Absolution

by Kaylea Cross

  A small silence passed before Bryn spoke. “What did he say to you?”

  Emily aimed a bland look at her. “Like you don’t already know?”

  Bryn shrugged, not at all bothered by the comment. “If I hadn’t, one look at your son’s face when he came downstairs would have told me it didn’t go well.”

  Not entirely true. Parts of it had gone far, far too well. Another reason she couldn’t go to Beirut. “I need to stay here while I’m in treatment.”

  “No, you don’t. Neveah and Ben will both take care of you—”

  “I’m not going just because there’s a small chance a terrorist will come after me.” It took everything she had not to shout it, and she placed a hand over the hot ball sitting in her stomach. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone? Couldn’t they all see how upsetting it was?

  “Em, you don’t know this guy like I do. Like Luke does.” Bryn’s eyes were shadowed with worry. “He can get to you here, believe me.”

  “I already told Luke that doesn’t make sense. Why would I be a target now when I’ve barely spoken to Luke since he left? I’m not important enough to warrant that kind of attention from a terrorist.”

  “Apparently you are, or Luke wouldn’t be here asking you to go to Beirut with the rest of us.”

  Asking? That’s exactly it—Luke never asked, he peremptorily ordered, and expected people to jump. Emily glared. “And you’re going for sure? Even after what happened to you last time? How does Luke know you’ll be safe now?”

  “Dec pretty much ordered me to go. And don’t forget Ben was head of my father’s security team over there. He knows the place and the networking in Beirut better than anyone. Not to state the obvious, but our guys are a lot better versed in security measures than we are. It would be stupid for us not to take their advice.” She held up a hand. “And before you remind me that Ben’s supervision wasn’t enough to prevent Tehrazzi from getting to me the first time, Dec agrees it makes sense to put all of us women together in a secure location, rather than having us scattered around where we can’t have adequate protection. Besides, Tehrazzi’s in Afghanistan, or at least they think he is. We’ll be safe in Beirut.”

  “Leave it alone, Bryn.”

  With an irritated sigh, her friend took hold of her hands. “If you won’t do it for your own safety and for my peace of mind,” she murmured, gazing deep into her eyes, “then do it for Luke’s.”

  Emily’s heart squeezed. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Em...he flew here to see you because I sent him an e-mail—”

  “You what?”

  Bryn rolled her eyes. “It’s not important why he’s here, the point is he was worried enough to come here and see you. He’s tracking the most dangerous terrorist on the planet, and for him to have the added weight of worrying about your safety from the other side of the world is only going to endanger him and everyone else on the team. Including my husband,” she finished, her voice catching.

  A layer of guilt settled over her already bubbling stomach. “Nice, Bryn. That’s just what I needed, a guilt trip on top of everything else.”

  “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  God, she had enough to deal with without having other people’s lives slung onto the yoke around her neck. And to hell with feeling bad about what Luke was going through. Everything that had happened and was happening to him was self-inflicted. She’d done everything in her power to make things right between them. For years. His pride and his job had always won out.

  But Bryn continued to watch her with dark, worried eyes, and uncertainty crept in. Maybe her decision could affect Luke’s frame of mind. He had to care about her to some extent, or he wouldn’t have shown up here in the first place.

  She looked away from Bryn and started toying with the cuffs of her sleep-shirt. Would it really bother Luke that much if she stayed stateside? Enough to distract him while he was out in the field? She doubted it, but then again, was she prepared to put it to the test? People’s lives were at stake here, she couldn’t be so selfish. She shook her head at Bryn. “How am I supposed to live in the same house as him?”

  “It’s a big house,” Bryn encouraged. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, and he’ll be out in the field most of the time.”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me.” Being there while he was out doing missions would be damn hard on her, regardless of their strained relationship. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. If she could help him by going to Beirut, she could also give Bryn some support. Because Bryn was going to need it. Being married to an active duty SEAL was hard enough without a strong support network to draw on.

