“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. “There might have been some panic. And Orion was playing stupid.”
“Listening. Waiting for us to get into place,” Jake said. “He gave the signal for us to come in.”
“Oh. That’s what that was.” She gave a laugh that didn’t sound anything like humor.
“You okay, Jen?” Ham said.
“How about if I get you something to eat,” Jake said.
“I’m good, I’m just . . . okay, a coffee sounds good.” She followed Jake from the room.
Then it was just Ham and Signe and Samuels, quietly sewing up his wound.
Maybe the PA had something for the bitter ache inside.
“Signe. You still with me here?”
She turned, her lips tight. Lifted a shoulder. “Where else am I going to go.”
“Nice, Sig.”
She didn’t answer him. Turned away.
Four hours later, she still hadn’t looked at him as they boarded the chartered jet. She sat down in the padded leather chair, running her hands over the armrests.
He took the seat next to her, not sure why, but maybe just because he couldn’t leave it alone.
He wasn’t the bad guy here.
“Signe, you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Super.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “How did you get the plane here?”
“The wind shifted, and my pilot was able to get in. But we need to leave now if we want to get out before it shifts again.”
“Do these fancy seats go back?”
He indicated an electronic pull on her armrest.
She put the seat down, grabbed her pillow, and curled up, her back to him.
“The only easy day was yesterday,” Jake said as he sat down across the aisle from him.
Ham looked at him. “Yesterday was off the hook. Today’s not much better.”
“It’s a little better. I scored you a grape soda from the nurse’s stand.” Jake reached into his backpack and pulled it out. “Get some shut-eye. Tomorrow is a new day.”
“When we land, it’ll still be today.”
“That bad, huh?” Jake nodded toward Signe and her less than friendly posture.
Ham looked at her. “I got a plan.”
“Of course you do.” Jake pulled out his pillow as the plane began to cycle up.
At least the private plane had more leg room, but Ham couldn’t wait to put his seat back. Orion sat ahead of him, beside Jenny, a pillow under his head, his nose taped, his knee under ice.
North and the rest of the team had taken the back seats, stretched out.
The captain came on and prepped them for takeoff. Ham stared out the window as they left the runway, the plane rising above the Catania-Fontanarossa airport.
In the distance, Etna still spit lava, a great cloud of black ash hovering above, raining down its slopes. Streams of red lava dug trenches into the hillside, scarring the terrain as it seeped death into the villages below.
It would take a lifetime for them to recover, if at all.
Signe stirred, punched her pillow, and fell back to sleep as they flew into the clouds and left the destruction behind.
CHAPTER TEN
MARTIN WAS STILL HUNTING HER, and no amount of pretending was going to make that truth easier.
Signe stared out the window as the pilot came over the loudspeaker and announced their descent. She’d slept a total of 13.3 minutes since leaving Italy, rolling what-ifs through her brain.
All of them ended with her on the run, sometimes with Aggie, sometimes without, using her passport to cross into Canada, and from there . . . vanish.
Next to her, Ham put up his seat. “You ready?”
He’d slept on the flight, his lean, strong body relaxing as they headed into the sunset. His even breaths stirred to the surface the night they’d spent together at the school. The way she’d let herself relax next to him, relish the warmth of his presence.
She’d always felt safe next to Ham.
It was the world that scared her. The world she needed to figure out, order, control. The world that made her want to grab one of her aliases and run.
She just had to decide if she should take Aggie with her. Probably not.
Being on the run was no life for her child. For anyone, really.
“Sure,” she said now to his question. Signe looked out the window. They had cleared the clouds, and all of the Minneapolis/St. Paul area stretched out across the horizon. Neighborhoods nestled in a jeweled array of red maples, yellow poplar, and orange oak trees, the lakes deep indigo and the twilight shining off a silver-domed stadium.
“Is that new?” She pointed at the stadium.
Ham looked out her window. “US Bank Stadium. Where the Minnesota Vikings play.”
“Do you still have that crazy hat?”
He shook his head but offered a slight smile. “But I have season tickets.”
Of course he did.
In fact, his entire life had risen its head and shaken her. Not to mention the differences between the man she’d known and this man.
This man who had a private jet on retainer.
But, it also meant he had resources—the kind that just might unravel the conspiracy she knew was brewing.
She just needed some time to research.
Time, and a computer, and security clearance, and maybe a really good hacker.
And Aggie.
She needed her arms around Aggie, the smell of her daughter’s hair, the sound of her laughter.
“You okay, Sig?” He put his hand on the armrest, as if to take hers, but she slipped her hands into her lap, folding them.
This wasn’t going to work and no amount of hope or wishing was going to make this disaster turn into a fairy-tale ending. She couldn’t just morph and become the wife, mother, and whatever that Ham envisioned. She didn’t even know what that looked like. Him, trotting off to manage his megalosphere of gyms while she attended ballet lessons? Maybe soccer games?
All of it could be moot anyway, because the moment she got off the plane, a cadre of CIA suits might be waiting to cart her away.
