Key To Her Heart Ch. 23

Date: 08.01.2008

Keywords: Her, Ch., 23, Key, Heart, To,

Pages:
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"We've got them!" Brandon dropped the phone onto his desk, grabbing his jacket off his chair. He ran out of his office, calling out orders as he went until he had a line of agents racing out to their cars behind him.

Slamming the bubble down on his dash, he hit lights and sirens, his car burning rubber as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

The call had caught him by surprise. He hadn't expected Antonelli to be so brazen as to use his own name when renting a jet, but he had. They were due to leave from San Antonio International Airport in the next half an hour. They had to move.

Soon he had a procession of police vehicles behind him, lights and sirens going. Would they be in time?

* * *

The plane picked up speed, hurtling toward the end of the runway to where three cop cars sat waiting, doors open, officers behind their metal shields, pistols pointed at the plane. They were under orders to stop this plane no matter what and they would follow those orders.

Inside, the captain turned and looked at his co-pilot, his hand steady on the throttle. "We're not going to make it," he said slowly.

Sebastian, sitting in the cabin, stared in fascination as the line of cars grew closer. The whine of the jets engines was amazingly loud and he reached over, patting Amanda's hand as she grabbed his arm.

"Sebastian?"

"It's all right, my love. Don't worry."

"But..." she stopped when he shook his head, pressing his fingers to her lush lips.

"Everything will be fine, don't you trust me, Amanda?"

Her eyes lifted, searching his with an intensity that was almost poignant. Finally, she smiled, sitting back in her seat, relaxed once more. "Of course I do, darling. How could it be any other way?"

* * *

Brandon spun the wheel of his car hard, stopping it in the middle of the runway. He'd be damned if Sebastian would get away from him, not this time. He'd caused too much heartache for the Hunters. He could still remember the look in Shanna's eyes when she found out he'd broken out of prison, the terror and the hatred there. He never wanted to see it again.

Sebastian Antonelli had to be put away, for good this time and somewhere that not even the most elaborate of plans would break him free of. He slid out of the car after slamming it into park, crouching behind his door, drawing his pistol and taking aim at the plane. He'd shoot the damn thing down if he had to.

It barreled towards them, engines whining loudly. Brandon turned off the safety on his nine, ratcheting back the slide and took careful aim. He would try for the tires first, but if that didn't work, he'd do what he had to do.

Around him, other cops were preparing to do the same. They knew what could happen if this man were allowed to go free. It had to end here.

Suddenly a stream of black smoke came from the tires, the squeal of brakes and the shift of the engine as the throttle was pushed back, throwing the jet into reverse. The entire plane shuddered, slowing... more and then more...

And then became a huge fireball. Brandon covered his eyes, ducking down as the sound of the explosion threatened to burst his eardrums. Police, FBI, NSA agents dove for cover as pieces of the plane blew into the sky, raining down around them in fiery shrapnel. Huge pieces of fuselage battered the runway, one hitting one of the police vehicles, smashing the front end.

Fire sirens blared, though Brandon couldn't hear them through the ringing in his ears. Blood streaked down his forehead where a piece of the plane had clipped him and he unconsciously wiped it away, staring in horror at the wreckage around him.

"He blew himself up," he whispered, shock making it hard to think. "He fucking blew his damn plane up."

Fire and rescue personnel streamed toward the wreckage even as Brandon tried to draw near. The heat of the flames was terrible, every time he tried to get close, the searing heat would push him back, leaving his skin reddened like a bad sunburn.

"Agent Austen?"

Brandon didn't answer until his arm was taken, pulling him back and away from the scene. "Yes, what is it?"

"Are you all right sir? Let me take you to the EMTs, let them check out your head wound sir."

"No," Brandon argued but followed along behind the man who refused to release him. "I'm fine. He blew himself up."

"Yes sir, he did do that sir. Sit here."

Brandon sat on the back bumper of the ambulance, barely flinching as a tech took a wad of batting and pushed it against his head. His eyes were fixed on the fire. There was no way anyone would walk away from that. They wouldn't even be carried out alive. Sebastian Antonelli was dead.

"I want DNA," he said suddenly. "I have to know for sure that he's dead."

"Who's dead?" the tech asked.

"Nobody. You almost finished, I have a job to do." And people to phone, but he wouldn't tell the tech that.

"You should be taken into the hospital, that's a pretty big knock you took."

