Mr. And Miss Anonymous by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels [Michaels, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Man-Woman Relationships, Ovum Donors, Fertility Clinics, College Students, General, Romance, Suspense, Large Type Books, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780758212726
Google: mYGi2NKVd4IC
Amazon: 0758212720
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2009-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Pete and Winston saw the movement in the sycamore tree at the same moment. The boy! So he’d been right after all. He was going to lose him again if these dumb clucks didn’t get out of his way. Still, did he want to take on the FBI and the rent-a-cops, who were all holding guns pointed at the SUVs? He looked down at the driveway to see all their own firepower as well as all their cell phones in a tidy little pile.

“This is bullshit!” Pete said, opening the door and stepping out onto the concrete apron. He and the others would have been fools not to hear the click of seven guns. Even Winston knew enough to freeze in his tracks. Pete raised his hands high over his head. Winston, at his side, growled menacingly, the fur on the back of his neck standing straight up. Inside the SUV Pete could hear Zolly’s and Lily’s protests.

Even though his hands were high in the air, Pete’s eyes were on the sycamore tree and the branch that was weaving and bobbing. Without the interference he was facing, with his long legs he could have snagged the boy before he slid to the ground. Goddamn it!

“That’s far enough, mister,” Agent Warner said.

To Pete, his voice sounded shaky. His firing hand didn’t look exactly stable to him either. The rent-a-cops looked nervous.

“Look, we didn’t do anything. We stopped at the taped line when you told us to. We came here to see if we could find the boy. I think I know him. Now, either let us go or charge us with something. We have all the paperwork to carry those guns lying on the ground. What’s it going to be?”

“You’re staying right where you are until I get orders telling me otherwise. Now, get back in that vehicle and stay there.”

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong. We’re leaving, and we’re taking our property with us. You want to shoot me, then damn well shoot me. Before you can get that gun into firing position, this dog will have your throat ripped to shreds. I also want to remind you that I’m the CEO and founder of PAK Industries and have friends in some very high places, like 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, for example. I bet with one phone call I could have your ass booted out of the Bureau with no trouble. And those rent-acops—well, I understand Walmart is looking for help. And the bill for all these tires is going to be sent to the Bureau since you allowed a bogus agent to use an Uzi to flatten all our tires. Bogus agent, Mr. FBI Agent. How’s that going to look in your file? So back off, hotshot.”

Agent Warner longed for a deep, dark hole to swallow him up. During his nine years at the Bureau, this was his first confrontation. Damn that stupid Robbins. Everything this guy said made sense. Still, to back down in front of all these people was going to be one hell of a humiliating experience.

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