by Cassie Miles
When she looked up, she saw Nolan’s gun in his hand. His arm went out the open window. He fired several times. Someone else was shooting. She heard the cracking of glass. This is real danger. I could be hurt. Her gut tightened into a knot. She tasted bile in the back of her throat. If she was killed, what would happen to Joey?
The car jolted and swerved. She heard a loud scraping noise. Both front air bags exploded with a burst of white powder. The Mercedes came to a stop.
“Stay in the car,” Nolan ordered.
He fought his air bag, flung open his door and jumped out. Bracing his gun in both hands, he fired.
She batted her air bag down, raised her head and peered over the dashboard. They were back inside the grounds. Both Nolan and the security guard were firing through the wrought iron gate. The windshield was marked with bullet holes and a spider’s web of cracks. She glided her hand up the black leather passenger seat. Right where her head would have been was a hole.
This couldn’t be happening, but it was. Here was proof. Nolan warned her. He told her the truth.
Panic coursed through her veins. Joey, I have to get to Joey. Her hand trembled violently, but she managed to grab the door handle and shove it open. Struggling to untangle her legs, she banged her knee but felt no pain. One thought hammered inside her head. Joey. She had to rescue him.
She staggered onto the circular driveway. The front door to the house opened and other men poured out. All were armed. This was a damn war zone.
Her head was spinning, she was cold and her legs were weak. With an odd detachment, she realized that she must be in shock. She wasn’t physically injured but had been slammed with terror. Her strength was gone. She tripped, fell, scraped her knees on the driveway. A cry escaped her lips. She had to keep going, had to reach the house and make sure Joey was all right.
Strong hands grasped her shoulders. Nolan turned her toward him and pulled her close. He murmured, “It’s all right, Tess. You’re safe.”
“Joey.” She shoved against his chest. “I need to get to my son.”
“Hush now. It’s okay.”
“Not okay. No, this is all wrong.” A surge of energy went through her and she struggled. “Let go of me.”
He held her at arm’s length. His hands clamped around her upper arms. “Look at me, Tess. Listen to me.”
She shook her head. Her brain rattled inside her skull. She felt tears spurting from her eyes.
“Come on, Tess. You don’t want Joey to see you like this. You’ll scare the hell out of him.”
“Oh God, you’re right.” She was Joey’s rock. Her son had no one else but her. She couldn’t let him see her weakness. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to let me take care of you and Joey. I’ll keep you safe. It’s what I do.” He released her arm and gently caressed her cheek. “Right now, we’re going to the house. You’ll go to the bathroom, wash your face and pull yourself together. Then, we’ll talk to your son.”
“And I’ll tell Joey that we’re staying here for a few days.”
“That’s the right decision.”
She wiped away the remnants of tears. I have to pull myself together. Tess was an independent woman—a single mom who ran her own business. And yet, she found it strangely comforting when Nolan gave her directions. No thinking was required on her part. Just do it. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him. All the fight had gone out of her.
WHEN TESS EMERGED from the downstairs bathroom, she had regained a good part of her self-control. At least, she was capable of walking without falling over her own feet, and her tears had dried up.
She was glad to see Nolan waiting for her in the hallway with his arms folded across his chest and his back leaning against the wall. He’d taken off his sunglasses and hadn’t put on the horn-rimmed spectacles. His unshielded gaze studied her as intently as a chef watching a soufflé, hoping it wouldn’t collapse.
“You look fine,” he told her.
Not exactly a rousing burst of encouragement. She’d washed her face, reapplied lipstick and brushed her hair. Luckily, she’d brought a change of clothes in her SUV in case it snowed. Nolan had fetched the more practical outfit—gray slacks that matched her suit jacket and sensible boots.
Concern for Joey remained uppermost in her mind, but there were other worries. “This threat,” she said, “does it extend to my business? Is Trudy safe?”
“She’s not personally in danger,” he said. “But it might be wise for her to stay away from your office.”
