Daring Time

They exited the van and waited, crouched behind a hedge and some garbage cans. The night was cool but pleasant for November. The throb of the bass from the Sweet Lash emanated into the still night. People who lived around here must possess a vast collection of earplugs.

"That's not something to be transporting eight women in from Mexico," Ramiro whispered in confusion when a Lexus passed in the alley, gravel popping out from under its wheels.

"There's a vehicle coming from the other direction," Ryan explained, knowing Ramiro hadn't heard him earlier because he'd been listening to instructions from Crenshaw.

They heard a car door slam in the distance. Crenshaw gave the order for several units, Ryan and Ramiro among them, to tighten the perimeter around the Sweet Lash's rear parking area.

Ramiro and he crossed the alley. They took position behind a warehouse just west of the Sweet Lash. Back pressed to the side of the building, Ryan peered cautiously around the corner. He could hear the muted sound of men's voices.

The large van was parked in the center of the lot while the Lexus had pulled up closer to Ryan and Ramiro. He could see three men standing in the lot: Chirnovsky, Donahue and one other man—presumably the driver of the van. Because of his particular vantage point he could also see movement in the passenger seat of the van and also in the driver's seat of the Lexus. He flipped the switch on the headset and softly described the situation to Crenshaw in case he didn't have clear sight due to the hulking van.

The driver of the Lexus got out of his car and Ryan recognized him. Gutierrez called out something jovially and Donahue came toward him. The two men drew close and spoke too quietly for Ryan to make out what they said.

Ryan heard Crenshaw curse through the headset. "Have you got Donahue, Daire? The van is blocking us."

"We've got Donahue and Gutierrez," Ryan said just above a whisper. He mouthed Gutierrez to Ramiro and signaled for him to move around the other end of the Dumpsters where he'd have a straighter rush at his prey.

Gutierrez handed Donahue something. Donahue gave a low, sinister chuckle and walked around the front of the Lexus. Ryan could see his puffy face perfectly. Something about his narrowed eyelids and smug, sharklike smile sent an alarm bell to clanging in his brain.

"Pearson and DiMarco will cover you from the south, Daire. All units stand ready."

Several tense seconds passed. Ryan's heart hammered in his ears even though the beat was slow and even. The adrenaline of a takedown always focused his attention to a knife's edge. He watched as Donahue opened the passenger door of the Lexus. The order to move in came at the same moment.

"No. Wait," Ryan muttered into the headset when he saw what Donahue part lifted and part guided out of the passenger seat—a

woman. , Shit.

He hadn't been able to see the female because the seat had been lowered. Despite his surprise he was already in motion, rushing his target as silently as possible. .

Shouts and a few subsequent curses filled the still air. "Freeze and put your hands above your head. Do it," Ryan added forcefully when Donahue's body sagged slightly at the shock of his voice, the woman's body falling back to the seat. Donahue's wide back blocked the car entrance.

"Put her down and get your hands in the air. Move away from the car" Ryan barked furiously when Donahue merely looked over his shoulder.

"Daire," he hissed. He twisted his broad torso and lifted the woman in one. fluid movement. He sat in the car seat, draping her body over his for protection from one of Ryan's bullets.

Ryan saw the gleaming, dark hair and the spill of the frothy rose-colored gown. It felt like a jolt of electricity had suddenly slammed into his heart and lungs. He aimed his gun carefully, setting aside his fear the moment he recognized it. He saw the silver duct tape covering Hope's mouth and binding her wrists. She began to struggle in Donahue's hold.

"Let her go or I'll shoot you."

But Donahue must have sensed his doom because he behaved like an irrational, trapped animal energized by fear and adrenaline. He clambered wildly over the console, jerking up on Hope's waist brutally and pulling her along with him. Ryan experienced Hope's muffled cry of pain like a blade to the flesh.

There was a possibility Gutierrez had left the keys in the car, he realized. Besides, all Donahue needed was a few seconds to retrieve his gun and hold Hope hostage in earnest.

For a microsecond Hope looked up between disarrayed, glossy curls and met his gaze.

The same weird thing occurred that had happened when Mario had been shooting at him and shattered the mirror.

Time stretched. A second became an agonized eternity. He stared into Hope Stillwater's frightened eyes and wondered if destiny was an even stronger force of nature than time.

What if he'd brought her to the year 2008 only to experience her murder here? Now?

What if he hadn't saved her from anything ... just delayed the inevitable?

Recognition flashed in her midnight eyes. As if the sight of him had galvanized her, she started to struggle wildly. Ryan gritted his teeth and aimed his SIG. Damn, that woman was a squirmer. He held on to her panicked gaze like it was her hand and she was falling over a cliff and ground out two words.

"Stay still."

She froze in a position that left a portion of Donahue's right shoulder and arm unprotected. It might as well have been a mile-wide target, as close as Ryan stood. He fired. Donahue grunted.