Epilog

August 19, 2029
T minus 18 hours



Once upon a time, he’d thought the hardest thing he’d ever had to do was pretend he’d never met her before. The day he’d met his new security detail, he’d been unable to keep the smile off his face. She looked the same as she had the first time he’d laid eyes on her twenty six years ago.

Now, he knew he’d been wrong. The hardest thing he’d ever had to do was send her away, but if he didn’t send her back in time, they’d never have the life together that they’d already had. At least he could finally tell her what they had once meant to each other.

The soft knock on the door made him smile. “C’mon in, Gabbs.”

She stuck her head in the door. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

He motioned to one of the chairs facing his desk. “Have a seat.”

She closed the door softly, then crossed the room to sit across from him, nervously wiping her palms on the front of her dark slacks.

Picking up the journal that lay on the desk in front of him, he stood up, circling around the large oaken desk to sit on the front of it facing her. “I wanted to talk to you privately before you left for this mission.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling.

“I’ve known this day was coming for twenty-six years,” he told her. He could see the questions in her eyes, and gave her a patient smile. “All questions will be answered before you leave this office. Just be patient.” When she nodded, he went on. “You showed up in my life just when I needed you most, and I’m not talking about when you saved my life from the assassin.”

As rude as it was to interrupt the President of the United States, one word slipped out of her mouth. “Saved?”

“Yes, past tense,” he answered. “See Gabbs, when all of you were sitting there in that room around that conference table telling me what was going to happen, I already knew. You see, Gabbs, I’ve lived it already. I can even tell you who the assassin is.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before so we could stop him?” she demanded, leaning forward in her chair.

“And what? Arrest him for a crime he hasn’t committed yet, nor will he ever, because you’ll be able to stop him?” he chuckled softly. “And stop you from going back and being a part of my life? Never.”

“What is that?” she asked suddenly, pointing at the old journal he held in his hands.

“Your old mission log.” Her eyes widened. “Yeah, really,” he answered the unspoken question. “There’s some facts you need to be aware of. First, your old boyfriend, Nate McAnally is the assassin. And the other big fact I want planted in that micro-chip brain of yours is that on an icy day in January, the 14th to be exact, in 2022, don’t drive. Stay at home like I asked you to.”

“Your wife Monica was killed in a car wreck in 2022,” she told him, a stunned expression on her face.

“Monica was the name she chose,” he explained patiently. “But, I called her Gabbs until the day she died.”

Finally, he could see that it was all finally starting to sink in with her. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, when she said aloud, “Are you saying...”

He interrupted her. “Don’t think about it too much, Gabbs. It’ll only make your head hurt.”

Chapter Thirty - six

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I’ve made a life here. A life with Jon. I used my credentials to create a new identity for me, one that will stand up to the highest level of scrutiny. Can’t have me being a skeleton in his closet when he runs for office, and he does have to run for office or we will never have the life we’ve had. At least, that’s the way we’ve got it figured.

So, I will live out my days here as Monica Parker. My friends, and I have made several, call me Nicki. Richie, Broadway, and the other guys call me Nick. I think it’s just to irritate me, so I don’t let on that it does.

Jon, however, continues to call me Gabbs, at least when we’re alone and among just friends. He refuses to call me anything else as long as we’re not in public. Then, he grudgingly calls me Monica.

It’s been two years since I shot Nate and saved Jon. Two happy years. I haven’t felt the need to write in this journal until now.

It occurred to me that I’d like to get a few things down, just for accuracy’s sake.

He can be exasperating - even an arrogant ass, but he’s MY arrogant ass, and I love him very much.

We are aware that I have caused a time loop of sorts. That other me is now 14 years old and will grow up and become a Secret Service Agent. She will eventually be assigned to his security detail. Then, she’ll have to go back in time to save him and will fall in love with him. And, I did fall in love with Jon.

And, I will live happily ever after.