“Are you sure this Greenaway person won’t go after her?”
“As sure as I can be.” He ushered her across the hall to a small study with a wall of books. Her briefcase rested on the desktop. “Why don’t you give her a call?”
She stood behind the desk. “I learned my lesson, Nolan. I’m not going to rush you. Please give me a full explanation of why Trudy is safe.”
“It’s about Joe.”
The breath went out of her lungs, and she sank into the swivel chair behind the desk. “My Joe?”
“Before he died, he had contact with Greenaway. Joe passed information to the CIA which ultimately led to Bart.”
Bart had told her bits of the story. She knew he had worked with Joe and that was why he took such an interest in her and Joey. “Did Greenaway kill my husband?”
“His death wasn’t targeted. Joe Donovan died in the explosion of a roadside bomb. But Greenaway never forgot. He’s been keeping an eye on you and Joey through people like the Zamirs. That’s why I’m sure Trudy is safe. Greenaway doesn’t care about her.”
She shuddered. For five years, she’d been under surveillance, and she’d never had a clue. “Why is he coming after me now?”
“Something big is going down, and Bart’s involved. You’re connected to Bart and to Lila and to CSaI. Killing you sends a message to the rest of us. Nobody’s safe.”
“I’m a pawn,” she said. “Expendable.”
“Never say that.” His gray eyes warmed as he smiled. “On my chessboard, you’re the queen. You and Joey are first and foremost.”
Another breakdown loomed in the back of her mind, but she pushed aside the fear and panic. She had too many responsibilities to indulge in emotion. “Before I talk to Trudy, I need to know if there’s a way I can safely move around town.”
“Since we prepared for threats to Lila, I have access to a bulletproof vehicle. Matt Soarez will ride shotgun. Literally.”
“Much as I understand the need for protection, can you guys be subtle? I don’t want to freak out the caterers.”
“I can do subtle.”
She rather doubted that Nolan would ever be able to fade into the woodwork. He was too overwhelmingly masculine to go unnoticed, as were the rest of the CSaI guys that she’d met.
As she flipped open her laptop and prepared to call Trudy, Nolan handed her a cell phone. “Use this. The signal is scrambled so no one can listen in.”
“An espionage phone. Why am I not surprised?”
She reached Trudy at home and made an excuse for why she shouldn’t go to the office until Tess could come with her. Then she divvied up the tasks for the day. The only jobs she had to handle personally were the printer and the caterer who was located in D.C. and closed at five o’clock.
And there was one more necessary stop. “We have to go to my house. Joey and I need clothes. And I’m sure he’ll want some of his toys.”
“We’ll go there right after we talk to Joey.”
Though it had been less than an hour since the assault on the Mercedes, her nerves had settled enough for her to slip into her mom role. When she entered the playroom with Nolan and saw her son, she felt the familiar rush of love and concern.
Her hug was tighter than usual but Joey didn’t seem to notice the difference. He looked up at her and said, “Do we have to go?”
“Would you like to stay?”
“Yeah,” he said with an energetic nod that caused his brown hair to flop over his fore
head. “We’re going to watch a movie this afternoon. A movie with horses. Lacey and Lyric have three dogs, and one of them herds cows. Can we go to Texas?”
“Maybe.”
“I gotta meet these dogs.”
Before he could jump into the I-want-a-dog discussion, she said, “I’m glad you’re having a good time because we’re going to stay here for a couple of days. It’ll be a sleepover.”
“You, too?”
“Me, too.”
He frowned. “I don’t know about that, Mommy.”
“What’s bothering you, kiddo?”
“It’s almost Christmas. If I’m here, how is Santa Claus going to find me?”
Chapter Eleven
When Nolan heard Joey’s question, he felt like laughing and crying at the same time. His four-year-old son believed in Santa, just like any other typical, normal kid. But Joey was his son. Therefore, his innocence touched a chord deep inside him. In this moment, Nolan knew what it meant to be a father.
