his eyes as she picked up her cup.

"No, you don't,' he said. "And that's going to be a problem."

"Tonight?" She shook her head. "I'm not stupid, I'll do what you tell me."

"Not just tonight. After tonight."

"There is no after tonight." She sipped her coffee, staring out the window. "I think you made that pretty clear."

"No, I didn't," he said, exasperated. "I said we had to take it slow."

"Well, I'm leaving tomorrow." She turned back to him, her brows snapping together. "You take it slow, and I'll wave to you from New York."

Fuck. "Lucy-"

"I'm sorry," she said, putting down the cup. "I know we don't have time for this. Look, I'm mad, and I know that's dumb. I trust you not to lie to me. I'll do what you tell me to. But I know that if it comes down to me or the mission, it'll be the mission. That's just who you are. This is a professional relationship, not-"

"No," Wilder said and meant it.

"It was out there with Finnegan. You were all business out there."

He shook his head. "I honestly believe you and everybody else will be safe tonight. It would work against Finnegan to hurt anybody. He doesn't want cops and medics and firefighters on that bridge. He just wants his helicopter in the air with the movie shooting so he can fly over the swamp without anybody getting suspicious."

"The swamp." Lucy nodded. "That's where Nash is picking up Finnegan?"

"I'm guessing in the Wildlife Refuge. That's why we shot those helicopter scenes there." And why Karen was programming her GPS with waypoints.

"So that's it? Nash gets on the helicopter and flies off with Karen to pick up Finnegan?"

"With Karen and Doc. To pick up Finnegan and his goons and the art. Yeah. And then to wherever Letsky is. And the rest of us go home. They have no reason to hurt anybody, Lucy, and lots of reasons not to."

She nodded, and then came over and sat down beside him on the bed, which pretty much wrecked that train of thought. A strand of her hair slipped over her shoulder and caught on the terrycloth of the robe. He wanted to reach out and stroke it back, but he wasn't sure. Wait.

"That makes sense," she said. "But if something goes wrong-"

"Then it's over. We evacuate the bridge and everybody goes home." He felt a chill. She'd go back to New York, just like she'd said. That was something they'd have to work out. He wasn't sure what his future held, but with her sitting close, he was suddenly damn sure it held Lucy.

"Okay." She smiled at him weakly. "I trust you." She lifted her chin and kissed him, and he closed his eyes and thought, No, you don't. "I'm sorry I was so bitchy about the ex-wives," she said softly. "You're right, I moved too fast and didn't give you any time. Hell, I stalked you in the swamp. So I'm sorry about that-"

"I'm not," Wilder said, alarmed.

"-And about moving too fast and thinking this is more than it is, which is two healthy people enjoying a quick fling."

"Lucy," he said, "that's not-"

"And now here we are," she said brightly, "all alone in a hotel room with a perfectly good bed and a couple of hours to kill. And I have to tell you, last night was good. So I don't think we should waste this, do you? Nothing beyond right now, no future, just this for right now." Lucy-

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes," Wilder said.

"Well, then." Lucy began to untie the belt to her robe.

He stopped her. "Wait a minute."

Her strained smile evaporated. "Don't tell me. No sex before the big game." She retied her belt. "Fine."

"You don't trust me," he said. "And you're not the kind of woman who's going to be happy having sex with somebody she doesn't trust."

Lucy looked exasperated. "I told you-"

"Prove it," he said.

"What?"

He got up and went to her duffel bag and looked through it until he found her WonderWear and under that her gold-painted Lasso of Truth.

"Uh, J.T.?" she said. "You're not going to be one of those guys who can only get it up if I'm in costume, are you?"

He dropped the WonderWear back in her bag and picked up the rope. Then he crooked his ringer at her.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Well, it's not that I'm not, you know, interested." She looked at the rope in his hand with grave doubt. "Well, actually, I'm not."

"Do you trust me?" he said.

