“Five.”
Uncrossing his legs, he placed both feet on the floor. “I’ll be ready.”
That said, he pushed off the chair and walked out of Ashleigh’s office. Sniper training wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing.
Merrick placed Alex on her side on the thick, thirsty towel covering the bed, then took his time drying her body. It’d become a nightly ritual for them to share a shower. She let out a moan when he kneaded the muscles in her legs.
“Am I hurting you?”
She smiled, not opening her eyes. “Are you kidding? It feels wonderful.”
“What on earth did you do today?” The muscles in her calves were tight as fists.
“I did a lot of walking up and down staircases. One house had an attic and a basement, so that was four flights.”
“Do you really want a house that big?”
“The question should be, do we need a big house, Merrick.”
“Do we, baby?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“There’s going to be only three of us.” Sonogram pictures showed one baby—a girl.
“Three for now. What about in a couple of years? I don’t want to decorate a house, then leave it when we outgrow it.”
His hands moved up her thighs. “How many babies do you plan on having?”
She moaned again. “As many as you plan on making.”
Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Realistically, we could have one every year until you’re about forty.”
“That’s madness! There’s no way I’m going to have ten kids.”
“Why not? We could name them Pull Out, Quick on the Draw, Rhythm. That is, if we decide to use the rhythm method, Oops, my bad.”
Alex couldn’t help herself as she burst out laughing. It wasn’t often that her very serious husband displayed his wicked sense of humor.
Merrick removed the towel and lay down next to Alex, his chest against her back. He placed an arm over her waist, his hand cradling her rounded belly.
“Don’t make any appointments for house tours this weekend.”
“Why not? I thought you’d want to go with me.”
“I can’t because we have to go to Bolivar.”
Alex stiffened. “For what?”
“I have to pick up something.”
“Can you identify what the something is?”
“It’s a sniper rifle.”
Alex threw off his arm and sat up, but he eased her back down to the mattress. “What the hell do you need with a sniper rifle, Merrick? You told me that you sit at a desk. Do you plan to go into the office and shoot up the place? Or perhaps you’re thinking of becoming another D.C. Sniper.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Enlighten me, Merrick. Please tell me why you need a weapon that can make someone’s head explode with one bullet.”
“There will be some things I can tell you, and others that I can’t because they’re classified.”
“Is this sniper business classified?”
“No. I’ve been assigned to facilitate sniper training.”
“Why you, Merrick?” Her voice was softer, calmer.
“I was a sniper in the Corps, and the Marine Corps has the best sniper program in the world.”
“You’re just going to do training?”
“Yes, Ali.”
She covered the hand over her swollen belly, whispering a prayer of thanks. Alex didn’t know what she would do if Merrick put himself in danger. “I’m sorry I went off on you.”
He kissed her damp hair. “I can think of a way for you to apologize for jumping to conclusions.”
“How?”
He kissed her again. “Sit on me.”
“You really like it when I ride you?”
His smile was dazzling. “I love it.” Merrick loved when Alex became the aggressor in bed.
Alex sat up and straddled him as he supported his back against the headboard. Together they found a rhythm that took them to heaven and back. Leaning into Merrick, she pressed her full breasts to his chest, rested her head between his neck and shoulder and counted the strong steady beats of his heart. There was never a time when they made love that they hadn’t become one with each other.
Chapter 26
The chiming of the telephone roused Merrick from a deep sleep. Reaching out in the darkened bedroom, he took the cordless instrument off its cradle before it disturbed Alex.
“Yes,” he whispered into the receiver.
“You don’t know who I am, but I know all about you, Merrick Grayslake.” The distorted voice of a man speaking fluent Spanish came through the earpiece. It was apparent whoever had called him was using a device that scrambled or distorted the voice.
“Who are you?” Merrick asked in the same language.
“I can’t tell you that. Not now.”
“What do you want?”
“How would you like to avenge your mother’s murder?”
Merrick depressed a button, disconnecting the caller. “Sick bastard,” he whispered as he practically slammed the instrument down on the bedside table.
Fluffing up his pillow, he tried going back to sleep, but sleep was elusive. The caller knew his name, his home phone number and knew that he was fluent in Spanish. If the man hadn’t mentioned his mother perhaps he wouldn’t have been so disturbed.
There had been a time when he would’ve given anything to glean a modicum of information about Victoria Grayslake, but that time had passed. It took more than forty minutes before he finally fell asleep for the second time that night.
Merrick hadn’t sat down behind his desk yet when his phone rang. He picked up after the second ring. “Grayslake.”
“Don’t hang up on me again or you’ll be very, very sorry.”
It was the same person who’d called him at home. “Are you threatening me?” Merrick asked softly. Whoever had rung him the night before knew he worked at the CIA. He was glad the call had come in at the Agency because it would be easily traced.
“No, I’m not threatening you.”
“It sounded like a threat to me,” Merrick countered.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You’re talking now,” he said sarcastically.
