Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,13

opposed to always expecting to be disappointed. “Look, Jules, I have to go. Thanks for calling.”

“Anytime, sweets. Give Pollyanna a big, wet, sloppy kiss for me.”

“I will.” She hung up the phone.

“You know he’s going to call me that from now on,” Sam said. “For the rest of my life. And, by the way, it’s Rebecca who lives at Sunnybrook Farm. As opposed to Laura Ingalls Wilder, who lives in that little house on the prairie. Pollyanna lives … Shit, I have no idea where Pollyanna lives.”

“Come here,” Alyssa said, moving toward him, meeting him halfway, in the middle of the couch. He put his arms around her, so that she was leaning back against him, her head beneath his chin.

Outside the window, dawn was putting on quite a show.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asked. “Ever?” She laughed, except it came out sounding like a sob, and his arms tightened around her. “I keep thinking, if only …”

“Don’t,” he said. He kissed the top of her head. “Just don’t.”

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I hate it when the bad guy wins.”

“I know. But they’re going to catch this one now,” Sam said. “I hope so.”

“They will.” He kissed her again. The way he put it, it was a when, not an if. He had no doubts whatsoever. For Sam, the future was filled with possibilities, not possible disappointments.

“Nice, huh?” he said as, outside the window, the brilliant colors of dawn—a new day—streaked the sky.

“Yeah,” Alyssa said, loving the feeling of his arms around her. It was very nice, indeed.

WAITING

2005

This story takes place sometime after Flashpoint and before Breaking Point.

Sam Starrett’s daughter had finally surrendered and fallen asleep when the telephone rang.

He closed her bedroom door as silently as possible and raced down the hall toward the living room, where he’d last seen the cordless phone.

Yesterday, three-and-a-half-year-old Haley had missed her nap, and their dinner had been loud and far more tearful than dinosaur-shaped mac-and-cheese warranted. Apparently, without an afternoon rest, having to choose between green beans and peas as a side dish was a tragic dilemma of astronomical proportions.

Sam, always good at creative solutions, thought he’d solved the problem by heating up both vegetables.

At which point Haley wept because the spoon she wanted to use was in the dishwasher.

It was then that Sam understood. As a former Navy SEAL and one of the top counterterrorism experts currently working in the private sector, he recognized that he was caught in the dread no-win scenario. He realized that even if he hand-washed the spoon, there would be something wrong with the fork, or the color of the napkin, or maybe even the brand of Parmesan cheese he and his wife, Alyssa, kept in their fridge.

It was obvious that the real problem wasn’t with the peas or the spoon or the cheese. Haley missed her mother—Sam’s ex-wife, Mary Lou—and that, plus lack of nap, had locked them into orbit around the Planet of Inconsolable Unhappiness.

Sam could totally relate. He, himself, was struggling hard to keep from joining his daughter there because Mary Lou wasn’t the only one out of town. Just over a week ago, Alyssa had gone OCONUS.

A diplomat on a peacekeeping mission to Kazbekistan—a third world terrorist hotbed nicknamed “the Pit”—had contacted Troubleshooters Incorporated, the private security company where Sam and Alyssa both worked. Former senator Eugene Ryan was adamant about not showing up in the battle-weary country surrounded by heavily armed, dangerous-looking bruisers as guards. At the same time, he wisely didn’t want to go in without adequate protection.

And so he’d requested Alyssa join his security team.

In a country that wasn’t exactly known for its equal rights, no one would expect a woman to be an expert sharpshooter and total kickass bodyguard despite her lack of height and bulk.

Sam had desperately wanted to go along—but his goal was not to keep Ryan safe. No, he wanted to watch his wife’s six. And he was the exact physical type that the former senator didn’t want along for the ride. Not to mention the fact that he’d promised his ex-wife that he’d watch Haley this week …

He’d driven Lys to the airport and kissed her goodbye, working overtime to keep her from noticing his tightly gritted teeth.

It had to happen sooner or later, but as he’d watched her walk into the terminal, he had to admit that he’d been hoping for much, much later. But here it was. For the first time since they were married, Alyssa