"Yes. But…"

He held out his hand and after a moment she stood and took it, and he pulled her to him, closing his eyes as she sank against him, soft and warm. "I said we should take it slow, Lucy. I never said it was a one-night stand or that we didn't have a future. We have a future."

"Oh." She swallowed. "So where does the rope come in our future?"

He gently pressed her toward the window, drawing shut the heavy curtain with one hand as he did so. "I do my best work in the dark."

"Well," she said, her voice going higher, "that was certainly true last night, but-"

"Shh." Wilder kissed her again, biting her lip softly as he felt her relax against him. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I really do. But this-"

He dropped the lasso on the table beside them, and she relaxed a little. Then he pulled a long piece of mesh camouflage out of his pocket and doubled, then tripled it, and she tensed again.

"Uh, J.T.-"

"You trust me?"

Lucy looked at the camouflage, uncertain. "Yes, but-"

Wilder placed the cloth across her eyes.

"Um-"

"No buts," he said. "You either trust me or you don't." He wrapped the cloth around to the back of her head and tied a simple knot. "I got this cloth in Denmark. Combat Swim School. We used it to cover our faces when we-"

"Tell me this is not your idea of talking dirty," she said, and he smiled.

With one hand he pulled her wrists over her head and with the other retrieved the rope from the table. "The Lasso of Truth, babe," he whispered in her ear and made her shiver as he looped it around her wrists.

"Well," Lucy said, but she didn't resist, biting her lip instead. He tied a loose knot, then tossed the other end over the curtain rod, looping it over the tie-back by the window frame.

Lucy said, "You know, there is a bed and it's-"

He tugged on the lasso ever so slightly, and Lucy sucked in her breath as her arms were drawn tighter. He lowered his head, still holding one end of the lasso, and kissed her in the hollow of her throat.

"Oh, God," she said and grabbed on to the curtain, bunching it above her head where the rope held her hands.

"You can trust me," he said. "I will never hurt you, I will never betray you, and I will always get you where you need to go."

He tied off the rope on the curtain tie-back and then loosened her belt, and her robe parted as he slid his tongue lower, tracing the inner curve of her right breast. Her body tightened under his hands as he lightly nibbled and kissed her nipple, and he felt her tremble against him, making little noises in the back of her throat. Then he went down to his knees and lowered his head and made her gasp again, and she tasted fresh and clean as he went between her legs, his hands sliding around her hips to grasp her ass tightly, not allowing her to move.

He tuned in to her breathing, soft and rapid, his tongue tasting her, moving inside her as her breaths changed to shallow sobs. After several minutes, she breathed, "Oh, God, stop," and he ignored her, focusing on what he felt from her, not what he heard, the rhythm of her gasps, the quiver of her muscles. Then he felt her tense and shudder, crying out as she jerked hard against him, and the rod broke, and the curtain tumbled down, covering both of them as she collapsed and he caught her.

He laughed, her body hot on top of his, the thick curtain covering both of them. She was breathing hard, and he rolled her to one side and held her in his arms, resting his head against her long, powerful thighs, catching his breath, too.

"Wow," Lucy said and he laughed again.

Then he threw the curtain off and the late afternoon light cast a glow over her, magic, as she pulled the blindfold off and smiled at him, drowsy with satisfaction. He got to his feet, pulling her up warm into his arms. He tugged her toward the bed and tripped over the Lasso of Truth so that they tumbled onto the mattress in a heap with him on top.

Wilder began laughing again and pulled the lasso from her wrists, leaving traces of gold paint there, markings he'd put on her, but she caught it before he could toss it away, propping herself up on her elbows under him, her mouth almost on his, her eyes half closed and dark.

"Lasso of Truth, Captain Wilder?" she said, her voice soft with heat. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Wilder said with a smile.

"We'll see about that," she said and rolled so that he was under her, reaching for his wrists.

And then he forgot the CIA, Finnegan, the Russian mob, and everything else on earth but Lucy.