Chapter Thirty - five

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I love flashing my creds and making miracles happen! The locals arrived on the scene within just a few minutes. I told them that I had been assigned to Jon because he’d had death threats from a crazy stalker fan. I explained that Nate was that fan, and that he had tried to kill Jon.

After much bitching on Jon’s part, a trip to the emergency room, ten stitches and a tetanus shot, we went back to the apartment. I made a call and Nate’s body disappeared from the morgue before they could fingerprint him, because that just wouldn’t do at all.

Thank God this is over!


“I can’t believe you were such a little girl, Kidd,” Richie teased as he followed Jon and Gabby into the penthouse.

Holding up a middle finger salute, Jon continued limping through the entry way and on into the living room. Richie laughed loudly, irritating Jon even more. “Fuck you, Asshole,” Jon called from the couch. “Let her shoot you and see if you handle it any better.” He sat gingerly, then propped his injured left leg up on the coffee table. “I’m telling you, Mook,” Jon shook his head, “it burns like a motherfucker.”

“Better the flesh wound in the thigh than the head shot Nate would’ve given you,” Gabby responded. She actually felt like shit for having shot him, but she wasn’t going to admit it - that would be like an invitation to be teased until the end of time by these two men.

Richie chuckled softly at her words. “Well, okay then,” he grinned at the couple. “I’m going to leave you to the tender mercies of Nurse Gabby then.” He started toward the door of the apartment with long strides, pausing only long enough to pick up his guitar case. “I’m sure I can find some trouble to get into.”

“But,” Gabby began, only to be interrupted by the patient in question.

“Let him go, Gabbs,” Jon ordered softly, “he’s got itchy fingers.”

From the front door of the penthouse, Richie called back, “Call me if you need me, but don’t wait up.”

The door slammed, and Gabby looked down at Jon. “Itchy fingers?”

“Yeah, he’s dying to get his hands on a guitar and jam with someone,” Jon answered softly.

“How do you know?” she asked, smiling.

“Besides the fact that I know him better than anyone?” Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Because mine are itching too.”

She was standing close enough and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch her. The fingers of his left hand tangled with hers. He gently swung their joined hands back and forth until her eyes met his.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” she blurted out. “But I knew if he got on that elevator with you...”

He interrupted her again. “We both know what would’ve happened, Gabbs. You saved my life. Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath, Gabby nodded. She knew they needed to talk. There were things she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask.

“Are you gonna use the bracelet to go home?” Jon asked softly.

Gabby could see a whole movie in his eyes, but that was all he would bend enough to say. It was that damn Jersey-tough-guy attitude. “Do you want me to? I’m sure it was Nate’s thumb print that will make it work.”

He tugged gently on her hand, until she took the hint and climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and careful not to bump his injury.

Strong hands cupped her face. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered against her lips.

Then he kissed her with every bit of feeling she’d seen in his eyes. Soft as down, but hotter than the fires of Hell, his kiss said everything he hadn’t been able to put into words, and made her blood boil and her lips tingle.

Nimble, graceful fingers slipped down his chest slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing more tanned toned skin with every inch. “Should we be doing this?” her voice was husky with desire, as she whispered against his lips. “I mean, are you up to it?”

One strong hand guided her right hand down to cup his denim clad cock, it’s hardness apparent even through his jeans. “I’ll let him speak for himself,” he growled, then nipped gently at her fuller bottom lip.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she gasped as he moved against her hand. She slipped her left hand down his chest, her fingers leaving a trail of fire behind them, until it joined her other hand at the waist band of his jeans.

Blunt tipped, callused fingers threaded through her hair, holding her still for another kiss, while her fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans until his heavy, silken cock was in her hands.

“Don’t leave me,” he said again; it sounded less like an order this time and more like an entreaty.

In answer, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and bent to place a kiss right in the center of his chest. Jon was in just as big a hurry to get Gabby’s clothes off. As he fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans, he couldn’t keep the words in any longer.

“There’s promises I want to make you, vows I’d like to say, but my divorce isn’t even final yet,” his voice was raspy with desire.

