Arden put on her jacket and nodded. “I will. Thanks for lunch.”
“Anytime. Take care, Arden. Have a safe drive home.”
“I will. Bye, Nic.” She set off through the backyard toward the beach, following her dogs. When she glanced back, her friend still stood in the doorway. Nicole gave a final wave and disappeared inside.
* * * *
As they began their descent toward the municipal airport outside Boston where they kept their private jet, Brody rubbed his eyes and stretched, trying to shake out the kinks from the long flight. Plus an even longer mission. It had taken four endless days searching a hostile, not to mention inhospitable, landscape along the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan before they finally located the contractor. The extraction hadn’t been easy or without repercussions.
GQ reclined on the chair opposite him, his bandaged leg propped on the footrest. He opened his eyes and grimaced.
“Is that wound bothering you?”
Their point man shrugged. “I can deal with it. At least the bullet missed my knee and didn’t do much damage.”
Taking out the ten-man terrorist cell holding their client hostage had ended in an epic firefight, and GQ had been hit by a ricocheting bullet.
“Your back probably hurts more from carrying my sorry ass seven miles.”
Brody grinned. “Sometimes my size is an advantage. I’m just glad we recovered the contractor.”
“He was in bad shape, but at least he was still alive.”
Mission complete. They’d turned the man over to his wife at the American consulate, and according to Patch, GQ would heal without any permanent damage. A success in his books.
When his teammate closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, Brody’s thoughts turned to Arden. All he cared about now was getting back to her, he could only hope she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her.
Maybe she’d had time to think about what she wanted. He certainly had. He wanted his wife back, pure and simple, but he had no idea how to accomplish his goal. The rescue they’d just pulled off would probably look like a walk in the park by comparison.
Two hours after they landed and returned to headquarters, Brody finished up some paperwork that couldn’t wait, the need to see Arden growing with each passing minute. He took a quick shower and left the brownstone just as the sun rose, casting a hint of warmth across the frozen street. Giving his keys a toss, he walked down the front steps and headed toward his newly repaired Mercedes that had been delivered in his absence.
When his cell rang, he pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen. Patch. Frowning, he swiped to connect.
“What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know Arden went home. I thought I’d save you a trip over here.”
He stopped walking. “What the hell?”
“The blood in that cabin didn’t belong to Thanos. As soon as she heard the news, she figured the danger was over and took off, even though Riley tried to convince her to stay.”
“So Thanos did drown.” A burst of satisfaction burned through his chest. “Good. Good.” Arden was safe, and a dangerous predator was off the streets. Maybe he’d eventually discover whether Thanos had been involved in River’s kidnapping, but he wouldn’t have to burden Arden with the truth—whatever it was.
“Apparently, she drove your truck back to Vermont. At least she told Riley she intended to, and she texted that she arrived home safely. That’s all I know.”
“Thanks for calling.” Brody leaned against the hood of his car. “I think I’ll drive up there. See if the body turned up. Arrange to have my truck returned home.”
“You don’t have to make excuses. You can just say you want to see her.”
He grinned. “Okay, that, too. If we get another client in the next day or so, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll be in touch. I hope to God you plan to get some sleep before you go anywhere. You haven’t had more than a few hours rest since we left Boston.”
“I’ll make sure I’m not a danger on the roads. See you, Patch.” He disconnected before his buddy could respond, unlocked his car, and slid behind the wheel.
Exhaustion weighed down his eyelids, but he’d gone longer periods on less sleep. At the moment, all he cared about was looking into Arden’s eyes to make sure she was okay and not beating herself up over Thanos’s death. Then he’d rest.
Hours later he pulled up in front of her cabin and turned off the engine. Leaning back in the seat, he blinked grainy eyes as a plume of smoke waft from the stovepipe into the sky. Warmth and comfort waited for him inside. He hoped.
Before he could move, one of the dogs trotted around the house, gave a single bark, and wagged its tail. Summoning enough energy to open the car door, he stepped out and slammed it shut.
“Where’s Arden, huh?” He scratched Hero’s ears. After a moment, the dog pranced off toward the shed, no longer limping, and Brody followed.
His boots crunched the path as he made his way around the small building and opened the door. Arden sat cross-legged in the hay, something furry and wiggling in her lap. She wore a purple jacket and faded jeans along with a black knit hat. One of the lop-eared rabbits nibbled her finger, while the other two gathered around a bowl full of food pellets. On the opposite side of the shed, the hens clucked loudly. Annoyed by his intrusion into the peaceful scene, or by Hero who had snuck inside with him?
Arden’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened. “Brody.”
He pushed the dog out and shut the door. “You look very serene sitting there. Can I join you?”
She nodded, her gaze wandering down the length of him. Looking for fresh injuries, he assumed.
“Did you just get back from . . . wherever?”
“A couple of hours before I left Boston.” He dropped down onto the hay next to her. “What do you have there?”
“Kits. She moved her hands away from the squirming little bodies. Hazel had babies.”
“I assume this is Hazel.” He stroked the silky, chocolate brown rabbit when she nudged his leg.
