“I hesitated. Dammit. I hesitated. Maybe if I hadn’t…” He shook his head. “Meg and I had been having some issues. Having an argument with her about my long hours didn’t seem that much of a stretch. It wasn’t the first time, but I should have realized something was different about this one. We had agreed to go away together…to try to work things out, and then she told me not to bother.
“The coroner figured Clark probably killed her right after she spoke with me.” His voice went emotionless, and she knew he was fighting back the pain. “She had forty-two stab wounds. He was in a rage, no doubt because she had tried to keep me away.”
“But you left for the lake immediately after talking to her.”
“Yeah. Not that it did any good.”
“You couldn’t have saved her.”
“If I had been there when he arrived, I could have. I put my work before my marriage. Before Meg.”
“Ash, you know in your heart of hearts that’s not true.”
“If I hadn’t pursued Turner, Meg wouldn’t have died.”
As if he couldn’t handle having this conversation while she was in his arms, he released her and sat up in the bed. Jules moved away slightly, but unable to bring herself to totally break their contact, she kept one of her legs interlocked with his.
Ash stared into space, and she could easily imagine the hell he was seeing in his mind.
“I should have let it go.”
“You had every right to demand justice for those men.”
“It was a long, bloody battle. I don’t know if that was their plan—that we all die or if they literally never thought about us again.”
“How many died there?”
“Five. I was the only survivor. Although there were plenty of days I wished I’d died with them.”
“What happened?”
“I was captured, questioned. They were excited to have an American. I didn’t tell them I was a Marine. That would’ve made them way too happy. They had some fun with me. I lost consciousness. Next time I woke up, I was in Syria.”
“Syria? But how?”
“Cartel had no interest in me other than the money I could bring them. They sold me to some terrorists, who had their own agenda.”
She knew there was much more to the story. Knew that he’d been questioned, beaten numerous times. He had barely survived. They had planned to use him as propaganda, a bargaining chip.
Pain and anger dripped from every word he’d shared, but she let him tell the story the way he needed to.
“Liam and Xavier were being held hostage in a prison there. Hawke, Sean, and Gideon broke in and got us out.”
“They knew you were there, too?”
“No, I was a stranger to them. They came to rescue Liam and Xavier. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.”
Kate had given her a few of the details. The men had barely made it out of Syria alive. The mission had been a covert, undercover op to rescue two Americans who had been given up for dead. If things had gone sideways, they all would have died. Instead, they’d fought their way out of hell together.
“When I returned home, I was determined to find the people responsible for what went down in Colombia. I searched everywhere and could find no evidence of the meeting ever taking place, much less find the people involved. I looked up the guy we were protecting, and it wasn’t the same man. These people used fake names, fake everything. I was at a dead end. I finally gave up looking, until one day I turned on the television and saw one of the people who was at the meeting.”
“Nora Turner?”
“Yeah. She wasn’t a US senator yet…still a state representative. The thing in Colombia would’ve happened before she even got into politics. At that time, she was CEO of a tech company.”
“Tech Now.”
“You know it?”
“Yes, it’s a huge company. From my understanding, she spring-loaded her political career through the company and her success in running it.”
“Yeah, she’s a smart businesswoman. She’s also rotten to the core.”
“What did you do when you found out who she was?”
“I made an appointment with her, told her I knew she was there in Colombia. She denied it, of course. Told me I was delusional.”
“But that wasn’t when you had to leave the FBI, was it?”
“No. That was after Meg’s death. I did back away for a while though. We were finally closing in on finding a serial killer.”
She didn’t flinch and even managed to calmly murmur, “The Dear Lucy killer—John Leland Clark.”
Odd how she could feel no emotion in using the moniker the press had given the bastard. She could even say his real name without flinching. Without revulsion or pain. She had separated herself from that ravaged, damaged person so well that she could discuss the case as if it was just that…a case.
Some would call it denial. She called it survival.
Ash blew out a long breath. “The son of a bitch had been killing for almost five years, eluding authorities at every turn. I’d been working on the case a few months and then got tapped to head it up after Kate left. We finally found Clark, took him down. I thought it was all behind us.”
“And then he escaped.”
“Yeah.”
“And you believe it was Turner who arranged his escape.”
“I don’t think it…I know it. I just can’t prove it…at least not yet.”
“How can you be sure it was Turner you saw in Colombia and not just someone who looked like her?”
“Because right before the building exploded, I picked her up and carried her out the door. She was being trampled. I got a close-up of her. And if that didn’t convince me, as I was carrying her out, I saw she had a cut on her left arm. The scar is still visible today.”
Yes, she had seen the scar. It would have been a nasty cut, but it could have been so much worse. How ironic that Turner wanted to destroy the man who’d saved her life.
“Kate was one of the few who believed me. She’s been working behind the scenes, looking for the other people who were at the meeting. Trying to find out what the meeting was about. We’re doing the same on our end. We won’t stop until we get justice for those we lost.”