  Emily pulled her hands out of Bryn’s grip, rubbed them over her face and then through her short hair. She was opening her mouth to say okay when Bryn’s gaze shot to the pillow Emily lay on, and her stomach shriveled at the shock on her friend’s pretty face. “What?”

  Bryn brought a hand up to her mouth, a sure sign something was wrong. “Um...”

  Sitting up, Emily swiveled around to find a tuft of hair lying on the creamy pillowcase. Her heart sank. Ah, damn. She touched the dark strands, then reached up to find the tiny bare spot on her scalp. Oh, for— More hair came out in her hand. “Shit.”

  Bryn made a strangled sound, almost like a nervous laugh, staring at her with her hand over her mouth.

  A smile tugged at Emily’s lips. She rarely swore, and in an ironic way it was kind of funny that her hair would fall out in the middle of this conversation. She thanked God it hadn’t happened in front of Luke. “The doctors told me I would probably wake up one morning with my hair on my pillow, but this gives the warning a whole new meaning.” And right on time, too, almost three weeks to the day since her first chemo treatment.

  As an awkward silence ensued, she called on her inner strength. At least she was prepared for this, having agonized about the decision already. Nothing to do now but go through with it. “Well.” She smacked her palms against her thighs, mind made up. “Guess it’s finally time to shave my head.”

  Bryn looked at her in alarm, shock clear in her expression. “Are you...sure?”

  “Yep. Got my collection of wigs all ready to go.” Best to be practical about it and not dwell on the realization that she was going to go bald. Practical, steady, calm. She could do that.

  “Of course you do,” Bryn remarked wryly, climbing off the bed. “Want me to go?”

  “No. I could use a hand, if you don’t mind.” She marched to the bathroom and yanked open the top drawer of the cabinet beneath the ivory granite vanity, pulling out the electric clippers she’d bought for this purpose. Raising her head, she stared into the mirror. So she was about to be bald. No big deal, most chemo patients had to go through this. What was hair, anyway? Just some dead protein.

  She straightened her shoulders, determined to face it with dignity. This damn disease had taken pretty much everything else that identified her as a woman—it might as well have her hair too. “And that’s the last piece of me you’re getting,” she vowed to her reflection in a low voice, a shiver running through her as adrenaline started to flow. She’d be damned if she’d surrender and go quietly.

  She narrowed her eyes at her reflection and sent the cancer a silent message. Fuck. You.

  Behind her, Bryn glanced at the clippers warily before meeting her eyes in the mirror. “You sure about this?”

  No. “Yes.” Em held them out to her. “Here. You do it.”

  Bryn took them and came to stand at her shoulder. “We don’t have to do this right now. We could go have a few glasses of wine first, relax a bit—”

  “I want it off on my terms, not the chemo’s.” It was all going to fall out anyway, so better all at once than piece by piece. She jerked her chin at the clippers. “Every damn bit of it so that it’s done and I can move on.”

  “Okay.” The clippers made a buzzing sound when she turned them on. Bryn was four inches taller, her height advantage perfect for the
task at hand. “Ready?”

  Emily nodded and curled her hands into fists, bracing for the first sweep of the clippers. She sensed more than heard Bryn’s sigh as she brought them to her head and made the first pass. They drew across her scalp slowly from forehead to nape, leaving a shiny strip of naked skin. Wisps of hair tickled her face and neck as they fell. This wasn’t deserving of her grief, Emily reminded herself, hating the lump in her throat. It’s just hair. It’ll grow back once this is all over.

  If you live long enough to see it, the cancer whispered back.

  She forced the ugly voice from her mind. Bzzzzzz... More hair fell onto the white tiled floor. Partway through she lost her nerve and looked down at it, the rich brown strands floating through the air to land at her feet. So much of it, though it had been cut short.

  Stop thinking about it. It’s nothing. Who cares? The bathroom fell silent as Bryn finally turned the clippers off, and the fullness of the sudden quiet pressed against Emily. “All done,” Bryn said softly, laying them on the countertop. “Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll clean this up.”

