Shades of Gray

by Vicki Hinze

  She lay quietly, her mind churning, foggy from exhaustion. And too confused and weary to sort through everything and look for the truth, she pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. “Jake?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m scared.” God, but that’d been hard to admit. So hard.

  “I know.”

  “And I’m tired, Jake. I’m so tired . . .” Her voice trailed to silence.

  Jake held her, aching inside, knowing all she was feeling and the fear she’d felt in telling him. It had cost her plenty to admit the truth, but she had done it, and that set Jake’s mind at ease. For a moment, he’d wondered if she’d known more, and he’d hated having even a fleeting doubt about her. It didn’t sit well on his shoulders, or in his heart. And that made him intimately aware of how much she’d hated having to keep all this from him.

  And yet, she’d carried the burden for him. She’d given up a career for him. She’d given up the possibility of marrying a man who’d make her illusions real. Not just because she owed Jake her life, but because she’d pledged him her loyalty for her saving her life. He knew how deeply Laura took her oaths, and how much she hated being vulnerable.

  She had to be the bravest woman he’d ever known.

  Tender, his heart contracted, and he looked down into her face, at the sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, at the softness of her face, relaxed in sleep. A fierce surge of protectiveness rippled through him, and he knew he’d do anything to see to it that she could go on sleeping safe.

  He stared up at the ceiling, at the bars of light seeping through the window into the darkened room from between the slats of the closed blinds. There was only one way to keep her safe—to nail James and ROFF. And to kill Hawkins . . . before he could kill her.

  When Laura and Jake returned to Connor’s office at 1800, she sat down in the visitor’s chair she’d occupied that morning, feeling a lot calmer and more stable. She opened a portfolio, snagged a pen, and then cranked it open, preparing to take notes.

  Reports littered Connor’s desk. He shoved aside a stack of them, then rolled his chair deeper into the desk’s kneehole. The pages rustled. “I learned this afternoon that Paul Hawkins held a civil service job at the Pentagon, which he left over a year ago.”

  “With a dishonorable discharge? How did he land a civil service job?” Jake frowned at that statement and jotted down something on the pad in his lap. “And where did he go?”

  “Let me clarify,” Connor said. “Hawkins isn’t physically at the Pentagon, though he’s still a government employee. He’s officially on stress leave and has been for a year.”

  Laura jotted that down in her notes, feeling irritation overtake fear. Everyone remotely connected to the system knew stress leave had become a serious problem for the federal government. False claims ran rampant, forcing the OSI to spend an inordinate amount of time policing them. Too many employees claimed job pressures had them stressed out, and they convinced a doctor they were being honest, which resulted in the doctor ordering stress leave for the employee. The employee then collected his or her salary until fit to go back to work. In more cases than not, it was fraud, pure and simple. And picking up the slack created by the missing employee’s absence too often caused genuine stress and burnout in coworkers, which led to more cases of stress leave. These were genuine. This situation produced a vicious cycle. The widespread abuse made the genuine cases suspect, and those victims were regarded with suspicion. And the poor OSI, overworked and understaffed just like everyone else, had to sift through and decipher which cases were which. It wasn’t an enviable task, or an easy one. The agents had to deal with hot tempers, defensive doctors, irate bosses, and frosty victims—often simultaneously.

  Now Hawkins had done it. But why? Just to punish the government for kicking him out of the military? “Planting bombs can be stressful, I suppose,” Laura said, knowing her disgust was apparent in her voice. She hoped the OSI hung him from the highest tree in D.C.

  Connor rubbed at his neck. “Rest assured, Paul Hawkins will be charged with fraud and everything else the OSI can tag him with, Laura. Jake, you asked about how Hawkins secured a civil service job with a dishonorable discharge on his head. Well, someone forged documents giving him a clear military record and an honorable discharge. We aren’t sure yet who is responsible, but the OSI is already working on it.”

  She looked over at Jake, saw the worry in his eyes, then looked back across the desktop at Connor. “You might suggest the OSI take a look at interactions between Hawkins and Colonel James,” she said. “I’m making no accusations here, only saying that the effort might be worthwhile.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” Connor asked.

  “No, sir. Only offering a suggestion.”

  “I see.”

  He saw, all right. Too much. She swallowed a lump from her throat. “They might also check connections between Hawkins and Sean Drake.”

  Connor narrowed his eyes, and the light of understanding flickered in their depths. “It would strike me as logical to extend that cross-check to interactions between Colonel James and Sean Drake.”

  Laura’s palms began to sweat. “That would be a reasonable course of action, in my opinion.”

  “I appreciate your suggestions, Laura.” Connor’s tone rang sincere.

  She was relieved to hear it. So was Jake. At least he was getting some color back in his face now.

  “I wish the rest of the news was good.” Connor glanced down at one of the dozen reports near his left elbow. “Is Timmy safe?”

  Jake answered. “He’s secure.”

  “Good.” The general looked relieved, obviously feeling concern and responsibility for the people assigned to him, and for their families.

  Jake crossed a leg over his thigh, then balanced a pad atop it. “I take it the news from the team conference could’ve been better.”

