by Helen Brenna
“Stay for me. Please. It’s July Fourth.”
She was stalling with any excuse she could find, but he didn’t have the heart to force it. “One more day.” He wrapped his arms around her and in no time her shoulders rose and fell in the slow rhythm of a peaceful sleep.
He, on the other hand, wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, not with what he’d just done weighing on his mind. Even after he’d sworn to make his leaving easier on her, all he’d done was make this harder by making love to her, by making her think this is the life they could have. What man could’ve resisted that look in her eyes, the way her skin looked in the moonlight? The feel of her. The smell of her.
He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.
Home. Peace. Contentment. And if he just let go…love.
She still loved him. After everything he’d done to her, after how he’d treated her, how could that be?
And him? He was incapable of giving her what she so freely gave to him. He was only going to hurt her again. All the anger he’d felt over her wanting a divorce was long gone. She deserved a husband one hundred percent of the time. She deserved someone who could always put her first. She deserved a man who could love her. That man wasn’t him.
“G OT HER !” THE VOICE SOUNDED loud over the cell phone. “She’s on a little island on Lake Superior. Mirabelle.”
“Finally!” Mason breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Wisconsin?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“You were right. He’s with her. I’m watching the house as we speak.”
This is it. Stein took one last look around his Arlington home. A week from now, he’d be in Samoa or Tonga. Maybe Thailand. He grabbed his Glock and his jacket and took off out the door. “I’m on my way.”
“They’re both asleep. I can get this over and done with, Mason. Right now.”
“She’s a United States senator’s daughter, for God’s sake. You can’t just make her disappear.”
“I don’t care if she’s a princess. I don’t want any loose ends.”
Mason ran a hand over his tired, dry eyes. “All I’m saying is that you can be sure there will be a thorough inquiry.”
“By which time, we’ll be long gone.”
“Don’t make a move until I get there.”
There was a short pause. “Then you’d better get here fast.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SINCE SETTLING ON MIRABELLE , July Fourth had become Missy’s favorite holiday. Sunshine and heat, sweet treats and fireworks, who could ask for more? The islanders always did Independence Day up right with a morning parade followed by a 5-K run. After those activities, there were kayak and windsurfing races, a sailing regatta, free music in the town square and a watermelon eating contest. Last, but by far not least, were the evening fish fries, corn boils and bonfires by the shore followed by fireworks over the water.
Missy let Gaia manage the gift shop, promising to pay her and Lauren double time for working, and had taken the entire holiday off. Unfortunately, Jonas was so preoccupied that by the time evening rolled around, Missy was almost wishing she’d gone to work.
After spending most of the afternoon wandering down Main, from the pier all the way around through town and out to the Mirabelle Island Inn via Island Drive, they’d ended on the beach walking through the sand.
Jonas studied the groups of people scattered here and there. Though he was wearing sunglasses, Missy knew from the tense set of his jaw that he was working.
“Hey.” She touched his arm, and he immediately covered her hand with his own. The gesture was so comfortable, so intimate, she almost blurted out, “I’m pregnant,” but it wasn’t the right moment. She wasn’t sure there ever would be a right time. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“This day is making me nervous.” He continued to eye the crowd and studied the boats gathering offshore in preparation for viewing the fireworks over the water. “They could be here. On the island. The crowds are so thick….”
“Did you see someone you’re worried about?”
“No.”
She may have talked Jonas into staying one more day, but she could tell by his preoccupation she’d only delayed the inevitable. One way or another, he’d be leaving tomorrow. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to live in Jonas’s life alongside his job. “You should know something,” she said, taking his hand.
He glanced at her.
“I ripped up the divorce agreement. You want a divorce, you’ll have to get one yourself.”
J ONAS HATED CROWDS . T HE HEAT , noise and rudeness were bad enough without having to rub shoulders with strangers and stand in interminable lines. For what? A crappy hotdog and a warm beer. But he would’ve gone through the day all over again just to see the way the firelight from the bonfire at the water’s edge illuminated Missy’s face.
“What?” she whispered, catching him studying her.
“Nothing.” He looked away to watch the yachts out on the water. What would it feel like to own one of those boats? To not have a care in the world? To not have to worry anymore about putting the bad guys behind bars? To enjoy life?
“The fireworks should be starting any minute.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to an open grassy area. “Do you want to sit over here?”
No, he did not want to be a sitting duck. He wanted to be up against the retaining wall, their backs covered, but there wasn’t an inch of space available.
“Jonas?”
“All right.” He let himself get tugged down next to her.
Something about the sight of those yachts anchored just offshore bothered him. He’d never thought of the possibility of anyone coming at him from the water. As soon as dusk settled and the sky turned black, she shivered.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
“No sweatshirt, jacket or blanket.” He moved behind her, tucking her against his chest. “All I got is me,” he whispered in her ear.
“You’ll do,” she said, a smile in her voice as she dropped her head back to rest against him.
