by Vicki Hinze
His interests all required security clearances at the highest levels. Information not only NINA would kill to get but would bring a fortune on the black market. Doubt about an imposter stepping into his shoes was a very bad sign. “Yeah. Or worse.” Nick turned toward the door. “Keep me posted. Some context on why the package is here and how it connects in all this would be helpful.”
“As soon as I can.”
“Rush them. If my neck’s on the line, I want to know why.” Nick ended the call and then went back inside. The guys looked at him, their faces expectant.
“The woman could be Olivia,” he told Tim, since she was his mother-in-law. “One didn’t refute me, but he also didn’t know if it being her was a good or bad thing.”
“In other words,” Tim said, “he doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.”
“That pretty much covers it.” Unfortunately, that was common problem when an undercover agent was working both sides of the fence.
“What about Elle’s dad?” Joe asked.
“One’s handling that aspect from his end.” Probably best considering he remained unable to offer them full disclosure.
Sam frowned. “Why would NINA be interested in a singer and her father?” He looked to Nick for an explanation. “They always have a reason for everything, but this one stretches beyond my imagination.”
Nick fought and lost the battle raging within. “Because Elle isn’t just a superstar singer. And her dad isn’t just your average dad.”
Tim straightened, stiffened in his seat at the bar. “Who are they?”
Elle stepped into the room. “If you want to know something about me, just ask.” She sent Nick a sympathetic look. “Sorry to put you on the spot like this.”
“You want to explain?” he asked.
“No, frankly, I don’t want either of us to have to explain,” she said, walking to the fridge and grabbing a can of cola. “But if it has to be done—and apparently, it does—I’ll do it.”
The guys all sat down on stools at the bar. Elle stood in the kitchen. “I feel like some cookies.” She glanced past their confused expressions. “Nick, do you have the ingredients to make cookies?”
“Yeah. Oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip?”
“I like them both,” she admitted. “You choose.”
“I vote chocolate chip,” Sam said.
“Second that.” Joe smiled. “I love chocolate chip.”
“Chocolate chip it is, then.” She began measuring and dumping ingredients into a huge metal bowl. “You guys know my dad founded and owns AAN—American Armory Network. You probably don’t know that he designs the systems.”
“All of them?”
“Almost,” Elle said, beating the eggs in the bowl. Her hands were shaking. “You definitely know—from your former . . . line of work, of course—many of his designs are dual use.”
She referenced their active-duty days as Shadow Watchers. “Dual use. Military and civilian applications,” Nick said.
“We’re aware of that,” Tim interjected. “We’ve used systems he’s developed from time to time.”
She sent Tim a level look. “You use systems he’s developed every day of your life. We all do. You just know more about the systems with military applications.”
Tim held his silence. So did the others.
Elle blended in the sugar and flour. “His military systems’ designs have been successful, but he’s been beyond successful with his commercial applications.”
“She’s being modest.” Nick rolled his gaze. “He’s got fistfuls of patents and more money than Gates.”
“Maybe. Even I don’t know how much, but it’s a lot,” Elle said. “I’m his only child, so I’m an heiress.”
“Is that why you were kidnapped?” Sam kept glancing at the stairs.
“Lizzie’s gone to bed, Sam,” Elle said. “I tucked her in before coming back down.”
“Okay.” He slid off the stool and keyed in a series of strokes at the computer keyboard. An image of Lizzie sleeping soundly in her bed appeared on the screen.
Protective. Elle liked that. “Anyway, to answer your question, I don’t know if it’s why I was kidnapped. But it might be.”
“What else could it be?” Sam sat on a stool and twisted so he could watch Elle and the screen. “The star thing?”
“Maybe. But maybe not.” She hesitated, then went on. “I worked with my dad from the time I could walk.”
“Shuffling paper and stuff?” Joe asked, elbow on the bar, chin propped in his hand.
“Early on, but mostly as his assistant, until I…outgrew the position.”
