“How about some tea?”
“I’d like that.”
“Let me get my shower, and I’ll be right out. Fifteen minutes, tops.” He headed to the guest room.
Upstairs, the muffled sound of an unfamiliar voice reached him. Jonathan said something. A conversation ensued.
After showering and grabbing his mystery book, he headed outside with steaming mugs of Earl Gray. “Here you go.”
Abigail yawned and stretched. “His and her tea mugs?”
“Something like that.” David eased down beside her.
They drank their tea and read in comfortable silence. Chalk one up for why they fit so well together. Abigail leaned her head against his shoulder, and her hair spilled down his arm in silky wisps. It tickled his skin and conjured images of what could be. Her chest rose and fell in an even pace. Good. She needed to rest after the past week.
The french doors opened. Jonathan chuckled. “Well, look at the lovebirds.”
“Hey, man.” David grinned. Jonathan had ribbed them the night before when he saw them curled up together watching television.
Abigail lifted her head a moment, then laid it against his shoulder again and murmured, “You woke me up.”
“Sorry.” Jonathan eased onto a rattan chair. “Hey, bro. Want to run out with me to grab some coffee, er, tea?”
“Sure.”
Abigail didn’t move. “I can’t come?”
“You need to rest.”
“The bromance continues,” she muttered. Then she climbed to her feet and stretched.
David followed her movements with his eyes. He caught himself since Jonathan sat not three feet from him. Rising, he mumbled, “Let me get some shoes on. Abigail, why don’t you grab some shuteye while we’re gone?”
She tossed him a mock salute and headed inside.
Once he returned, Jonathan opened the gate to the carport. “Do you mind walking? It’s too nice of a morning to drive anywhere.”
“Are you sure you feel like it?”
“Yeah, I’m doing better.” A smile unvarnished by pain crossed his face. “I sat up without groaning, and breathing doesn’t hurt anymore. I guess that’s progress.”
They stepped onto the sidewalk and strolled toward the capitol a few blocks away. Jonathan cast him a sideways glance. “I take it you two are an item now.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind? Not at all. You’re good for her, you know.”
“How so?”
“You’re an encourager. Always have been. You’re strong and steady, someone who’s genuine. I think she’s been cautious about dating anyone because she got so burned by Nick.”
David let that one pass in silence as they made their way south and arrived at the capitol grounds. The boy he’d sent to the shelter the night before reminded him all too much of his own state five years ago. What would have happened if someone had intervened that first night? If he’d only swallowed his pride and walked—yes, he could have walked—to Jonathan’s house? None of this would have happened. But, if it hadn’t happened, would he have ever united with Abigail?
“Here we go.” Jonathan slowed.
David had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized how they’d traveled south on Fayetteville Street for a few blocks.
Jonathan opened a door leading into a café already crowded by people in business suits, those in jeans and T-shirts, and a few law enforcement uniforms. “It’s on me.”
Once they had a hot tea for David and a steaming brew of the daily coffee special for Jonathan, they settled at an outdoor table.
His friend braced himself as he lowered into a chair. “Sorry. Getting up and down is still the hard part. The doc said I’d heal up a lot in the next few days. I sure hope he’s right.” He took a sip and gazed around him at the hubbub of people walking along the sidewalk. “I like this time of day. It’s not too hot yet. Not too humid either. It’s neat to observe people walking along the street. Sometimes, I’ll make up stories about them, like where they’re going, what their past is. This is where I truly feel at home.”
“Abigail called Raleigh her safe landing place.”
“I think it is for both of us. When I was working at the Ghazni compound, I’d only be halfway through my three-month tour and yearning to come home to Raleigh.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I was on a telecon with the SecureLink CEO, Wyatt Edwards. Bryson Bishop, who used to work with Abigail and was my law guy at the Ghazni compound, ran the investigation on the convoy that got hit. I guess the way Nicole discredited me got to him, and he sent everything—and I mean everything—in a FedEx package to Wyatt, for his eyes only.”
“He jumped the chain of command?”
“Big time because Boss Man ignored everything.”
“Boss Man?”
“Harry Bossman, the former CEO of the Ghazni compound. Wyatt told me that when he got the package, he reviewed everything. He called Boss Man into his office and got the run-around. I don’t know the gory details, but the long and short of it is that he gave Boss Man two choices, either retire effective immediately, or be fired. Guess which one he took.”
“Retirement.”
“Bingo. That happened on Monday. I think that got to Wyatt because he realized how Boss Man tried to cover up everything, including refusing a team from the home office to investigate. He decided SecureLink needed some sort of internal accountability, kind of like Internal Affairs in a police department—and a special projects team. That’s why he called me. He wants me to lead that division.”
“Hey, that’s great. Congratulations.” David grinned and offered his hand.
Jonathan shook it. “The cool thing is, I get to pick and choose who I want. Internal or external, it doesn’t matter. He said the only thing that mattered was that they’re not easily influenced and have knowledge, skills, and abilities that would enable them to function like a police force or special ops team. You know. Different specialties but the ability to cross-train. I’ve already contacted Bryson, and he’s onboard as heading the investigations unit. I need someone for my deputy to oversee special projects.”