Standing up again, she nodded to acknowledge his words even as she tugged at his jeans, silently asking him to raise his hips.

“Leave them,” he growled, “take care of yours.”

Greedy eyes burned with deep blue fire devouring every inch she exposed as she peeled her jeans down long legs. His hands went to her hips to make sure her panties took the same path. She steeped out of the small scrap of satin while she pulled her t-shirt off over her head. Jon smiled. He had always appreciated a woman that could multi-task.

Gabby shivered as his hands slipped around her waist, then slithered up her back, tugging and guiding her back to his lap. Once she was back where he wanted her, he kissed the curve of her breasts spilling over the top of her bra, and then with a flick of his fingers the piece of satin and lace fell to the floor and released his prize. He buried his nose in the fragrant valley.

Gabby lowered herself onto his dick. “I love you,” she said huskily. There was no way she could keep the words to herself any longer.

“Stay,” he growled against one hard nipple, before sucking it into his hot mouth.

Careful of his injury, Gabby moved over him, enjoying the ride even if he hadn’t said the words she was hoping for. His one word litany let her know exactly how he felt.

“Stay,” he whispered again against her left breast, his hands on her waist guiding her in a downward stroke.

Cupping his cheeks in both of her hands, she looked deep into beautiful sapphire blue eyes. “I’ll stay,” she whispered against his lips. “There’s no way you’re getting rid of me now.”

Her wet silken folds hugged him tight, and all he wanted to do was lose himself in her, but he knew she wanted to hear the words. “I love you, Gabbs.”

Her ride to that point had been slow and easy, but as if his words were all she’d been waiting on, she picked up the pace. First slamming down on him, then with her hands on his strong shoulders for balance, she rose above him again.

Matching her rhythm, Jon moved with her watching her expressive face, enjoying all the things it told him.

Like when she was close to the edge.

That momentary flash of pleasure/pain was what he’d been waiting on. His right hand left her hip and his thumb found her clit. The callused digit on that little nubbin of nerves sent her over.

“Oh, God, Jon,” she moaned, arching her back and throwing her head back.

The visual of her pleasure washing over her sent him over the ledge with her.

Moments later, with Gabby melted all over his chest, Jon stroked her hair. “So, you’ll be staying then?”

Her soft chuckle was the only answer he needed.

Chapter Thirty - four

Agent Mission Log Entry:

There are times in my line of work when all you can do is ...guess.







On the street, Gabby had stalked up and down the alley and gone around behind both the buildings to see that it was a dead end. The alley led into a fenced in area that was to be a small park to be shared by both apartment buildings once it was completed.

“Now what?” Richie asked of no one in particular, looking around as if he expected an answer to fall from the sky.

Standing in the middle of the alley, with a door way into each building on either side of her, Gabby scoffed and shook her head. “Eeny meenie,” she grinned at Richie’s stunned expression.

The clank of a can skittering across the pavement echoed through the alley, making Gabby spin toward the noise, raising her arm to aim her gun. The noise made Richie quickly jump back against the wall of the building undergoing remodeling, and a small gray cat ran across the end of the alley.

Richie stepped away from the wall, trying to look as if he hadn’t just been scared by something small enough to sleep in one of his Stetsons. “What’s your gut telling you?” he sounded far more serious than the grin on his face said he was.

“In there,” she answered, pointing at the construction site. There’s no one around to notice what Nate’s up to, and no one to hear if Jon was calling for help. It’s where I’d take him.”

Richie tried the door and found it unlocked. A small hand on his arm stopped him from throwing it open and charging into the building. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into waiting down here?” she had to ask just one more time.

“Not on your life, sweetheart,” he answered with a cocky grin.

“Then at least let me go first,” she cautioned, taking the lead and quietly opening the door.

Bending slightly at the waist, Richie waved a hand toward the door. “By all means - ladies first.”

Gabby smiled at his mischievous grin and the game show hostess imitation. There were times when this man’s humorous moments rivaled even Broadway’s. He was the perfect combination for Jon’s sometimes all too serious demeanor.