“Yes. I should put her kits back in their nest, but I couldn’t resist holding them, and Hazel didn’t mind. Not much, anyway.”
He touched one little head with the tip of his finger. It looked giant next to the tiny bunny. “What do you do with the babies?”
“When they’re a little older, I’ll give them to families for pets. Not dinner.”
He grinned. “You always had a soft spot for baby animals. Remember the robins in the back yard whose mother didn’t return to the nest? I nearly gagged when you ground up worms for them to eat and hand-fed them.”
A throaty laugh caressed his ears like velvet.
“I’d forgotten about that. I don’t think I slept until they finally flew away.” She carefully set the kits back in their nest, and Hazel hopped over to settle next to them.
Brody stood and gripped her hand to pull her to her feet. Her palm was small and warm in his.
She brushed by in the tight space, leaving him to shut the door behind them. “I see you got your car back. It looks perfect.”
“That’s what they promised.” He followed her into the house and took off his jacket. Once he’d hung it on the hook by the back door, he turned to face her. “How are you, Arden? Did that bastard’s body surface yet?”
“No.” She walked over to the stove, picked up the kettle, and filled it with water before returning it to the burner and flipping on the switch. “The sheriff launched a boat out on the lake yesterday to probe the shallower areas along the shore. The ice broke up a lot this week, enough so they could search for the body.”
“They didn’t find anything?”
“He said it’s possible the body was swept downstream since the creek is running pretty high right now. Or it snagged on something underwater, and it will take a dive team to find what’s left of the man.” A shudder rippled through her.
Brody rested his hand on the back of her neck and squeez
ed gently.
She glanced up, and her brows drew together. “You could have called to ask me these questions. When’s the last time you slept? You look like I did after the baby robin episode. Ready to drop from exhaustion.”
“I got a couple hours rest on the plane. I do need to sleep, but I wanted to check in with you first. See with my own eyes that you’re okay.”
“I am. I’m not going to let that man affect my life. He was a kidnapper and a murderer, and I refuse to sink into a miasma of regret because I was forced to defend myself.”
“There’s the fighting spirit I like to see. Good for you.”
“I don’t need to be rescued, Brody.” Her voice softened. “Or fixed. I’m not broken.” When the kettle whistled, she poured water into a cup and raised a brow. “Want some tea?”
“Not really.” He leaned against the counter, feeling the need to prop himself up. “I don’t see you as some kind of project or mission, just so you know.”
She stirred the bag around in the water. “Good.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He let out a long, frustrated breath. “Maybe I really just want to love you again.”
Her hand stilled before she set the spoon in the sink. “I thought about what I’m willing to give up. I’ve done nothing but think since you left.”
“And?”
“I can’t let myself love you again. I can’t let you be my everything. I can’t do that and then lose you.” Her voice cracked, but she got it under control. “I just can’t.”
“What if I walk away from Counterstrike?” He said the words he’d never expected to utter. “You mean more to me.”
“I won’t let you do that. We’ve talked about this.”
“I’m not giving up on you.” His eyes watered, and he wasn’t sure if it was from lack of sleep or regret. “I’ll back off for now, but I won’t accept that we can’t work out a compromise.”
She nodded, a jerky movement, and her throat worked. He was pretty sure she was fighting tears.
“I’ll make a call and send someone up for my truck.” He moved toward the door and lifted his jacket off the hook.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice rose. “God, you really do have a death wish.”
“What are you talking about? You just said—”
“I said I don’t want to get back together. I didn’t say you have to leave this minute when you can barely keep your eyes open.” She pointed toward the bedroom. “Go get some sleep. You can drive home after you’ve had at least eight solid hours of rest.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d be able to think better when he wasn’t completely exhausted. “Okay, but six should be plenty.”
“Whatever. Go. Kick Henry off the bed if he’s in there, or he’ll curl around your head the minute you fall asleep.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Arden. I guess I should have called instead of driving up, but I’m glad I didn’t. Even if I’m not staying long.”
Her gaze was determined as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not joining you, so don’t get any ideas.”
Visions of Arden naked beneath him filled his mind. “Too late.”
Her cheeks colored. “Brody . . .”
He held up his hands. “Don’t worry. I’m probably too tired, anyway.” A smile slipped out as he strolled by her. “But I bet my dreams will be spectacular.”
Chapter Twelve
A feeling of déjà vu washed over Brody as he strode through Central Park toward the drop zone. It had been a different park and a different season, but the same scenario had played out on that dark night over five years ago. He could only pray it would end differently this time.
Fall leaves had rustled in the breeze blowing off the bay as he’d carried the bag of cash across Boston Commons to meet the kidnappers who’d taken his son. He’d insisted on going himself and had argued fiercely with the detectives handling the case, afraid sending a decoy would trigger the monsters into killing River. Despite following their rules to the letter, that’s exactly what they’d done.
He shook off the agonizing memories, focusing instead on his surroundings. The cool May night. The canopy of green leaves overhead. GQ had been perched in one of those trees for several hours, arriving long before the kidnappers to get into position. Luna was still working to locate Otto Zeller, who’d been taken from the backyard of his parents’ estate on Long Island. They’d run out of time before the scheduled exchange. Which was why he was currently walking into a potentially hot situation. The boy’s father was tall and blond, and in the dark, wearing a bulky jacket and ball cap, Brody was certain he would pass anything but a close inspection.
