by Debra Webb
She twisted in the seat, looking for any sign of the other car. Apparently, it was long gone. Furious, she unfastened her seat belt and leaned over to scoop up her phone and purse from the passenger-side floorboard.
Suddenly the passenger door opened and the bright beam of a flashlight made her wince and shy away. “Hurry, Sophie.” A hand stretched out to her from the other side of that glaring light.
The voice... Impossible. Sophie? Only Frank had ever gotten away with calling her Sophie.
She froze, too startled to move or reply. Maybe she’d hit her head. Maybe she’d been killed and didn’t realize it yet.
“Move it!” The sharp command left no room for debate. “We have to get out of here right now.”
The urgency in his voice seemed at odds with what must be a hallucination. If, somewhere deep in her subconscious, she hoped for help from her dead husband, wouldn’t he be as calm as he’d been through every stress during their life together?
“Snap out of it.” He tugged on her free hand. “Or they’ll kill us both.”
She couldn’t see his face, though his touch felt familiar. “You’re already dead,” she whispered.
“Not anymore,” he said, his tone gentling.
First the notes, now this...
What was going on? A terrible hoax was the only explanation. Who would do such a thing? “Go away.” She resisted the warmth in his voice. The sense of awareness was a figment of her imagination. “Go away!” Panic swelled inside, expanding outward until she thought her skin would shred from the pressure. “Leave me alone!”
Engines roared closer and faded away, cars of all sizes going on about their business as if reality hadn’t spun her world out of control. She snatched up her purse and reached to open her door.
It was jammed. Of course it was jammed; the other car had damaged the driver’s side of her car.
“This way. Now!” The man who couldn’t be her husband swore as she continued to fight with the door that wouldn’t budge.
“That’s enough.” The flashlight went out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her across the seats and out of the car.
The crush of his fingers burned her skin with undeniable familiarity. She told herself to fight him, told herself she was delusional, and still her body refused to resist.
When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled a bit, whether a result of the shock, the panic or the uneven ground, she couldn’t be sure. Probably all of the above. Her determined rescuer steadied her body with his, and in the shadows she recognized the shape and scent of the man who’d been her partner in life for three decades. Impossible...
“Frank?” In the darkness it was hard to tell. Maybe her vision had been compromised along with her common sense. “How?”
“I’ll explain everything in a minute. Can you walk?”
“Of course.” Offended, she took a step as he did, then stopped short. “My suitcase!” Her computer was in there; she wouldn’t leave it behind. “It’s in the back.”
“At least you came prepared to run.” He sounded relieved as he returned to pull her suitcase out of the backseat. “Tell me you didn’t check out of the hotel.”
She hadn’t, though she refused to volunteer anything. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“True enough.”
She struggled to keep up with his longer stride even in her flats. Just like old times, she thought. At just over six foot he was eight inches taller than her, and those inches seemed to all be in his legs. Where were they going? Away from her car...back the way she’d come, she realized. The headlights of a car in the distance allowed her to make out a vehicle waiting in the ditch a few yards away. Black. SUV.
He opened the passenger-side door for her, the way he’d done at every opportunity since their first date. Her stomach churned as her heart floated on a silly, girlish burst of hope. Could this really be Frank, alive and apparently well? She squashed the fluttery sensations. If it was, her husband owed her a great many answers. “Where are you taking me?”
“Does it matter as long as you survive?”
“It might,” she replied. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“One of the many things I love about you.”
Though he’d surely meant it as a comfort, his use of the present tense deflated her hopes and sent them crashing in an unwelcome thud in her chest. It couldn’t be true. If he still loved her, why had he let her suffer thinking he was dead? “The rental agreement is in the car,” she remembered, too late.
The SUV bumped and lurched along the ditch until he found enough of a rut to get them back up to the road. “Sophie, they know you were driving the car. You were run off the road because they were following your movements. They’ve targeted you.”
She studied what she could see of his hard profile, finally registering his all-black attire. In the dark sweater, cargo pants and matte jump boots, he’d dressed for an operation rather than a reunion. She suppressed the chill of concern about what he’d gotten himself tangled up in. “Who is ‘they’?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Then start talking.” How could this be happening?
“As soon as we’re safely out of here. The story I have to tell you is too important to be interrupted.”
“Convenient.” She crossed her arms. “You invite me to a conversation and then you won’t talk.”
“It’s better if you hear none of it rather than only some of it,” he insisted. “Keep an eye out for anyone on our tail.”
“Fine.” She wanted to ignore him and the outrageous situation, but she couldn’t afford such a childish indulgence. “At least tell me how you faked your death.”
“Soon, I promise.”
Anger surged through her, fueled by the adrenaline of sliding off the road into increasingly impossible circumstances. “Tell me now or take me back to the hotel.”