Nick stopped dumping chocolate chips into the bowl. “You outgrew the position of being your dad’s assistant?”
She nodded. “When I was seventeen.”
“Neither of you told me that when I was there.” Nick frowned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Not kidding, believe me.” She set the oven temperature, then began spooning the dough onto cookie sheets.
“Wait a second.” Nick washed his hands at the sink, then tore off a paper towel to dry them. “You were working there with him when I met you. You were eighteen then.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Yet both of you led me to believe you were his assistant.”
“You assumed it.” Her face burned hot. “And we let you.”
“Why?” Sam, not Nick, pushed for clarity.
Elle so didn’t want to talk about this. So didn’t want to relive it. But it would be unfair to them not to, so she girded her loins and told them. “Over the years, I’d cultivated a real knack for development. Systems, in particular. By the time Nick came to us, I had an assistant of my own.”
Nick just stood there, stiff and silent and a little stunned. She hated that. Truly.
Joe pressed her. “Elle, are you a singer or an engineer?”
“Actually, I’m both.” She popped the cookie sheet into the oven and set the timer. “I became a mechanical engineer at seventeen.”
“Seventeen?”
She nodded, answering Joe. “I had a little more than a knack for it. I was pretty good at it.”
“Yeah, I’d say.” Sam guffawed. “College grad at seventeen. Wow.”
Elle shifted uncomfortably. “Singing and songwriting was always a passion, but I never intended it to be a profession. Well, not until later.” She worked up the courage to look at Nick. He still hadn’t moved, and his expression had sobered even more. How that was possible, she had no idea. “I know,” she told him. “You thought I was an artsy kid with a crush on you. Not a mechanical engineer and an artsy kid with a crush on you.”
His face went red. Clearly, that’s exactly what he’d thought. “You should have been honest with me, Elle. I was trying to protect you.”
“My dad forbid it—for good reason. I couldn’t disagree without breaching a confidentiality agreement, so I didn’t. I’ll take the hit for that.” She sighed her frustration, a spoon mid-air. “But honestly, Nick. Didn’t you ever wonder why he was so adamant about every little security detail? Didn’t you wonder why he went off the rails when I was out of sight for even a minute? I did drop you countless clues.”
“I picked up on them.” He shrugged. “But everything your father touches is classified. You’re his daughter and an heiress to a fortune. He feared that the company, he and your mother, his designs and, most of all you would be targets for everything from kidnapping to industrial espionage.”
Nick had no idea just how right he was about her father’s fears. Her mother was just as bad in her own way. “Hmm.” Elle checked the cookies. Not done yet. She adjusted the timer, adding another minute.
Tim mimicked Joe, propping his elbow on the bar, his chin into his upturned hand. “So you were an engineer and dropped designing systems to go pro in music.”
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate. She couldn’t. Not that she’d be eager to even if she could.
The old guilt washed through
her like a raging tsunami. She stiffened against it. Nick hadn’t said another word. He was clearly still stinging and thoroughly ticked off that she and her father had deceived him, and because he had every right to be angry, she couldn’t offer a defense. Because she couldn’t, and she felt the weight of that guilt, she couldn’t make herself look at him.
The timer went off.
“Ah,” she turned her back to them all, grabbed an oven mitt and got the cookies out of the oven.
Something ripped behind her. Startled, she jumped.
“Wax paper,” Nick said, his jaw nearly in spasms from his clamping down on it.
The look in his eyes disabused her of any illusions. This conversation might be postponed by chunky chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, but it was far from over.
Elle’s stomach fluttered then flipped. For her, the events that prompted her move to music would never really be over. She’d gotten better at coping, but ever letting go?
Couldn’t happen. That was a pipe dream.
Some things you do change your life forever, and no matter how much or how often you wish you could take them back or change them, you can’t. Done is done.
All you can do is to try to live with them.
Chapter Seven
Sunday, June 7th, 8:00 a.m.
