Classified

Chapter 44 - "Who am I speaking to?"

Donovan jerked his head up. From the feed covering the main gates, he saw a line of SUV's and SWAT cars entering the school grounds. A hint of doubt filled Donovan, trying to understand how they were there.

"How'd they know?" he mused.

Carter shook her head, her eyes still glued to the screen. "Must have been my tracker. It's the only explanation."

Donovan took a seat beside her. The line of cars fanned out, creating a perimeter on the inside of the school gates. The instant they stopped moving doors were flung open and hordes of men in full body gear clambered out.  A man in a black suit, wearing a FBI bullet proof vest, stepped out of one of the SUVs followed by more hard faced men dressed in similar attire. From the second his foot hit the ground, the man was barking out orders that neither Carter or Donovan could hear. But one thing was clear, this was the man in charge.

Within minutes, stations were up and troops of men were formed into packs and ready to move on command. The scene continued to unravel and Donovan found himself studying each vehicle and face.

Beside him Carter leaned back in chair. The movement made her wince. Instantly, he looked away from the screens, focusing on her.

"Your arm?" he asked.

She nodded, looking down at it. The sleeve that was now thoroughly ruined. Looking at him, she raised her arm.

"You mind?" she asked.

He rolled his chair closer to her, his legs bumping against hers. The contact brought back a flooding awareness of her and thoughts he was trying to keep at bay. She leaned towards him, offering up her other sleeve. He ripped it off and moved to her wounded arm. Carefully, he unknotted the makeshift bandage.

The cut was still bleeding and Donovan masked his worry over it. Beneath his fingers, her skin was warm and despite the defined muscle, soft. He quickly bandaged her arm, not letting himself linger. When he finished and let go, Carter looked down at her bare arms then up at him.

Her face was only a few inches away from his.

"I don't think the ripped shirt is my look," she said.

His eyes grazed over the lines of her arms.

"I don't know," he said, his voice low. "I could argue a few points in its defense."

He stared at her. In her blue eyes were all the emotions he felt. Against knowing where they were and what they still had to deal with, in that moment, all Donovan wanted to do was tear both their masks off and kiss her. In her face, he saw this same desire racing through her.

They both shifted closer.

The sharp buzz of a radio in the room shattered the moment.

Biting back annoyance, Donovan pulled away, logic returning to him.

"Agent Porter come in," a baritone voice commanded.

They went searching for the radio. The command came once more as Donovan found it.

"Agent Porter is currently unconscious," Donovan said, "as well as the rest of the security team."

As Donovan looked to the screens he spotted the gray haired man glaring at the front doors, as he held a radio similar to the one in Donovan's hand.

"Who am I speaking to?" the man said, iron in his tone.

"This is Agent Donovan Keller of the Secret Service," Donovan said, his voice strong, hoping to make this short.

The gray haired man turned to a man beside and talked rapidly. A screen was consulted and the man in charge turned his attention back to the school.