“What about the men’s families? The ones who died? What explanation were they given?”
“They were told different accounts. The family of Yeager Bates, the friend who hired me for the job, was told he died in a car crash. There are records of the accident. If I didn’t know for a fact that it was all a lie, I’d believe it, too.
“But I do know what happened. I was there with him when he took his last breath.”
Though she longed to give him assurances, promises, she couldn’t. Not yet. All she could do was hold him close and hope that it brought him some comfort.
“After I recovered, I went back there…to the meeting site. There was nothing left. The building was razed. It was like it never existed. I could prove nothing.”
“Turner went to an awful lot of trouble and expense to cover everything up. Do you think she did it alone?”
“Absolutely not. Every one of those people knows what happened. Problem is, Turner is the only one I’ve ever found.”
“How can I help?”
“You help just by listening. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to talk about this without rage taking over.”
A rush of nausea went through Jules as she realized something monumental had happened here. Ash had told her all of this because he trusted her. If she were truly working with Turner, she could ask a few more pointed questions and get what she needed to destroy Ash and maybe OZ along with him.
But she wasn’t working for Turner. She was working against her.
Never had Jules been so torn. Would it be selfish of her to tell him everything now? Locked in his arms, she could explain everything she’d done and why. Could she make him understand? Or would telling him ruin everything? In a few days, the en
tire OZ team would be involved in their biggest takedown to date. If Ash was unable to get past her lies, he might push her off the op, jeopardizing the entire mission.
As much as she wanted to spill her guts, she couldn’t. Not yet. But she swore to herself that the moment Carl Lang had been taken into custody, she would come clean with everything.
Since she could do nothing about it now, Jules turned in Ash’s arms and showed him how very much she appreciated his trust in her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A snowball slammed into the back of his head, exploding on impact. Ash turned just in time to see the triumphant expression on Jules’s face before she zoomed another icy projectile toward him. Laughing at her antics, he dodged it at the last minute. She was good.
But he was better.
Running for cover, he grabbed a handful of snow on the way. By the time he made it to the giant aspen tree, he had a hand-size, frozen missile. Peering around the tree, he spotted his target and launched. The snowball landed on her shoulder and exploded, covering her in snow.
Delighted laughter pealed through the forest as they lobbed snowballs at each other, often sending taunting remarks as a shot landed.
A snowball fight hadn’t been on his agenda this morning. When he’d woken, Jules had been snug and warm in his arms, still asleep. He’d lain there for a long while, contemplating one thing: Everything had changed last night.
Waking up with a warm body beside him had been a long-forgotten pleasure. He hadn’t shared that kind of intimacy with anyone but Meg. After he’d lost her, he hadn’t wanted to be with another woman for a long time. Yeah, the physical need was there, but squashing those desires had been easy. Being with anyone other than his wife held no appeal.
It had been years before he’d been able to even share the slightest intimacy, like a kiss, and even then he’d felt as if he were betraying Meg. When he’d finally slept with another woman, he walked away after the deed and never saw her again. He had enough of a heart to call and apologize, but that had been all he could offer.
Now, with Jules, he felt like a new person. He really, sincerely liked this woman. Liked being with her, talking with her. Liked working with her. He enjoyed seeing her eyes light up when she was talking about an op. She had a dry sense of humor and a sometimes unique way of looking at the world.
And he especially liked the way she felt in his arms.
“Hey, Drake! You ready to surrender?”
The taunting question was followed by a giant, thankfully loose snowball, which splattered over his face like an ice-cold shower. A good wake-up.
A battalion of snowballs leading his way, Ash went after her with everything he had, hurling snowball after snowball as he strode toward her. She was so busy dodging and giggling, he was on her before she could retaliate.
When he reached her, she looked both surprised and irritated that he’d managed to outwit her. Though the snowsuit covered her from head to toe, he figured she was beginning to get a chill. They’d been out here for over an hour.
“You don’t fight fair.”
Ash laughed at the childish words and the lovely little pout of lips. Pulling her into his arms, he covered that beautiful mouth with his in a fiery kiss. When she wrapped her arms around him, he tumbled them both into the snow.
Devouring her lips, Ash felt a peace he hadn’t believed he’d ever feel again.
* * *
Squealing and laughing at the same time, Jules rolled over in Ash’s arms. Looking down at his smiling face, she couldn’t remember when she’d been happier. Last night had been a dream come true, and today was pure magic.
After breakfast, Ash had persuaded her to go with him to his house. She had resisted at first. She was so not a snow person. Finally, she had relented and was glad she had. Riding with him on his snowmobile had been a blast. In fact, she was hoping he’d let her drive it back to headquarters.
Ash’s house had been another surprise. She had expected a small cottage, maybe even a cabin. She was thrilled to see it was a traditional-style two-story red brick house with a large wraparound porch, complete with rocking chairs and a porch swing.