“If I take you back to the hotel, they’ll kill you tonight,” he claimed. “And Frankie tomorrow.”
That got her attention and put her focus back on point. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, her fingers brushing, in the process, the notes he’d written. Goose bumps surged up and down her arms. “I’m calling Victoria. She’ll send someone to pick us up.”
He shook his head. “No. Turn it off. Please,” he added, softening the order to a request. “There’s no such thing as safe if they can track you.”
She’d deactivated the GPS signal, but he didn’t need to know that. Until she could trust him, she wouldn’t give him any more advantages. Let him worry that she could turn on her phone at any time and get help immediately. “Give me a good reason to trust anything coming out of your mouth.”
“I’m your husband,” he stated. “You’ve always been my top priority.”
She laughed. “I might believe such a statement if you were still officially alive.” Headlights flashed in the side mirror, and her heart rate kicked up. She hoped it was just a speeder and not more trouble.
“Then how about this?” He spared her a quick glance. “I’m the only living person who understands what we’re up against.”
The “we’re” stood out to her, a beacon slicing through the fog of his words. Reluctantly, she cooperated, turning off her phone and dropping it into her purse again.
“You’re angry.” He checked his mirrors. “You should be. And I’m more sorry than any words can accurately convey.”
“That sounds like a cop-out.” She ignored the little voice in her head that wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Faking a suicide fell into the category of drastic measures. Frank wasn’t the sort to take such a step without good cause. She fisted her hands in her lap, her fingernails digging into her palms. If she left her hands loose, she would no doubt reach out to him just to see if he was real.
&nb
sp; “At the time, it was necessary,” he said as if he knew what she was thinking. “I knew you’d be okay, better off without me dragging you down.”
What did that mean? She heard the bitterness underscoring his words. If she was so much better off, why storm back into her life? Why were she and Frankie in danger? “Being a widow hasn’t been peaches and cream, Frank.” Her emotions leaped wildly with every heartbeat, unable to settle between joy that he was alive and outrage that he’d chosen a fake death rather than trust her with his secrets. How dare he!
“Yeah, well, being dead isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either.”
“You’ve put Frankie and me through terrible heartache. She needed you.” I needed you. She kept the admission to herself, unwilling to let him have that much of her again. Not before she understood how this had happened.
“You both need me right now.” He sighed and in the light of oncoming headlights she caught the tic in his jaw.
“Arrogant as ever.” She couldn’t resist baiting him. That supreme confidence had been simultaneously one of his most attractive and most frustrating traits when they were young and eager to get out and conquer the world. Together. So much for that philosophy serving as the cornerstone of their marriage and family.
False or not, death had parted them, and he’d left her alone to find her own way through the consequences of his mistakes. “You know I can keep a secret,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “You had no right to keep the truth from me.”
“I know.” He stretched a hand toward her as he used to do on road trips. “I’m so sorry, dolcezza.”
She didn’t take that hand, though refusing it cost her. She wanted to touch him so badly. “You’re going to tell me the whole story.” He’d never been a fan of her using an inflection that carried the same gravity and certainty of his general’s tone of command, but if any situation required it, this was the one.
“I am,” he replied, with both hands on the steering wheel once more. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I already don’t like it, Frank.”
He’d saved her life tonight. In theory, anyway. For all she knew, he’d hired the driver to run her off the road so he could look like a hero. She gave herself a mental shake. Regardless of circumstances, she couldn’t believe he would willfully risk her safety under any circumstances.
“Give me one thing,” she said. “One detail to go on, or I will call Victoria and Frankie and tell them you’ve kidnapped me.”
He muttered an oath, knowing she would follow through. Between the Colby Agency and Leo Solutions, Frank wouldn’t have anywhere to hide if they knew he was alive.
“The man following you was one of the top snipers in the Afghanistan military. One word from his boss and your life is over.”
She sucked in a breath. “Why?” Who would make her a target?
“That’s one detail. I swear to you, as soon as I’m sure we’re out of harm’s way, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Harm’s way or not, you’ll tell me everything tonight.” He wasn’t the only one who could issue orders.
With a short nod, he rolled his broad shoulders, shifting in the seat as he followed the signs toward Chicago Midway International Airport.
She remembered the feel of those shoulders under her hands after a tough day at work when she’d help him work out the kinks...or late at night in the heat of passion. Oh, how she wanted to trust him, to be sure she could trust him. It scared her—more than being run off the road—just how much she wanted to believe in Frank Leone again.
Chapter Three
When Frank was convinced they hadn’t been followed, he decided on a mid-priced hotel near the airport. If they didn’t take cash, he had a credit card that matched his false ID. Although Sophia probably wouldn’t have complained about the dirt-cheap place where he’d been staying, he didn’t want to risk taking her there. If the enemy was this close, anything could happen.