Gun ready, Gabby stepped into the building. For a brief moment, she stood just inside the door where the sunshine poured in, lighting the small area around the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the darker interior of the building. With a finger across her lips, she cautioned Richie to be quiet.

The small area they stepped into could barely be called an entryway. Directly in front of them was another door that presumably opened into the first floor of the building; to their right was a set of stairs leading upwards to the other floors. On the left was a freight elevator.

Now Richie walked over to the elevator. “Are we taking this?” he whispered.

Gabby shook her head negatively. “Too much noise.”

Gabriella knew Nate; he would’ve set up on the uppermost floor, with some sort of booby trap alarm to warn him of any intruders, and he most certainly had another exit besides these stairs.

Hardly making any sound at all, Richie followed Gabby up the stairs. Her left hand wrapped around the butt of her gun, the index finger resting lightly on the trigger; her right hand cupped under her left as she moved stealthily up the stairs inspired confidence in him. She obviously knew what she was doing.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the fifth floor of the building, Nate glared at Jon. “An idiot?” he snarled, “I’m not the one tied to a chair.”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “You’re the one that basically told a specially trained government agent, ‘hey, it was me - come shoot me.” He flashed Nate a cocky grin.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nate demanded.

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Why should I tell you a damned thing?” Then before the other man could say anything he went on, “What the fuck, I’ve got time to kill. You fucked up telling her that I wasn’t President anymore.”

“How’s that?” the other man demanded belligerently.

“Think about it,” Jon began, again shrugging that one shoulder. “If I wasn’t still gonna be President - she wouldn’t still be here.”

“But...”

Jon interrupted him. “Don’t think about it too much, Asshole. It’ll only make your head hurt.”

Nate growled in frustration as he stomped across the room toward Jon. “Fuck,” he snarled.

Before Jon could worry if he’d pushed the man too far, Nate stepped behind the chair and quickly cut Jon free. Then he shoved Jon’s shoulder hard enough that he sent the singer sprawling in the floor.

When Jon scrambled quickly to his feet, Nate’s gun was in his face. “We’re getting outta here.” He motioned with his gun. “Stand up.”

“Fuck you,” Jon growled.

With lightening speed, Nate chambered a round, the click-click echoed around the room. “I said - Stand up.”

Nose to nose with a pistol and very unhappy, Jon stood up. The glare he gave Nate while doing so should have made the man drop dead.

“Turn around,” Nate ordered tersely.

Putting his hands up, Jon turned slowly toward the door. “Where are we going?”

“That’s need to know,” Nate answered with a chuckle, then shoved Jon’s shoulder again. “Get moving.”

At the door, Nate ordered Jon to open it slowly and step aside. Then with his gun trained on Jon, Nate gave a quick look around before ordering Jon to lead the way.

Trying to stall, Jon moved slowly, stepping through the door into a small area that would be an entryway for this future penthouse apartment. He stopped halfway across the small space, and turned to face the freight elevator that was to the right of the door they’d just came through.

A soft click and the slight whoosh caused by the change in air pressure was the only indication that the door on the left had opened. Jon barely had time to register the sound before he found himself pulled backward against Nate’s chest; the other man’s arm was tight around his throat and his pistol was pressed against Jon’s temple.

Gabby stepped through the door looking like some sort of avenging angel, her eyes narrowed and grim, her hair falling around her shoulders and her gun leveled on him and Nate. “Let him go,” she ordered, her voice hard.

Jon felt rather than saw Nate shake his head, and Gabby didn’t even blink. “No. He’s my ticket out of here.”

“Let him go,” Gabby tried again, “and I’ll give you the bracelet.”

“Oh, you’re gonna give me the bracelet anyway,” Nate told her with a cocky grin.

Jon admired Gabby’s calm facade, but he could see the glimmer of fear in her eyes. He just hoped Asshole couldn’t see it.