The décor was basic. Nothing extravagant or fancy, but extremely comfortable all the same. The oversize leather sofa, large fireplace with a giant flat-screen TV hanging above it, spoke of comfort and not a lot of flash. Definitely her style of living.
She could see herself staying here with him forever. The minute the idea flashed in her head, she squashed it. That kind of thinking was too dangerous to even contemplate. She knew what she wanted and where her heart lay, but she had no idea about Ash.
Not wanting to ruin what had so far been a truly spectacular day with what might happen in the future, she focused on the here and now, giving him her brightest smile.
“What are you grinning about?” Ash asked. “I won the battle.”
Pulling him down to her for another kiss, she whispered softly, “That’s because I let you.”
He raised his head. “Excuse me?”
“Ha! Gotcha!”
Laughing, he rolled her over onto her back again and kissed her. Ignoring the cold, ignoring the problems that faced her, Jules gave herself up to the sheer beauty of being in love for the first time in her life.
“That’s not even a word!”
Ash grinned at Jules’s indignation. When he was a kid, he and his mother had spent hours at the Scrabble board. It had been her favorite game. After his dad had finally gotten out of the picture, there had been a lot more laughter in the house. Playing word games had been one of her favorite ways to unwind after a long day at work. Ash would have done anything for her. She had sacrificed so much to keep him safe.
“It’s definitely a word.” He slid the dictionary across the table. “Read it and weep.”
Eyes narrowed with suspicion, she grabbed the dictionary and began to turn pages. Ash watched her face as she found the word. He’d noticed when she was concentrating, she got the cutest wrinkle right at the bridge of her nose.
Sighing, she slammed the book closed. “How on earth does anyone know that word?”
“What? I use it in conversations all the time.”
“Oh yeah? Give me a sentence using it.”
“No problem. I’m surprised to learn that, despite Juliet Stone’s obvious intelligence, she’s never heard the word absquatulate.”
Jules sputtered. “That’s cheating.”
“Hey, you asked me to use it in a sentence.”
“Very well.” She rearranged some tiles on her Scrabble tray and then placed them on the board. “I hate to get rough with you, Mr. Drake, but here you go.”
“Wabbit?” He eyed her carefully. “Isn’t that what Elmer Fudd calls Bugs Bunny?”
“Maybe.” Her lips twitched, telling him she was working hard not to laugh. “But it’s an actual word, too.”
“Okay, then you use it in a sentence.” He raised his hand. “And don’t use my sentence. I own that one.”
“After a long day of hunting down bad guys, Asher Drake was wabbit.”
“Like, I actually turned into one?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s an adjective, not a noun.”
“Give me that dictionary.”
Glee twinkling in her eyes, she slid the book back across the table. “Now you read it and weep, Mr. Drake.”
He found the word easily enough. It was a Scottish word meaning exhausted. Putting the book down with one hand, he used his other hand to grab Jules’s wrist and pull her around to sit on his lap. “Asher Drake is not too wabbit for this.”
“Good, because I’d hate to have to absquatulate.”
“We’ve got three feet of snow at the door. No way could you absquatulate.”
“Maybe if I turned into a wabbit, I could.”
Shouting with laughter, Ash kissed her smiling mouth. She was sassy, sweet, and so damn appealing.
OZ headquarters had been closed for three days. A second snowstorm had come
a day after the first one and added another half foot of the white stuff. All OZ personnel and operatives were still either working from home or taking time off. The snowstorm might have come at an inconvenient time, but it had also offered an unexpected and delightful consequence. Even though Ash had worked in his office, and he and Jules had reviewed the upcoming op ad nauseam, he’d still taken time for himself. Time to get to know Jules.
He’d learned she hated blueberries, but loved blueberry-flavored everything. She was an avid runner, could almost outshoot him, and could swim like a fish. She also had a quirky sense of humor. He’d laughed more over the last three days than he had in years. She made him happy, and if that wasn’t one of the most shocking things he’d thought in a long time, he didn’t know what was.
Without a doubt, or even an ounce of fear, he knew he’d fallen in love with her.
* * *
Jules released a sigh of sheer contentment as she sank into Ash’s arms. If she could wrap up a period of time and hold on to it forever, she would choose these last few days. They had been as close to perfection as she had ever known. Every morning, she’d woken in Ash’s arms, and every night she had gone to bed with his arms wrapped around her.
Getting to know Ash—the real Ash—had been sheer magic. The problems that lay before her had been put on the back burner. She had forced herself to let her worries go and live in the moment.
“What was that sigh about?”
She shrugged. “I really enjoyed these last few days being alone with you.”
The team would be back tomorrow, and the next day they would be flying to Slovakia for the auction. As much as she anticipated the mission that would put an end to Carl Lang’s evil, she couldn’t help but feel regret that these idyllic days were almost over.
MERCILESS Page 22
