***
"Got him," Jake called through the earpiece. "Looks like...the 11th floor."
"Right," Cody agreed. "Let's go!"
--
Frank's body went rigid as he straightened up and turned slightly on the bed to see Wingard clearly. "What the hell, Wingard? The game is over," he ground out bitterly. "If my team's here, they're on to you. You'll never get away with this."
Wingard nodded, a smug look planted firmly on his face. "You're right. There's no way to get out of this," he agreed. "So, with nothing to lose, because my life, as I know it, is over. I might as well get rid of you once and for all."
"Care to let me in on your little grudge before you take me out?" Frank asked incredulously. "As far as I know, I've never done a damn thing to you, but you sure as hell think I have."
Wingard grinned sickly and he backed away a few inches, keeping the gun leveled at Donovan's head. "Does it matter? Hell...not really. Not any more. Sadly, it was all over one little thing. Programming your wife's mother to assassinate you, leaking information about you to Patriaka, all for what? To remind one single-minded woman just who owns the power in this country, that's what this is all about!"
"A woman?!" Frank spat, disbelievingly. "Oh please, tell me you're just insane. That's a bit easier to digest."
"You don't believe one woman can hold that kind of control over you?" Wingard laughed at the irony. "You, who were about to murder a United States Senator...for...what?" His mocking laughter filled the room. "You're an incredible hypocrite, Donovan."
"It's different...Shay's..."
"Sure it is, if you say so," Wingard spat sarcastically. "Because the almighty Frank Donovan has got it all together." With a nod of his head, he continued, "At least that's what she thought. Always thought. Every damn thing was about you. Even when you married your little blonde hussy, she never stopped wanting you."
Frank blinked in realization. The only person who fit that description was Daphne Charles. "And taking me out of the equation will make it all right for the two of you?"
"No, never," he answered smartly. "She'll settle for no one. Even denied who fathered her son, the stupid bitch."
"You're..." Frank made a move to get off the bed, but was immediately met with the gun in his face. "You're Richard's father?"
"You catch on quick. Yes, that night...the night you have no memory of...even then you rejected her."
Frank huffed in response. "This is...ludicrous."
"At best. But true...every sorry word." He stepped forward, closing the few inches between them. "She ran to me that night. Back then I was an up-and-comer. I had access to everything and she gave me herself in exchange for one thing...to stay married to you."
Frank wanted to respond, but what could he say to this insanity? As Wingard inched closer, Frank jerked his body back onto the bed. At the same time, he quickly raised his arm, striking out, hitting Wingard's wrist.
Taken off guard, Wingard lost his grip on the weapon and it tumbled to the floor a few feet away. Frank wasted no time, kicking upward, he struck Wingard in the side of the head, sending him reeling backward. Leaping off the bed, he lunged for Wingard. Balling up his fist, he prepared to strike, but Wingard recovered quickly.
Barreling forward, Wingard rammed his shoulder into Frank's midriff, knocking him to the floor. Frank released a painful groan when Wingard planted his knee firmly in the center of his chest, anchoring him to the floor. He tried to kick out of the hold, but Wingard had his legs pinned.
Just as Frank reached out and latched onto Wingard's throat with his left hand, Wingard's hand closed around his own throat. The harder his hand closed around Wingard, he felt the pressure around his throat gaining. He could already see little white pinpricks of light, and soon he would black out or choke to death.
Over the roaring in his ears, he heard Wingard grunting with the effort of reaching for the gun that lay a short distance away. In a last ditch effort to stop him, Frank shoved the palm of his right hand under Wingard's chin, pushing upward. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wingard's fingers curling around the grip of his gun.
Wingard eased his hold on Donovan's throat long enough to bat his hand away from his face. He reached for the gun again. As his hand gripped the butt, he pulled it toward Donovan and felt the tension around his throat lessen. Donovan was losing it and fast.
Frank's eyes followed the gun, but his attention was slightly diverted when his fingers encountered an object at his fingertips.
"Time to die, Donovan," Wingard snarled.
With a growl, Frank jerked his right arm upward, his fist covering Wingard's mouth. "Damn right it is, you fucking lunatic!" he croaked when Wingard's grip on his throat suddenly loosened. He watched with knowing eyes as Wingard's expression changed from victorious to one of horror. With the heel of his hand, Frank gave a sharp push to Wingard's chin.
As he heard the plastic crack and watched as Wingard clutched frantically at his own throat, Frank bucked his lower body, pushing Wingard off him. He scrambled to the other side of the room and watched Wingard's body convulse as the poison entered his system. As the quakes subsided, the former Director of the CIA lay dead; a sickly stream of foam trailed from his mouth and the faintest odor of burnt almonds assaulted Frank's nostrils.
--
Shay fidgeted nervously while she waited for Thomas to insert the passkey that he had obtained from the hotel's manager. How long could it take to unlock one damn door? "C'mon, Dad...hurry."
Thomas shook his head. "You've never been very patient when it comes to your husband," he commented, waiting for the electronic light on the lock to flash.
Shay pushed open the door slowly, taking in the images of the room as they were revealed to her. The first sight she beheld was a lifeless form at the far end of the room. She released a relieved sigh noting that the man's build was completely different from her husband's. As the door creaked open farther, she spotted Frank sitting on the floor, propped up against the bed. His head was lolled back against the mattress and his eyes were closed.