"No thanks, just bandage it up, give me a couple aspirin and I'll get out of your way."

The tech sighed, finishing the bandage and then handed him a pack of Tylenol. "Sign this," he said, holding out a waiver of treatment form. Brandon's scrawl was barely legible. Then he was back in the midst of the chaos, shouting orders to his men.

* * *

"He's dead?" Aaron said softly, his eyes rising to meet Angel's. "You're sure?"

"No one could survive that, Hunt. We found five bodies, the two pilots, the stewardess and two passengers. They were too badly burnt for visual confirmation but we have Sebastian's DNA on record and I'm sending samples of all five bodies to the FBI crime lab in Quantico." He pressed his hand against the ache in his head. "Amanda was in there too," he added softly.

"I'll tell Brett."

"Yeah, I think it would be better coming from you. Listen, I'm going to be tied up here for a while longer. Let Shanna know, would you?"

"I will, be careful buddy. Your big day is coming pretty quick; we wouldn't want you to have a reason to weasel out."

"Like I would. You just hate it cause then you'll have to call me brother," Brandon joked before closing his phone on Hunt's laugh and going back to work."

* * *

Rylie woke slowly, her head turning on the pillow. Her beautiful blue eyes opened and there he was. Dillon, the man she loved beyond all rational thought. He was sleeping soundly, his lips slightly parted, the dark shadows under his eyes attesting to how much he needed the rest he was getting.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to run her hands through his mussed hair, to kiss his whiskered cheek. She desperately wanted to tell him the words he wanted to hear. Who would have thought he'd have gone through all of this just to get her to listen to him.

He moved, and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep, unwilling or unable to stop her attitude of independence. She heard him move, felt his body slip closer to hers, rising up over hers, his hands sifting through her own mussed curls, combing them out against the pillow she lay on.

"It won't work, you know," he said softly, his breath warm against her ear. "I know you're playing possum."

"If you let me out of here, I wouldn't have to," she groused, opening her eyes and losing herself in the amber heat of his gaze. Her heart beat hard in her chest and she knew he had to feel it, pressed as closely to her as he was.

"Admit you love me, that we can't live without each other and I'll be more than happy to release you." He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. "And make sure you get a shower," he added, hearing her squeal of outrage at his words.

"You prick," she growled, struggling under him.

He rode out her struggles, hearing her snarls with a smile. This was his Rylie, not the woman who laid in that hospital bed and spoke of things being "for the best". "I can be," he admitted genially enough. "But it's one of the many things you love about me."

"I don't love you, I couldn't be sick enough to love a psycho who would tie me up and feed me peanut butter and jelly." She turned her head away only to snap it back around as she felt his fingers slide under her bra, playing with her nipple which grew hard against his calluses. "Stop that!"

But even as she spoke, her body betrayed her, arching against his twisting fingers, pressing her breast into his hand and making him chuckle. "I've actually had a lot of compliments on my P,B and J's sweetheart." He pulled down on the soft material, exposing her nipple to the cool morning air. Then his lips feathered across it, nibbling upon the hard tip before suckling it into his mouth.

Heat exploded through her, convulsing inside of her womb, creating sensations she didn't want to feel but were unable to deny. She moaned, her head falling back on the pillow, her wrists twisting in their rope prisons, wanting desperately to reach down and run her fingers through his hair and to hold him to her. "S...stop," she ordered, though her voice came out as more of a plea.

"Why?" he mumbled around the tasty tip he suckled upon. "We both enjoy this; at least I know that I do."

"Because...because it's wrong. We can't be together."

Dillon lifted his head slowly, blowing a stream of air across her wet nipple. "We can be together, Rylie. We both want to be together. You just have this ill conceived idea that the only reason I ever wanted to be with you was for the baby."

Her eyes closed against the fresh onslaught of pain. "Don't talk about the baby."

"Why not? How are we supposed to heal if we can't talk about it? How can we move on if we never let ourselves heal? Baby, I love you. I have since you walked into Brandon's apartment that day so long ago, cocky and tough as nails. You gave me one look and I couldn't see anybody else. Can't you believe me?"

She opened her eyes, misty now with tears of pain and regret that she didn't want to let fall. "You were an asshole," she said softly, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, and you put me in my place. You've always put me in my place, baby.

Pages:
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Keywords: Her, Ch., 23, Key, Heart, To,


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