by Helen Brenna
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want us to meet him. Why?”
“It’s…a strange situation.”
“Best friends can handle even the most convoluted of problems.”
This was Missy’s opportunity to tell all, and if they hadn’t been in Duffy’s she might have gotten the ball rolling. As it was, the conversation was loud, the music louder. “I know we need to talk, but not here, not now, okay?”
“All right, but don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for good.” Sarah turned back to listen to Jan’s story.
A short while later, Garrett Taylor came into Duffy’s, bringing with him Brian, Jason and David, his and Erica’s four-month-old baby. Brian ran over to give Sarah a hug.
“All those kids.” Missy grinned at Garrett. “How did you get to be so lucky?”
He chuckled. “You want ’em, you got ’em.”
“Be still my heart!” Missy held out her arms for David, who quickly honored her with a gummy smile the moment he was in her arms.
“Garrett,” Sarah said. “Thanks for watching Brian.”
“No problem.” Garrett turned, caught Erica’s gaze and winked.
Missy turned away from the sudden intimacy that developed between Garrett and Erica and sighed. She wasn’t sure if she and Jonas had ever been that contented in their short marriage.
Steering her thoughts from Jonas, Missy turned back to David, kissed his chubby cheek, nuzzled his neck, and took a good whiff of that wonderfully clean-smelling baby skin. It was so hard to hold an infant and not think of her own miscarriage. The easiest thing in the world would’ve been to avoid children all together, but it wasn’t her way.
Instead, she had sleepovers with Sarah’s son, Brian. Took Natalie Quinn’s kids on overnight camping trips at the island’s state park. Even babysat for Sophie and Noah Bennett’s twin toddlers on occasion. She had no clue how long it was going to take to adopt a child, so she’d decided long ago to enjoy other people’s children as much as possible.
“You look ready for one of those yourself,” Sean said, watching her.
A rush of adrenaline ran through her at the thought of the very pregnant young woman Barbara had called about the other morning. They still hadn’t set an exact meeting date for next week, but Missy knew she would make that trip to Duluth. “Yeah,” she said, grinning. “I guess I am. How ’bout you?”
He laughed. “Never in a million years.”
J ONAS IMPATIENTLY FLICKED OFF his laptop. Still no news of the shooting. He turned on the TV, watched a minute, maybe two of network news and then snapped off the power. Standing abruptly, he paced the length of the house. His gaze landed on the phone. Don’t do it.
Forcing his gaze toward Missy’s bookshelves, he glanced at the titles. There were one or two bestsellers in fiction, but Missy read mostly nonfiction, always had. Organic gardening. Yoga. Green housing. Not that Jonas was about to pick up a book and read. That’d be the day he could make it through anything longer than a magazine article, especially as stir-crazy as he felt at the moment.
He might be feeling better physically, but that brought on an entirely new problem. All he wanted was to get back to Chicago and wrap up this case, and that’d be the worst thing he could do right now. Every asshole on the street would be on the lookout for him. FBI or not, no one double-crossed Delgado and lived to tell about it. The sooner he put that bastard behind bars, the better.
Stalking into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and stared inside. Damn. He’d practically eaten Missy out of house and home, and he’d had enough eggs to choke a gorilla. What he needed was meat. Forced to satisfy the grumbling in his stomach with a measly apple, he shut the door in disgust. It was just too damned bad that Missy didn’t want him to leave her house.
While chewing on the fruit, he closed his laptop and set a pencil on top of the unit, the eraser end pointing downward, the opposite of how most people usually positioned a pencil. He could hide the laptop but he figured it was better to know whether or not his info had been compromised than to wonder.
Then he went to Missy’s bedroom and pulled two feathers out of her pillow. The chances of someone tracking him here this quickly were slim to none, but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks.
After placing one of the feathers on top of the back door, he all but closed the front door before pinching the other feather in the jamb and then very slowly and carefully pulling the door completely closed. He then jammed a baseball cap onto his head, slipped on a pair of sunglasses and made his way slowly down the hill toward Mirabelle’s center.
From here, he had a clear view of the marina. He’d always loved boats, but had never taken the time to pursue that activity. A large boat, decked out with fishing gear, glided into the marina. A charter operation. What a life. But then this whole island was almost too good to be true.
He reached Main and turned onto the sidewalk. Between the cobblestone streets, meticulous gardens and turreted Victorian bed-and-breakfasts, Jonas halfway expected a knight to come riding on horseback out of the woods. Missy had always had her head high in the clouds, and he couldn’t imagine a more perfect place for her to live.
The pay phone at the end of the street filled him with the urge to make contact. “Screw it.” He took the disposable cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a sequence of numbers that would make his call untraceable. It was time to shake the tree and see what fell to the ground.
His call was answered after several rings. “Special Agent Stein.”
Jonas remained silent, waiting, wondering, not trusting Stein for a second.
“Is anyone there?” After a long pause, he quietly said, “Jonas?”
“Someone needs to take target practice a little more seriously.”
The split second of silence that followed was oh, so telling. “Jonas!” Stein said. “You’re still alive. Thank God!”