  “I’m sorry to have to say it, but it looks grim.” Connor leaned back. “For apparent reasons, neither of you has had full access to ROFF intelligence,” he said. “We believe Paul Hawkins is the leader of ROFF, and it’s obvious he has a personal vendetta against you two as well as one against the United States.”

  “Even with forged records, being dishonorably discharged can be challenging to live with. You know he had to fear he’d be caught,” Jake said.

  Laura doubted Hawkins had lost a moment’s sleep over that. “It’s easier to blame someone else rather than to take your own hits.”

  “Laura,” Connor said, “the team feels strongly you should be placed in protective custody until Hawkins is arrested.”

  “No.” Resolve hardened like steel in her chest. She rapped the pad with her pen, her grip tight. “I can’t hide, General. I won’t.”

  Jake reached over and clasped her hand in his. “For what it’s worth, I think you should agree to this. We don’t have full access to all the information the team does. If they’re suggesting this, they’ve—”

  “No, Jake.” She glanced over at him. “I won’t hide.”

  “I want you safe. Timmy needs you, Laura.”

  Tenderness shimmied through her insides, and her voice went soft. “I’m thinking of Timmy. Truly. And your concern touches me, Jake. But I have to assist in capturing Hawkins.” And Colonel James, too, she thought, if he proved to be the man who’d doctored Hawkins’ records. She’d never be able to live with herself, not if she didn’t help to nail them both. Surely Jake could see the parallels she’d seen between the men. “I’m trained and qualified. No. No, I won’t hide.”

  “You’re trained only because of a screw-up in your orders,” Jake said.

  They both knew she had been supposed to receive only the communications segment of survival training. Fouled up orders had landed her in the entire program. By the time the administrative error had been recti
fied, she’d been two-thirds of the way through the course, so she’d finished it. “Regardless of the reasons, I’m trained.”

  “What about Timmy?”

  “He’s probably safer away from me than with me, Jake. I’ve been targeted.” She lowered her gaze, then turned in her chair to face him. “Listen, I have to do this. You know I do. It’s the husband in you talking now, not the soldier.”

  “Damn right, it is. I am your husband. Don’t expect me to not act like one because it’s inconvenient.”

  She stroked his arm. “It isn’t inconvenient, and, yes, you are my husband. Which is why you should understand this is something I have to do.” Fingers of fear clasped her throat. “Don’t you see, Jake? I can’t run from Hawkins. I can’t. If I do, I’ll never stop running.”

  Jake stared at her for a long moment, then glanced over at the general. “Could we have a moment, sir?”

  Connor nodded, his lips pursed, and then left his office.

  When he closed the door, Jake stood up and tugged at her, urging her to stand. When she did, he cupped her face in his hands, letting her see the worry in his eyes. “Laura, I really do understand why you feel you have to do this, but I’m asking you not to, asking you to trust me and to let me handle it.”

  “You’re my husband, not my guardian.”

  “I want to protect you. I have to protect you.” His clouded eyes turned turbulent. “I can’t lose you, honey. Not now. You’re my best friend, Laura. The mother of my son.”

  His arrows had been aimed accurately, and, boy, were they sharp.

  Though the agony of regret still burned in his eyes, he kissed her hard; a furious mating of lips and tongues tasting of desperation, and he wrapped her in an embrace that both sustained her and bordered on pain. Too tight! When he separated their mouths, he hugged her fiercely and breathed into the curve where her shoulder met her neck: “Please, Laura. For Timmy. For me.”

  Amazed that he’d included himself, she caressed his tense face, his beloved jaw, torn between doing what he asked of her and what she felt she must do. Timmy was the deciding factor. Formidable enemies had to be faced. But if both she and Jake faced them and they failed, Timmy would be vulnerable. He’d be returned to Madeline and placed in her inept care. That made the decision easier to stomach, which Laura felt sure had been Jake’s intention in mentioning it. “For now, okay, Jake.”

  “Good.” Relief sluiced over his face. “Good.”

  “But I reserve the right to change my mind if I feel I must.”

  “That’s reasonable.” He released her. “Thank you, Laura.”

  Only Jake would take the dangers and responsibilities upon himself, placing her squarely in the safety of the sidelines, and then thank her for it. How could she not love him?

  Jake walked toward the door, finally able to breathe again. As he reached for the knob, he heard Laura call him and looked back at her.

  “Don’t make me a widow,” she said. “I’ll be extremely ticked if you make me a widow.”

  She was rallying. Thank God. Despite the odds, a smirk teased the corner of his mouth. “I’ll hold that thought.” Jake opened the door and then nodded at the general.

  Connor walked back in with two guards. He’d known, of course, that Jake would convince her, though by his expression, he hadn’t expected it’d happen quite so quickly. And it wouldn’t have, Jake knew, if he hadn’t pulled out the secret weapon: Timmy.

  Laura gathered her purse and closed the portfolio she’d dropped open on the chair.

  “These men will escort you, Laura,” Connor said. “We’ll move you from the building to a safe house as soon as possible.”

  She nodded at the general, then offered the men a shallow smile.

  “You’re making the right decision,” Connor said, his eyes kind, his expression solemn. “The hardest one for you, I would say, but the right one.”

