Wyatt exited through the side door, searching the crowd of faces for Fiona, the darkness and people standing around hampering his efforts.

His radio chirped and he held it to his mouth. “Find her?” he barked.

“No. She’s not out the front of the building, nor is she answering her radio. I’m headed around the side.”

“Fuck. I’m here on the side of the building. She’s not here either.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, headed their way.

Wyatt pushed his way back to the door. “I’m going back in.”

“The staff is blocking the exits, waiting for the fire department to arrive. They’re only allowing people out. No one is going in.”

“Bullshit.” When Wyatt reached the exit door he’d come out of, he tried the handle. It was locked.

Damn. He was turning toward the front of the building when the door opened and the man he recognized as the Brazilian delegate pushed through with a beautiful woman clinging to his arm, her makeup smeared from tears. She spoke in rapid Portuguese and a fresh round of tears erupted.

Wyatt dove for the door before it swung shut and reentered the hotel.

“Sir, no one is allowed back inside.”

“It’s okay, I’m head of the security staff,” Wyatt said.

“We were under strict instructions to get everyone out. The bomb squad is on its way. You can’t go inside.”

The man blocked Wyatt’s path.

His heartbeat hammering in his chest, every combat instinct sprang to life. Wyatt’s eyes narrowed and he had to remind himself the staff member was not his enemy. “Move out of my way, or I’ll move you out of my way. And trust me, you won’t like the way I move you.”

Something in the steely tone of his voice got through to the man because he stepped to the side. “You’re on your own, buddy. I’m not taking responsibility for your life if this building explodes.” The man pushed past him and exited through the door he’d been guarding.

Wyatt raced for the ballroom.

The room was empty, the picked-over tables of food standing as a reminder of the festivities that only a few minutes before had been underway. No one had stayed.

If she wasn’t out front or at the side entrance, where could Fiona have gone?

Surely she hadn’t tried to go up to their rooms or to one of the floors to help someone else get out of the hotel?

Someone had turned off the elevators. Wyatt headed for the stairwell and ran up the flights of stairs stopping at every floor to check the hallways. “Fiona!” he yelled. No one stirred on the first or second floors. When he reached the third floor, he hurried down the hallway to the room he’d shared with Fiona and swiped his key through the card reader.

She wasn’t in the bedroom or bathroom touching up her makeup. Nor was she in the hallway or at either entrance to the entire building. How had he missed her?

His pulse pounding, Wyatt ran back down to the lobby level and stood for a moment in the empty space. Even the hotel staff had left. The faint sound of emergency vehicles heralded the arrival of the fire department and police.

So far he didn’t smell any smoke and nothing had exploded. He didn’t like that the hotel guests had all been herded out into the open where any fool could take a shot at them. Including Preston. Hopefully, with police and firemen surrounding the area, nothing would happen to the guests. He prayed they all got out safely, Fiona with them. He’d only known her for a little more than twenty-four hours. From pulling her out of the river to making love to her twice to waltzing with her in his mess dress uniform, he’d packed a lot of getting to know her into the short time they’d been together. Damned if he didn’t like her drive, determination and gumption. Yeah, he liked her a lot. Too much to walk away, which would be the smartest thing to do for both him and her.

Maybe he’d consider leaving her, once he found her and was certain she was safely outside the building.

Where could she be? Wyatt closed his eyes for a moment and used a technique he’d used to find Al-Qaeda militants, by thinking like they’d think.

What would Fiona do? How would she think? As organized as she was, she’d have counted heads of her guests to ensure all had made it out safely. Then she would have checked for all her security personnel. The woman was almost obsessive about tying up all the loose strings. She wouldn’t rest until she had all her little chicks accounted for. In that case, she might be looking for him while he was looking for her.

He’d told her all the places he’d go to inspect. Logic dictated she’d look for him in those places, most of which he’d already covered since coming up from the garage. Could she have gone down while he’d been racing up? Damn. She’d be heading straight into the blast zone.

His eyes popped open and he ran for the closest staircase leading into the parking garage. When he reached first level, he shoved open the door and burst into the coolness.

A scream ripped through the air. Wyatt swung toward the sound, his gun drawn. That’s when he saw her.

Preston had Fiona, his arm around her neck, dragging her backward toward a van. “Stay back, Magnus, or I’ll hurt her.”

“Let her go, Preston. She’s not the problem.”

“Maybe not, but she’s my ticket out of here.”

“Put down the gun, Preston,” Fiona urged, her voice tight, constrained by the arm choking off the air to her vocal chords.

“No way. If I put it down, your boyfriend will shoot me.”

Fiona’s gaze met Wyatt’s. “Put your gun down, Wyatt,” she said. “Please.”

Wyatt hesitated. Preston had already shot at him. The man was on the edge and could easily blow a gasket. “I’m going to put my weapon down, Preston. Don’t shoot me and, be smart and don’t hurt the lady. She’s done nothing to hurt you or your buddies who died in the war.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, but I will if you do anything stupid.” Preston nodded. “Drop it and kick it toward me.”

Wyatt eased his arm down ever so slightly. Already Preston’s gun dipped and his arm seemed to loosen.

Fiona jabbed her elbow into Preston’s gut, slammed her high heel into his instep and ducked.

Wyatt yanked his weapon up and fired off a round at the same time as Preston.

Preston’s shot went wide, hitting the concrete wall behind Wyatt.

Wyatt’s shot flew true, crashing into Preston’s chest, knocking him backward onto his ass. Because Fiona had been leaning against him, when he fell, she fell with him. She landed hard, rolled to the side, snatched up Preston’s gun and turned before Wyatt could reach her.

She didn’t need it. Preston was dead, but he was very much a threat to them and everyone else in the building. The remote detonator device was still clutched in his hand, though the man lay with his eyes open, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Wyatt eased the device from the man’s hand and laid it on the ground, gently, afraid if he left it in Preston’s hand, he might have a dying man’s muscle spasm and set off the explosives Wyatt hadn’t found.

When he rose, Fiona flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Thank God he didn’t hurt you.”

“Me?” Wyatt chuckled, loving the feel of her warm body against his and holding her like there would be no tomorrow. For the two of them, it had nearly been the truth.

In those few short minutes when Preston had held Fiona, threatening to kill her, all the doubts Wyatt had about a real relationship with a woman blew out of his mind and his thoughts had become crystal clear. He wanted the chance to get to know Fiona. Not just her incredible body, but the brave, slightly high-strung, incredibly smart and sassy woman who might not have lived to see the next day of her life had Preston succeeded in his plan to blow a hole in downtown San Antonio.

“I was so afraid for you,” he whispered against her hair, holding her so close he could feel her breath against his neck.