by Vicki Hinze
Clearly surprised, and valiantly trying to hide it, the general cleared his throat.
Though she’d preferred not to air this publicly, Jake had left her no choice. “Look,” Laura said, ignoring the general and his discomfort. “I would’ve told you, but Madeline pulled that stunt with the car—and there have been several other stunts since then, by the way, which I’ve handled—and then you got called to report. There was no time to tell you, Jake. I know the drill. When you’re being sent on a mission, my job as your wife is to relieve you of all personal pressures. Well, I did that, and now you’re condemning me for it.”
A sliver of hurt that he had condemned her crept into her voice. She buried it, then went on. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Whether we’re talking about my career or my duty as an Ops officer’s wife—as your wife—I do my job for the same reasons you do your job. I don’t know why the hell my photo showed up in the hands of a dead CIA agent. I don’t know why ROFF would be interested in me. I have nothing whatsoever to do with that organization, Jake, and on that I swear my life.”
“What about Timmy’s? Would you swear his life on it?”
Oh, but he read her like a book; he knew her too well. “It’s a moot point.” She clenched her jaw. “Since I’m innocent, he’d never be at risk.”
Jake glanced at Connor, whose answering nod was so slight that if Laura hadn’t been specifically looking for it, she’d have missed it.
“We’ve obviously upset you,” Connor said to her. “As regrettable as that is, I trust you understand why we must investigate.”
She wished she didn’t. Wished she could cut loose with a ton or two of righteous indignation and dump it on their heads. But she did understand. Still, she was too upset to admit it without getting her own pound of flesh. “Do whatever you have to do, General. You can’t prove what isn’t true. I swear to you right here and right now that I’ve never done anything professionally or personally that should have you—” She slid a frosty glare toward Jake—“or anyone else questioning my loyalty.” She stood up. “Now you either give me some proof of wrongdoing on my part or you back off, because, reactivated and recalled or not, I’ve had enough of this.”
“Laura,” Jake said, his expression softening and filling with regret.
She glared him silent.
General Connor raked a hand through his hair and leveled his gaze on her. “You’re right. We don’t know that you’ve done anything to give us reason to question your loyalty, or to suspect you of any wrongdoing. But this photo raises questions which must be asked and answered.”
“And now you’ve asked them, and I’ve answered them as best I’m able.” Laura lifted her chin, her insides quivering. “That’s going to have to be good enough, General. There just isn’t any more I can give you.”
He stared at her a long moment, then finally blinked. “Jake, why don’t you step out into the hall and stretch your legs?”
Looking torn, Jake stayed put. “My legs are fine, sir.”
Connor slid Jake a level look. “That’s an order, Major.”
Surprise flickered through Jake’s eyes. “Yes, sir.” Jake walked to the door, his shoulders stiff.
When behind him the door clicked closed, Laura sat back down. Connor looked uncomfortable, as well he should. Treason. Her? Good grief, what a sick joke.
Only it wasn’t a joke. It was sick and god-awful, but real and no joke.
He leaned forward, elbows and forearms flat against the table, then made a tent of his fingers. “I’m afraid that we have a little dilemma here.”
By her reckoning, they had several. Not sure which one he referred to, she held her silence and waited for him to explain.
“The way I see it, you’re either a very loyal ally, or the enemy. Frankly, I’ve yet to fully determine which.”
Her heart chugged in her chest. Something specific grated at the man; she could see it in his eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“I’ve read your records. I know about Dr. Laura Taylor Logan, the communications expert. But I don’t know enough about Laura Logan, the woman, and how she thinks,” he said. A puzzled frown creased the skin on his forehead. “I’m having trouble grasping a . . . situation.”
“What is it?” she asked, knowing it was expected. “Maybe I can enlighten you.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said, sliding forward on his chair. “A captain with a stellar career in front of her leaves active duty in the military and goes inactive in Intel. And though she’s reputedly one of the most respected experts in the communications field, she takes a job as a publicity officer and plays at working on her communication designs as an additional duty rather than devoting herself to them as her primary duty. Why would a captain do that?”
