Executive Power Part 23

FORTY-FIVE.

It 'was Sunday night, it was late and Mitch Rapp sat awkwardly behind the wheel of his sedan, his body contorted in such a way as to keep his right b.u.t.t cheek from touching the seat. Medically speaking, the a.s.s was not a bad spot to be shot; no vital organs, just a lot of muscle and fat. In terms of general comfort, though, it sucked.

To the amus.e.m.e.nt of Coleman and his men, Rapp had flown all the way back from the Philippines either standing or lying on his stomach.

With the mission a complete success, and Rapp's long-term health not an issue, the men were able to make light of his situation. For the most part Rapp took the ribbing well. The humor was at least a welcome distraction from having to dwell on what awaited him when he got home.

Relations.h.i.+ps, he was finding, were tricky things. He'd already learned that often his recollection of what had been said, or promised, varied greatly from his wife's. He'd been searching his memory for the last day trying to remember if he had ever specifically promised to stay out of situations where he might be shot. Most of these conversations were vague by nature of the secrecy that went along with his job, but he seemed to remember some rea.s.surances he'd made that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Something told him that she would cla.s.sify getting shot in the a.s.s as downright moronic.

Ultimately, however, he realized that this legalistic approach, while an inventive defense, was worthless. Nothing specifically had ever been agreed upon or said, but there were clearly expectations in place. Anna was not a judge or jurist, so any case pleaded on the grounds of technicalities would be unwise. She was his wife and no amount of truth or logic would save him from her wrath.

This briefly led him to the conclusion that he would need to stall and fabricate a story. The Anderson family was currently recuperating at the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor. Rapp had told Kennedy that he wanted to stay with the family for a few days and handle their debriefing.

He was hoping to stretch the debriefing into a full week of recuperation for his own tender wound. In addition to that, he felt it would be fairly easy to fake a surfing accident on a coral reef. All he'd need to do was shred a pair of swim trunks and sc.r.a.pe himself up with some coral. It would hurt like h.e.l.l, but it would pale in comparison to what his wife would do to him if she found out he'd been shot.

Kennedy had dismissed his request immediately, saying that something had happened in Israel, and she needed him back in Was.h.i.+ngton immediately. A plane would be waiting for him in Pearl Harbor and he wasn't to waste a minute. Ever since that conversation he'd been struggling to find a way out of an impossible situation. Somewhere over the western United States he'd come to the awful conclusion that he would have to face the wrath of his wife head-on.

This was all new to him, this feeling of dread. Relations.h.i.+ps for Rapp had always been fairly uncomplicated. Since the death of his college sweetheart, he had never allowed anyone to get that close to him.

Part of it was his job. Intimacy involved honesty, and his job precluded allowing any woman to really know him.

There had been a torrid affair with Donatella Rahn, an Israeli spy, that had lasted on and off for several years. In certain ways Donatella knew him better than anyone. It was a volatile relations.h.i.+p p.r.o.ne to great highs and depressing lows, and in a certain sense they were too much alike to ever marry, although she sure would have liked to have tried.

There had been plenty of other relations.h.i.+ps, but never one so serious as to make him want to change. Anna had altered all that. Before her, if someone asked too many questions, or demanded too much of him, he found the nearest exit and never looked back. Relations.h.i.+ps had always been easy, because they were always on his terms, and as soon as those terms were challenged or questioned it was over.

Now, everything was different. There was no walking away, no my place and your place, it was now their place. He had married Anna because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She made him want to be a better man, and deep down inside he knew it was for all the right reasons.

But right now, driving down this dark, rural Maryland road he dreaded seeing her reaction. In a way he hoped she would lash out at him and get it over with. The alternative was too painful to think of.

Anna was a fiercely stubborn woman. The worst thing she could do to him was withdraw her love and affection.

Rapp turned into their driveway and swallowed hard. He'd called her earlier in the day when they'd landed in California to refuel, and told her he'd be in around midnight. It was now closer to one o'clock and he hoped she would be asleep. The front porch light was on but that was about it.

Rapp parked on the new pad next to the single-car garage so Anna could get her car out in the morning if she left first. Carefully, Rapp rolled out of the car seat and stood still for a moment. Every time he placed weight on his right foot it felt like someone was sticking a knife into the wound. The doctor onboard the Belleau Wood gave him a pair of crutches that he'd left at the airport. This whole shot in the a.s.s thing was going to be handled on a need-to-know basis, and Anna was the only one who needed to know. As far as everyone else was concerned he'd pulled his hamstring.