David raised an eyebrow. “You…you want me to be that man?”
“You got it.” Jonathan leaned forward and took another sip of coffee. “Look. We made a good team when we were with the Mighty Men. A great team. We worked well both as comrades and as friends. You watched my back, and I watched yours. I envision you overseeing the special projects unit.”
The anxiety that had nibbled at his soul exploded to the forefront. “That’s…that’s quite an opportunity. But are you sure I’m the right guy? After everything that happened to me?”
“I know you are. You’ve got the instincts and smarts needed. Look.” Jonathan paused and looked him in the eye with an intensity in his own. “I know your history. I know what happened to you, but I also know you’ve recovered and put your life back together.”
“But I don’t have a college degree.”
“Not necessary. Educational background doesn’t matter so long as you have a secondary education or equivalent. What does matter at this point is experience. And skills. You’ve got natural-born talents at leadership and the ability to think through a mission in excruciating detail. You know what it takes to flesh out a team, and I’m confident that between the two of us, we could stock the Special Projects Unit with the right people.”
“I’m still not—”
“Let me sweeten the deal for you. This is what I’m authorized to offer in terms of a salary.” Jonathan quoted a sum.
“Wow.” The figure was six times what he made as the maintenance man at the hotel in Burning Tree.
“And, I can offer a signing bonus, plus other periodic bonuses where appropriate. And get this—Wyatt gave me permission to set up shop here in Raleigh since he thinks the Special Projects and Investigation Division needs to be separate from the rest of the company. That’s the best part. If you took the job, you wouldn’
t be too far from Abigail.”
“I’m…I’m flattered. This is a lot to take in.” The opportunity. The money. Abigail. The offer boggled his mind. But he’d have to leave Burning Tree—his security. He’d have to leave Kyra and his family, the only ones he’d trusted.
He’d have to live in Raleigh, the very place where he’d hit his lowest point.
Jonathan seemed to sense his worries. “Why don’t you take a couple of days to think about it? I know you have to talk with Kyra and your folks too. But know this. I’m not going to lay you off, and I definitely am not going to let you wind up on the streets again. You’re my brother-in-Christ, and that means I’ve got your back. Always.” His friend gingerly pushed himself to his feet. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
David managed a nod. As they began the walk back to the house, two sides battled within him. The safety and security of Burning Tree versus the opportunity of a future with SecureLink and Abigail.
He didn’t know which he wanted more.
That was what terrified him.
34
Burning Tree, Utah
From her customary place in the front passenger seat of the van they’d stolen in Denver, Nicole surveyed the main road as they rumbled into town. What a piddly little place. Even at mid-morning, only a few cars meandered along the streets. It was the same on the sidewalks. At least they only had one cop car that she could see. All the better for their plans. They pulled into the parking lot of the town’s only gas station, and she picked up the burner phone, then dialed a number.
“Kyra Lane Café and Restaurant,” a perky female announced.
“Is Kyra Martin in?” Nicole glanced at Roy.
The faintest of smiles crossed his stubbled face.
“No, ma’am. She isn’t due until five today.”
“Do you know where I could find her?”
“Probably at home. Would you like to leave a message?”
“No, thanks. I’ll call back later.” Nicole lowered the phone and nodded. “She’s where we need her to be. Too bad we couldn’t get the kids too.”
“That would be too much for the two of us.” Roy put the van into gear. “Are you ready?”
“Ready to get the drive and my life back.” She leaned over and kissed him. “And once we get it to Shamal Khan to help El Lobo, I’ll be ready to skip the country and never return.”
“Agreed there.” He slowed and almost coasted to the stop sign at the junction with the main highway.
Nicole undid her seatbelt. “I’ll walk from here. What say you do a loop through town? That should be all the time I need to do what I need to do.”
“Roger that.”
She hopped from the van. After glancing into her handbag to ensure her gun lay within reach, she crossed over the river and slowed at the short set of steps leading to the front yard of the Martin house. Inside, a vacuum cleaner hummed. A shadow briefly crossed in front of the rectangle of light created by the open back door.
Perfect.
Nicole sashayed up the front steps. She rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
She rang again.
The noise ceased, and the silhouette reappeared.
A petite woman approached the screen.
“Kyra Martin?” Nicole asked in her most official voice.
“That’s me.” Kyra didn’t smile. “And you are?”
“Nicole Chatain. I’m with the VA. They sent me down from Salt Lake City because there’s been some discrepancy with your brother’s benefits. Is he here?”
“He’s not.”
“May I come in and leave some paperwork for him?”
“No.” Kyra’s answer came out hard and flat. Her dark eyes narrowed. “I need to see some ID.”
In one smooth motion, Nicole yanked open the screened door, stepped inside, and shoved Kyra.
Off balance, the woman stumbled backward. She clawed at the staircase railing. With a cry, she tumbled into the foyer’s console table before falling to the floor.
Nicole kicked the main door shut, grabbed her gun, and pointed it at Kyra’s head. “This is all of the ID I need.”
Kyra’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”
“Your worst enemy, Kyra Martin.”
From somewhere nearby, a dog frantically barked.
“Where’s the dog?”