He hunkered down to Joey’s level. “Here’s the deal with Santa Claus. He’ll find you. He’s got GPS. He knows where all the good boys and girls are.”
“I’m very good,” Joey said. “Aren’t I, Mommy?”
“You certainly are.”
Nolan nodded. “Your mom needs to do some running around this afternoon. You’ll be okay while she’s gone, right?”
“Yeah.” Joey petted his mom’s arm as though she was a kitty cat. “Mommy’s good, too. She takes care of me. And I take care of her.”
Tess kissed his forehead. “I’m going to run home and get some of our things. Is there anything you want?”
“Oh, yeah. My building blocks.” He turned and yelled across the room to Zachary. “We’re gonna build stuff.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
He whispered, “Andy Panda. Don’t tell the girls.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ll treat him like a baby. Andy Panda is a boy. He doesn’t wear dresses.”
As the mother-son conversation continued, Nolan watched with awe. Tess was great with Joey, and vice versa. They took care of each other. Because I wasn’t around to help. His son didn’t know what it was like to have a father, and that was just plain wrong. Both he and Tess deserved to have a man around the house, and Nolan desperately wanted that job.
For now, he had to concentrate on the basics: keeping them both safe. He left Tess with her son for a few minutes while he found Matt Soarez and briefed him on their assignment for the afternoon.
“We’re going to a caterer?” Soarez licked his lips. “What kind of food?”
“Hell if I know.” Nolan couldn’t care less. “Banquet food for Lila’s big event.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for Tex-Mex.”
In addition to being a decent cook, Soarez was handsome and charming—exactly the kind of bodyguard that Tess would want to have around while she did her errands. His only flaw was a pronounced limp from a gunshot wound to the leg that made him unfit for combat. Soarez liked to joke that he and Nolan were a matching set of gimps.
Together, they went around to the parking area and got the keys for the white bulletproof Hummer. The massive vehicle looked like a luxury SUV on steroids. Unless Greenaway’s men came after them with RPGs, they ought to be safe.
“Can I drive?” Soarez asked.
“Knock yourself out.”
While Nolan got in the passenger side, Soarez climbed behind the wheel. He started the engine with a roar and paused to listen. “There’s a lot of horses under that hood.”
“I suppose.” Nolan preferred cars that purred and wrapped around him.
“Me and the guys have been talking. And we’re all wondering. What’s the deal with you and Tess?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I’m saying. I’ve never seen you look at a woman the way you do with Tess. I even saw you take off the dark glasses.”
“She’s nice to look at.” Nolan shrugged.
“If there’s sparks, I’m all for it. It’s about time you find a woman.”
There was no way for him to explain that he’d found Tess long ago. Right now, they were getting reacquainted, and the process was trickier than anything he could have imagined. “Just drive.”
Soarez pulled the Hummer around to the front entry-way where Tess was waiting for them. Nolan hopped down from the passenger seat and came around to open the door to the rear.
“A giant white Hummer,” she said drily. “Is this your idea of subtle?”
“It doesn’t hurt for your caterer to know you’re a badass.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Clearly, you haven’t met Pierre LeBrune. It would take more than a Hummer to intimidate him.”
“Pierre who?”
“Exactly,” she said.
As he joined her in the backseat, he introduced her to Matt Soarez. She reached between the seats to shake his hand. “Stacy tells me that your new wife owns the best eatery in Freedom, Texas.”
“That’s the truth.” He flashed a brilliant white smile. “Talk of the Town Café has been in Faith’s family for fifty years. She makes the world’s greatest apple pie.”
“I used to run a catering service,” Tess said, “and I love to cook. I’m glad you’re coming with us this afternoon. You might appreciate Pierre’s work.”
“What’s his specialty?”
“He does incredible things with game birds. The appetizer for the Smithsonian event is a play on partridge in a pear tree.”