After grabbing his bag from the trunk he limped over to the front door like an invalid. When he inserted his key, the dog began barking.

Rapp opened the door and quietly greeted his mutt.

"Hi, s.h.i.+rley." Rapp patted her head and then keyed in the code to turn off the alarm.

Somewhere in the house he thought he heard music playing. Anna had left the small light over the kitchen stove on, but other than that the first floor was dark. In the faint light cast from the porch Rapp saw a piece of paper sitting on the stairs. He picked up the linen card and opened it. It was addressed, My Dear Husband, I've missed you terribly.

Hurry upstairs!

Looking at the note, Rapp let out a long sigh and then started gingerly up the stairs, his left foot taking each upward step carefully followed by his right. By the time he reached the top step he could tell the music was coming from the bedroom. He approached the open doorway with trepidation, torn between a deep yearning to hold her in his arms and the fear of how she would react when she discovered his wound.

The room was lit with candles and there she was, lying in the middle of the bed in a black silk nightgown propped up against an array of plush pillows with one leg languidly crossed over the other. She gave him a devilish smile and held out her hand.

Rapp's brain was racing in opposite directions. Part of him wanted to tear off his clothes and jump into bed with her, and another part of him was saying that he needed to explain a few things before he got naked. For the short term, the path of least resistance and most enjoyment won out. Rapp moved across the room smiling at his gorgeous wife.

Stopping at the side of the bed he reached out and held her hand, and for a moment all of his worries melted when he looked into her sparkling emerald eyes. She tugged, pulling him closer. Rapp bent at the waist only a few inches and was instantly shocked back to reality.

The fresh wound stopped him in his tracks, sending signals screaming to his brain not to bend farther.

Rapp recovered by pulling Anna toward him. She got up on her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I missed you, honey."

"I see that," replied Rapp as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips.

"Did you miss me?"

"You know I did." Rapp smiled.

"More than you can imagine."

"Oh, I think I can imagine." She wrapped her arms around his back and squeezed tight.

Rapp held her head against his chest and laughed like a little boy.

"Did you have a good week?"

"No." Anna reached up and slid his jacket over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"How could I have had a good week without you?" Next she grabbed the leather holster of his Beretta and slid it over his shoulders. The daughter of a Chicago police officer, she knew enough not to let the weapon drop to the floor. Carefully, she lowered it and set it on the jacket.

Rapp admired her slim figure under the thin black silk and let his hands begin to explore. Anna tugged at his s.h.i.+rt and began unb.u.t.toning it while she tilted her head back and offered her lips to her husband.

Rapp kissed her, knowing he should stop her from undressing him and explain what had happened, but he couldn't. He didn't want it to stop.

Anna tore off his s.h.i.+rt and broke away from the kiss. Pus.h.i.+ng herself back she ran her hands over his bare chest and down around his sides. She took in his lean strong body and let out a l.u.s.tful moan. Before Rapp could react, her hands slid from his sides down and around to his b.u.t.t. Anna looked into his eyes with a playful hunger and squeezed with a force that matched her pa.s.sion.

There was a split second in Rapp's mind where time stood still.

Everything froze and his mouth and eyes opened in antic.i.p.ation of what was about to happen. And then the pain emanating from Anna's grip shot through his body like a lightning bolt. His entire body went rigid and he reached for his wife's hands. Prying them loose, he stepped back and closed his mouth and eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him.

"What's wrong?" asked a startled and concerned Anna.

Rapp held on to her hands and waited for the pain to subside. In a weak attempt to lighten the situation, his painful expression lessened into a grimace but not quite a smile.

"Um" His brain searched for the right words but they weren't coming.

"What's wrong? What did I do?" Anna stepped off the bed, holding her hands out gently.

"You didn't do anything," Rapp managed to say.

"It's just something that happened to me."

"You're hurt?" Anna looked confused.

"Why didn't you say something to me what's wrong?"

The questions kept coming, as she moved closer and he backed away, in a weak attempt to buy some time.

"Honey, it's not a big deal I just suffered a little injury while I was in the Philippines."

"What kind of injury let me see it."