  Gathering her courage, Emily lifted her chin to confront her reflection. She smothered a gasp. Her naked scalp was a shock, and she forced herself to lift a hand to touch it. Oh, God. She looked ill now. Truly, desperately ill. A convulsive swallow rippled through her throat. Any time now she’d lose her eyebrows and lashes, too.

  Bryn put her arms around Emily’s waist and rested her chin on her shoulder. “You’re still beautiful. You shouldn’t be, but you are.”

  Emily forced a smile. “Spoken like a true friend.”

  “I’m serious.” She studied her in the mirror for a few moments before blurting, “Want me to shave mine, too?”

  On a gasp, Emily turned her head. Bryn would do it, too. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, admiring the gorgeous fall of straight deep brown hair that came to the middle of Bryn’s back. “It’s sweet of you to offer and I appreciate it, but no.”

  “Want me to get one of your wigs?”

  “I’ll get it.” On her way to the walk-in closet she looked back at Bryn over her shoulder and searched her mind for something to lighten the mood. “Don’t look so worried, I’m fine. And just think—I’ll eventually get a free semi-permanent Brazilian out of the deal.”

  “If you’re trying to make me jealous, forget it. I’ll keep my bikini line smooth the regular way, thanks.”

  Emily took the box from the shelf and pulled out a short bobbed wig, in a shade close to her natural hair color. She fitted it on her head and smoothed the ends into place before facing Bryn. “Well? How do I look?”

  Bryn’s smile was full of genuine pleasure. “Gorgeous. How come you never cut your hair like that before? It suits you perfectly.”

  “Maybe I will once it grows back.” She fussed with the other wigs before replacing the box, eyeing her large pink suitcase set neatly in the corner. After debating it for a minute, she hauled it out and set it on the wide ottoman where she laid out her clothes each morning.

  “All right,” she relented, facing Bryn with her hands on her hips. “What am I going to need to wear in Beirut this time of year?”

  ****

  CIA Headquarters Langley, VA

  When Luke arrived mid-morning the next day, Jamie was waiting for him in his office. Luke liked his boss, mild-mannered and only a few years older than him.

  Jamie’s bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and rose behind his paper-laden desk. “Good to see you, Hutch.”

  Luke accepted the hand Jamie offered and shook it. “You, too.” He seated himself in the wing chair opposite the desk.

  “You look like you could use some sleep.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Other than short snatches when he could grab them, sleep wasn’t going to be an option for a while. But he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Lounging back further into the cushy leather, he regarded his boss and cut right to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me about Em?”

  To his credit, Jamie didn’t even blink. “I wasn’t sure she wanted you to know.”

  Fair enough, but it still pissed him off. “How much do you know?”

  “All of it. The lumpectomy, hysterectomy and mastectomy as well as her chemo regimen.” He studied Luke in silence for a moment. “You could’ve asked me.”

  Yeah, but he would have looked pathetic, pining after the wife he’d chosen to abandon in the first place. “No, you should have told me.” All this time he’d assumed Jamie would speak up if something serious happened to Em or Rayne.

  “The deal was I would keep tabs on her, not report her private business to you or anybody else.”

  Luke’s hands curled into fists on his tensed thighs. “You knew I would have gone to her.”

  Jamie inclined his head. “Yes.”

  “And you also knew she was alone through all of this.”

  “Not until recently she wasn’t.” He leaned forward and put his forearms on his desk. “What are you doing about it?”

  A hell of a lot less than he’d like. “I’m taking her to Beirut with me, like we discussed.”

  Jamie’s eyebrows went up. “She agreed?”

  “As of this morning.” He’d received the e-mail from Bryn when he landed in D.C. “She’s not happy about it, but at least she’s going.”

  “Good.” His boss steepled his fingers and regarded him for a long moment. “Anything else, or shall we get on with the business of the day?”

  Luke tossed the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird on the desk. Jamie glanced up at him. “Still think it means he’s coming after you?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it.”

