AMBUSHED by REBECCA YORK

 
    She looked like she was on her way to an
execution , Jordan Stone thought as he glanced at the
pretty blond woman beside him in the back of the Town Car. She sat
rigidly in her seat, her blue eyes staring straight ahead and her
elegant hands clasping each other in a death grip.
    He longed to slip a comforting arm around
her shoulder and pull her close, but he remained still beside her.
As the lead agent on the Decorah Security protection detail, he was
her bodyguard, nothing more and nothing less. That could be their
only relationship.
    Elizabeth Bannerman was the key witness
against Kishwar Samara, the man who had plotted to blow up the
National Archives, and Jordan’s mission was to keep her alive long
enough to testify.
    Emma Richards, Decorah’s top female agent,
was also taking a major part of the guard duty. Jordan knew the two
women had become friends.
    That wasn’t possible for him and Elizabeth.
Not with the sexual awareness crackling between them.
    He told himself that it came from the
nerve-wracking confinement and forced proximity. In some hidden
corner of his mind, he knew that was simply a convenient
justification.
    He should have asked for another assignment.
And never see her again? That thought made his chest tighten
painfully.
    Beside him, Elizabeth stirred. All the way
into D.C. from the safe house in Gaithersburg, he’d known she’d
been working up the resolve to say something.
    Now she turned toward him. “Jordan, we have
to talk.”
    “About the case?”
    “No.”
    “Then there’s nothing to talk about.”
    “We both know that’s not true.” She laid her
hand over his, making his muscles jump.
    “I’m trying to keep you safe,” he answered,
his voice low and gravelly.
    “By keeping me at arm’s length?”
    “Yes.”
    “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
    “They have to be.”
    There was a way to settle the matter. All he
had to do was tell her why he was working for Decorah Security
instead of the CIA.
    But not now. Ahead of them was the white
stone government building where Elizabeth was meeting the federal
prosecutor. Not in his office, but at a smaller facility the press
didn’t know about. As an additional precaution, they were coming in
on Saturday morning when the building would be almost empty.
    A set of retractable barriers halted the big
car at the entrance to the underground garage, and a uniformed
guard approached the driver. “Identification, please.”
    Jordan had heard the request every time
they’d arrived here, yet today something was different. Was it the
hint of nerves in the man’s voice? Or Jordan’s super senses warning
him of trouble?
    Those senses were one of the reasons Frank
Decorah had hired him. The head of the agency was always on the
lookout for operatives with special talents beyond their quick
reflexes and rigorous training. In Jordan’s case, it was something
he couldn’t explain but had learned to rely on when he felt it. The
ability to sense trouble before it struck. Unfortunately, it
usually gave him only a few moments notice.
    Today it was only seconds.
    Several things happened almost
simultaneously.
    The car phone buzzed. As the driver reached
to answer it, an automatic pistol with a silencer on the barrel
rammed through the open front window of the vehicle.
    As Jordan heard the spitting sound of the
gun, he pushed Elizabeth down and pulled out his own weapon.
    The driver slumped in a spray of blood.
Jordan fired at the guard, striking him in the center of the chest,
then lunged across the car and opened the opposite door, pushing
Elizabeth out ahead of him.
    She made a muffled sound as she landed on
the hard cement just inside the garage. He followed her out,
scooping her up.
    “Come on.”
    He already had his secure cell phone in his
hand and pressed the automatic dial for Decorah Security.
    “Ambush,” was the only word he got out
before a massive explosion threw him and Elizabeth to the ground
and the phone went flying out of