Laura’s face went hot. She was the hard-to-grasp situation. “Don’t you mean, why would I do that?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Laura resisted the urge to squirm. Nothing stays hidden. She could tell him the truth about Madeline’s father. About the threats he’d levied on her for Madeline’s benefit back then. Through the friendship with Jake, Laura had been making Sean Drake’s daughter miserable and when she was miserable, Madeline doubled her alcohol intake. Sean couldn’t have that. So Laura had a choice. She could either stay away from Jake and Timmy, or Sean would have a chat with his good friend Colonel James, and Laura would fail to get funding to buy so much as a pencil. She could kiss her communication device design research good-bye.
Sean Drake had the clout to make that happen. Colonel James held the purse strings on all of Laura’s research. He could poison her projects and plague every other one she touched with funding challenges. Laura had been quick enough on the uptake to know that regardless of what she did regarding her friendship with Jake, Sean Drake would screw up her career. That had been hell to swallow, but since he’d ruined her joy in working solely on her designs with his threats—Colonel James would certainly scrutinize to death her every move, anyway—she’d opted to end her career before Drake and James could do it.
That had been the one move Sean Drake never expected she would have the courage to make. There was solace in that.
Yet disclosing such an altercation with the now-deceased CIA legend would only arouse, more suspicion in General Connor, and he already had enough to be on the verge of having her arrested for treason. Yet without making that disclosure, her walking out of here to go anywhere except the brig would take a miracle.
Take a long shot. Opt for another truth.
She followed her line of thought. “Stability, fewer TDYs, and no PCS-ing,” she said, referring to the permanent change of stations that sent military families hop-scotching around the world to different bases every two or three years. Just about the time everyone in the family settled in, orders came to move again. “Timmy needed me more than the communications field.”
“Timmy.” Connor pinned her with his gaze. “But you weren’t yet married to Jake then.”
“No. But Madeline was already drinking, and Jake had an assignment with a lot of TDYs. The year before I made the career move, he was gone over two hundred days. Someone had to keep watch over Timmy. Jake couldn’t, Madeline wouldn’t, and so I elected me.”
“At Jake’s request?” Connor speculated.
She gave him a negative nod. “Jake would never ask that of me.”
“So, because Jake saved your life in survival school, you took on this responsibility and decided to do this yourself.”
Gray area. She had to be careful, to give Connor the truth, and yet not disclose all of it. Nothing stays hidden. “I made the decision alone, yes.”
“I see.” Connor shuffled some papers near his right forearm. They crackled. When they stopped, he looked back at her. “Is that why you married Jake? Because you owed him?”
Thank God. In t
his, she could be totally open and honest. “Not exactly,” she said, then went on to explain. “Back in survival school, when Paul Hawkins tried to kill me, Jake knew his testimony against the man wouldn’t be popular, or win him any friends. But he didn’t bend. By his actions, he said, ‘I saw what happened, Laura. I trust your perception. And I’m not going to let anyone whitewash the truth and bury this.’ ”
“So you did marry him because you owed him.”
“I owed him, but no, that’s not why. You missed my point.” Laura drew in a breath, stared at the general, then expressed aloud feelings that before now she’d kept hidden in her heart. “I married Jake to help him keep custody of Timmy. But even more so, I married him because Jake takes a stand. He lives his convictions, and he sacrifices for something more important than any one man, or any one family. Even when it isn’t convenient, or when it costs him more than a man should have to pay, he does what he feels is right.”
She let her gaze drift down to the table and lose focus in its sheen. Her voice dropped a notch. “When he’s away, I go to sleep at night thinking it’s okay to rest easy. We can all sleep safe, because he and others like him are out there doing what needs to be done, and they’re not going to let anyone hurt us. They’re going to stop them. Even if to do it, they have to die.” She blinked, then looked back at the general. “That’s why I married Jake Logan.”