It was his first moment of complete contentment all day. Maybe he could get used to this. Maybe she was right by dropping the whole divorce thing. Maybe he should try and make it work. And maybe all he’d succeed in doing was breaking her heart all over again.
What he refused to think about was the impact on his own heart. With every passing minute, getting on that ferry in the morning was sounding more and more problematic.
Why do you have to go? Suddenly the reasons seemed unclear. She wanted him. He wanted to stay. What more was there? For starters, he had to finish this assignment before resolving anything with Missy.
They’d no sooner settled together on the ground than a succession of loud, ear-popping, chest-beating booms went off, followed by a bright and massive explosion in the sky, illuminating the boats on the water.
The boats. Yachts, too.
Yachts. That was it! Delgado’s yacht. With a helicopter pad, it was the safest place for the deal. He had to call Reynolds, ASAP. Just then, he noticed something—someone—in his peripheral vision. Someone moving differently. Eyes in the crowd watching. Someone alone. A predatory presence. Another boom sounded and he stiffened. It was too noisy, too dark and too crowded. This was a very, very bad idea.
“We need to leave.” Abruptly, he stood, grabbed Missy’s hand and pulled her back through the crowd.
“Wait a minute!” She pulled her arm away from him. “The fireworks just started.”
“Too bad.”
She tugged against him, holding her ground. “You’ve been on edge all day. Tell me what’s going on, or I’m not moving.”
He glanced over her head, studied the crowd surrounding them. “Missy, I’m not messing around here.”
“Then quit trying to protect me and tell me what’s happening.”
He looked into her eyes. She was right. He’d been treating her like someone who couldn’t handle the truth, and if
there’s one thing he’d learned about Missy these past few weeks it was that she could handle about anything. “I didn’t want to mention it, but…”
“What?”
“Someone’s here,” he whispered in her ear. “Watching us. Following us. I can feel it. One minute I glimpse a face, eyes following us, and the next it’s lost in the crowd. It’s more of a feeling than anything. I don’t trust this night. This crowd. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s all I needed to know. Let’s go.”
Once they crossed Main and headed up the hill, the crowd all but disappeared. A few locals were in their front yards, sitting in lawn chairs watching the fireworks display, but the streets were empty. By the time they reached her house, his instincts were on high alert. He climbed the porch steps. Missy reached for the door first. He stilled her hand. “Let me go in first.”
“Do you really think someone’s here?”
“Better safe than sorry.” His gun drawn, he took the keys out of her hand, opened her front door and slowly stepped inside. The feather he’d placed on the top of the frame floated silently to the floor. “Stay here.” He went to the back door and found that door, as well, undisturbed. “We’re good,” he called and went into the living area.
That’s when he noticed his laptop. He caught Missy’s gaze and signaled for her to keep silent. “Stay there,” he mouthed. One room after another, he cleared the house, including every closet and the basement. Then he flipped on the TV and drew her into the bathroom. “Someone was here,” he whispered. “Using my computer.”
“How do you know?”
“The pencil. I always place it lead facing upward. It’s possible they’ve bugged your house. I’m gonna guess they’re waiting to make a move until they find out how much I know and who I’ve told.”
“So what do we do?”
“ We don’t do anything.” He looked into her eyes, and knew he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her. He should’ve never stayed on the island this long. “ I have to leave Mirabelle. Right now.”
“Stay. Talk to Garrett. He’ll help.”
“This is my problem. I can’t risk anyone on the island getting hurt. Me leaving is the only option.” He left the bathroom, climbed the steps and packed his bag.
When he turned, she was standing at the door.
He put a finger to his mouth. They couldn’t talk out here. He took her hand and led her back into the bathroom.
The moment the door closed, she pleaded quietly, “Take me with you.”
The look on her face nearly tore his heart apart. He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “No.”
“I lost you once.” She placed her hands softly on his chest. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
He kissed her, hard, rested his head against her forehead.
“Promise, you’ll be back,” she whispered.
“I promise.” Whatever she needed to hear, he’d say it. “I have to go.” The sooner he got off Mirabelle, the sooner the threat to Missy would be gone. He turned to leave.
“Jonas?” She held the door closed. “There’s something you need to know.”
He waited.
“I meant what I said last night. I love you.”
He dropped his bag and pulled her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay, Miss.” He rested his chin on her head. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but there was no point in worrying her.
“I’m pregnant.”
He went still. Pregnant. He could feel her heart racing against his chest and in no time his own body picked up the beat. “How…? Oh, God. That first night.” He looked away. The night he’d gone to her room, found her naked in the moonlight and unfairly seduced her. “Obviously.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you.” She pulled away. “I don’t want to hold you here if it’s not where you want to be.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he could be the husband she deserved; how could he be the father this child would need? “Missy—”
“You don’t need to say anything. Or do anything. I know you have to go.”
He held her gaze, trying desperately to accept that she was carrying his child. His baby. He reached out and pressed his hand to her stomach. Their child.
“I want you to come back, Jonas.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she covered his hand. “Just come back alive, okay?”