“What I need to tell you shouldn’t be recorded. I know every call you make and receive is recorded. And don’t try to trace this number, because the phone will be in the garbage as soon as I hang up.”
“What do you want?”
“I want a number where I can call you without the government listening in.”
Merrick’s curiosity was piqued. “I’ll get a phone that’s unlisted.”
“I’ll send you a phone you can use.”
“When?”
“I’ll have it delivered to your post office box in West Virginia. It’ll be waiting for you when you get there.”
“How…” Merrick’s voice trailed off when he heard the break in the connection. “Who the hell are you?” he said aloud.
Was someone trying to mess with his head? Was he being set up? Not given to episodes of paranoia, he sat down and went through a mental recall of places he’d been, people he’d met and situations wherein his identity might have been compromised.
He had lots of questions and no answers. At least not one until he went to Bolivar.
Merrick turned up the heat to the highest setting as he navigated the winding West Virginia roads. “Better?” he asked Alex.
“Much better.” She’d tied a cashmere shawl tightly around her neck and shoulders. “This is one year that I’m really looking forward to spending a week in Florida.”
“Let’s hope the cold weather doesn’t go any farther south.”
Winter had come early to the East Coast with below-freezing temperatures from Maine to Georgia. Only Florida had been spared.
Alex turned and stared at her husband’s profile. “Are you sure you’re not goin
g to be able to take off Christmas Eve?”
“Baby, let’s not start that again. I told you we’ll probably shut down early, but I can’t take the day. Barring airport delays, I will be in Florida before midnight.”
He and Alex had celebrated Thanksgiving in Mississippi with Tyler and Dana as their hosts. It’d become an impromptu family reunion with the second generation of Coles, Kirklands, Delgados and Lassisters coming together under one roof. Gabriel’s date, Summer Montgomery, was now his fiancée.
Pushing out her lower lip, Alex pouted as she’d done as a child when she couldn’t get her way. “Stop it!” she screamed when Merrick reached over and tugged on her lip.
“Stop pouting. It’s not going to get me to change my mind.”
Her expression brightened. “I can think of something else that will get you to change your mind.”
Merrick gave her a sidelong grin. “Not even that!”
She gave him a saucy smile. “We’ll see.”
“In another couple of months we’re going to have to stop the calisthenics.”
Alex lifted her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because your belly will get in the way.”
She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “Don’t be so parochial, mi amor. We can always do it doggy style.”
Merrick opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly, stunned by his wife’s bluntness. “You’ve got to stop reading those books.”
“What books?” Alex asked innocently.
“The ones you hide in the basket with the towels.”
“They’re how-to books for pregnant women. And I don’t hide them. I read them whenever I’m in the bathroom.”
“I’ve seen the pictures and they’re just plain nasty, baby. You’d have to be a contortionist to execute some of those positions.”
“Where are you going?” Alex asked when Merrick took a route that led away from their home.
“I have to stop at the post office. Do you want to come in with me?”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait in the truck. Can you please pick up some Christmas stamps? This weekend is as good a time as any to do Christmas cards.” Alex had brought boxes of cards and several needlecraft projects with her to pass the time in Bolivar.
A quarter of a mile later, Merrick parked in a lot behind a row of stores, not bothering to turn off the engine; he got out and went into the post office. Inserting a key into his box, he took out several pieces of junk mail and a small white box addressed to him. He lingered, opening it. His mystery caller had sent four disposable cell phones, each with a thirty-minute limit.
Pushing the phones, no larger than an iPod or thicker than a credit card, into the back pocket of his jeans, he discarded the box and returned to the parking lot. The serial numbers on the back of the phones were sequential. That was a clue in attempting to trace where the phones were purchased, and by whom.
Merrick hoped the man wouldn’t contact him until Monday because he wanted to enjoy two uninterrupted days with his wife.
The smell of baking apples wafted throughout the second story as Merrick opened the door to the bedroom he used for storage. He removed a footlocker and steamer trunk, then went to his knees and pressed gently on the edge of a wooden floorboard. It lifted easily. He did the same with another, then another. Concealed under the floor was a large oaken case that contained his coveted PSG-1 that had been made to fit his body’s dimensions.
He opened the case, staring at the smooth stock and the various scopes. If the Corps’s slogan was “the proud, the few,” then he had become an expert marksman with a deeply ingrained understanding of what it meant to be a sniper.
Merrick opened the footlocker and removed several automatic handguns and ammunition; the closet floorboards had become the perfect place for concealing his arsenal of weapons. Where, he thought, would he be able to conceal the cache of arms in the Arlington condo?
Alex had embarked on a house-hunting campaign, while he’d assumed an attitude of indifference toward the undertaking. However, the day of reckoning could not be put off too much longer. They had to move, and he had to find a place in which to totally secure his weaponry.
Merrick had knelt down to replace the floorboards when he heard movement behind him. Turning around, he saw Alex standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her gaze fixed on the holstered automatic handguns. She glanced up, her expression a mix of fear and revulsion.