The airport came into view.
At least Aggie wouldn’t have to see her mother get arrested.
“We’ll have to go through customs, and passport control, but then Aggie will be waiting with Jake’s parents.”
Oh, for cryin’ in the sink. “Aggie knows I’m coming?”
“No. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Surprise! Your mother, who dumped you off on the beach with only a ratty stuffed animal and a burner phone, aka, abandoned you, is back. Okay, Signe had called the emergency services with an anonymous tip, but . . . she pressed her hand to her stomach.
She’d thought she would have more time to figure out her words.
“Are you worried about passport control?” He was watching her gesture.
“No.” She’d perfected acting years ago, when her life and Aggie’s depended on her performance. But, there was the other thing . . . “By the way, my passport says Stephi Jones.”
He looked at her. “You used my last name?”
“It’s an old passport. I didn’t . . . well, at the time, it was all I had.”
“Jones is a good name.”
She looked at him. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s still yours if you want it.” His mouth tightened around the edges, and his word, husband, echoed in her brain.
Oh Ham.
This was going to be very, very ugly. In fact, it might be better if she simply took Aggie and vanished.
Nice, Sig. Because clearly she hadn’t hurt him enough.
“Aggie will be so glad to see you. She lost a tooth a couple weeks ago. Did you know that kids lose teeth until they’re twelve?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And . . . oh, I should probably tell you. Last week we had a little scare with the Fer
ris wheel.”
“What? Was it the Russians—”
“No, just a freak accident. She’s fine. But you might hear about it.”
“Aggie has always been a little independent. Likes to wander. Once, we lived in an area that had been an old minefield. That was—”
“I don’t want to know.” Ham drew in a breath. “Not now, okay? Just let’s be together.”
He said it with quietness, such a dark, pained earnestness, she nodded.
Tonight, they could be a family.
She’d figure out how to escape Martin and find a new life tomorrow.
The plane touched down, wetness on the tarmac, and as they descended the stairs, the wind scattered leaves into puddles, the air brisk.
“At least it isn’t snowing,” Jake said as he descended. He went to the baggage area to claim their gear. Orion and North did the same, but when Ham reached for a bag, Signe picked it up for him.
“For once, you don’t have to be the tough guy.”
He narrowed his eyes but said nothing as they walked into the passport control area.
She stood in line behind Ham, and maybe he purposely got in front of her, to suggest they were traveling together, because when she stepped up, the officer gave her passport a quick glance, then stamped it and marked her through.
Orion and the guys were left in customs to inspect the bags, and Jenny stayed back to help, so just Signe and Ham headed to the receiving area.
Signe slowed. “I just . . .” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I guess I just thought I’d never see her again. I had to shut off my feelings, compartmentalize. Stay focused on the job.”
“Breathe, Shorty. It’s going to be fine.”
“Right.” She followed him past the screen.
Aggie wore braids, a pair of jeans, and a jacket, and stood with a young woman, maybe seventeen, in black leggings, flip-flops, and a baggy blue sweatshirt with the word Skippers on the front. She looked a little like Jake with her blonde hair.
“Daddy!” Aggie took off running, clearly seeing Ham first.
Then she spotted Signe. Aggie’s mouth opened and she burst into tears, launching herself at Signe.
“See,” Ham said, pressing his big hand on Aggie’s back. Aggie had her legs and arms wrapped around Signe, who crushed her daughter to herself.
Aggie. She smelled different, but the feel of her skin, the form of her body, the way she sobbed—Signe sank to the floor and just rocked them both.
Don’t cry. But her body had turned into a fist, trying to contain the rush of emotions.
Freedom. It just . . . it felt too wide. Too much, too fast, and Signe started to hyperventilate.
“Okay, you’re okay.” Ham knelt beside them, pulling Aggie away. “Let’s give your mom some room, there, kiddo.”
She closed her eyes.
“In, out. In. Just like we used to do.”
She listened to his words, his breathing, with hers.
“You’re okay,” he said again.
Her breathing slowed down. When she opened her eyes, the team was standing around her, not a few of them wearing worry in their expressions.
“It’s a thing,” Ham said, looking over at Orion, who had crouched beside him. “She used to hyperventilate when she got overemotional.”
“Thanks. That’s exactly what I want everyone to know about me. Maybe my bra size too?”
Ham widened his eyes. “I uh . . . don’t know—”
“Loosen up, Hamburglar.”
There she was, the girl she could depend on. In control. A little cynical.
Signe reached again for Aggie, pulling her tight. “You okay, sweetie?”
Aggie nodded. “I have my own room.”
Probably only Signe knew what that meant—both the privacy and safety in being able to lock her door. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Jake introduced his sister Ellie, then caught a ride with her. Orion and Jenny had taken separate cars, and Ham led them to his Jeep in long-term parking.
He got in at the wheel.
As Aggie buckled in the back, Signe slid in the passenger seat.
Ham started the car, then moved the transmission into reverse, put his right hand on the wheel—
His left arm was in a cast.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I’ll shift.”