  His boss sighed. “Shit. Guess we’d better find out what the hell’s going on, then.”

  When Luke nodded, Jamie got on his desktop and connected through to the Kabul office. Luke rounded the desk, taking a seat on the corner of it. Within moments, Davis and Miller appeared on screen.

  “Tell me what you’ve got so far,” Luke said to Miller, who pushed up his rimless glasses with his forefinger. He looked like the analyst geek he was. Miller was a detail freak. Very little got past him, which was why he was so good at his job.

  “Nothing solid yet. Some chatter that Tehrazzi’s moving southwest, but we can’t confirm it. Without the help of the locals, it’s near impossible to corroborate.”

  “And you, Davis?” Jamie asked.

  Davis leaned in closer, the live feed from the webcam making the video appear jerky and digital. The former Green Beret’s dark coloring and beard made him look like an Afghan. His average stature and features made him an ideal covert agent, perfectly suited for his role in counter insurgency operations. Luke had seen him change like a chameleon to suit whichever tribe or cultural nuance was needed for a mission. He could be a Taliban leader one day and a Serbian arms dealer the next. And he was damn good at what he did, capable of blending in seamlessly with a group in order to infiltrate a tribe or organization. The ultimate operative for Foreign Internal Defense.

  Davis’s keen dark eyes looked into the screen as he spoke. “The tide’s turning out here, and not in a good way. Sources I’ve been able to count on for the past three years have dried up like the Great Salt Lake.” He snapped his fingers, his expression and demeanor remaining calm. Yet another trait Luke loved about the guy. He never got rattled about anything. Exactly the kind of guy a man wanted at his back when things turned ugly. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly welcome where I used to be.” Davis’s expertise and ability to earn people’s trust was a winning combination, so him having trouble said a lot.

  This shift in loyalty only made their job tougher. If someone as superbly trained as Davis couldn’t gain access to the warlords on the CIA payroll, then things had indeed iced up on the information highway. “But y’all are sure Tehrazzi’s still in country?”

  Miller nodded. “As sure as I can be.”

  Jamie laced his fingers behind his head. “How do you want
to handle this, Hutch?”

  “I’ll be in Beirut tomorrow afternoon local time. I’ll conference you both when I get everything set up.”

  Miller’s eyes narrowed. “You think he might be headed for Lebanon?”

  “Possibly. Or Syria.” Those were the most likely places because of his connections there. And if it was Lebanon, Luke would make damn sure he led Tehrazzi away from Beirut. As far away from Emily as possible.

  “Have you got a security team in place?”

  Worry from Miller? Since he had expected some kind of a jocular comment instead, Luke couldn’t keep the sardonic edge from his voice. “I’m touched by your concern, but yeah, I’m set up there.”

  Rather than let it go, Miller edged Davis out of the way and moved in closer, a deep frown forming under his carefully styled, but thinning bangs. “You know he’s looking for you. I mean actively hunting.”

  “Yep. And I’m counting on him finding me, too. Just haven’t decided where that showdown’s gonna happen yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “You’re planning on coming to Kabul to bring him out of hiding,” Miller said incredulously. “Jesus, do you have a death wish? I thought the whole idea was to draw Tehrazzi away from his supporters—”

  Before Luke could reply, Jamie jumped in. “I think we all agree Luke’s the bait we need to catch this particular shark. Once we have more intel he’ll put together a mission plan and brief you all. Now, we all have work to do, so let’s get back to it. Hutch will contact you once he’s overseas.” He ended the conference and the screen went black. When he looked at Luke, his expression was deadly serious. “You watch your back over there.”

  The stark warning surprised Luke. “Will do.”

  “Why do I always feel like I’m wasting my breath with you?” Then his boss sighed and regarded him almost fondly. “Who do you want?”

  “Davis.” And a dozen more just like him. Pity that wasn’t going to happen.

  “That goes without saying. Anyone else?”

  “I’ve got my crew assembling over there now, for support and logistics. Would be nice to have a little muscle for backup, though.”