by Lauren Carr
“My accident?” Jessica put a hand on her hip. “Oh, yeah, I asked those hitmen to shoot at Cameron’s cruiser.”
“Help me out, sis,” Tristan said with a plea in his voice. “Sarah and I had a totally romantic hook-up planned.”
With wide eyes, Jessica’s usually calm tone took on a hysterical tone. Clutching her breast, she cried out, “Not here!”
“Of course not,” Tristan said.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Jessica said, “Thank you, God. I had visions of Murphy coming downstairs in the middle of the night to find you and his sister in your birthday suits making margaritas.”
Envisioning Murphy’s stunningly sensuous sister naked, Tristan said in a breathy voice, “That would be totally awesome.”
“You do know Murphy can kill you with his pinky?” Jessica replied.
“But it would be totally awesome until he did,” Tristan said. “No problem, sis. I booked us a room at the Embassy Suites. One of the top floors with a view of D.C. that’s to die for. I got champagne, flowers, and even booked a couple’s massage.”
“Did you listen to a word I said to you the other day about the risk you two would be taking?” Jessica said. “About how awkward things will be for our two families if things don’t work out since Murphy and I are married?”
“I heard every word you said,” Tristan said, “and I talked to Sarah about it.”
“And?”
“We decided you have no room to talk.”
“But—”
Tristan pressed his finger to her lips. “You and Murphy got married thirty-six hours after meeting each other, sis. Now you were the one who introduced us. Therefore, you need to help us out. Sarah was going to swing by here to pick me up, but between all traffic in the city coming to a screeching halt and the commander lying in wait upstairs—”
“Captain,” Jessica corrected him.
“What?”
“Josh was promoted to captain.”
“So now I’ll get killed by a navy captain instead of a commander,” Tristan said. “Is that supposed to make me feel important?”
“Just have Sarah meet you at the hotel,” Jessica said. “No one will know she was ever in the city.”
“Did you hear me?” Tristan asked. “Sarah can’t get into the city.”
“Where is she?” Jessica snatched the phone from his hand. “Sarah, where are you?”
When she didn’t receive an answer, Tristan told her, “It’s on mute.”
Jessica hit the button to unmute the call. “Sarah, where are you?”
“I’m in Bowie with a bunch of ticked off motorists,” Sarah said. “It’s pretty ugly.” Jessica heard a rustle of the phone followed by Sarah cursing loudly in the background. “Who taught you how to drive, buddy? A pre-schooler? Yeah? You wanna come over here and say that?”
Sarah returned to the phone to discover that Jessica had handed it back to Tristan to open up the tablet she had resting on the kitchen counter. “There’s a Marriott Suites that’s out of the way in Bowie. It’s clean, nice, quiet, and can be romantic.”
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked Tristan.
Jessica ordered, “Tell her to get off onto Route 301.”
“Can you get off onto Route 301?” Tristan asked.
“I’m right there,” Sarah said with excitement in her tone.
“Tell her to go down Route 301 to Mitchellville Road,” Jessica instructed while typing away on the tablet. “Find the Travel Suites, it’s a Marriott.” With a flourish of her hand, she grinned. “I made reservations for a suite for you two kids under the name Faraday.”
“I’m on my way,” Sarah yelled out of the phone’s speaker. “You’re a sweetheart, Jessie.”
“I know,” she said.
“Oh, and Tristan,” Sarah said with a husky tone, “I got that gift you sent to me. I can’t wait for us to break it in.”
“Neither can I. See you later.” Disconnecting the call, he shook his head at Jessica. “You know I don’t have a car.”
“What present did you send to her?” Jessica took her keys off a key hook on the wall and tossed them to him.
He caught the keys in mid-air. “Nothing.”
Observing a pink tone in his cheeks, she cocked her head at him. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Thanks, sis.” He kissed her cheek before galloping down the stairs leading to the garage.
“Be gentle with her,” she called after him.
“Oh, I’m sure Sarah can take care of herself.”
“I was talking about the Ferrari,” she replied.
Jessica didn’t realize how tense she was until she slipped into the hot, whirling water of the sunken tub. With a moan of pleasure, she sank back to rest her head against Murphy’s shoulder. Taking her into his arms, he massaged her thighs. The warm touch of his hands made her melt against him.
“That feels great.” She turned her head to nuzzle his neck.
“You will be sore tomorrow,” he said in a low voice. “A good massage to relax your muscles before the soreness sets in will do you a world of good.” He rubbed her hips and thighs.
“You take such good care of me.” She ran her fingertips along his chin.
He smiled back at her.
She slid up to press her back against him.
Taking in a deep breath, he turned her head to plant a long, lingering kiss on her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear.
Rubbing his thighs on either side of her, she grinned at him. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her close while kissing her deeply.
Pressing his chin against her forehead, he said, “I’m going to sell my bike.”
She pulled away so fast that the water slapped up against the sides of the tub to splash onto the floor. Whirling around, she asked, “What?”
