Page 26 of Call Sign: Thunder
"If you can help me bring my daughter back from the hell she's living in right now, I'll let you do your worst."
A muted cell phone's ringing broke the awkward silence between the alpha men. Mr. Benson pulled the smartphone from his pocket and answered with a hurried, "Benson."
Zach couldn't make out the words, but heard the caller shouting.
"Where?" The senator listened, closing his eyes as if in pain. "Don't approach her. Just watch from afar. I'll be there in an hour. Whatever you do, don't let her leave with anyone. Got it?" He ended the call and took a shaky breath.
The men stood grounded sizing each other up until the senator broke the silence.
"Allie slipped out of the house and took a cab to Georgetown. Her bodyguards tracked her down to a bar off campus. She's already on her second drink." Sadness clouded the elder's eyes. "One of us needs to go get her and take her back to my house. I'd like it to be you. You'll have a better chance at getting her to go with you without a fight."
Anger raged through Zach. Fury that Allison's father had made things worse in his attempts to protect his daughter. Anger at himself for not trying harder to get in touch with her. She'd needed him and he hadn't been there for her. He even had a fair amount of ire for Allison herself for not taking care of herself. Didn't she know she was special?
Zach paced the classroom, mulling over his options as he tried to rein in his anger. As his angst slipped away, it was replaced with worry.
He stopped directly in front of her father, toe to toe with the bastard. Every second that passed solidified Zach's resolve. There was no way he could turn his back on Allie tonight any more than he could have that summer night back in Colombia. She was calling out to him for help. Through her father. Through her letters.
And he would help, or at least try. But he'd be damned if he was going to play Mr. Benson's game.
"I'll go and pick her up." Zach felt the rushed breath of relief from the man standing so close to him. He must have doubted Zach would help.
He may end up wishing I'd turned him down.
"But we do this my way. When I get there, your hired goons get lost and Allie leaves with me. I'll take her to an undisclosed neutral location…" The senator tried to interrupt him, but Zach held up his hand like a stop sign to shut him up as he continued. "… where she'll feel safe. I'll do my best to talk to her — to get through to her."
"But…"
"No buts. You've had four months and she's only getting worse. You want my help, then this is how it's going to go."
Her father's fear was palpable. "Please… she's been hurt so much already. She's so vulnerable. Promise me…"
Zach's anger flared. "I rushed into an armed compound to rescue Allie before I even knew her name so don't lecture me about not hurting her now. And after all you've done to mess with her in the name of love, you have some nerve lecturing me."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I just…" He looked like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. "We need to hurry. I flew down on a charter. We need to get in the air back to Washington ASAP."
Zach grabbed his duffel with his workout clothes from behind the desk. "We need to stop at my apartment first. I need to pack a few things. I don't know how long I'll be gone."
Chapter Twelve
ALLIE
"Hey!" Allison raised her hand, trying to get the attention of the bartender who seemed to be ignoring her. Her glass was empty again and she needed it refilled and fast. It was only a matter of time before her bodyguards would find her. They always did. It was getting harder to get out of the house undetected.
Truthfully, she hated leaving the house — hell, she hated leaving her bed. The only urge stronger than the desire to sleep was the urge to drown her memories, fears, and rage in alcohol induced stupors.
The bearded bartender must have seen her flagging him down after all because he deposited a tall double on her cocktail napkin, taking the empty glass away without saying a word. That suited her fine. She hadn't come to socialize.
Allie squeezed the small lemon garnish into her martini before picking up the tall glass and guzzling over half the hard liquor before the burning in her throat forced her to slam the drink to the marble bar top. Drops of precious alcohol sloshed over the sides of the glass, spilling wastefully. Her buzz intensified, numbing her depression, replacing it with indifference. Anything was better than remembering how fucked up her life was.
She hated how angry she was — at everything and everyone.
She knew her father loved her, but he was smothering her worse than he ever had before, which was saying something. She knew he was frustrated, not knowing how to help her, but he seriously needed to back off.
Her thoughts turned darker. Her kidnapping had shone a spotlight on how shallow her friendships were with the posse of friends she'd thought she could count on. Most girlfriends had slipped quietly away, not wanting to deal with the real drama in Allie's life. Others were blatantly jealous of the unwanted attention the daughter of a US Senator got when kidnapped. The worst had been her two closest friends who'd listened empathetically when she'd returned home and then proceeded to sell the salacious insider information of what had happened in that warehouse in Colombia to the tabloids.
No. That really wasn't the worst. The pain that consumed most of Allison's waking hours was the desertion of Captain Zachary Garrett. She wasn't angry with Zach. He owed her nothing. She knew that. Her anger was with her own inability to let go of her obsession with her hero.
God, she wanted to die of humiliation every time she thought about the dozen long letters she'd written to him, pouring her heart out, sharing details about the nightmares she had about what her life would be like had he not rescued her. She'd been prepared for him to politely reject staying in touch with her. What she hadn't been prepared for was his total silence. He hadn't cared enough to even drop her a text or email. He must think she was a pitiful mess and he'd be right.