Even if he had not heard their voices outside the door, he would have instinctively known who was entering the room. A sixth sense alerted him to one person in particular and, although he was overjoyed by their presence, his eyes remained closed as he listened to their soft footfalls approach. He waited, unsure of the reaction he would receive from the people closest to him. He sensed her kneeling before him, straddling his outstretched legs, but still he was unable to bring himself to open his eyes.
Tender hands framed his face and he felt the soft caress of her thumbs brush lightly over his lips. With his eyes still closed, he covered her hands with his, gently easing hers away from his face. He felt the warm, familiar haven of her love begin to surround him as the tension and paranoia started to fade away.
"Tiger," her feather light whisper caressed his ears. He gave her hands a soft squeeze, but otherwise did not respond. If he opened his eyes, what would he see? How would she feel about him knowing what he had been about to do? Not to mention what he had done; the evidence of which was lying just a few feet away.
Shay frowned at his lack of response. She ached to hold him in her arms and yet he was acting as if he wanted nothing to do with her. She glanced up at the others, who hovered nearby, and shook her head. "Frank," she urged. "Look at me." She worked her hands loose from his and eased her arms around his shoulders, molding her body to his. Days without knowing if she would ever see him again took its toll on her and she could not hold back the tears that surfaced. Being with him again, touching him, loving him, was like heaven on earth.
He groaned softly and his arms went around her when he felt the sensual pressure of her body and her lips against his, urging him to respond. The intensity, the overwhelming joy of the feel of her in his arms was mind blowing. He responded then, hungrily, with the knowledge that she wanted him as much as she ever had. Breaking away, breathless, he opened his eyes to look upon her. She smiled lovingly at him through the tears that had begun falling from her sky blue eyes. He pulled her back into his embrace, holding her tightly. "I thought I was dreaming when I saw you on that stage," he admitted. "I wasn't sure how you would react to knowing what I'd done."
She kissed his neck softly and whispered, "It wasn't easy finding you, Frank, but no one gave up. Not for a minute." She pulled away slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Tiger. For better or worse, remember?"
"I've never forgotten," he responded, kissing her tenderly. "I love you, too, mon cadeau."
A chorus of "glad to see ya, welcome back," caused Frank to finally glance up at the others in the room. Unable to move due to the sweet, loving package that was perched on his lap, he merely held up a hand and thanked everyone for their help.
"No, Jake," Frank ordered suddenly as he watched Jake advance toward Wingard's dead body. "Don't go near him."
"Why not?" Alex asked curiously. Her eyes moved from the body to her boss and back again. "It's not like we've never seen a corpse before."
"That's not it," Frank replied. He eased himself up to sit on the bed after Shay moved off his legs. Uncharacteristically, he did not care about the "PDA", as Shay often called it. He reached out and pulled her down onto his lap and held her tightly. "Cyanide. The fumes can be just as deadly as the poison itself."
"True," Thomas agreed. "Let's vacate this room immediately." He herded the group toward the exit and waited for Frank and Shay to join them before opening the door. He wasn't too concerned with how Wingard died, or even that he died at the hands of his son-in-law. The cyanide did not bother him all that much, either. He was most concerned with getting the room cleaned and all traces of Frank Donovan erased. Did he still hold that kind of influence over those that worked for the CIA? Hell, yeah, he did.
Once in the hallway, he said, "Derek, go call in a cleanup crew. I'll stay here and make sure no one enters the room until our people have a chance to erase any and all activity inside."
Derek nodded and took off running.
Thomas clapped a hand to Frank's shoulder. "I'll take care of this mess, Frank. There's a car waiting outside and will take you and your team directly to the White House." When Frank made a move to protest, Thomas held up a hand stopping him. "Trust me, you were never here. Whatever evidence was left behind will be eliminated. Take Shay and the others and go." He paused a moment while he sorted out his jumbled thoughts. "You'll be debriefed upon arrival; the President has been made fully aware of what has been going on."
"I understand, Dad," Frank acknowledged. "Thank you."
"I'll catch up to you there," Thomas assured them as they headed down the hall.
"You really had us worried there, Boss," Cody
commented as they stepped into the elevator.
"To say the least," Alex agreed.
Frank leaned back against the back wall of the elevator. He felt the warmth of Shay's hand as it slipped into his and took great comfort in her strength. "I had me worried, too."
There wasn't a person in the elevator that was not thinking the same thing. Would he have actually killed Senator Baxter? Could he? Silence followed them down the elevator and throughout the drive to the White House.
--
"If you'll come with me, Agent Donovan?" a rather large, intimidating man insisted upon the team's entry into the White House.
"Actually, no," Frank answered simply, folding his arms over his chest.
"Pardon me? You're scheduled for debriefing...each of you."
"I realize that, Agent," Frank responded quickly. "I insist the entire group be debriefed simultaneously."
"I'm afraid that's against protocol," a second Agent responded.
Frank ran a hand over his jaw briefly. "I won't budge on this one. Call your superiors; I'm sure they'll agree. What I have to say, my team has the right to hear. I have nothing to hide from them."
"Very well, Agent Donovan," the first Agent stated flatly. "Excuse me." He stepped away from the group while he made a call. Upon returning he said, "They have agreed to your terms. If you will all follow me..."
***
to be continued...