With green eyes flashing behind the barrel of her pistol, she flashed the prick the most arrogant grin Jon had ever seen, even in his own mirror. “Am I?”

Nate motioned with his own pistol. “Yeah,” his voice was shaky with indignation. “Or, pretty boy won’t stay so pretty.”

A negligent shrug, and she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “He’s really not all that pretty now.”

An indignant snort from Jon made Nate roll his eyes. “Gabby, you’re not fooling anyone. I know you, and this...he’s not just a mission any more. Now, give me the damn bracelet, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

Gabby had noticed that Nate kept inching backward toward the freight elevator, dragging Jon as he went. “Don’t try and bullshit a bullshitter, Nate,” she growled.

“Is that your quaint Texas way of saying you don’t believe me?” he questioned with a grin.

“There. That’s why we didn’t work out,” she told him with an arrogant smirk. “That condescension in your voice didn’t get you anywhere when we were sleeping together, Nate. It’s damn sure not making you any points now.”

Jon spoke up. “I have an idea...” Nate’s arm tightened around his throat cutting off his air and his voice. Obviously, Asshole wasn’t interested in hearing his opinion.

Gabby’s gaze, nor her gun, never wavered. “I’m not gonna let you get on that elevator, Nate.”

“What’re you gonna do to stop me?” he demanded arrogantly, taking another step toward the elevator.

Jon saw it in the depth of her emerald eyes, but his screamed ‘no’ rang with the shot of her pistol. The bullet hit him high in the thigh, cutting across the outside of his leg to bury deep in Nate’s hip. The asshole yelped in pain, bending slightly to grab his hip in agony. Jon dove to the floor without the other man’s arm to impede his progress, and Gabby got off another shot, hitting Nate right between the eyes and effectively ending his howls of pain.

Richie had been hiding in the stairwell. His yelled curse of ‘son of a bitch’ had been drowned out by the reports of Gabby’s gun. Now, he ran forward to check on Jon.

The singer lay in the floor clutching at his left thigh. “You shot me!” he yelled at Gabby accusingly.

“Pffft,” she scoffed, walking forward, “just barely.” She was all business, kicking Nate’s gun away from his lifeless hand, and checking his pulse - as if anyone would’ve survived that shot.

“You shot me!” Jon bellowed again.

“Oh shut up, ya pussy,” Richie chuckled. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Chapter Thirty - three

Agent Mission Log Entry:

God, save me from exasperating men!





“Explain to me how you know he’s the one,” Richie demanded as he hurried to keep up with Gabby.

Gabby was running top speed down the stairs; her footsteps echoed through the stairwell. She had to get to the lobby in time to see which way Nate was going. “You should’ve stayed in the apartment,” she tossed over her shoulder, as she rounded a corner and started down the next flight of stairs.

“Yeah, but should’ve and did are two different things,” Richie replied with a grin. Damn, she was almost as hard to keep up with as Jon. “Now, explain.”

Gabby frowned at the order as she reached the door that opened into the lobby. She sighed. If she’d learned anything about this man, it was that he was persistent as hell. He was worse than any three year old playing the ‘why’ game with a parent. She refused to answer him until they’d crossed the lobby and reached the door to the street. Carefully, she peeked out the door, seeing Nate’s dark head several yards down the sidewalk and moving quickly through the crowd. “Nate said he left after me and was sent to help,” she said, then stepped through the door.

Richie followed her. “And?” he prompted.

“And,” she said clearly exasperated, “he said I had changed things, that Jon wasn’t even still President.”

He still wasn’t seeing what was apparently crystal clear to her. “Yeah. So?”

“So,” she said stepping around a young woman with a stroller, trying to keep Nate in her sight. “How would he know?”

“Know what?” Richie asked, keeping step with her and shadowing her movements.

“How would he know that anything was different?’ she asked absentmindedly as she kept pace with Nate.

“I don’t get it,” Richie said, shaking his shaggy head.

