“Maybe you’d better find some stones if you’re going to try to squash this. Brad had a very solid constituent and loyal backing. I am resolved on this course of action.”
It was a dismissal, plain and simple. He pointed his finger at her. “I warned your husband not to make an enemy of me, Senator Jones. I’m giving you the same warning.”
“Thank you for that. But I come from a long line of political pundits. I eat, breathe and live to debate.”
“Fine,” he said as he rose, tugged on his white cuffs and collected his jacket. He turned as her phone buzzed again, but she continued to ignore it as he made his way to the door in his very expensive and impeccable blue pinstripe suit.
She picked up the phone.
“Is he gone yet?”
“Almost,” she said.
“Was he blowing hard and issuing threats?”
She chuckled at her late husband’s mentor and longtime good friend of the family, Stephen Montgomery, the powerful and wealthy CEO of the Montgomery Group, a technical company with numerous products utilized throughout the government and military. Like Bradley, Stephen was born and raised in California, but now made his home in Washington. Piper and Brad had spent time in both DC and their gorgeous beach house in San Diego. “Monty” was a staunch supporter of every bill Brad had written and gotten passed, which had happened mostly because of Stephen’s help and backing. Her aide, Brock, opened the door as soon as Senator Mullins reached for the handle. The look on her aide’s face made Piper’s stomach knot. He came inside, brushing past the senator, and her anxiety climbed. Senator Mullins was tall and imposing, with very good but generic looks, like a news anchor. He looked innocuous, but Piper had seen the flashes of menace.
She shook her head as her aide opened his mouth, but he spoke anyway. “Senator Jones—”
She held up her hand. “Monty, I have to go. My aide is here and quite agitated.”
“Ah, he’s a good man. Stop giving him a hard time. We’ll talk later.”
“We will,” she said affectionately and hung up. “Brock, what…?”
“Your brother, Edward, is on the other line. It’s urgent.”
Piper reached for the phone. “Edward…what?”
“Piper. Tyler…”
“Oh, God. What happened?”
“He’s at Bagram Airfield, the hospital.” His voice broke, then he recovered. “They’re stabilizing him now. It’s bad. Really bad, Piper.”
She struggled for breath as Brock came around the desk, standing at the ready. “No. Please, Edward.”
“They don’t know—”
“Don’t say it!” she hissed into the phone, and Brock covered her hand. “I’m going. Clear it for me.”
An incredulous huff burst out of her brother. “Piper, no! You can’t go to Afghanistan. It’s too dangerous.”
Her spine stiffened. No one told her what she could and couldn’t do when it came to her baby brother. “It’s a fortified base. I’ll be fine!”
“That country isn’t stabilized! I don’t want to lose my sister, too.”
“We’re not going to lose him!”
His voice got hard. “Piper, the only reason I know this information is because of Uncle Bill.”
Her voice just got harder. Her uncle Bill worked for the assistant secretary of state for diplomatic security, the office responsible for protecting the Secretary of State, certain foreign dignitaries during their visits to the US and other government officials. “All the more reason to get me to Bagram. We have the pull.”
“You can’t go,” he shouted.
“Watch me!”
He lowered his voice, his teeth clenched. “Dammit, Bulldozer, you can’t—”
“Call Uncle Bill. You’re a Diplomatic Security special agent, Edward. Nepotism has to be good for something! Tyler needs someone there!”
“All right. Be ready to go when I call.” She heard Edward’s frustration and the pain and terror in his voice.
She looked up at Brock, and he nodded to indicate he would move heaven and earth to make sure she was ready. “I will.”
Bagram Airfield, Parwan Province, Afghanistan
Fourteen and a half hours later, hot, hungry and achy, Piper walked off the military transport onto Bagram Airfield, the largest US military base in Afghanistan, named for an ancient city nearby. She was still dressed in her blue power suit and her kick-butt heels.
Her brother was at the Heather N. Craig Joint Theater Hospital, a fifty-bed hospital. Flanked by her DS detail, she headed toward the main entrance. The two men in dark blue suits followed. After a call from the DS office to alert her the detail was there to pick her up and take her to the airport, they had boarded the military transport with her. She was assured both Agents Hatch and Markam had combat experience. Two agents she hadn’t met before, but worked for Diplomatic Security, as evidenced by their badges. As soon as she got inside, a nurse was waiting to take her to her brother, who was in intensive care.
“How is he?” she asked as the dark-haired nurse indicated she should follow her.
“He’s holding his own. There was significant internal bleeding, a fractured leg and arm, abrasions, contusions, concussion. You’ll need to brace yourself for his condition, ma’am. He’s scheduled to be shipped out to Germany in two hours. The doctor can give you more details.”
As they walked into the room, Piper rushed over to the tan bed. Her brother was hooked up to both an IV and other health-monitoring machinery. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even. She gasped as she took in the cuts and abrasions on his face and the heavy bandages on his arm and leg. She’d been scared out of her mind that he would… A wall of emotion slammed into her and she was caught up in keeping her composure. After losing Brad and her unborn child, she’d never wanted to feel that kind of pain again…but to lose her brother―it would be unbearable, especially on the heels of her father’s fatal heart attack a year ago. And her mother had died several years ago from pneumonia.
The nurse squeezed her arm. “He’s doing very well, considering what trauma his body has been through. He’s tough.”
Piper swallowed her tears and pain and turned toward the nurse. “Thank you.”
“I’m Christina Davis, if you need me.” She nodded to a man with salt-and-pepper hair, who stood next to the bed reading a chart. He looked up as Piper reached out and touched Tyler’s bare arm. He was warm and alive, and something cold and tight loosened up inside her.
“Senator Jones? Dr. Abraham.”
“Yes, how is my brother?”
“He’s made it through surgery. He’s a fighter. Lost a lot of blood, but those medivac boys know their job. If it wasn’t for his team member Lieutenant Dexter Kaczewski’s quick actions, he might not have made it.”
“They’re very close,” she whispered, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
“Lieutenant Kaczewski is here, too. Injured, but not as severely.”
“Thank God for that.”
“It’s been a tough day. Team Three lost three SEALs in that battle.”