The moment ruined, he repeated in a stronger voice. “I’m selling my bike.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” she replied. “Where did that come from?” A hint of anger crept into her tone. “You love that bike.”
“I love you more.”
“Have I told you to sell it?”
“No, but—”
“Then why in heaven’s name would you even consider selling it?” Her voice went up a full octave.
“Because seeing you in that cruiser dangling twenty feet above that road made me realize what you must go through every time I take that bike out,” Murphy said. “I was only watching for five to ten minutes, but those were the longest minutes of my life. I didn’t know if I was ever going to have this with you again—” he gestured at the two of them naked in the tub. “I thought I was going to lose you. And if I put you through that every time I go out riding, then I don’t want it.”
She gazed at him for several beats before her expression softened. Once again, she moved in to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “You were talking to Tristan. He told you about Felicia.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He saw the answer to his question when she swallowed. Tears seeped into her violet eyes. She licked her lips and rested her head on his shoulder. He held her close.
“I don’t want you to sell the bike,” she finally said. “I know you love it. You’ll be destined to resent me for it. One day, in the middle of a fight, you’ll bring it up and I’ll feel horrible.”
“I can’t enjoy riding it if I know you’re worried sick when I’m out on it,” Murphy said.
She lifted her head from his shoulder. Her eyes met his. “I’m worried sick every time you leave this house. I’m not naïve. When you go on a mission, odds of you not coming back are worse than when you go out riding. You think I don’t know the score? If you get captured on one of those missions, there will be no arrest—they’ll just kill you and probably in some horrendous matter. The federal governme
nt will deny that you ever existed. There’ll be no chaplain coming to the door to give me his condolences, because your missions are off the grid. There’ll be no funeral because no one will know where your body is. You’ll just kiss me goodbye one day and leave this house and I’ll never see you again. The only way that I’ll know for certain that you’re gone for good will be a coded message from your CO directing me to open that dreaded death box of yours and to follow the instructions inside.”
“You can consider yourself lucky,” Murphy said. “In the black ops, families and spouses are left totally in the dark. You’re lucky that the Joint Chiefs chose to let spouses know.”
Pressing her forehead against his, she said in a low voice, “Sometimes, when you’re gone on a mission, I feel like it would be easier for me if I was in the dark.”
He held her tight. “I am so sorry you have to go through all this.”
Lifting her head, she met his gaze. “Tell me, Lieutenant Thornton, are you going to leave the Phantoms?”
Slowly, Murphy shook his head.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” she said. “I knew what I was getting into when we got married.”
Glaring at him with piercing violet eyes, she lifted up out of the water to straddle him. “If you sell that bike, I’m going to have to hurt you.” She brought her mouth close to his. “Do you understand what I am saying, my love?”
He brought his lips to hers. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the rooftop terrace, Joshua was startled out of his admiration of the multi-colored lights of the Capital Wheel, as close as a football field away, by the touch of cold glass on the back of his arm. He turned around to find Murphy offering him beer in a frosted mug. Like father, the son had changed into black jeans and a black pullover. Instead of shoes, he went barefoot.
“Brewsky?” Murphy asked.
Upon seeing what appeared to be beer in his son’s other hand, Joshua said, “I thought you didn’t drink.”
Murphy held up the mug for him to see. “It’s Clausthaler Amber. Non-alcoholic and totally organic. Tastes just like the real thing without any of the toxins. Want a taste?”
Intrigued, Joshua gave Murphy his drink in favor of having a taste of the German beer. He was surprised to find that it did indeed taste like the real stuff. “Interesting.” He traded back before turning back to admire the Ferris wheel.
“I have six cooling in the fridge and a whole case down in the pantry if you want to switch after you finish that.” Murphy stepped up to stand next to him. “I suppose you want to get to work.”
“Nah, I would prefer to just take in your view while our killer moves closer to a slot on the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Joshua said in in a sarcastic tone. Murphy was about to reply when a voice sounded from directly behind them.
Startled, Joshua whirled around. Jessica’s voice was coming out of a built-in intercom on the wall. “I’m going to pour a glass of wine for myself. Cameron, Murphy has a case of non-alcoholic beer. It’s organic. Would you like one?”
Throwing open the bedroom door on the other side of the sitting room, Cameron announced that she preferred a root beer instead. Looking around confused, she asked, “Wait, where’s Jessica?”
With a laugh, Murphy stepped into the sitting room to show them the intercom before pressing the button to order a root beer for Cameron.
“Roger, that,” Jessica replied. “Be up in a few.”
While Murphy was placing her drink order, Cameron went out onto the terrace and stopped short when she saw Joshua reach out to grasp her hand before kissing her on the cheek. “What happened to your beard?”
Her outburst was so sudden that he had to laugh. “You just now noticed that?” He gestured at the bedroom she had just left. “You didn’t even notice it when we were in the shower together?”
“Don’t tell me that you shaved it off a month ago,” she said with a hint of warning in her voice while brushing her hand across his jaw and chin. His five o’clock stubble scratched her palm.
