Chapter Ten
The next morning, Paige returned to the garage after dropping Ralph off
at school. Toby was already there, setting up the command center.
"Well, good morning, Miss Dineen," he said a little too cheerfully as he
flipped on the radar screen. "Sleep well?"
"Yes," she lied as she went to go make a pot of coffee. "And you?"
"Like a log." He smiled mischievously at her. "Didn't see any point in going
home, so I slept here last night."
"Oh." Oh, God, he hadn't slept in Walter's bed, had he? The sheets hadn't
been changed since she and Walter. . . Oh, God. She took a good look at the
shrink and noticed he was wearing different clothing than the night before.
And his hair was damp.
Paige closed her eyes. At least the water should have washed away any evidence
of what they had done in the shower stall. Feeling the heat rising on her
cheeks, she averted her head and switched to a safer topic of conversation.
"Any word from the rest of the team yet?"
"I slept on the couch down here in case you're wondering."
"Why would I wonder about that?"
He shrugged as he plugged in a speaker. "No idea." His grin grew broader.
"And no, they haven't checked in. They're probably eating breakfast."
"Nope, we've just arrived at the informant's coordinates." Cabe's low growl
filled the room. "Happy, you finish juicing the surveillance van's radar?"
"Yeah, we'll see the drone before it sees us."
"How we looking, Doc?" asked the Homeland agent.
"You have full com, cell, and radar capabilities. Signal's hot, just like
my girlfriend." The psychiatrist waggled his eyebrows as Paige rolled her
eyes.
"Cut the chatter, Toby." She could hear the irritation in Walter's words.
"Sly, you ready?"
"Hang in there, Birdroni," whispered Sylvester. "Be strong."
Paige smiled as she and Toby listened as the pulse gun took down the human
calculator's pet drone. "Gizmo works," said Cabe.
The excitement over their success was short-lived. "Hey, radar's showing
incoming!" shouted Happy. "Doc, you seeing this?"
"Yep, we got a sky full of bogies coming from the southeast, 151 degrees,"
the shrink confirmed.
"This isn't a test flight," Walter murmured. "This is a full shipment."
"He's right," said Agent Sanchez.
"It's worse than that." Paige caught a hint of panic in Walter's tone. "The
lead drone is weaponized and has a camera that's locked on us."
Gunfire burst over the speaker. "Walter!" Then it became eerily silent.
"Walter!"
"We're okay," he reassured her. "Everyone's okay."
"They must've gotten intel that law enforcement was on to them," Cabe said.
"Oh, God." Paige pointed at the screen before covering her mouth with her
hand.
"Guys. . .you've got another wave inbound, a few miles out," said Toby.
Paige listened as the others figured out how to stop the new shipment from
going through, using radio waves to force the drug-laden drones single file
so Walter could easily knock them out of the sky with the pulse gun.
"It's working," she whispered as she watched the blips disappear on the
screen.
"Dammit." Paige could feel Walter's frustration over the link.
"Walter, what happened?"
"One got through. It must have been immune to our pulse gun. We have to
get to that drone before they do."
"Walter, no." Her plea went unanswered as car doors slammed and tires squealed.
"It's off the radar," Toby informed them. "You're on your own tracking it
down."
"Copy that. We're going in the direction that we saw it heading."
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of more gunfire over the com link made
Paige tremble with fear. "Walter! Walter!" she yelled.
"We're okay," he finally responded. "What? Dammit. Sanchez's been shot."
"Oh, God." Paige covered her mouth with her hand as her stomach churned.
Toby began spouting off instructions but she tuned him out. Walter was okay,
she kept telling herself. He was okay.
"Paige! Hey, snap out of it." She jumped as Toby shook her shoulder. "You
need to let the Medevac team know Happy and Sly are taking Sanchez to a coyote
shack a mile north of their position."
"What? A coyote shack? Okay." She did as he requested then went back to
worrying about Walter.
With half an ear, she listened as the team split up, focusing her attention
on Walter. Her interest was diverted for a moment when Sylvester announced
Happy was outside throwing up. Paige shot a glance at Toby, wondering if there
was another reason for the mechanic's sickness besides the sight of blood.
"Uh, Toby?" Sly said anxiously. "Sanchez can't breathe and his lips are
turning blue."
"Shit, the bullet must have punctured his lung. . ."
Punctured lung. Oh God. Images of Walter, propped up on the
old musty mattress, his hands and feet bound, his breathing growing shallower
by the second. He was dying right before her eyes and she could do nothing
to stop it. A wave of helplessness and despair swept over her and her vision
started to dim.
She could hear someone shouting, but it sounded like it was coming from
a million miles away. Walter, I have to help Walter. Please. . . Walter.
. .
"Paige! Paige!" Toby's frantic shouts rang through Walter's com. "Paige!
Crap, I don't have time for this."
"Is something wrong with Paige? Toby! Answer me."
"Cut the chatter, 197, I'm trying to save a man's life." The shrink rattled
off more instructions on how to syphon off the fluids building up in Sanchez's
lung.
"Dammit, Toby, what the hell is wrong with Paige?"
"She's curled up in a ball on the floor. Does that answer your question?"
snapped Toby. "Now shut up and let me work my magic."
A sharp smack to his arm drew Walter's attention back to their dilemma.
Cabe took out his ear piece, indicating he should do the same.
"You need to keep your head together, son," the agent barked as the truck
he was driving bounced along the dirt road. "She say anything to you yet?"
