by Robin Perini
His father didn’t take the bait. Paul Bradford said nothing; he simply quirked an eyebrow while the football game played in the background. Noah squirmed under his dad’s focus. He might be in a wheelchair after a gunshot severed his spinal cord, but nothing was wrong with his instincts.
Noah’s forefinger scratched at his knuckle. “What?”
His brother Chase shrugged and passed him a longneck bottle with that I-told-you look.
Paul Bradford drummed his fingers on his chair. “I did a little digging—”
Noah’s hand paused on the way to his mouth, then he took a long gulp. Yeah, he’d been brilliant encouraging his father’s interest in computers. Noah knew exactly how he inherited his own tech ability. The idea of setting Dad up with a side business doing investigations had seemed like a perfect way to keep Paul Bradford engaged in life—and law enforcement. Noah downed half the bottle, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. What a fool. “Your point?”
“I hit a damn brick wall,” Paul growled.
At least something had gone right today.
“You want to tell me why I can’t find out anything about you, Noah? Short of the vanilla bio you published on the websites of your companies.” Paul rolled his chair across the wooden floor, coming a few inches from Noah. “I haven’t pried into your life before. Well, that stops now. Exactly what are you into, Noah? How worried should we be?”
His sister, Sierra, saved him from answering. For the moment. She exited the kitchen with a large tray of chips and guacamole, followed by Mitch and his very pregnant wife, Emily. Mitch held Emily’s two-year-old son Joshua in his arms while Emily waddled into the living room and settled down on a hard-back chair with a sigh. “I can’t get out of that sofa,” she said with a smile. “Last time, Mitch had to use a crane to hoist me.”
Thankful for something to do—anything to avoid answering questions—Noah doled out a plate for Emily. She looked at him in surprise. “Thank you?”
“It’s not like our resident man-of-mystery has learned manners,” Chase commented. “He’s just avoiding Dad’s questions.”
Noah winced and eyed the door. He should go. This conversation had already strayed too close to truths he couldn’t discuss—some classified, some, well, they’d just worry. Some—things he’d done he would never talk about. To anyone.
He tugged on his jacket. “I’d better go.”
Before he could get to the door, Emily gripped Noah’s hand and her sympathetic gaze met his. He really loved his sister-in-law. She saw through more than most. Probably because she’d been to hell and back. “They’re worried about you, Noah. You scared them this time. Your dad, too,” she mouthed the last few words.
Noah scrubbed his hand over his face. His dad had lost weight from the illness. He looked pale. “I’ve made sure you can reach me anytime, anywhere,” he said, tugging a card from his wallet and handing it to his father. “This number will page me no matter where I am. I designed it myself. I won’t be out of touch again.”
Paul tucked the card into his shirt pocket. “It’s not about that, Noah. It’s about the riddle your life has become. What if something had happened to you? How would we ever know?”
“I’m a trained marine. I can take care of myself on a business trip.”
“Business trip, my butt,” Sierra said under her breath.
“You haven’t shown your face at any of your companies in six months,” Chase said. “Just a few conference calls. So where have you been?”
That they’d infiltrated the careful web he and Crystal had set up gave him pause. He had some major shoring up to do once he figured a way out of this mess.
Mitch settled next to Emily, clasping her hand while he bounced Joshua on his knee. “We get that you like your privacy, Noah. You’ve always preferred hiding off in your lab with your electronics and computers, but this is different. No word. Not even an answer to the calls and emails when Dad was in the hospital.”
Truth was, they didn’t know him at all. Noah had never wanted to disappear, but he hadn’t fit in. He’d never fit in. Mitch and Chase were the athletes and Sierra was the perfect daughter. They hadn’t understood him. Noah kneaded his neck. That’s why he’d joined the Marines, hoping to find a place in the family. But then the secrets just got worse. He couldn’t talk about his job. Or the Falcon.
So, most of the time, he didn’t talk. He just listened. Even now, how could he tell his family that he’d spent the past six months dealing with one crisis after another for Covert Technology Confidential based in the middle-of-nowhere Carder, Texas?
He’d backed off the government intel jobs, but CTC kept him busy, and truth be known, not a lot safer.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He slipped it from his coat and glanced at the number. A number he hadn’t seen in a very long time. “We’ll have to talk about this later,” he said. “There’s an emergency in Phoenix...” He let his voice trail off, too tired to lie. He sighed. “There’s an emergency. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Someday you’ll have to trust us with what’s going on in your life, son,” Paul said quietly. “We’re your family. We love you. We want to know you.”
Noah looked at them. They did love him. He knew that. He just...he didn’t know if they’d like him very much after the choices he’d been forced to make. Even with his brother Mitch and his dad as cops, would his family understand what the Falcon had been forced to do to save his own life and, more importantly, the lives of his men. Not knowing was better.
“See you soon,” he said. Emily struggled to her feet and hugged him close. “Be careful,” she said softly.
His throat constricted and he walked out to the front porch, the brisk winter air freezing his ears. He flicked on the receiver. “I’m surprised to hear from you, Reid. It’s been almost eighteen months. What happened to incommunicado?”