“Don’t fuck with me, Mason. You’re in on this. I don’t know how, but you are.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jonas laughed. “I’ll figure it out, and then you’re going down.”
“D AMMIT , J ONAS ! D ON’T HANG —” Mason, phone in hand, pounded his desktop in frustration. “Son of a bitch!” He clicked off the one-sided connection and immediately put in a request for an emergency trace on the call, although he knew what they’d find. A short while later he got the results. Dead end. The call had not only been encrypted, it’d been rerouted so many times they’d never be able to determine its origin.
Stein swung around in his chair and stared out of his corner office window. If he didn’t come up with something soon, before Abel put the pieces he had into the puzzle, this deal was going to come crumbling down around him.
He dialed a number on his cell and the call was immediately answered. “He’s alive,” Mason said.
“He just called? Could you trace it?”
“What do you think?” Mason barely held his temper in check. “Why the hell can’t you find him?”
“I tracked him heading north out of the city, but his trail goes cold on some back road in Wisconsin.”
“Hospitals, doctors? Anyone report a gunshot?”
“No one. With the amount of blood he lost at the scene, I doubt he could’ve doctored himself.”
“Then there’s someone you’re either ignoring, or don’t know about.” Mason flipped on the video clip he’d found on file of Abel’s funeral all those years ago. He froze on the frame picturing those who had been closest to Abel. Several Bureau men he recognized stood behind Abel’s father and widow. “I’m putting a tail on Agents Adams, Reynolds and Steadman.”
“They were as close as Abel got to friends. It’s possible he’ll try to make contact.”
“Did you find his father?”
“He’s in Florida. I already put a man on his apartment, but I’ll bet anything Abel won’t go there.”
“Have you located his wife yet?”
&
nbsp; “I’m telling you that’s a dead end. She was in the process of divorcing Abel when we recruited him, remember?”
“Hate? Love? If you ask me she looks pretty shaken up in this funeral footage. How can it be so difficult to locate a civilian? Just track the death benefits.”
“She’s denied all payments from day one.”
That made him pause. “Why?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Hack into their database. Find that woman. I have a feeling she’s the key. I’ll put one more thing in play on my end. When push comes to shove, it’ll only give us a day or two, but that’ll be all we need.”
S UPREMELY PISSED , J ONAS shoved the cell phone in his pocket. He studied the faces of the crowds wandering along the sidewalks and riding bikes along the cobblestone streets. Oblivious, all of them, to the shit going on around them. Especially that mother and father across the street. If they didn’t take better care watching their child, the little boy was going to get trampled by one of those horse-drawn carriages.
Not your job. Ignore it. What Jonas needed to take his mind off Stein—and the kid—was a tall, frosty mug of beer and a thick hunk of steak.
The kid stepped off the sidewalk and onto the cobblestone road. A carriage clip-clopped its merry way down the street. Young driver. College kid. Two more steps and—
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” The carriage driver called, spotting the child.
Too late. Brakes weren’t holding. A bystander on the sidewalk called, “Watch out!” Jonas shot out into the street. The mother turned and screamed. Jonas dodged a bicyclist and the lead horse, scooped up the kid, and deposited him on the sidewalk.
The carriage slowed to a stop. “Everyone all right?” the driver asked.
“Peachy,” Jonas grunted as pain seized him.
“Oh, my God.” The mother lifted the little boy into her arms, looking as if she might faint.
“Are you all right?” The father held Jonas’s gaze.
Clenching his jaw, Jonas nodded and waited for the pain to subside.
“Thank you,” the man said. “Is there some—”
“No. Don’t worry about it.”
Limping back across the street, Jonas walked up to the first restaurant he ran across, a place called Duffy’s Pub. Laughter and music spilled out onto the sidewalk and, not in the mood for people, he almost turned away. Then the scent of garlic and grilled meat wafted toward him from the alley and his stomach made the decision for him.
Inside, he surveyed the crowd. From the dress and paraphernalia, tourists most assuredly mixed with locals at the tables and booths. Immediately, his eyes latched on Missy at the bar, standing next to the good doctor. Knowing her highbrow background, it seemed strange seeing her in this kind of setting, but there was something about a bar that brought out the best in Missy. Laughing and smiling, she looked more gorgeous than the first night he’d met her.
Doctor Sean surely noticed. He was tall, had to lean down to talk in her ear. She laughed at whatever he said and they both looked at something in her arms.
What the—? A baby. So focused on her interacting with the doctor, he’d totally missed the fact that she was holding a little boy. The sight of her smiling at the kid tugged at Jonas’s heart in a strange way.
While they’d been married they’d mentioned kids only once. Waiting had been the consensus and she’d seemed content. She was young. She had all the time in the world for children. And him? He’d wanted to be more stable before they went that route. A house. A job that didn’t take him out of town or undercover.
Clearly, her vision had changed. She wanted kids. Now.
She glanced at Sean and they laughed together, apparently at something the baby had done. Again, jealousy reared up inside Jonas. He was about to turn around and find another restaurant when she caught sight of him. No way to back out now.