Walter shook his head just as a bullet shattered the mirror on his side
of the truck. Both he and Cabe ducked as more shots came from behind.
"Looks like they've caught up with us," the older man pointed out unnecessarily.
Sticking his com back into his ear, Walter heard Sly's voice. "Sanchez says
there's a switchback at the end of the canyon." Walter relayed the information
to the Homeland agent, who tried to restore his own com as the truck hit a
rut. The earpiece flew out of his hand and rolled under the seat.
"Dammit." Gallo gripped the wheel with both hands. "Where the hell is this
switchback? This is a big desert. I need details."
"You need to turn left at a fork in the road," Sylvester replied.
"Left?" Panic was making Walter's head spin. Being shot at, not knowing
where they were, their only contact wounded and possibly dying. And Paige.
. . What was wrong with her? What if she was having a miscarriage? He hadn't
even realized he wanted a child until he learned she might be pregnant. If
she lost it. . . Pain tore through his chest.
"Right," the human calculator broke through his misery. "You need to. .
." A blare of static pierced Walter's ear.
"Right? Sylvester, which is it?" Tapping on his com, he glanced up to see
the fork in the dirt road growing closer.
". . .right. . ." Sly sounded like he was speaking into a tunnel, then the
transmission broke up again.
"Goddamn it, Walter," growled Cabe. "Which way?"
"To the right," he pointed, hoping he was correct.
He wasn't.
"Paige! Paige!"
Walter. Oh, God, Walter. Paige opened her eyes, surprised to find herself
sitting on the couch, Walter kneeling before her. For a moment, she thought
she must be hallucinating. Walter was somewhere along the Arizona/Mexico border,
shooting down drug smuggling drones.
With a hand she absently noted was trembling, she reached out and placed
it on his cheek, feeling the stubble roughened skin under her fingertips.
He was real. Oh, God, he was alive. "Walter," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She was confused by his terrified expression.
What had happened? Was someone dead?
"I'm fine," she said. "Why are you here? You can't be back already."
He turned to look at someone and she followed his movement. Toby stood a
few feet away, his face full of concern. Oh, no, someone was dead. Someone
they were afraid to tell her. . .
"Where's Ralph?" she demanded, trying to stand up. "Where's my son?" Walter
put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her back down onto the sofa.
"Ralph's fine, he's at aftercare," he stated briskly. "Paige, it's after
five o'clock. The case is over, we stopped the bad guys, and everyone's okay.
Well, Sanchez is in the hospital but he's going to be. . ."
"Sanchez?" Oh right, the Mexican drug enforcement agent. "It can't be that
late. Did I fall asleep?"
"No." It was the shrink who answered her this time. "You've been catatonic."
"Catatonic?"
"Yes. Something must have triggered you, causing you to withdraw." The psychiatrist
sighed wearily. "I was in the middle of coaching Happy and Sly on how to drain
fluid from Sanchez's lung, and I wasn't paying. . ."
Lung. Punctured lung. It all came rushing back to her. The agent
being shot, cactus, tequila, Walter. . . Oh, God, Walter. She put
her hands on his chest, checking to make sure he was all right, pausing when
his breath hitched as she touched his stomach.
"You're hurt," she accused him, yanking up his shirt. There were a couple
of new red welts which stood out among the still fading bruises he had received
a month earlier. "You need help."
"I'm fine," he tried to reassure her, "I got punched a couple of times,
but that's all. . . Paige. . ."
Once again, she reached her hand toward him, gently stroking the discolored
areas on his skin. "You were dying. . .and I. . .I couldn't stop. . .I couldn't
help. . ."
Glancing up, her breath caught in her throat as she saw his face crumple.
She reached for him as he reached for her, burying her head into his shoulder
as she burst into tears. Dampness on the neck of her thin cotton blouse told
her he was crying too.
Then Walter pulled back, touching his forehead to hers and cradling her
face in his hands. "You were going to let them. . .let them. . ." His words
faltered as he stared into her eyes.
"I had to," she whispered. "They were going to kill you if I didn't."
"They were going to kill me anyway." His left hand stroked her hair away
from her cheek. "And I couldn't stop them. . . I couldn't stop you. . .
"There wasn't anything you could have done, Walter. It was the only way
to save you. They would have hurt me if I'd tried to fight them."
"He had a knife at your throat." He ran his thumb over the scar on her jaw.
"They could have hurt you after. . . I failed you so miserably. I was supposed
to keep you safe and I didn't."
"Dammit, Walter, you were dying! Dying!" Paige's outburst shocked him.
"Yes, and that was my fault, too," he retorted. "I left you vulnerable.
Those men would never have tried to. . .tried to. . .r-r-ape you if I'd had
been able to protect you."
"Is that why you're so angry? Because you couldn't defend me against those
men?" Narrowing her eyes, she continued, "Are you angry with yourself? Or
are you angry with me because I was going to let them. . ."
"Yes." Walter took a deep breath as her words hit home. "I didn't want them
touching you. Why would you let them. . .?" Tears spilled down his cheeks
but he didn't care.
"Walter, it didn't matter what they did to me," she said. "As long as I
could keep you alive, there was hope. And I needed that hope to keep myself
alive."
He stared at her, saw the truth of her words in her eyes, wondered what
he had done to deserve her. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you, too."
They reached for each other again, their mouths meeting in a fevered kiss.