“Think about it,” she said, pausing briefly at the entrance to an alley, poised to duck into it if Nate looked back. He didn’t so she moved on. “Everything after I left would have just been his history - everyone else’s history. He would just know it as fact. Not that there was any difference.” At Richie’s puzzled look, she continued. “Let’s take something from your history, for example. You survived because you didn’t get on that plane that crashed.”

“Right,” Richie agreed with a quick nod, keeping step beside her.

“You’ll go on living your life. History will record that you lived a long and happy life having taken route B instead of route A. You wouldn’t even know about route A if I hadn’t been here to tell you. People that look you up in twenty years from now will only know what did happen. Not what could have happened.”

Slowly, realization dawned on Richie’s face. “You’re quite the time travel expert,” he chuckled.

She watched Nate turn left at the next corner, and quickened her step. “Not exactly,” she replied with a shrug. “But Jon and I had a long talk about it. And we decided that if he wasn’t still President in the future, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“We decided?” Richie questioned softly, really not expecting an answer. So, he was surprised that he got one.

“If he wasn’t still president in the future then I wouldn’t have come back in time to save him, so I wouldn’t be here now,” Gabriella said with a shrug. At Richie’s puzzled frown, she laughed softly. “Don’t think about it too much, Rich. It’ll only make your head hurt.”

“But, what about...”

Richie’s voice droned on, but the agent in Gabby was in overdrive. It wasn’t that she was ignoring him, it was just that there was something way more important than his idle chatter - Finding Jon.

It wasn’t even that he was her mission any more. No. Now it was personal. She watched Nate duck into an alley between an apartment building and one undergoing a massive remodel. She quickened her pace, not caring if Richie kept up or not. Not losing Nate was her biggest priority.

Tension was building, adrenaline was pumping, and fear was about to choke her. She knew she had to get control of it all or Jon was the one going to suffer.

Her feet were moving fast as she wove in and out of foot traffic. Richie followed closely on her heels. When Gabby reached the alley, she pressed her back against the building, motioning for Richie to do the same. Carefully, she peeked around the corner and swore softly.

“What?” Richie demanded.

“We lost him,” she growled softly, her voice full of self disgust.




The snick of a key in the lock made Jon’s head jerk up to glare at the door. After the man had left earlier, Jon had screamed and called for help to no avail. Wherever this was, there wasn’t anyone close enough to hear him above the street noise. It hadn’t taken too long for him to realize that was why his new friend hadn’t bothered to gag him when he left. Jon had arrogantly thought the guy was just incompetent. The door Asshole had left out of appeared to be the only one in this large open space. From what Jon could see of the area, the building or at least this floor was undergoing a major remodeling. Sawhorses lined up with plywood table tops were scattered about the area, as were drop clothes and a large number of paint cans.

Now, the curly headed asshole swaggered into the room, the very picture of arrogance. “Well, hello Mr. President. I trust you’ve been well.” He was so very smug as he chuckled at his own joke.

“Asshole,” Jon snarled softly.

“This will all be over shortly,” Nate went on. “Your girlfriend will be calling soon to schedule a meet up. She’ll give me what I want, then I’ll give her you. Of course, then I’ll have to kill you both.” He shrugged indifferently.

“Her name is Gabby,” Jon told him. “And, she’ll get your ass. She’s good.”

“Oh yeah,” Nate grinned dirtily, “she’s good.” The double entendre left no doubt what he meant. “But right now, she thinks I’m helping her. See, Gabby and I go way back.”

Icy blue eyes glared at Nate from across the room. It didn’t sit well with Jon at all that the fucker was talking about Gabby like that, but what could he do with his hands tied behind his back? “I’d guess it didn’t last long though,” he said with a casual shrug. “Obviously you have performance issues, and she’s so much better than you as an agent, I’m sure it affected your performance in the bedroom.” Jon smiled at Nate’s glare. “I could see where that would be a problem in any relationship.”

“She was happy enough to see me,” Nate snarled. “In fact, when I told her that things were all fucked up and that you weren’t even president any more, she’d have jumped at the chance to just use the bracelet and go home, if your friend hadn’t objected.”