“I’ll call you back,” his old marine buddy said. “Stand by.”
He’d known Reid since basic training, and only twice had his voice held that much tension. Noah’s posture went rigid. This couldn’t be good.
The phone rang again. This time the screen showed an unknown number. Noah flicked a switch on the side of the phone. A Washington, D.C., number popped onto the screen. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Archimedes found her,” Reid said.
Reid didn’t have to say any more. Noah closed his eyes. Jack’s fiancée, Alessandra Cummings. The moment Jack had introduced her, Noah had been in awe. She was open, transparent and full of joy. She’d accepted Jack for who he was, for what he’d done. What would it feel like to be loved as much as Alessandra had loved Jack? Not a day went by when Noah hadn’t wondered. Damn, Jack had been lucky. For a year or so, he and Alessandra had lived a fairy tale. Until Archimedes.
It had been two years since Jack’s death. Noah didn’t know what name she used now. He’d promised Reid he wouldn’t track her after Archimedes had found her just a few months into hiding. To keep her safe, Noah had agreed.
“Is she...” He didn’t want to finish the question.
“She’s still alive as of an hour ago.” Reid paused. “This is the third time he’s located her, Noah. She should be dead. For whatever reason, he hasn’t killed her, but I have a leak at Justice. I need your help.”
Noah glanced at his watch. “I can leave within the hour. Where is she?”
“We placed her in Chicago. She’s ditched her phone. She’ll call me at noon. She’s scared, but it’s more than that. I don’t like the sound of her voice. She’s on the edge.”
“Has she given up?”
“I don’t think so, but she’s tired of waiting. Hell, so am I. The guy’s a damn ghost.” Noah could hear the fatigue in his friend’s voice. “I should have called last night, but I’d hoped the news would be better.”
“
How close are you to catching him?” Noah asked. “Straight up.”
“No closer than the night Jack died.”
Noah ground his teeth together. He should have insisted he stay on the case.
“Archimedes is better than good. I reviewed the current status of the investigation after she called last night. They can’t nail him down. He doesn’t leave evidence behind when he kills. Hell, half the time I think they’re pinning all unsolved murders with little or no evidence on him.”
Noah tugged the keys from his jeans and strode to his SUV. “We both owe Jack our lives. This time, we protect her. And we find Archimedes.”
* * *
LYSSA SAT INSIDE the public library hidden by some shelves but with a clear view of the front entrance. She clutched her new phone in her hand. She’d transferred from train to train all night long, switching lines and directions. She couldn’t keep up this pace much longer. Plus she didn’t have an unlimited supply of funds, just the one thousand dollars she’d scrimped and saved and placed in the pocket of her ready bag.
She hated to admit she’d been stupid yesterday. She’d been thinking about the moment Archimedes would find her for a year, and when it happened, panic had won. She’d run.
In the clear light of day—and without Gil’s body on the floor—logic ruled. She sat here, watching people go about their everyday lives, and realized this was the answer. The strategy.
Go on with her life. Keep doing what she’d been doing.
Let Archimedes find her.
It was a good plan. She couldn’t go on any longer waiting to die. Archimedes was too smart, too deadly. She had too much to protect, and if he ever discovered that her true vulnerability wasn’t fear...she couldn’t bear the thought.
A shiver of awareness registered at the back of her neck. She swallowed. Had he found her already?
Her attention shifted to the entrance of the library. She peered at a tall figure pushing through the double doors. He wore jeans, a leather bomber jacket and cowboy boots. He didn’t belong in a library.
But she recognized the shape of his face, the color of his hair, and surprisingly enough, the fit of his jeans.
Where had that come from? She’d only met him three times. Once at a barbecue with Jack, once in a crowded bar and once at Jack’s funeral.
He scanned the room, then paused when his gaze fell on her. She shifted in her chair. Would he know her? He didn’t hesitate. He walked over.
“Alessandra,” he said quietly, his deep voice washing over her.
“Lyssa,” she whispered.
He nodded and surveyed the room. “Let’s switch locations before we talk.”
She ducked her head and grabbed the small bag.
“That’s all you have?”
“I’m traveling light these days.”
His brown eyes darkened. “You’ll be safe soon.”
Lyssa let him lead her out of the library and down the street half a block. When they passed a small alley, she pulled him into the shadow between the two buildings. She glanced around, but they were alone, save for a trash bin and a stash of cardboard boxes, blankets and empty whiskey bottles.
“What’s this about?” He frowned down at her, shifting so she remained hidden from the street by his large frame.
“I don’t want to be safe, Noah. I agreed for Reid to bring you in because Jack told me you were the smartest person he’d ever met. And you were ruthless. I want to find Archimedes, Noah. And I want him dead.”
* * *
THE DINER WAS dingy, grimy and dirty. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the chair down before carefully sitting in the booth.
Alessandra had run, but he would have her. Soon.