Connor sat perfectly still for a long minute. Then another. And then another.
Finally, he stood up, walked to the door, and ducked out into the hall. “Jake,” he called.
Jake came back into the conference room and slid down onto his chair. Not once did he look at Laura. That hurt so much she thought she just might hate him for it.
The general returned to his seat and slid his yellow pad over to the side. “For now, we’ll operate from two perspectives. One, that the photo is a ROFF message to Jake that his wife is being targeted as a means of getting to him. And, two, that you, Mrs. Logan, are a target due to the communications consultation. My gut reaction is to follow up as if ROFF expects Jake’s cooperation, or they’ll harm you.”
Jake frowned. “General, Laura being threatened—”
He lifted a hand. “I understand, Jake. It’s a risk we all take when we marry, and again when we have children. Countermeasures will be taken.”
“Countermeasures?” Laura asked. Them talking about her as if she weren’t in the room irked her. But at least Jake looked repentant for doubting her. It’d take a long time for her to recover from that, if ever she did. “What kind of countermeasures?”
The general looked her straight in the eye. “That’s classified information, Mrs. Logan.”
The bottom dropped out of Laura’s stomach. She resisted the urge to cover it with her hand to calm it down. She had clearance.
But he’d called her Mrs. Logan. At least mentally, he had reassigned her from being a captain to being Jake’s wife. Either way, she still had clearance. So Connor didn’t believe her, or else he was being prudent.
She studied his face and still couldn’t read beneath his masked expression. But whether he was disbelieving or prudent, she didn’t give a tinker’s damn for the feelings either aroused.
“We’d all better hope this stems from you being Jake’s wife, and that it’s only a threat.” The general put down his pen. “If your Intel position hasn’t retained integrity, we’ve got serious trouble.”
Laura hiked a shoulder. “I’m not following. This is a religious organization, not some group of fanatic rebels bent on overthrowing the govern—” The truth virtually smacked her right between the eyes. Of course it was a fanatic group. Of course it was. “Jake?”
He didn’t elaborate, just turned back to the subject. “If ROFF knows you’re active in Intel in any capacity on this operation, then the danger increases tenfold. To you and to me. Maybe even to Timmy.”
“Oh, God.” The blood drained from her face, and her body chilled, stone-cold. “Jake, I never thought—I mean, until I walked into this room, I was just an occasional consultant. I don’t get . . . involved anymore. I haven’t in a long time. And I never dreamed Timmy would be in any danger whatsoever.”
“He probably isn’t.” General Connor stood up. “Why don’t you go on home now, Mrs. Logan, and give us a chance to sort this out.”
Home. No charges. At least not yet. Laura fumbled for her purse, stood up, and looked at Jake. Sensing his confusion and despair, she felt her throat constrict and her chest tighten. Even now, knowing he doubted her, knowing he would never love her, not even for a second, she still loved him. “The adoption went through.”
Staring at the far wall, he closed his eyes.
“I thought you’d want to know.” Tears choked her, and she couldn’t say any more.
He nodded, but he didn’t look at her.
Initially, she had kept her secret about the consultations to protect him, and now she would pay the price for having done so. He thought she didn’t trust him, and that had hurt him deeply. God, but she regretted it.
Feeling like a slug, she walked to the door, then paused and glanced back at him. He hadn’t moved. How could he think she didn’t trust him? She owed him her life. He was her best friend. Her damned husband. Even if he had lapsed and doubted her, she’d explained now. He should be over it. Yet he still refused to cut her any slack, to grant her even a micron of understanding. And not sure whether she lashed out at him in anger for that, or in her own despair, she tightened her voice. “I’m late, but happy anniversary, Jake.”
He didn’t answer.