If all went well, it wouldn’t come to that. A big if considering the scum they were dealing with.
“I have movement on the street that looks promising. A brown panel van, plates coated in mud, tinted windows so I can’t verify the occupants.” Luna’s voice came through his headset. “They’re pulling up to the curb just past the entrance to the Natural History Museum.”
“That’s not far from the meet site.”
“There’s a vagrant on a park bench about thirty yards from the fountain where you’re to make the drop,” GQ said. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him, and he looks pretty active for one o’clock in the morning. You’ll have to walk right past him after you leave the bag, so stay alert.”
“Got it.”
Brody scanned the perimeter, checking for any sign of movement as he approached the fountain. Something rustled in a bush not far away, and his gaze darted toward the big azalea as a squirrel scampered across the grass. He took a couple of deep breaths. The nagging feeling that this mission was about to go very wrong, despite all their precautions, churned in his gut.
He dropped the duffle bag and kept walking. The glow from a streetlamp illuminated the path ahead and the hunched figure on a park bench. A blanket covered him, but his tense posture indicated the man wasn’t sleeping.
Ten yards and closing. The vagrant’s head inched upward, and his eyes widened.
Brody caught a quick glimpse of dark hair beneath a beany and a scar along one cheek before the man swore and tossed off his blanket.
“Weapon! He has a weapon!” GQ shouted through the headset.
Brody hit the ground as shots exploded. A bullet dug into the ground inches away as he rolled across the grass, drawing his own revolver.
“I winged him, but he’s on the run. I don’t have a clear shot.” GQ sounded pissed. “He disappeared into the trees.”
As sirens wailed, Brody scrambled to his feet. Up ahead, the low branch of an evergreen swayed. He caught a hint of movement and sprinted after the bastard.
“The van is on the move, almost sideswiped a cab in its rush to leave.” Patch’s voice was cool. “We’re in pursuit.”
Brody didn’t waste breath responding. He leapt over a low shrub and gained ground on his quarry. In the dark, the figure was nothing but a moving shadow until he burst out of cover onto the street and dodged between two parked cars. Brody stopped beside a large oak at the edge of the park and took aim.
“Shit!”
A pair of pedestrians staggered down the sidewalk between him and his target, talking loudly, clearly drunk. The man in the beanie crossed the street, limping slightly, and jumped into a white sedan that pulled up beside him. Brody couldn’t see the plate before it turned the corner and disappeared.
“I lost him.”
“We’re still following the van, staying back to avoid being made,” Patch responded. “If Otto isn’t in that van, hopefully the driver will lead us to him.”
As two police cruisers raced through a stoplight half a block away, sirens blaring and lights flashing, Brody faded into the trees. The cops pulled to the curb not far from the museum and exited their vehicles. Weapons drawn, they entered the park.
“The police are on the scene, probably respondi
ng to reports of gunfire.” Brody spoke into his mouthpiece.
“I retrieved the duffle bag and am nearly back to my car.” GQ sounded slightly breathless. “I won’t intersect with them. Where do you want me to pick you up?”
When the light changed, Brody hurried across the street, keeping his head down. “I’m on 75th moving toward Columbus. There should be pedestrian traffic from bars in the area, so I’ll wait for you there.”
“Affirmative. ETA is about eight minutes.”
“We’re on 59th headed toward the Queensborough bridge,” Luna said. “Keeping the van in sight. I’ll update you when they make a move.”
“Stay on them. You and Patch go in alone if things turn ugly before we can reach you.” Brody eyed a vagrant in a doorway, but the man was passed out beside a bottle in a paper bag. “Keep watch for a white Ford sedan. I expect the plant from the park is on his way to wherever that van is going.”
“Will do.”
As Brody waited near a trendy pub with a constant stream of customers, even at this late hour, he pictured the man on the park bench’s face. Why had it seemed vaguely familiar? He’d swear the bastard had recognized him, not just realized he wasn’t Pierce Zeller, the father of the kidnapped boy. There’d been something personal in his eyes, a flare of sheer animosity before he shot at him.
He’d seen him before, possibly in the last few months, maybe years ago. But he hadn’t looked the same. Younger? He couldn’t pinpoint the difference. Maybe it was the homeless persona throwing him off, but the knowledge that he’d met this man, or at least seen him in passing, nagged at him. He still hadn’t made the connection when the sleek black Porsche GQ was driving approached.
After opening the door, he slid onto the seat. “No trouble?”
“None.” GQ glanced over as he turned left at the light. “You didn’t get nicked when that asshole shot at you?”
“Close, but he missed. Where’d you hit him? He was limping when he crossed the street.”
“His left arm. He jerked sideways just as I squeezed the trigger.” He let out a frustrated breath. “I was set up for the fountain, not the bench, and couldn’t get another decent shot before he disappeared into the trees. Damn, that makes me angry.”
Imminent Danger (A Counterstrike Novel Book 3) Page 14