“He—he’s in the bedroom. He hates the vacuum, and—”
“Shut up.” Nicole noted a puppy whining in a crate by the kitchen’s door. “Get up and go to the kitchen.”
Kyra climbed to her feet, then whipped around and clawed at Nicole.
She stumbled backward.
Kyra fled toward the back door.
Roy blocked her escape.
“No!” Kyra snatched a knife from the butcher block and brandished it in front of her.
Roy charged her. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist with one hand, and with the other, he took her by the throat and rammed her into the cabinet. Her head cracked against the deep cherry wood.
The knife clattered to the floor.
Kyra moaned.
Roy released her.
She slid to the floor, and her hands shot to her throat.
He tied her wrists and ankles with cable ties.
“Nice try.” Nicole jabbed her with the toe of her hiking boot.
“What…what do you want with me?” Kyra glared at them.
Nicole smirked at the blood that ran down her cheek from the cut her fall into the table had produced. “It’s not you we want. Or your brother. It’s his pal. Ward.”
“Jonathan Ward?”
“You guessed it. Let’s get out of here.”
Roy slapped a piece of duct tape over Kyra’s mouth and tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of feed.
Nicole closed up the house and followed. They stashed Kyra in the back and headed south into the mountains. An hour’s drive took them from pavement to dirt, and one last turn brought the double-wide they’d commandeered into view.
Cal came outside, the rifle they’d retrieved from Roy’s house at a relaxed ready position in front of him. He grinned as Nicole hopped from the passenger’s seat. “Who’d you bring me this time?”
Roy slid open the side door, revealing Kyra lying on the floor.
She squirmed, and muted bleats seeped through the tape.
Roy tugged her to a sitting position. “Kyra Martin, Shepherd’s sister.” He clipped the cable tie around her ankles.
Cal stepped forward and fingered her dark curls.
Kyra cringed and tried to pull away.
His hand drifted to her cheek. “She’s mighty pretty. I think I’ll—”
“She’s not for play,” Nicole said. She sneered at Kyra. “At least not right now. Let’s go.” She grabbed her by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”
Kyra stumbled beside her.
Nicole sneezed as they entered the dusty trailer. In the dim light, Frisco slept on a ratty velour couch in colors of orange, rust, and yellow. He was still out of it, thanks to the pain meds the doc-in-the-box had given him. She swore at Ward under her breath. They needed Frisco at one hundred percent, not ten.
She yanked a blue vinyl chair from underneath the kitchen table and shoved Kyra onto it. “Sit there. Roy, get that camera set up.”
Next to her, Roy placed a webcam on a shelf of a nearby bookcase.
Nicole hit a few keys, and Kyra came into sharp focus. A few more taps opened a Skype session. Kyra wriggled in the image.
Nicole ripped the tape from their hostage’s mouth, causing her to yelp. She spun the laptop around. “You see this, Kyra Martin? You’re going to help deliver a message for us.”
“I’ll not—”
Nicole slapped her hard across the face, and an angry red hand print blossomed on her cheek. “You don’t have a choice. Do it or join the owners of this trailer six feet under.”
She reached for her phone.
35
Raleigh, North Carolina
> Early afternoon rain pattered onto the roof of the Ward house. Abigail hummed as she stirred the spaghetti sauce. Through the open screened door came scents that had always reminded her of home, those of Carolina jasmine, gardenia bushes, and azaleas. It felt good to be home, to have her brother and his best friend reconciled.
“Aw, man! You beat me again.” Jonathan laughed from the living room. “Okay, bro. Enough for today.”
A few seconds later, David strolled into the kitchen and set his empty drink glass on the counter.
Abigail soaked up his dark gaze like spilled wine onto a soft towel. “You didn’t beat him too badly, did you?”
“Nah. He almost got me when he forked my king and rook.” He slid his hand behind her neck and drew her into a kiss.
Oh, my. He could do that all afternoon, and she wouldn’t mind. Nope. Not at all. She rested her hands on his chest. “Kitchen romance?”
He chuckled as he laced his fingers through her hair. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. What’s cooking?”
“Spaghetti sauce for tonight. The top-secret-need-to-know Ward recipe. Want a taste?” She reached into a drawer and handed him a spoon.
He dipped it into the pan. After sampling it, he grinned. “Absolutely delicious.” He kissed her again.
She snuggled closer.
“Okay, you lovebirds, knock it off.” Jonathan mock-punched his friend on the shoulder. “I take it we’re eating in?”
“Uh, yeah.” She disengaged from David’s embrace. “I didn’t cook all of this sauce for nothing. So when are we going to the beach?”
“She’s too eager,” Jonathan stage-whispered to David, who chuckled.
“I figured tomorrow. Then we could—” Jonathan’s phone chimed. He glanced at the Caller ID and frowned. “Who is this? Nicole?”
Why would Nicole be calling here? This couldn’t be good. Abigail shivered and took David’s hand.
“I do.” Her brother brushed by her and rushed into the living room. His steps thundered upward.
Abigail and David darted after him. By the time they reached his study and crowded behind his L-shaped desk against the wall, Jonathan had logged into his computer and opened Skype.
The Athena File Page 28