When it became obvious he wasn’t going to answer her, she berated herself for trying to get to him with something she knew meant so little to him. He really wasn’t her husband, so how could that barb incite a twinge, much less sting? It couldn’t.
Her shoulders sinking into a slump right along with her spirit, she tugged at the doorknob.
“Stop by my office and pick up a Glock,” Jake said softly. “If ROFF’s targeted you, you need to be prepared.”
She waited for Connor to object to her being armed, or for Jake to say anything more, but neither spoke. Wordlessly, she walked out into the hallway, her stomach churning resentment. Resentment and remorse.
Jake had given her good advice, even if she did wish she could ignore it. But playing ostrich and burying her head in the sand carried the same risks as making blind assumptions. She might not be a real wife, but she was a real woman and—at least for the moment—a real mother. She wasn’t eager to wake up dead. She’d carry the gun.
As she snapped the door closed, she heard General Connor let out a gruesome sigh. “Just what the hell kind of marriage have you got, son?”
Too bruised and wounded to risk hearing Jake’s response, Laura walked away, wishing she herself could know.
They had a piece of paper legally binding them together. A second piece of paper declaring they shared a son. But they had no kind of marriage.
Just as they’d agreed.
And because they had, Laura suffered what she’d sworn she would never suffer in their relationship.
Regret.
Ten
In a short time, a lot had changed. And none of it was for the better.
Just as on any other night, Laura had gone to bed with visions of not waking up until the morning. But this night, she had suffered the attacker dream, which had led inevitably to the reenactment nightmare of Paul Hawkins’ survival school attempt on her life. Stress always spurred those damn nightmares; it was as predictable as a personal, handwritten invitation. Then she had been awakened in the dead of night and summoned to headquarters. She realized she had come to love Jake and feared he was hurt, but instead, she had found him with her boss. They promptly had notified her she had been fully reactivated—a slick, jurisdictional move she still wasn’t convinced was i
n her best interests—and then doubted her integrity by asking her if she had committed treason.
Had the whole world gone crazy?
Back at Jake’s, she pegged the keys to his Jag on the rack just inside the back door, then dumped her purse and the bag from Baskin-Robbins on the kitchen counter.
A chill crept over her skin, and she looked around. A couple of cups, rinsed and placed in the sink, awaited their turn in the dishwasher. The latest in the New Dawn series of novels rested open-faced on the bar next to the telephone, right where she had left it. A rubber band lay in the bottom of the fruit bowl, along with a penny and a twist tie from a bread loaf’s wrapper. Nothing looked touched, or amiss. She toed off her shoes and shoved them with the flat of her foot under the ledge of the bar. So why did she have this uneasy feeling? Something had pricked her comfort zone and alerted her instincts.
Certainly, a lot had happened, but most of it had occurred away from Jake’s house. She shrugged off her light jacket, tossed it over the back of a chair at the table, then smoothed a hand over the hip of her slacks. Funny, until now she’d always loved Jake’s home. It was quiet and comfortable, a typical single-story brick suburban house filled with a lot of opaque colors and plump cushions to soften the oversize leather furnishings. But right now the house felt too big and empty, and she felt small and insignificant in it.
Even without Timmy’s exuberant presence and Betsy Miller’s warmth, Laura wasn’t deluded enough to convince herself it was really the house sparking those feelings. It was Jake. Never, not in thirteen years, had he acted so cold toward her and made her feel so isolated from him. Never had he doubted her. Not even when half the damn class at survival school had sided with Paul Hawkins had Jake expressed a moment’s doubt in her. But he did now. Then she had loved him for being steadfast. Now, looking back, before that fiasco had ended, she had come to love him for more reasons. And over the years, her list of reasons why she loved him had lengthened considerably. But only in the last three weeks, since moving in this last time, had she fallen in love with him. Something . . . different had happened between her and Jake. Chemistry. And something more she couldn’t peg and saw little reason to, considering their circumstances.