“I’m not—”
“Come back, or I’ll be coming after you.”
He nodded and knowing he couldn’t waste another moment, took off out the door. On his way down the hill any number of things he could’ve—should’ve—said ran through his mind.
I want this baby. I want you.
That’s when it hit him. Missy, I love you. Never stopped loving you.
What if he never got another chance to tell her? What if—
His cell phone rang and he flipped it open.
“You can run, but you can’t hide.”
Stein. Jonas shot off the street and ducked behind a massive oak tree. “Let’s take this off the island, Stein. I don’t want any civilians getting hurt.”
“Too late for that. You have something I want. I gave you the chance to turn it over, but you had other ideas. You left me no choice.”
“Where are you?”
“Now I’ve got something you want.”
Jonas held his breath, hoping against hope that he was wrong.
“Your wife.”
No! No, no, no.
“Jonas!” Missy screamed in the background. “Leave! Get off—” The line went dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HE HAD MISSY. THE BASTARD was dead.
Jonas raced toward Missy’s house, his thoughts erratic as panic overtook him. Then he stopped as a spark of reason filtered through impulse. Stein wouldn’t be working alone. He was too smart for that. That meant there’d be at least one other man with Stein and Jonas’s handgun wasn’t going to cut it.
Running back down the hill, he found the police station closed. After breaking the window, he climbed inside and quickly, methodically searched for their weapons stock. A false door hidden in the back of a closet in the chief’s office seemed the most likely option. He busted it down to find a locked cabinet. After shooting off the lock, he yanked open the doors.
The handguns here, too, were worthless to him in this situation. He was happy to see a semiautomatic, and snapped it up along with several clips, some tear gas and a couple of sets of cuffs.
“Going somewhere?” A man’s voice came from behind him.
Jonas spun around to find the police chief, Garrett Taylor, his weapon drawn and pointing right at Jonas’s head. “This isn’t what it looks like,” Jonas said.
“Looks pretty straightforward to me. A man I don’t know from Adam is stealing weapons.”
“I’m an FBI agent. Special Agent Jonas Abel.”
“Badge?”
“It’s at Missy’s. We don’t have time for this. They’ve got her.”
“Who?”
“Missy.” He sucked in a breath. “My wife!” Neither time, distance, nor divorce papers would ever change that. She would always be his wife. Always. And he would always, always be her husband.
Keeping his gun trained on him, Taylor backed up to the phone on his desk. “All I’ve heard is rumors. Give me a minute to verify your story and then we’ll go.”
Seconds ticked by. The reality of the situation bore down on Jonas and his hands shook. “Missy doesn’t have time for this.” He started toward the door.
“Take another step and I’ll shoot.”
Jonas held the cop’s gaze. “Then you better make damned sure you kill me.” He walked straight past Taylor, knowing every step might be his last.
“Wait.”
Jonas stopped.
“You’re going to need some help.”
“No offense,” Jonas said, turning. “These are FBI agents gone bad. They’re heavily trained,
move very fast and have nothing to lose.”
“Well, I got a lot to lose.” Taylor scooped up another semiautomatic and headed toward him. “So I guess I’ll just have to move faster.”
As they ran out of the station and climbed the hill toward Missy’s house, Jonas filled Taylor in on what he knew of the situation. “One man will be inside, one out. It’ll be a trap and they’ll use Missy for bait. It’s me they want. You got a choice between saving me or Missy—”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“But it might. Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Like I said before. You, I don’t know from Adam. Missy is a good friend of mine.”
“Good. That’s good.”
On silent agreement, they approached Missy’s yard from the neighbor’s. Every shade, blind or curtain in Missy’s house had been drawn, and every light was on. Whoever was inside was ready to receive anything that hit him.
“You cover the woods out back,” Jonas ordered. “I’m going in. I could use a diversion.” Without a radio, they had no way to silently communicate.
“How long do you need to get in position?”
Jonas glanced into the trees. “Three minutes from when I hit the roof.”
“That should be enough time for me to locate the man guarding the perimeter. When I do, I’ll make some noise.”
He glanced at Taylor. The man looked and acted capable, but this was life or death. Possibly Missy’s. “You sure you can handle—”
“Fifteen years on the Chicago P.D. oughta be good for something,” Taylor said, interrupting. “I chose Mirabelle. She didn’t choose me.”
“All right, then.” Jonas strapped his gun over his neck and climbed the oak tree in the yard bordering Missy’s. Thirty feet up he traversed a branch that looked sturdy enough to carry him to the massive elm in Missy’s yard.
Channeling featherlight weight he went as far out on the oak limb as he dared and then jumped. On catching the targeted elm branch, he heard it crack with his weight. Quickly, as the branch dipped lower and lower, threatening to give way, he made it toward the center of the tree. Lowering himself to the roof of Missy’s house, he quietly moved to the dormer of her guest bedroom, carefully knocked out a pane of glass and slipped inside. So far so good.