Rising slowly to his feet, Merrick closed the distance between them. He reached out to touch her, but Alex took a step backward. “Querida, please.”
Alex shook her head. “No, Merrick. Don’t ask me to understand. I don’t like guns, especially in my home.”
“I’ll make certain you’ll never see them.”
She gave him a long, penetrating stare. “You do that. I came up to tell you that dinner is ready.”
Merrick watched her leave, unable to do or say anything that would convince his wife that the cache of weapons posed no threat to her.
Chapter 27
Three days before she was scheduled to leave for Florida, Alex found the perfect house in Old Town, the core of historic Alexandria. The unoccupied redbrick home, dating back to the nineteenth century, boasted an updated kitchen and bathrooms. Five bedrooms with adjoining baths and sitting rooms would provide ample space for living and entertaining. She’d toured the area by car and had fallen in love with the abundance of antique shops lining King Street.
“I want it,” she told the real estate agent.
“Don’t you want your husband to see it before you make a decision?”
Alex stared at the smartly dressed middle-aged woman as if she’d spoken a language she didn’t understand. “There is no doubt my husband will like it.”
“It’s…it’s just that I’ve had situations in the past where the wife wants something her husband doesn’t and vice versa.”
Opening her handbag, Alex took out her checkbook. “How much are you asking as a down payment?” The agent quoted a figure, and she wrote the check. “I’m due to deliver a baby in less than five months. I’d like to be settled in my new home before the end of January.” She handed the startled woman the check. “Please call me when you confirm a date for closing.”
Alex walked out of the house and made her way down the street to where she’d parked her car, her mind filled with how she wanted to decorate the remarkable structure. She no longer worked for the Trust, but she would have her own piece of history to preserve. Browsing for antiques germane to the period would become an ongoing project to keep her occupied until her daughter’s birth and many years after.
When the obstetrician had disclosed that she was having a girl, Alex was overcome with joy. She’d begun planning all of the activities they would share: baking cookies, tea parties and browsing antique shops. Alex shuddered to think she wouldn’t have a girly-girl, that her daughter would prefer firearms and restoring old cars and trucks to shopping.
Sitting in her car, she dialed the number to Merrick’s cell phone. It rang twice before he answered. “I found it!”
“Found what, Ali?”
“Our house. I just put a down payment on it.”
“Where is it?”
“Alexandria. It’s a little pricey, but it’s worth it, Merrick.”
“Can we talk about this when I get home?”
A frown appeared between her eyes. “I hope we’re not going to argue about money.”
“Did I mention money, Alexandra?”
“You’re upset, Merrick.”
“Why do you say I’m upset?”
“Because you called me Alexandra. You only call me that when you’re angry.”
“Look, baby, I’m not angry. I don’t know what the house is selling for and I don’t care. If you like it, then we’ll buy it.”
Tears filled her eyes at the same time she bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you, darling.”
He laughed softly. “You’re welcome, darling. I’ll see you when I get ho
me.”
“What do you want for dinner?”
“You.”
Before Alex could reply or react, Merrick hung up. She sat in the car, staring through the windshield, unable to believe she could feel so incredibly happy, that her life could be so incredibly perfect.
Merrick Grayslake had come into her life when she wanted nothing to do with men. He’d become a friend, one who’d slipped under the barrier she’d created to keep all men at a distance because of her master plan. He’d waited patiently for her to complete her education, then wooed her with the skill and finesse of a libertine. And she’d taken the bait and let him reel her in.
She’d fallen in love, gotten pregnant and married. All the things she’d professed not wanting to do. But that was before she met Merrick Grayslake. His claim that he never wanted to marry or father children was shattered the moment they went from friends to lovers.
Alex closed her eyes. They would soon celebrate a new year, and she looked forward to celebrating a new life with her new husband in their new home.
Putting the key in the ignition, she started up the car and adjusted the heat. Meteorologists were predicting a white Christmas. Alex hoped the snowstorm would bypass Virginia and blow out to sea. She was so looking forward to spending the week in Florida with her extended family. She’d done all of her Christmas shopping and had shipped the gifts from her and Merrick to her uncle Martin’s house in West Palm Beach.
Every year there seemed to be a new Cole baby, and it was becoming more difficult to keep up with the names that now spanned five generations.
She and Merrick had gone over names and had decided on Victoria Cole-Grayslake. The little girl would be faced with the daunting task of being a Cole, but there was no doubt she would succeed, because the Coles and the Grayslakes were survivors.
Merrick’s phone rang just as he closed and locked his desk. He glanced at the wall clock. It was three minutes before he was scheduled to leave for the day. Most times he worked beyond his dismissal because he wanted to avoid rush-hour traffic. He and Alex usually did not sit down to dinner until seven, so he did not see the need to rush out with the other office workers.
Stranger in my Arms Page 23
