The Price of Valor (Global Search and Rescue #3) - Susan May Warren Page 0,2
dumped the animals in Orion’s arms, about to follow, when his phone buzzed in his back pocket.
He pulled it out.
Seriously?
“Aggie! Wait for me—hello?” Maybe he shouldn’t be quite so abrupt when he answered the call of a US senator and presidential candidate.
“Are you okay, Ham?” Former SEAL Isaac White’s low, calm voice came through the line.
“Yes, sir,” Ham said, frowning at his daughter as she gestured to him to join her. He shook his head. Mouthed a very clear Wait for me.
Then he turned away to keep her from distracting him and put his other hand to his ear. “Just at a fair with my daughter.”
“I hope this isn’t a bad time, but I need to talk to you.”
“Absolutely. What can I do for you?” White had ferried his team back from Alaska after a near-bombing three months ago, and besides that, he and Ham went way back to when they served together on Team Three.
“Can you come to DC? I need a favor, but . . . well, I need to talk to you face-to-face.”
“This about our mutual friend the Prince? And the rumors that the CIA NOC list is—”
“There’s a fundraising event Tuesday night for the Red Cross. Maybe you and your team would like to join us?”
Ham could hear the unspoken plan—White was suggesting a cover story for Ham’s trip.
Which meant their meeting was something he didn’t want the media, or maybe even Ham’s people, knowing about.
“I can make that happen,” he said, watching a mom and dad pick up their young son and swing him between them. The kid laughed, kicking his legs.
“So, I’ll put you down for how many tickets? Eight?”
“Seven.” Orion, Jenny, Jake, Aria, North, and he’d ask Scarlett, his newest addition, to join them.
“Perfect. Thanks, Ham. Text me when you get in.”
“Aggie!” Jenny’s shout behind him made him turn.
Everything inside him went cold. She’d gotten on the ride without him.
But that wasn’t the worst.
His brave, headstrong, curious daughter—and she got those genes directly from her mother—had boarded one of the rusty, ancient balloon chairs and risen to the apex of the Ferris wheel. But, as the ride came down the back side, the basket had swung and somehow latched on to the basket next to hers.
As the ride moved toward the far side, her basket had begun to tip.
If it kept going, it would invert, dumping her right out.
“Stop the ride!” He took off up the ramp toward the operator who was frantically trying to slow it down without jerking it to a violent stop. Ham pushed him away and slammed his thumb into the emergency stop.
The entire ride shuddered, screeching and groaning as it halted.
Screaming. Not just the spectators, but Aggie, high above, maybe fifty feet, clinging to the basket.
It had inverted to nearly a forty-five-degree angle, and she clung to the bars, her legs dangling over the edge.
Ham’s heart stopped, a rock right in the middle of his chest.
“Help! Help me, Daddy!”
She might not have said it, but Ham heard it, deep in his bones.
“Hold on, Aggie!”
While every shred of common sense told him to wait for the emergency help, the father inside him wasn’t listening.
It wasn’t a difficult climb. Up the center spokes to where they connected at the center, maybe six feet apart. Then a climb up each one until he came to Aggie’s.
“Hang on!”
Except she was kicking, screaming, and using up all her energy. “Calm down! I’m on my way!”
“I’m falling!”
“No you’re not! You’re going to hold on until I get there. Hold on!”
He hit his hands and knees, scrambling along the edge to her balloon. But the way the carriage had stuck, the back of the basket blocked his entrance.
“I’m almost there, honey.” He swung down, dangling as he started to work his way the last few feet.
The Ferris wheel began to move.
“Stop the ride!” Maybe the emergency stop had malfunctioned on this decrepit ride.
“Hold on, Aggie!” The basket inverted and now Aggie, too, dangled from just her grip on the pole.
“I can’t!”
He reached for her, missed. Her fingers began to loosen.
Nope. Not on his watch. He’d made promises to Signe. To himself.
To God, long ago, when he said, “I do.”
He swung and wrapped his legs around her body. “Grab onto my waist!”
She looked at him, wild-eyed, then lunged for him.
“Lock your arms around me,” he said. Sweat slicked his hands. He just had to work them back to the jutting arm—
The ride stopped, a violent jerk that nearly dislodged Ham’s grip.