Rapp held on to her hands.

"No you don't need to see it. It's no big deal."

Anna detected the look of guilt on his face and seized upon it.

"What do you mean I don't need to see it? I'm your wife."

"Honey," Rapp said in a lame attempt to calm her, "it's really no big deal."

Anna released him and took a step back, placing her hands on her hips. with a menacing look she stared him right in his face and said, "You are trying to hide something from me, Mitch.e.l.l Rapp, and you'd better come clean right now, or we are going to have serious trouble."

Rapp let out a nervous sigh. He was boxed in with nowhere to go.

Defeated and embarra.s.sed he said, "I was shot during a hostage rescue and-" "Shot!" screamed Anna.

"Oh my G.o.d, where? Are you all right?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine."

Concerned and puzzled, Anna asked, "So where were you shot?"

"Um" Rapp hesitated and then in a slightly embarra.s.sed tone said, "In the a.s.s, but don't worry, I'll be fine it just hurts a lot."

Confusion spread across her face.

"How did you get shot?"

"I can't talk about that," Rapp replied with as much confidence as he could muster.

"It's cla.s.sified."

Anna placed her hands on her hips and looked angrily at her husband.

"Cla.s.sified my a.s.s! You're my d.a.m.n husband for a week, you come home one night and tell me you have to leave town on an urgent matter and that, oh by the way, you won't be doing any more of that James Bond stuff that you used to do." She stabbed a finger at his chest, backing him into the corner.

"You lied to me, Mitch.e.l.l."

"No"-Rapp kept his hands out in front of him-"that's not true, honey."

"Don't bulls.h.i.+t me, Mitch.e.l.l! And then to add insult to injury I run into your boss at the White House on Friday night and she tells me you're over in the Philippines supervising the rescue of that family of Americans. Irene told me you were on some s.h.i.+p and out of harm's way." Folding her arms tightly across her chest she added, "I can't believe I was dumb enough to trust her."

Rapp was completely caught off guard that his boss had confided in his wife. Shocked, he asked, "Irene told you about the mission?"

"Yes." Anna got right in his face.

"And don't try to change the subject, or hide behind all that national security c.r.a.p. If you want this marriage to survive you'd better come clean with me right now. How in the h.e.l.l did you get shot?"

There was no more room to maneuver.

"I was shot during the hostage rescue."

"So you weren't on the s.h.i.+p, you were right there in the thick of it?"

After hesitating for a second he said, "Yes."

Anna began shaking her head. Through clenched teeth she snarled, "That b.i.t.c.h. She lied to me." Looking her husband in the eye, she said, "Your boss sat there and lied to me at the White House. She ordered you to lead this hostage rescue, and then had the audacity to tell me you were safe." She clenched her fists and let out an angry scream.

"You're done working for her, and when I see her boy, am I going to let her have it."

Rapp held up his hands in an effort to calm his wife. Caring too much for Irene to let her take the heat for something she didn't do wasn't his style, and in addition, something told him that when the two most important women in his life got together and compared notes they would discover that it was not Irene's fault.

"Anna, don't blame this on Irene."

"Why shouldn't I?" she snapped.

"Because as far as she knew I was not directly involved in the operation."

Anna took a moment to try to decipher the importance of what her husband had just said.

"What do you mean? She's your boss!"

"Well she just um she's busy. She doesn't have time to micromanage something that's happening thousands of miles away."

Rapp watched nervously as his wife's face twisted into a skeptical frown. Trying to stop her from scrutinizing his words too closely he said, "Hey, the important thing is I'm home, and I'm safe." Smiling, he added, "I've got a little sc.r.a.pe that you won't even notice in a week or two."

"What are you talking about?" shouted an incredulous Anna.

"You were shot in the a.s.s!" She reached out to take a swat at his b.u.t.t, but he blocked her.

"Honey, let's calm down."

"Don't honey me! And don't tell me to calm down! A couple of inches in the other direction and you could have been hit in an artery, or maybe even your d.i.c.k you stupid macho jerk."

"But I wasn't. I'm fine don't worry about it it won't happen again."

"Yeah, right," snarled Anna without an ounce of sincerity.

"So tell me something, Mr. Big Shot Mr. Tip of the Spear." Anna used her fingers to make mocking quotation marks in reference to several articles that had been written about his role in America's battle against terrorism.