He shifted in his seat. His feet clung to the sticky floor and he grimaced. Carefully using two fingers, he opened the menu then couldn’t bear to hold the germ-infested plastic in his hands. He rubbed the table with two napkins to protect his skin from touching the filth.
“Are you going to order or keep cleaning?” A young woman with streaked blue hair and a tattoo on her neck stared down at him, chomping her gum.
He focused on the table, gripping his trousers. She was rude, but she was probably rude to everyone. He should ignore the urge. He had more important work to do.
“Come on, buddy. Either order or get out. I ain’t got all day.”
He pasted a smile on his face, but inside, his head throbbed, pounding at his temples. “Coffee. Three sugars. Cream. Not creamer, cream. The kind that comes from cows.”
“Freak,” she muttered and snagged the menu from him.
He clenched his fists and watched with an irritated gaze as she grabbed a cup, poured coffee into it and carelessly dumped in nondairy creamer.
As if he couldn’t tell.
The waitress practically dropped the cup on the table. Coffee sloshed over the edge. She didn’t even bother to wipe it down. She sashayed away to another booth where a smiling young man winked at her.
They ignored him. They always ignored him.
She wouldn’t ignore him for long.
Abandoning the coffee, he stood and walked out the door. He took a half dozen steps and waited, an alley situated strategically behind him.
The girl ran out of the coffee shop. “You can’t leave without paying!” she shouted.
“And you need to learn some manners.”
He smiled and grabbed her neck in a calculated pressure, using twenty pounds per square inch directed at her carotid artery. He wanted her weak, not unconscious.
He dragged her behind an industrial waste bin out of sight. Car horns honked, but no one saw. They ignored. Everything. Everyone.
Her eyes grew wide. She whimpered, trying to break his hold.
“I don’t think so, girl.” With a smile, he slipped a knife from his pocket. “You’re very rude,” he whispered, pressing the knife against her side. “You must be taught a lesson.” With a quiet move he slit her shirt on the side and flicked the sharp knife through a layer of skin.
She opened her mouth, but before she could scream he covered her lips with his hand. He pressed her against the brick wall. “I won’t be ignored,” he said softy. “Or dismissed.” He drew the knife around her torso, positioned the blade between her ribs and shoved it in.
She tried to scream, tried to bite him. “Don’t bother,” he said softly. “You’re bleeding inside. You’ll be dead soon.”
The waitress tried to shake her head, then she blinked. Life faded from her eyes. He let her drop to the ground.
With practiced ease he slid his knife through her dress, baring her chest. He didn’t look on her tattooed curves with desire. Just disgust.
He dragged his blade across the tainted pale skin of her belly, then stopped. She wasn’t worthy of him or his attention. Marred with drawings and piercings.
Alessandra Cummings had none of those. Alessandra Cummings was perfect.
She’d run from him, though.
What a disappointment. He’d forgiven her the slight twice before, but this time she would have to prove herself worthy of him.
If she didn’t pass the test...
She would. She would come to understand they belonged together. Had always belonged together. Just the two of them.
He stared down at the woman’s body, then at his hands, bloody and uncovered. He tugged out a vial from his pocket and sprinkled the body with the concentrated accelerant he’d created.
The strike of a match and her body was engulfed in flames. He tugged his coat’s cashmere collar around his neck and slipped down the alley before rounding the corner.
Behind him someone shouted.
Sirens screamed, but he didn’t care.
Archimedes had a seduction to plan.
Chapter Two
In the midday light, the Chicago skyscrapers cast a shadow, smothering the alley with pockets of darkness. Noah studied Lyssa: her unwavering gaze, the determined set of her jaw, the circles beneath her eyes and her furtive glance at every hiding place, as if waiting for Archimedes to leap out at her.
“You’re exhausted—” he started.
“Weary to the bone,” she said, “but not too tired to know what I have to do.”
Fatigue written on her pale face, she stepped into the light. The sun illuminated the small worry lines in her forehead. She’d changed so much. He hated seeing her this way. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, comfort her and take the pain away. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine.
It would be a lie, though. He knew the truth and so did she. Archimedes had found her three times. He would find her again eventually. Unless Noah stopped him.
“Are you going to help me kill him or not?”
She didn’t back down, but Noah recognized the edge she teetered on. He’d been there. On every mission. The adrenaline rush that kept you going for a while—until you crashed, or made a mistake.
His plan to hide Lyssa away and then go after the serial killer himself exploded with the destruction of a rocket-propelled grenade. This was not the woman he’d met two years ago, the woman he’d envied his best friend over. The woman whose fluency in five languages intrigued him, whose nomadic childhood had shaped her desire to create a home with Jack. The joyously open woman for whom his friend had decided to give up fieldwork and take a desk job.
The woman Noah had fallen for before he’d realized how Jack felt about her.
No, he wouldn’t go there. The woman standing before him had been through hell.
Noah knew the place well.
“Lyssa—” he began, not quite sure how—or if—he could convince her to stay at the safe house.
“Don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise, Noah. I’m sick of being afraid,” she said. “I’m done with running from a man no one can catch.”