The Lodge
“Where’d these clothes come from, Elle?”
“I’m not sure.” She looked at the clothes she’d spread out on her bed. “When I woke up, they were in those bags, outside the bedroom door.” Four empty shopping bags rested near the foot of the bed. “There are several outfits for you.”
“For you, too.” Lizzie touched the fabrics. “Soft.” She looked at Elle, her worry in her eyes. “If they got us all this stuff, we’re going to be here for a while.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Elle sat down on the edge of the bed. Shorts and tops, two dresses, underwear, shoes, and even cosmetics. “I hope Nick didn’t pick these things out.” Too personal. Her cheeks went hot.
“I’d bet he didn’t.” Lizzie lifted a pink print top and pair of capris. “They’d all be black.”
Elle couldn’t disagree. “He does bend toward the gloomy side.” How many hours, months, in the last four years had she speculated on why?
“He’s broken.” Lizzie held up the capri pants. “These are my favorite. I love pink.”
Shock rippled through Elle. “What do you mean, he’s broken?”
“Nora says somebody hurt him real bad. He’s broken inside from it.”
Elle couldn’t disagree with that either, even if she wished hard she could. The idea of someone hurting Nick like that…it hurt her. Truly, hurt her. He was such a special man. “Did Nora say who or what they’d done to him? Anything else about it?”
“Yep.” Lizzie paused, holding a yellow sundress up and looking in the mirror. She twirled to face Elle. “She said, ‘the man needs loving, Lizzie. You think some things are broken so bad they can’t be fixed, but love can fix just about anything—‘specially people.’”
“Do you think she’s right?” Elle felt a little silly asking a ten year old that question, but Lizzie wasn’t an ordinary ten year old. Her eyes were as haunted as any adult’s Elle had ever seen, including her own. And repeating Nora…there was much to be learned from her.
“Nora’s always right.” Lizzie clutched the sundress to her chest, looking vulnerable and hopeful more than certain.
“What’s wrong?” The pleasure of the pretty dress had faded, and worry twisted Lizzie’s face.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true. I can see it,” Elle said. “You can trust me. We can talk about anything and I won’t say a word. I promise.” Elle remembered how she’d longed for someone, anyone, to talk to about her troubles. But she didn’t dare do it when she was a child, and she hadn’t since…
“I’m worried about my mom.”
“Why?” Elle patted the edge of the bed, for Lizzie to join her.
She sat down, and went still. For a long moment she didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay, Lizzie.” Elle let the truth shine in her eyes. “I had secrets, too. I still do. I know how to keep secrets.”
She whispered, low and gruff. “She’s not at an intervention for her brother.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know, but she’s not there.”
“How do you know?” Elle asked. “I mean, surely she’d tell Nora so she could get in touch if she needed to do it.” What if something happened to Lizzie and she needed medical treatment or something?
Lizzie lifted her chin. It quivered. “My mom doesn’t have a brother.”
“Oh.” So she hadn’t told Nora the truth. Whatever her reason, it must be awful.
“It’s just her and me, and she’s in trouble. That’s why she brought me to Nora.”
“So the guys would watch over you.”
Lizzie nodded.
“Do you know what kind of trouble she’s in?” Elle couldn’t imagine.
“No.” Lizzie looked down at the carpeted floor. “Something happened, though. Something bad, like when we were in trouble before.” She risked looking at Elle. “That’s why we came here and her name is Sue Ellen and mine’s Lizzie. It used to be Megan.”
What in the world? Elle wasn’t sure what to say so she played it safe and simply nodded.
“I don’t know what happened then, either, but these bad people came after my mom. They blew up her car at our house and we had to run away. We came here because the man helping us said nobody could find us here, only…”
“You think the bad people did find your mom and that’s why she left.”
Anguish filled Lizzie’s face. “Yes.” She sucked in a staggered breath. “My mom wouldn’t leave me unless she was more scared not to leave me. She wouldn’t.”