  “I hope so.” She looked over at Jake. “Take care of you.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Jake said, then watched her leave with the guards.

  When they’d left the office, the general sat down at his desk. “I’m glad to see you’ve gotten your marriage on the right track, Jake.”

  It wasn’t on track. “It’s an illusion,” Jake said, hating the resentment he heard in his own voice.

  Connor leaned forward over his desk. “I don’t mean to pry, but, if I can, I’d like to help. What exactly is the problem?”

  Jake stripped off the veneer and let his misery shine in his eyes. “I love her.”

  “Uh-huh.” Connor frowned, clearly stumped. “In my experience, love comes in handy in a marriage.”

  “But I can’t have her.”

  “So she doesn’t love you, then?”

  He didn’t get it. Jake walked to the window, stared out sightlessly to the street, and tried to explain. “No, I think she loves me too—more or less.”

  “More or less?”

  Jake nodded.

  “I see.” Connor kept his face passive.

  Jake paced from the coffeepot to the desk, then back again, stuffing one hand deep into his pocket and rubbing his neck with the other one. “Until recently we were just friends.”

  “That much, I’d surmised.” Connor took a drink from a can of soda at his elbow, then set it back down. “So let me see if I’ve got this. I have the feeling I’m missing a puzzle piece. You were friends, and then you got married. Then you fell in love—more or less—with each other.”

  “Exactly.” Jake lifted a hand, feeling like the bastard he was.

  “These things shouldn’t have you looking like you’ve just been sentenced to a lethal injection, Jake.”

  “They don’t. The not being able to have her does.”

  “Why can’t you have her?”

  “I run missions with less than two percent survival odds. Do I really need to explain?”

  “Ah, I see.” And for the first time, Connor appeared to understand perfectly. “She doesn’t want to risk you being killed and leaving her.”

  “Not exactly.” Unable to stand still, Jake paced some more and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, General. I don’t want her to risk losing me. She’d be devastated.”

  “Of course she’d be devastated. She’d intended to spend the rest of her life with you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Ah, the rest of her life.” Dawning lit in Connor’s eyes. “So if you have a real marriage, and you die, then she’s devastated.”

  Jake nodded, letting his gaze slide to the gray carpet. “I can’t put her through that.”

  “I’m confused,” Connor said, rubbing at his temple. “Be patient. I’m trying to muddle my way through all this and get up to speed. Until today, I thought yours was a marriage between friends and no more, though it’s always been as clear to me as the nose on your face that you two love each other. Yet you say love only came into this recently.”

  “No, love’s been there. I’m not sure how long.”

  “But until recently, you only loved each other as friends.”

  “Right.”

  “And now it’s different.”

  “Yes. I love her, and I’m in love with her. I don’t know if she loves me—as a woman loves her husband, I mean—but I’m sure the possibility’s there and she could. She does want more than illusions.”

  “And you want more for her?”

  “I do. But, selfish bastard that I am, I want more for her with me.” He frowned. “I tell myself I don’t want to die and leave her bitter, and I don’t, but—”

  “Wait,” Connor interrupted, holding up a hand.

  “Sir?”

  “What do you want, Jake?” Connor asked simply.

  Jake’s answer felt anything but simpl
e. “I want her. Happy.”

  “And not a grieving widow.” Connor sighed, then sat back and looked up at Jake. “I’d never claim to understand women, Jake. Any man who claims to is, in my humble opinion, a fool. But the way I see it, if you two love each other and you died, then either way she’d be devastated. And I’ll give you something else to mull over that I think is important. There’s something a widow has that a woman who loves but doesn’t have a real marriage with her husband lacks.”

  Puzzled, Jake hiked a brow.

  The general’s gaze went soft. “Memories.”

  He was right. If Jake died, Laura would have no memories of their marriage to support her except one night of lovemaking and regret because of it. Good memories would soften the pain of loss and make enduring it more bearable. He only hoped they had the opportunity to make some good memories. That he hadn’t waited too long. That she’d be willing. Did he have the right to ask her? To even suggest it?

  “In your shoes, I’d be thinking about killing Hawkins.” Connor’s eyes narrowed knowingly. “I’d check your pulse if you weren’t considering it. But it wouldn’t be a smart move, Jake.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there were two other people in that Lincoln who haven’t yet been identified. Hawkins might be our only link to them.”

  Kill him, and Jake and Laura would be looking over their shoulders or some faceless stalker the rest of their lives. The truth trickled through to Jake, not from what had been said, but from what hadn’t. “You think there’s someone higher up in ROFF than Hawkins.”

  “The team thinks so, yes. And we’ve got to tread carefully until we identify who.”

  Jake agreed. He didn’t want to agree, but facts didn’t bend to convenience. Not even when they presented themselves at cross-purposes with a man’s desires.

  “I didn’t mention this to Laura because she seemed genuinely fond of Bill Green, and, frankly, she’s suffered a lot of shocks in a short span of time. But we’ve got evidence, Jake. He’s guilty of planting the bug in Laura’s car.”

  Jake forced himself not to grimace, to bury any reaction. “What kind of evidence?”