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Her eyes snapped open, and I pressed a finger to my lips while shoving her clothes into her hands with the other. "I don't think they're after us... something else has their attention... but..."
As she struggled with her tank top and skirt, her voice trembled, "I hear Mike and Greg. Are they talking to the police?"
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed impatiently in my pocket. "Quick, shake the sand off. It's Greg calling."
Greg's words were terse and urgent. "Hey, Mitch, you close?"
"Yeah, we're headed for the lot. Amy and I were on the beach... What's happening?"
"Mike and I tailed you two from the restaurant, and we picked up a shadow."
"Damn it, not again! We're on our way!"
I helped Amy to her feet, shaking out her sarong as she twisted her hair into a hasty bun. "Someone's been tailing us. The guys must've called the cops. They're waiting for us by the beach parking lot." I gestured toward the blaring sirens and the cold glow of police lights.
We hastened up the dunes, my eyes flicking over my shoulder, searching the night for any hint of our pursuer. Amy's hand quivered in mine, her fear washing over me like icy waves.
"I thought we were safe with Mike and Greg watching our backs," she whispered, voice quavering.
"We still are. They're the best in the game," I reassured her, my voice a solid anchor in the storm. "We just need to get to them and find out what's going on."
As we closed in, the frenetic red and blue lights seemed to crescendo, casting an eerie sheen across the sand. "Stick close," I warned Amy as we neared the chaotic scene.
Out of nowhere, a shadow flitted between the parked cars, a desperate attempt at concealment. "Shit, there he is!" I barked, yanking Amy to my side protectively.
"Who is it?" she whimpered, fear making her voice tremble.
"I don't know, but you've been attacked before. We can't take any chances."
My heart hammered a staccato rhythm against my ribcage as we sprinted toward Mike and Greg, who huddled together beside a police cruiser. "What's the story?" I barked; my voice rough-edged as I strived to cloak my trepidation.
"Seems we picked up a shadow after you guys left the restaurant," Mike reported, his gaze sweeping the vicinity. "At first, we figured it was just some nosy reporter. But then he started getting pushy, closing in on you two. So we rang up the cops and tailed him here."
"Did you get a good look at him?" I inquired, praying we could pinpoint our assailant.
"Not yet. He's been skulking in the shadows," Greg muttered, his hand hovering near the pistol on his hip.
We braced ourselves for confrontation, adrenaline coursing through our veins, as the police closed in on our pursuer. After several agonizing moments, they emerged, escorting a handcuffed man toward one of the waiting patrol cars.
"Do you recognize him, Amy?" I asked, my tone gentle as I addressed her.
She shook her head, her eyes brimming with terror. "No... but I think the guy that kidnapped me was older... I'd have to hear him speak," she stammered, her voice quivering.
I drew her close, relief washing over me as the immediate danger dissipated, yet the residual tension of the situation clung to us. Mike and Greg exchanged glances before addressing us. "We doubt they'll let you near the perp now. We'll get our report together and send it to Agent Carter!" Mike offered.
I shook my head. "Don't bother. Call Kenneth Downing, the FBI agent from the Denver Field Office. You should already have his contacts."
The men nodded, and Mike stepped forward. "We'll handle it. You two wait here with Greg while I jog back to Amy's apartment to fetch my car."
I encircled Amy's waist with my arm and guided her to a nearby park bench. "What did he want? Why!?" she whispered, her voice barely audible as she leaned into me.
"I don't know," I gritted out, my voice taut with anger and frustration. "But we'll get to the bottom of it."
We watched the police cruisers recede into the distance and sat in silence until Mike returned with his car. After helping us into the vehicle, he steered away from the curb and drove toward the apartment. As we traveled, I cradled Amy in my arms and she began to whimper.
"It's ok," I murmured, my voice tender. "We're safe now. Besides, we have more pressing matters to consider."
Amy's tears ceased as if a sorcerer had waved a wand over her, and she smiled. "We have to prepare for tomorrow's interview."