“Huh,” Jon let out a half laugh.

“What?” Nate demanded, taking a step toward Jon.

A Cheshire cat smile stretched Jon’s lips; he had never been more happy to say something as he was now. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Chapter Thirty - two

Agent Mission Log Entry:

He’s been missing just over two hours now. I’m trying to remain objective, but I’m not as detached as I should be. If I ever thought this would be read by anyone, I would never admit this... but I think I’m falling in love with the exasperating man. I don’t know when it happened, but it was probably about the time he told me to ‘get the fuck out of’ his house.

Who am I kidding? I already admired him, long before I ever made this trip back in time. I don’t have time to extol his virtues here.

I need a plan.




The pain behind his eyes throbbed with every beat of his heart, and he could hear a sort of scrapping noise off to his right. It sounded like metal on metal. After a few seconds that was followed by a series of small little thumps of what sounded like small objects being picked up and put back down on something like a table or cabinet. His head was hanging limp with his chin almost resting on his chest; his arms were stretched behind his back and bound with some sort of plastic strip that was almost tight enough to cut into his skin. Even his feet were fastened to the legs of the chair.

“Well, well, well,” a deep voice announced from the same area off to his right that the other sounds had come from, “look who finally decided to wake up and join the party.”

How had the man known he was awake? He hadn’t moved a muscle. Defiantly, he slowly raised his head to glare in the man’s direction. “What do you want?” he demanded, his voice hard. He wouldn’t ask who the man was; that would be the most idiotic question ever. Of course, this was the assassin. Who else would knock him over the head and carry him off to who knew where?

“Nothing you can give me,” the man responded, then added cryptically, “but there’s something you can GET me.”

Jon watched the man while he spoke. He never looked up from what he was doing, and Jon kept trying to see what that was. Then a glint of metal when the man moved just right, told him. He had been cleaning a pistol, and now he was quickly reassembling it.


Jon flinched at the snick of metal as the man slammed the clip into the pistol. “And Gabby’s going to give me what I want.”

The thought of Gabby gave Jon a little glimmer of hope. She was damn good; she’d find him. He told the man that in a taunting tone.

“Oh yeah, she’s good,” the curly haired man agreed with him, tucking the pistol into a shoulder holster. He strode across the room and reached for the door knob. “But I’m better.”

The sound of the door slamming made Jon groan softly. He should’ve just stayed in the penthouse. Gabby was going to kill him.


*~*~*~*~*~*


Gabriella rode the elevator downstairs, impatiently waiting for the doors to slide open. She was answering a summons from Vincent. Nate was in the lobby.

When the door finally slid open, she stepped into the lobby, quickly scanning the room until her eyes landed on Nate waiting by the desk. He smiled at her, and she motioned for him to come to her. They both crossed the short distance meeting halfway.

Nate’s smile was huge, as he ducked his head to whisper, “I found something.”

“I have news,” she said at the same time.

He laughed softly, but after seeing her solemn expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Come upstairs with me,” she ordered softly, and turned to walk back to the elevators. She pushed the button, and while she waited for the doors to slide open, she turned sad eyes to Nate. “He’s been taken hostage. The assassin wants the bracelet.”

“Of course he does,” Nate commented as she stepped into the elevator, then he followed her into the small space. The doors slid closed on his next words. “That’s our way home, Gabby.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she said angrily.

Something in her voice gave her away, and it made Nate want to smile, but he couldn’t let her see his joy. This was going to be even sweeter than he’d originally thought. Not only could he prove he was better than her, but completing his mission he would take out the man she loved. Oh yeah, revenge was very sweet indeed. “You’re too personally involved in this,” he told her as the doors slid open on Jon’s floor. “Maybe you should let me make the drop.”

She opened the door of the penthouse, then looked back at Nate, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Who said I was going to give him the bracelet?”