Besides, he couldn’t imagine the woman he loved so dearly, with her timeless sense of style, in that flea-bitten decor. The discussion ahead of him would be difficult enough without any guilt over the accommodations. He was distracted plenty by her amazing body. He’d missed her so much. She deserved the best life could offer. Whether she wanted to accept protection from him right now or not, he had to make sure she stayed safe.
Knowing his wife, he suspected their marriage was beyond salvaging. He’d never win back her trust—not in the ways that mattered most. Over three decades ago he’d marveled that the smartest, prettiest girl in the world had fallen in love with him and stuck by him through an army career that carried them around the globe. There had never been any real secrets between them until those last two years. This entire mess rested on his shoulders. All of it was his fault.
No avoiding the hard reality of truth. He could offer explanations and apologies—and he would—even knowing it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. He’d started this journey with the best of intentions and it had backfired completely. His mistakes had already cost him the love of his life; he’d never forgive himself if his mistakes got her and their daughter hurt or killed.
Two years ago, she’d sensed the distance he had created to shelter her. Worse, he’d sensed her doubts. That unexpected result had hurt him the most. The wariness he’d seen in her eyes during their last visit, after the guilty verdict had been announced, had plagued him through every lonely day since he’d disappeared.
He parked at the back of the building and came around to open her door, taking her suitcase as she exited the SUV. Finally, he indulged himself with an up-close study of her. Sophia created a fashion statement in any circumstance. Her black sweater and perfectly tailored slacks graced her curves. The long necklace she wore shimmered against the black and he noticed she’d changed from the heels she’d worn to dinner to sleek flats. His arms ached to gather her into a hug, to hold her close and never let go. Without the heels, the top of her head would tuck perfectly under his chin. Despite the memories of how comforting that embrace would be, he managed to keep his distance.
When they were safe behind the locked door of the rented room, he breathed a little easier. If they were lucky, they would survive the night and he could get her on a plane to the tropics tomorrow. He wanted her far away from the inevitable conflict on the horizon.
He dropped her suitcase on the bed, ignoring that potential minefield, while she strolled on by and pulled a chair away from the table. He heard her fidgeting a bit, settling in while she waited for him to explain himself. He didn’t have to look to know she had her right leg crossed over her left, her hands linked in her lap.
Where to begin? He studied his hands, not quite ready to face her. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Her voice was cool, aloof, and he could feel her big brown eyes studying him. He sighed. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to his wife. On some level he believed she might understand. Too bad that level was smothered by guilt.
“Just get on with it,” she urged in the unflappable tone that had guided professional and family meetings with equal efficiency. “I want the truth. The whole truth.” She shook her head, the one visible concession to her anger and frustration. “Some sort of reasonable explanation for what you’ve done to us.”
He closed his eyes a moment, pushing a hand through hair that felt too long since he’d abandoned the shorter army regulation cut. “I doubt much of what I’m about to say will sound reasonable.”
The silence stretched between them like a high wire over the Grand Canyon, and he was walking without a net. There’d been no training or experience to prepare him for this crisis. “I did what I believed was necessary to protect you and Frankie.” He’d allowed his professional life to destroy his family. No excuses would suffice and none of the words in his mind felt a
dequate to the task. On a deep breath, he perched on the side of the bed closer to her chair. “It started before we moved to Washington,” he began, watching the awareness come into her lovely eyes. “Keeping you out of it was essential.”
“Because you planned to become a traitor?”
“Never.” He winced. “Though I knew it was possible my actions would look that way.”
She caught her full lower lip between her teeth. “Your daughter never believed you were capable of treason,” she said. “Unfortunately, by that time, I didn’t share her confidence.”
He deserved that for how poorly he’d handled the situation. “I wanted to explain, to reassure you.” The risks had been too great. Any out-of-character reaction from Sophia would have tipped off the criminals the army had been trying to root out. “You couldn’t have helped me. I looked at it from every angle. If I’d told you anything at all, if you’d reacted too much or not enough, if you’d changed your analysis or assessment, it would’ve gotten all three of us killed.”
“What happened?” She hurled the words at him. “Names and dates, Frank.” She leaned forward, pinned him with those wary eyes. “Give me a clear and accurate picture. Did you know Frankie believed I willfully helped convict you?”
“No!” He pushed to his feet, striding as far from her as the room allowed. He hadn’t understood why his daughter had wound up working in Savannah when Sophia launched the new business in Seattle, but he couldn’t risk getting close enough to either of them to find out. “How could she believe such a thing?”
“You can ask her yourself. Now keep talking,” she said. “Hold back now and I’ll walk right out that door and in my heart you’ll stay dead forever.”
Sophia didn’t make idle threats. If she walked out of this room without the details, without his protection, she’d be dead within the week. Frankie, too. “It’s too dangerous. Please, believe that if nothing else.”