The fine hairs on Elle’s neck stood on end. Inside she shook. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t…unless it was possible. She had to know. “If that’s the case, I’d say your mom is very brave, and you have to be brave, too.”
“She said so, too, but it’s hard.”
“Yes, it is.” Elle remembered the fears she’d felt, the conflicts at keeping secrets. How she’d envied the other kids just getting to be kids. That was a luxury she’d never known, and it appeared Lizzie hadn’t either.
“Before, my mom worked for the government.”
A sinking feeling struck Elle like a blow. Another connection. “Doing what?”
“Studying papers. Lots and lots of papers.” Lizzie turned to face Elle and whispered. “She used to go on trips and talk to people about stuff they were building.”
Oh, no. No. Elle fought to keep her voice steady, calm. “That sounds exciting.” This couldn’t be. Couldn’t be! “Um, where did she go?” Elle asked, praying hard she wouldn’t get the answer she expected.
“The desert. She went there a lot. I think the desert is cool, don’t you? It looks like there’s nothing in it, but it’s full of all kinds of stuff.”
“Definitely.”
“Utah and California, too. She liked California best because it had ocean and mountains and desert.”
Contract negotiator. Project manager. During Elle’s time with her dad’s company, she’d worked with plenty of both. “You said your name was Megan.” The sound of her name sent chills through Elle. “Um, what was Sue Ellen’s name?”
Lizzie dropped her voice even lower. “Jaycee Cole—but I can’t tell anybody that. We could get into a lot of trouble. The man told us to forget those names and those lives. But you can’t just forget your whole life.”
Elle’s heart nearly stopped. Her mouth went dry and she had to work hard to keep her voice from shrieking and her shock hidden. “No, you can’t.” Witness protection. This was Jaycee’s daughter, and they’d been relocated with new identities. Shaky at wrapping her mind around that, Elle slumped, stiffened against the waves of disbelief gushing through her to keep them from turning to
panic. “It’s just about impossible.”
“We try hard, and we were doing pretty good until mom left.” Lizzie, wide-eyed, blinked hard. “I—I’m not doing so good without her.”
Elle clasped Lizzie’s trembling hand. “I know it’s rough, sweetie, and I really do understand.” Boy, did she. So much so that it broke her heart to think of Lizzie and Jaycee going through this… whatever they were going through right now. “My life hasn’t been that much different.” Elle wanted to weep, to rage, to crawl into a hole and stay there. Jaycee and Lizzie’s challenges weren’t their fault, but they certainly suffered the fallout…
She crushed the sundress to her chest. “I don't know what to do.”
Elle frowned, thought of Lizzie and not herself. There’d be time for that later. “Why are you so worried about your mom right now?”
“She was scared like before. Sick with it. She never does that, Elle. Well, she did then and she was like that just before she left me with Nora, but my mom don’t scare easy. This is bad like that was bad.”
“What exactly is this? Do you know?”
Lizzie gave Elle a negative nod. “She wouldn’t tell me.”
Can’t tell what you don’t know. Jaycee had been protecting Lizzie, though it likely didn’t feel that way to the child. “So she left you with Nora where you’d be safe—“
“I think she did it so the bad people would follow her and leave me alone and so I’d be safe. But she’s not safe, Elle.” Tears spilled down Lizzie’s cheeks. “I tried to tell Nora, but she was so busy with the wedding and not feeling good that she didn’t really listen.” Lizzie gulped and her tiny shoulders heaved.
Wanting to comfort her, Elle curled her arms around Lizzie and pulled her close. Her whole body shook like trees in a stiff wind.
She mumbled against Elle’s shoulder. “Nobody believes kids anyway.” A hint of hopelessness tinged her tone.
Elle hated it, and disputed it. “Some don’t believe kids, but Nick will.”
“No, he won’t. Neither will Sam. I thought about telling him, but he won’t listen, either.” She frowned. “He thinks I’m a tyrant.”