Nate followed her into the apartment, but wanted to strangle the damn woman. What the fuck did she mean she wasn’t going to give him the bracelet?

Having heard the key in the lock, Richie was standing in the entryway when Nate and Gabby entered the apartment. “Did you find him?”

As if he hadn’t said anything, Gabby walked right past him. “Richie, Nate. Nate, Richie,” she introduced the two men without even pausing in her march to the living room.

Nate nodded at the slightly taller man, as he passed him, following Gabby. Richie merely nodded in exchange. In the two hours Jon had been missing, Gabby had explained to him all about Nate. She’d even told him about their past connection.

While following Gabby, Nate’s mind was racing. Richie? Surely this wasn’t Richie Sambora. He should be dead, at least according to the research he had done before making his trip back in time. He had read several articles where President Bongiovi had said that it was the death of this man, his band mate, writing partner, and friend that had made him lose the desire to continue on in the music industry and pushed him into politics. What the hell had happened?

When Gabby made it to the living room, she spun back around to face Nate. “I want to save Jon, without giving up the bracelet if at all possible,” she explained. “But, I’m not a probie. I know the guy will try,” she stressed the word, “to get the bracelet and still kill Jon.”

Nate thought it was very telling that she didn’t refer to him as POTUS, but instead called him by his first name. “Do you have a plan?” he felt compelled to ask.

“I’m working on one,” she answered quickly.

Nate looked over at Richie who had followed them both to the living room, and now stood casually leaning one shoulder against the door frame, his ankles crossed, looking as relaxed as any jungle predator. Suddenly, inspiration struck. Nate’s eyes flew back to Gabby, and he took a step toward her. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you too much about what happened after you left,” he began, making Gabby’s eyes snap up to meet his. “But, everything’s changed. That’s how they knew you needed help.”

One slim elegant eyebrow arched over a forest green eye. “What do you mean ‘changed’?”

“They weren’t sure what caused it, but nothing’s right,” he answered. His eyes darted to Richie then back to Gabriella. “I’m guessing it’s because he’s still alive,” he said, jerking his head toward the guitarist.

A slight smirk tugged at one corner of Gabby’s lips. “Tell me. What’s different?”

“Bongiovi’s not even President now,” Nate responded quickly. “You’ve changed something. Something important.” He barely paused long enough for a breath before saying quickly. “Your mission here is no longer part of National Security. It’s a moot point now.”

“Is that right?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly, sure she was eating this up with a spoon. “Protecting Bongiovi is no longer your concern. We just need the bracelet so we can go home.”

“Wait just a fucking minute here,” Richie demanded, standing up to march across the room. A slight shake of Gabby’s head stopped him.

“I’m not going to just let him die,” she said, conviction in her voice.

Nate seemed to go along with her. “You’re right. We’ll just give him the bracelet. This decade isn’t all that bad.”

“I’m waiting on contact,” Gabby told him. “And, I’ll make sure he lets me talk to Jon first before I even agree to meet him. And, he’ll have to bring Jon to the meet. I won’t hand over the bracelet until I see Jon is fine.”

Richie visibly relaxed. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Nate,” she began, “I need you to go back to the building where I found the bracelet. See if you can find anything else. I’ll wait for the assassin to make contact.”

“Right,” Nate answered, eager to leave the apartment and get back to Jon, so he could call her with instructions. “You have my cell number. Call me, if you need me before I get back.”

“Sure,” she agreed with a nod.

Nate hurried toward the front door as Gabby watched him leave, her green eyes drilling holes in his back. Richie started to say something and Gabby held up one finger signaling him to remain silent. When the door slamming told her Nate was gone, she exploded. “That son-of-a-bitch!”

Quickly checking her pistol, she started for the door. Richie called after her, hurrying to catch up. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s the one that took Jon.” She answered quickly, reaching for the door knob.

Richie grabbed her by the arm and spun her to face him. “And you just let him walk out of here?” That’s your genius plan?”

“No, my plan was to follow him,” she retorted, “and you’re letting him get away, genius.”