Mrs. Quade. The panic and excitement churned inside her all over again. The marriage was official now, consummated. To end things required more than an annulment.
So go for it. Right? Of course. That made total sense. She didn't even need to think about it.
She should enjoy her breakfast with Lucas while they watched over their daughter together. She walked to the breakfast tray and looked at the assortment of foods Lucas had put together. More of the tortillas filled with cheese. Some simple toast with a fruit salsa in a small crock. Another couple of tortillas with what looked like sausage and eggs inside—and thankfully no more bananas. He'd gone to so much trouble for her.
Which did she want?
The tickle of panic returned.
How silly. She only needed to pick which to eat. One tiny choice in light of all the decisions she would make in resuming her life.
Panic swelled higher at what waited for her outside. For years, she hadn't been allowed to make a decision on her own, even what to eat. Every meal had been prepared and served with Ramon controlling her diet "for her own good."
And the decisions to come were far more important than cheese versus eggs in the morning.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Lucas?"
No one answered. The pounding continued. She frowned. The hammering was muffled, distant, not on the bedroom door at all.
Someone was beating on the front door outside the apartment.
Lucas snatched his M9 off the bedside table and sprinted for the hall, the pounding outside echoing through the apartment. He ran smack into Sara dashing from Lucia's room.
"Back inside. Keep the door shut and stay away from the windows." He gripped her shoulders, spinning her away and into the bedroom, trying like hell not to think about how delicate her bones felt under his hands.
He struggled to come to grips with the airy Sara he'd known before and the woman who'd knifed him outside the compound with a strength that defied her size. "Stay behind the bed. Don't come out until I tell you all's clear."
He regretted his brusque tones, but she seemed to understand there wasn't time for niceties. Best of all she seemed to realize the importance of watching over Lucia. The woman who'd drawn a knife in defense of her daughter had returned and damn, she was mesmerizing.
Shaking his head clear, he ducked into the living room where Keagan, Rodriquez and two other agents were positioned around the perimeter, out of the direct line of fire of the entrance.
Rodriquez stood to the left of the door, weapon drawn. "Si?" he called through the door.
"Jorge?" a muffled female voice gasped. "His dentist appointment. How did it go?"
Recognition clicked a second ahead of relief. Lucas bolted around the sofa. "It's Seabrook, my missing pilot. Let her in."
Rodriquez opened the door to reveal that yes, Seabrook stood outside, whole and seemingly unharmed in spite of the mud, scratches, bug bites.
A vivid handprint bruise on her cheek.
His grip tightened around the M9.
Gasping, the willowy pilot stumbled across the threshold and stopped short, eyes widening. "Colonel?"
"You're all right?"
"Yes, sir." She grabbed the back of the chair for balance, short blond hair clinging to her sweat-soaked temples. "But everyone needs to leave. Fast. Ramon Chavez is heading this way, and he's gathering troops for a last-stand attack."
Jostling in the backseat of a dusty old Humvee, Sara hugged her daughter tight against her. Keagan drove, Lucas in the front passenger seat, Nola Seabrook sitting on the other side of Lucia. There wasn't time to fear entering the real world anymore.
She was too busy watching out the back window to make sure Ramon hadn't caught up with them yet.
Apparently he'd been tracking them almost from the start. She had to pull herself together for her child. Her daughter had survived the spider bite without incident, but being yanked from her bed and a sound sleep had her clinging to her mother as she hadn't done since toddler days.
Lucas's missing pilot—Nola Seabrook—had spilled her explanation quickly, in succinct and horrifying detail. When Ramon had stumbled on her outside the compound, she'd pretended to be an escaped prisoner of Padilla's. She'd had three choices. Kill Chavez, but all his information would die with him. Or she could risk a fight to overtake him and even if she won, she would have to keep him prisoner during their trek to safety.