Ignoring the lingering ache in his side, he walked over to where she was standing at the bar. “Hey.”
“Hi.” When she gripped the crystals on the necklace around her neck, presumably seeking protection from him, he looked away. He’d never wanted to hurt her. He’d truly thought he’d been doing her a favor by dying. Coming back? That he hadn’t given much thought, but who could think with a bullet wound in the side?
“Jonas. This is Sarah, Hannah, Sean and Garrett,” Missy said, making introductions. “Everyone, this is my brother, Jonas.”
He nodded at each person in turn, but the doctor only glared at him. When the Setterbergs joined the group, Jonas straightened his shoulders and prepared himself for a few more dirty looks. There was no point in trying to butter them up with a smile. They already hated him.
“Erica, bring this man a beer,” Ron said, patting Jonas on the back. “He just saved a little boy out front from getting run over by a horse.”
As Ron went on explaining what happened, Jonas ducked his head. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to himself.
Jan raised her eyebrows at him and whispered, “Guess sometimes there’s more to a man than meets the eye.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jonas muttered.
“That’s some fast action,” Sarah said. “You must be feeling better.”
Jonas glanced at the woman, wondering what exactly that comment meant. Missy wouldn’t have told anyone about his gunshot wound. “Yeah, thanks, I do feel better,” he hedged. “Except I’m starving.”
“You can order something from Erica,” Garrett said, studying him, taking him apart piece by piece. “My wife.”
If that man wasn’t a cop, Jonas wasn’t Bureau. “Thanks.” Jonas turned as the bartender set a frosty mug of beer in front of him and ordered a basket of chicken fingers as an appetizer, as well as a tenderloin steak, complete with a baked potato, green beans and a salad.
From there the group peppered him with questions to which he responded with what he hoped were innocuous half truths. He’d spent most of the past four years lying to infiltrate and then operate amidst a drug cartel. What was one more night?
As soon as the group let up on their interrogation, Missy pulled him slightly aside. “Thank you for saving that little boy.”
“Whatever.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Maybe if you kept real food in your house, your guests wouldn’t need to head into town for a decent meal.”
She glanced away.
Jonas felt the stirrings of a long-dormant conscience chew at his stomach. “I’ll go someplace else. Sound like a better plan?”
“You can’t. Everyone here will think it’s odd. Funny, but my girlfriends want to get to know my brother .”
“Tell them the truth, Miss.”
“Why should I? You’ll be gone in no time. I still want to live here. In anonymity. In peace.”
CHAPTER NINE
OTHER THAN ANSWERING the questions posed to him, Jonas barely said a word the entire night. After finishing eating, leaving not a morsel on his plate, Sarah tried for a while to carry on a conversation with him, but gave up after receiving a series of one word answers.
Missy could practically see Jonas’s brain working overtime analyzing her friends and the rest of the crowd, assessing, deciphering and judging with those dark all-seeing eyes. Working. Always working. It didn’t surprise Missy for a moment that Jonas had saved a little boy’s life. All in a day’s work for him. Strung rope-tight, he looked as though he might snap at any moment.
Once upon a time, there used to be a decent, loving man under that cold, hard shell. To bring him out she would’ve run her hands along his shoulders, or dragged her fingers across his scalp to ease his tension. Plant a gentle, quiet kiss on his cheek. He would’ve glanced at her and all his worries would’ve whooshed out of him like a balloon losing air. Then he would’ve focused all that attention on her. There was no better feeling in the world than being the focus of Jonas’s attention.
But that was a long time ago, Missy mused. Another life.
She inched away from him, but the crowd seemed to only push him closer. As if sensing her growing agitation, Sean whispered in her ear, “Come on. Let’s dance.”
Grateful for the distraction, Missy followed him onto the floor.
“Is it just me, or was the tension getting thick over there?” he asked, smiling.
She chuckled and walked into his arms for a slow rock song.
“How’d you end up marrying that guy, anyway? He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“No, I suppose not.” What was her type? A variety of men had come and gone through Duffy’s over the past several years. Golfers, fishermen, old, young, rich, poor. She’d flirted here and there, even dated on occasion, but there’d never once been a man like Jonas.
Sex may have been what had brought her to him, but what had kept her in his arms, what had convinced her to spend the rest of her life with Jonas, had been the way he’d simply let her be. The exact opposite of her father, he’d never once tried to control, direct or change her. Whether she wanted to learn yoga, or how to throw clay pots, taking a cooking class or working at a women’s shelter, he’d supported her every move. If only he’d loved her more than his job.
She glanced toward the bar and found Jonas watching her and Sean, his gaze entirely unreadable. He took a long pull on his beer, but his eyes never left the two of them.
Sean spun her around. “Don’t look now, but he’s watching.”
She laughed. Sean could always make her laugh. When they spun back around, Jonas was standing a foot away. Sean stopped.
“I’d like to dance with my…sister, if you don’t mind.”
Sean glared at Jonas and then glanced at Missy. Jonas never took his eyes off her face.
“It’s all right,” she said, knowing she’d draw more attention to them by refusing.