Nolan was glad to see her return to her regular self—a little bit of smart aleck and a lot of warmth. After the shooting, she’d been a wreck. He suspected that she was still scared, but she did a damn fine job of covering up her emotions.
He remembered a long time ago—the night before he was shipping out for his second tour of duty in Afghanistan. She’d made a special candlelit dinner for him. When she’d raised her glass in a toast, she told him that she was scared about what might happen and angry that he was leaving her, but she didn’t want to waste one precious minute of their time together.
The families who stayed behind were sometimes braver than the soldiers who left to do battle, braver and stronger.
He tuned back in to her conversation with Soarez.
“I’ve got to tell you,” Tess said, “I’m a little worried about Pierre.”
“How come?”
“He wasn’t happy about using the beef supplier the governor wanted. I’m afraid he’s going to blow his top when I tell him he has to add twenty-six guests. Maybe you can distract him by talking about partridges.”
Nolan’s cell phone rang. The caller ID showed it was the CSaI office. When Amelia answered, she sang instead of talking. “Roxanne. Roxanne. Roxanne.”
“You already have information,” he said.
“That’s right. I’m astounding, thank you very much.”
“Hold on.” Nolan looked toward Tess. “Tess, why don’t you sit up front so you can give directions. I need to take this call.”
“No problem.” She wedged through, sat on the passenger side and fastened her seat belt.
In the back of the Hummer, Nolan stayed on alert, watching for threats. It was unlikely that Greenaway’s men would repeat their earlier effort, but he wanted to know if they were being tailed.
He held the cell phone to his ear. “Okay, Amelia. What can you tell me about Roxanne?”
“Bart hired her through a nanny service based near Langley. One of his CIA buddies must have referred him.”
Langley was only a couple of miles outside Washington, D.C., in Virginia. “She was from around here.”
“A local gal,” Amelia said. “Her last name used to be Wachovski, which is unusual enough that she was easy to track. You have no idea how difficult it is to get information on a Smith or a Jones. The average names kind of blend together, but a red-headed Roxanne Wachovski is a standout.”
Though he was anxious for her to ge
t to the point, namely Roxanne’s current address and phone number, Nolan said nothing. Amelia was famous for her quirky, convoluted explanations. Interrupting would only send her off on another tangent.
“After she left Bart, Roxanne had another couple of nanny jobs. When she got married and changed her name, she opened a child care business. That didn’t last and neither did the marriage. She went back to her maiden name.”
“And then?” he prompted.
“She still takes the occasional nanny assignment, but she’s getting a little old to be chasing kids around. She’s in her early sixties, and she’s a Scorpio.”
“Is her astrology sign relevant?”
“Always,” Amelia said. “For example, you’re an Aries, which means stubborn, determined and…”
She was off and running. Babbling on about how the designs of the stars influenced our lives. Nolan looked toward the front seat where Soarez and Tess discussed the relative merits of mesquite grilling.
There was too much noise. How the hell had life gotten so complicated? He wanted to explode the confusion and make it simple. He needed to find Bart, end Greenaway and make Tess and Joey part of his life. Not necessarily in that order.
“I’ll bet,” Amelia said, “you’re ready to hear the big, fat, exciting conclusion to the tale of Roxanne.”
“I am.”
“She still lives in a suburb near Langley.”
“Amelia, you’re a genius.”
“I know.”
She gave him the address and phone number, and then asked, “How’s the hotel?”
“It’s okay.”
She scoffed. “It should be five stars better than okay. It’s the suite Bart uses when he’s in Washington.”
That explained the opulence of the two-bedroom suite. Bart was a wealthy man who could afford to indulge. For Nolan, the high-class ambience was a waste. He only used the room for sleeping.
He ended the call just as Soarez parked outside the printer. Before exiting the Hummer, they checked their weapons. He and Soarez had worked together before as bodyguards. They might be gimps, but they had their movements perfected. With Tess sandwiched between them, they rushed across the sidewalk into the plain storefront.