“I can do it.”
“Just drive.”
He pulled out, pushed in the clutch, and she put it into first. He hit the gas, clutched again, and she switched to second.
“You just had to get a stick shift,” she said.
“Never had a problem until now,” he growled.
He paid for parking, then they took off onto the highway, working in tandem. Overhead, the sky was dark, stars falling into the bright lights of the downtown skyline.
“Where do you live?”
“On Lake Minnetonka.”
“Right on the lake?”
“Yeah. I bought an old seventies rambler and gutted it. Did most of the work myself—beamed ceiling, dark wood floors, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that look out onto the lake. Three bedrooms.”
Three. “It sounds nice.”
“Yeah. It’s quiet.” He looked behind them. “Aggie’s sleeping.”
“It’s late.”
“I was thinking. Tomorrow I need to meet with my team, and then maybe we head up north. I have a cabin off the grid there, and it’ll be a good place for us to lay low.”
“Ham.” She looked at him, the unshaven profile of the man she’d always loved. Hard-jawed. Capable.
The perfect man, really.
If she were the perfect woman. “I think it’s best if I don’t stay.”
He glanced over at her, frowned.
“Car!”
He looked back. A car had swerved in front of them. He slammed on his brakes, hit the clutch.
She shifted on reflex.
He straightened the Jeep out into the next lane.
They drove for a second without speaking.
“What about Aggie?”
“I can take care of her—”
“Have you lost your mind?” He blew out a breath, schooled his words to just above a whisper so as not to wake Aggie.
“That guy—Martin—is still out there. And you want to take Aggie and run?” His mouth tightened. “No. Over my dead body.”
“She’s not—”
“My daughter?” He looked at her. “Of course she is. I see myself in her as much as I see you. Not for a second do I believe she’s a terrorist’s daughter.”
Her eyes glazed. “She doesn’t know you.”
“She does now. Wasn’t that the point, Signe? For me to protect her?”
“You did great. But I’m her mother.”
“And I’m her father. And your husband, and you’re not leaving.”
She stared at him, her eyes hard. “Oh, I see. I go from a terrorist to a dictator.”
He closed his mouth. “You know I don’t mean it like that. It’s just . . . you’re tired, Sig. And you’re scared. And, c’mon. Let me take care of you, just a little. Let things get back to normal.”
She looked out the window. “What is normal for us, Ham? What does that even look like?”
He turned quiet. “Our exit is next.” He touched the brakes and she shifted down, then again as he looped up to Highway 7.
They drove west, the night arching over them.
“Just stay for a week, while we unravel what’s on the drive,” Ham said. “Then . . . you can go where you want. I won’t stand in your way.”
She looked back at Aggie. She wasn’t carrying her ratty unicorn but a huge stuffed moose, her head on its massive body. “You get that for her?”
He signaled, turned off, and she shifted. “Won it at a fair. Sharp-shooting.”
They slowed on winding roads that curved through old neighborhoods toward the lake. It glistened between the yards.
Then, finally, they pulled up to a long drive that wove to
the house hidden in the trees.
She’d expected a mansion, maybe, not this unassuming modern ranch, despite his description. Ham got out and came around to get Aggie, but Signe already had awakened her, pulling her woozy body next to hers. “Where’s her room?”
Ham keyed in a code and let them in.
For a moment, the grandeur of the house stilled her. The lake shone through the massive windows and giant Edison lights hung from wires attached to the beams. He flicked on the entry light, and it splashed luminance onto the stone flooring.
“Down the hall, second door on the right. The guest room is right beside it.”
She slid off her shoes and walked on the carpet down the hall. She passed a small room with a way-too-inviting fluffy queen bed.
A butterfly night-light glowed from the next room, the queen bed overwhelmed with purple pillows. The word Dream was stenciled on the wall above. A disco ball light fixture reflected the light from the front entry, and a white wicker chair hung from the ceiling, a book and stuffed rabbit tucked inside.
The room of a beloved daughter. It made her want to weep.
Signe eased Aggie down on the bed. She wrapped her arms up around Signe’s neck. “Don’t go, Mama.”
Signe kissed her cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She pulled the covers over her.
“Really? Promise?” Ham was standing near the door.
In the wan light, he looked rough. Tired, broken, worn, fierce, handsome, and perfect.
Wow, she’d missed him.
If only she wasn’t such damaged goods.
If only she didn’t bring danger right to his front door.
If only, inside her, didn’t beat the heart of a woman whose mission wasn’t over.
“A moving target is harder to hit, Ham,” she said as she walked over to him. “But tonight, I’m going to snuggle with my daughter.”
He looked at Aggie, back to her, and for a second what looked like relief washed over him. “I’m locking the door and setting the security system.”
“And sitting outside the door,” she said quietly.
He met her eyes. “Probably.”
She put her hand on his chest. “You’re a good man, Hamburglar.”
“Husband,” he said quietly.
She let it go and climbed into her daughter’s cozy purple bed.
The Price of Valor Page 20
