For once, Wyatt was really happy to be in San Antonio instead of back in Somalia. And he realized much of his relief was due to his focus on Fiona. He was also glad that the danger here seemed limited to cat fights between delegates, versus hard to find and uproot Somali militants and Al-Qaeda terrorists.

Ducking back through the front door, he headed for the elevator, stepped in and punched the down button for the parking garage, the last place he planned to check anyway. Perhaps Preston was making his rounds and had ended up there.

When Wyatt stepped out of the elevator into the echoing, concrete walls of the parking garage, he was struck first by the lack of a guard on the elevator. His instincts perked and he loosened the button on his jacket to make it easier for him to reach for the gun nestled in the shoulder holster beneath.

There were two sub-levels to the parking garage. As he moved through the bays filled with vehicles, he didn’t spot even one guest. But something strange caught his attention on one of the concrete support pillars in a dark corner of the garage. A flashing red light blinked at him. As he neared it, he noted the creamy white clay-like substance, wrapped in black electrical tape, a mechanical box settled in the middle with wires poking out of it.

Wyatt’s gut clenched. He knew exactly what it was, having worked with it on many operations in Iraq, Afghanistan and Somalia.

C-4 explosives equipped to be remotely detonated.

Not knowing how many of the devices there could be in the building or when whoever had set them planned to detonate, he did the only thing he could think of, and yanked the wires out of the detonator, disabling the unit.

He got on his radio. “Joe, we have a problem.”

“Tell me,” Joe responded.

“C-4 in the parking garage, wired for remote detonation. I think Preston set them.”

“Fuck. I’ll start the evacuation up here. You better get out while you can.”

“Make it quiet. If Preston is still down here, he has a detonator. I don’t want him alerted that we’re on to him.” Wyatt’s jaw hardened. Why hadn’t Preston set off the explosions? The man had issues. Perhaps he could be talked out of destroying the hotel and the people in it. “I’m going to see if I can stop this.”

“Wyatt, this world doesn’t need another hero.”

“Just get them all out. And make sure Fiona is one of those evacuated, will ya?”

“Got it. Once the evacuation is underway, I’ll bring Bacchus down. He’s trained to sniff out C-4.”

“Deal.”

His heart pounding against his ribs, Wyatt raced through the garage, spotting two more of the lumps of clay-like charges, pulling the detonators from those as well. He couldn’t be sure he had them all and in the meantime, he had to get the people out of the building.

A car had just pulled into a parking space and the driver got out, spotting Wyatt coming toward him, he asked, “Is the hotel for the International Trade Convention social?”

Wyatt hurried up to the driver. When he was close enough to whisper, he told him, “Get out of the garage. Now.”

“But we just got here,” the man replied. “Is something wrong?”

Wyatt snorted. He didn’t have time to stop and explain. “There are bombs planted all over this garage. If you want to live, get your date and get the hell out, quietly. The man responsible might still be down here.”

The woman in the passenger seat cried out, jerked the door open and got to her feet.

The man grabbed the woman’s hand and hustled her back out the ramp to the exit, hurrying her along in her high heels.

After disarming the charges he could find, Wyatt circled around the ramp heading into the bottom level of the parking garage. At first it appeared empty.

When he stepped out into the open, a shot rang out, nicking his arm. Wyatt dove behind a vehicle as another bang echoed against the walls.

“You can’t stop this,” a voice called out, one Wyatt recognized as Preston.

“Preston, whatever your issues are, we can get you help.” Wyatt moved to the opposite end of the vehicle and eased around it.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wyatt dropped to his chest and peered beneath the chassis of the Cadillac he was using for cover. He spotted Preston’s legs moving toward the stairwell. “Try me, Preston. I’m listening.”

“It’s too late. I have to set these off before they evacuate.”

“No, you don’t. These people don’t have to die. There are always solutions. Give yourself a chance.”

“No. I’m done and all those people who’ve pretended to be our friends, the countries who say they’re on our side and then kill us every chance they get, tonight, they’ll know.”

“What will they know, Preston?” Wyatt worked his way around one car, then another.

“The world will know that they all lie. We try to help them and they kill us. They killed every one of the men in my unit. And we were fucking trying to help them.”

“Preston, I’ve been there,” Wyatt called out softly. “I’ve seen my friends die in a battle we seem destined to lose. If we don’t try, if we don’t keep fighting for right, they win.”

“That’s just it. They’ve already won. Our government is too stupid to figure it out, and they want to keep giving the enemy money, keep educating them and building their fucking buildings for them. It’s got to stop.”

“This isn’t the way to do it, Preston. Killing innocent people isn’t the way to stop them.”

“Maybe it’ll make our enemies think before coming to our country and pretending they’re on our side. I’m tired of diplomacy. It doesn’t work.”

While Preston had been talking, Wyatt worked his way around the ends of half a dozen cars. He could see Preston pushing more C-4 into place with the detonator already strapped to it.

Wyatt started to stand. A loud bang exploded close by and a bullet pinged off the car beside him.

“Get back, Magnus. I don’t have a beef with you. If you want to live, get out now.” He fired at him again and ran for the staircase.

Wyatt raced after him, but didn’t reach him before the door closed and a bullet fired into the lock disabled it. He couldn’t follow Preston using that route, so he ran to the elevator, and punched the up arrow, speaking into his handheld radio. “Joe.”

“Wyatt, where are you?”

The door opened and he stepped in. “Coming up from the garage. It is Preston. He’s got some bone to pick with foreign countries and has set C-4 charges in the parking garage. He got away from me and is headed up. I don’t know where. And he’s also armed and has already fired at me several times.”

“Damn. I should have known he was a loose cannon when Bacchus growled at him. Look, they’re taking all the delegates from the ballroom out into the side alley,” Joe informed him. “I’m at the front entrance, monitoring progress.”

“Do you have a visual on Fiona and Maddie?”

“I saw Maddie out front, but not Fiona.” Joe cut out for a moment. “Sorry, someone bumped into me. Place is crazy. But I’ll let you know when I see them.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t worry, Magnus, I’ll keep an eye out for your girl.”

“Gotta go. I’m on my way up to the lobby.” Wyatt burst through the door into the richly carpeted reception area on the lobby level. Women dressed in ball gowns and men in tuxedos or black suits hurried toward the exit. Some of the hotel guests wore bathrobes and bedroom slippers as if they’d just gone to bed when the evacuation had begun.

Hotel staff apologized for the inconvenience as they assured the guests they’d get to the bottom of the problem as soon as possible, while they ushered them out the door.

A child whimpered, a man called out to his wife and everyone was talking at once. But all in all it was more of a controlled chaos with the mass of people moving steadily outside.

They just weren’t moving fast enough. If Preston set off the charges…