Joshua slipped his arms around her waist. “No, I had to shave it off early this morning before appearing before the Joint Chiefs of Staff. If I had known I had so much leverage, I would have requested a waiver to keep it.”
“And your long hair.” Cameron ran her fingers through his non-existent locks. His hair, that had only the day before fallen to the top of his collar in silver waves, was now cut into a proper military style—not touching his ears or collar. With a deep sigh, she said, “My darling silver fox, you did this to help us catch Nick’s killer.”
Joshua took her hand and kissed her fingertips before caressing her hand against his chest. “It’s only hair. It will grow back.”
Carrying a serving tray, Jessica stepped onto the terrace. She handed a glass of ice and a bottle of root beer to Cameron before taking her own glass of white wine, which she held up. “May I make a toast to my newest relatives in our first home together?”
“Of course,” Joshua said.
“You probably know, but Murphy may not,” Jessica began, “my dad was adopted as a baby—”
“I knew that,” Murphy said with a grin.
She held up her hand to stop him. “But this you may not know. My adopted grandmother was a robust Italian from a huge family, and my grandfather was an Irish Catholic, who loved nothing more than to tell an Irish yarn and had a toast for every occasion. This toast was a favorite one of his and it seems very appropriate for this week.”
“Now you have me worried,” Murphy said.
“Here it is.” She held up her glass. “May your home always be too small to hold all your friends.”
“And pets,” Murphy added with a laugh while they clinked their glasses and took sips. “Especially Monique. Tristan did take Monique with him, didn’t he?”
“I’ll take care of Monique,” Jessica assured him. “You won’t even know she’s here.”
Joshua pulled a chair out from the table on the terrace and sat down. “Well, I hate to spoil our fun, but we have a lot of work to do. While we were waiting in the ER, I called Ripley Vacarro, the FBI agent assigned to investigate the shooting on the beltway, to dig out every record they have on Graham. Maybe there’s something buried—”
“What about Dolly Scanlon?” Murphy asked.
“As his personal assistant, she has to have a security clearance since her job is to follow him around,” Joshua said. “The FBI did participate in the background checks on both of them. I’m hoping that maybe something turned up in their background investigations.”
Murphy sat forward in his seat. “How far back did you ask Ripley to look?”
“I told her to get me everything,” Joshua said. “But we don’t have a lot of time. Graham will be going to Capitol Hill tomorrow to be interviewed by the Senate.”
“At one point, the FBI did find something that threatened Graham’s security clearance.” In an effort to knock the memory loose, Murphy tapped his forehead with his fingertips. “Graham was laughing about it this morning in talking about how clean his record is and how smooth his career has gone.”
“The FBI had to have uncovered the rapes,” Cameron said.
“But since Graham pleaded to misdemeanors,” Joshua said, “then it would not really threaten his clearance, especially with his father paving the way.”
“It was after he came back from the Gulf War,” Murphy recalled.
“It might be nothing, or it may be the key to this whole thing.” Joshua searched through the contacts on his cell phone for Ripley Vaccaro before bringing the phone to his ear. “There’s only one way to find out.” He thrust his cell phone into Murphy’s hand. “Here, ask her yourself.”
Covering his other ear to hear the agent more clearly, Murphy stepped away from the table.
Cameron said, “There has to be someone who knows what is going
on and, under the right circumstances, will testify against General Graham. Maybe if we confront Paige Graham with such undeniable proof of his affairs, she’ll be so furious that she’ll give us everything we need.” She grinned. “From what I’ve seen, she’s all about appearances. Humiliate her by making her husband’s affairs public—in such a way that there’s no denying it—and she’ll bury him with everything she’s got.”
“Maureen’s sister-in-law did say Paige Graham was very vindictive,” Jessica agreed.
“We don’t have enough time for that,” Joshua got up from the table. “There’s too much at stake and too little time. I’m not just worried about getting General Sebastian Graham locked up.” Stepping up to the wall lining the terrace, he observed the brightly lit Washington Monument. “There’s a more critical issue at stake here. It’s the Phantoms.”
“What about the Phantoms?” Jessica asked.
“The Phantoms were created by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to operate off the grid—at their bidding,” Joshua said. “They answer to no one else. The only ones who know about them are the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”
Murphy hung up the phone. “Not even their assistants know about us.”
“If a serial rapist and killer gets into a position where he has an elite team like the Phantoms at his disposal,” swallowing, Joshua shook his head, “the whole reason behind the operation would be at risk.”
“We were established to protect our country and its citizens from people exactly like Graham who are already in leadership positions.” Murphy gazed out at the Capital Wheel. “We have to do something to keep that from happening.”
“You said Dolly Scanlon was reporting to Graham about the hit at Starbucks,” Joshua said.
“And she knew the victim was an anti-military blogger,” Murphy said, “which hadn’t been released to the media. She mentioned having a source.”
“She either knew that information before the hit because she and Graham were behind it,” Joshua said, “or they have an informant inside the investigation who told her.”
