by Debra Webb
While she was busy, he stripped off his sweater and removed his boots and socks. A few minutes later, he heard the bathroom door open and the flick of the light switch. He kept his focus on perfecting the arrangement of an extra pillow and blanket on the small couch, afraid to look her way. The last thing he needed was a refresher course on how alluring she was at bedtime.
Whenever he was deployed or traveling, those first nights apart from her had always been the worst. He missed the scent of lilies clinging to her skin after she applied her favorite lotion. Longed for the feel of her bare feet caressing his calf as she snuggled into his embrace. He couldn’t say he’d taken her for granted; the frequent times apart prevented that. No, he’d simply assumed coming home to her was always an option.
“I’d planned to take the couch,” she said, rooted in place between the bathroom and the bed.
He turned, pulled by a force he couldn’t fight. From the moment he’d dragged her out of the car, he felt a craving to soak her in, as though he could somehow carry a bit of her with him through the foreseeable loneliness ahead. His mouth watered at the sight of her in one of his old T-shirts, her preferred sleepwear. It wasn’t a ploy or some balm to his ego. She’d traveled to Chicago solely to see a friend and she’d packed that shirt. Did that have any significance? Should he assume she missed him, too, or was it just a comfort factor? He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over her from head to toe—her hair down and the hem of the shirt skimming high on her toned thighs. She kept trying to push it lower.
“Take the bed.” He gave her a smile, though he thought his jaw would crack from the effort. “I’ll be fine over here.”
“That’s silly. You need more room.”
His skin tingled from his scalp to the soles of his feet as she gazed at him. What was he supposed to make of that look? “Don’t worry about it. You know I’ve slept well in far worse.”
She came to the corner of the bed and stopped, a worried frown pulling at her eyebrows. “You won’t be able to stretch out at all.”
“Just take the bed,” he said through gritted teeth. Unless she was offering to share. Was that it? It would take a better man than him to turn her down if she was.
She slid between the sheets, putting as much of the bed between them as possible. A clear enough message to keep his distance.
He turned out the last light before he stripped off his undershirt and pants. The gear in the pockets rattled as he set the items within easy reach if trouble found them.
“You know, I should thank Halloran.” Her voice drifted across the dark room.
It seemed like a damned poor thing to be thankful for. He stared at the ceiling, creased with a blade of light from the parking lot bleeding through the top of the curtains. “I don’t want to ask.”
“Without him I might never have seen you again.”
Could it be possible that she had missed him as much as he’d missed her? She’d turned their retirement dream into a profitable reality so quickly. And that damned snake Paul Sterling had moved in on her with equal speed. “Without him, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with,” Frank pointed out.
“True.”
He was sure she’d drifted off, leaving him with his thoughts and regrets, when she spoke up again. “After...all that happened,” she said, “would you ever have come home to me if my life hadn’t been in danger?”
He could hardly stand being in this room, so close and still so far removed from her. “I’ve been searching for a way home to you ever since.” He stifled a groan as the truth slipped out. A lie that would guarantee some detachment would’ve been the smarter move. He’d hurt her so badly it was a miracle she hadn’t had him drawn and quartered yet.
He heard the mattress shift and he imagined she’d rolled to her side. He remembered the way she curled her hands around her pillow, her face relaxed and her knees pulled up a little, one foot free of the bedding, serving as a thermostat. Countless mornings in their marriage he’d pressed a kiss to her cheek and left her in just that pose. Every morning since going undercover, he’d regretted his decision to push her away in favor of the job. Now he’d dragged her into an unsanctioned investigation that could wind up destroying both of them.
On the books it appeared as though he’d put his duty to country ahead of his family. Not unexpected for a career officer even though it wasn’t spelled out in those exact words in the official oath of service. He’d made an unbearable choice with his family in mind, though they would heartily disagree. No matter the cost, men like Halloran couldn’t be allowed to run roughshod over the world. Soldiers and civilians had died for the wrong reasons, thanks to Halloran and his Hellfire group, and Frank meant to right that wrong.
Early on, Frank had been so damned confident no price was too high to bring Halloran to justice. Long before the empty casket had been lowered into the ground, he’d realized his error.
Solitude had been his greatest enemy. He hadn’t taken Sophia for granted in their marriage, not as a person or partner. No, but he’d drastically underestimated the strength he gained merely knowing she was on his side, available to talk or listen as needed.
Her breathing evened out and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. It was too late to thank her for standing by him during the trial anyway.
The only thing he knew to do was keep pushing forward, as a team, despite the undercurrents of hurt between them. If he could bear the distraction, which was the risk of working with her, they might just reduce Hellfire to ashes.
Chapter Five
Tuesday, April 19, 8:25 a.m.
The flight was nearly into its descent before Frank relaxed. All night he’d slept with one eye open, expecting an attack on the hotel. At the airport, he kept looking over his shoulder, even past the security checkpoint, certain one of Halloran’s goons would make a grab for Sophia. Unless he was completely off his game, they were heading to DC without any Hellfire eyes on them. He wasn’t sure what to think, so he tried to be grateful for the momentary reprieve.
Still, with no trouble in Chicago, spies were likely waiting for them in DC. It couldn’t be helped—Sophia had to travel as herself right now. They could only move as quickly as possible and leave a trail for Halloran to get worried about. With his ball cap pulled low over his face, Frank had pretended to sleep while keeping an eye on her dark hair several rows ahead of him.
Their arrival in Dulles and the rental car pickup all went without a hitch. This much going smoothly made him wary. Hellfire was dialed in tight on Frank now that they knew he was alive, and things would only accelerate when they realized Sophia was helping him.
Following the plan he and Sophia had devised last night, he parked the car in a public garage and she took the metro to her meeting. He fell back once he was sure no one was tailing her. It bothered him to let her go alone, even knowing she could take care of herself on the busier subways. Returning to keep an eye on their primary rendezvous point, he was happy things were clear so far.
Sophia had not volunteered details about meeting her contact, only that she’d send regular text messages and catch up with Frank in front of the Smithsonian Castle at two o’clock. They’d argued the point, last night and again on the way to the airport, until he was forced to concede. As she’d told him repeatedly, he was officially dead and she’d be walking into places where he might be recognized. If the authorities caught Frank too soon, Halloran would have a better chance of skipping the country unscathed.
Still, letting her out of his sight went against everything inside him. His instincts clamored to shelter and protect his wife and daughter, though he knew being obvious about it would push her too hard at this point. A few hours in her company after so much time apart made this necessary absence unbearably worse. He had no idea what he’d do when this was over and Halloran was in custody, no longer a threat to Frank or his fam
ily.
Frank wanted his life back; he wanted his wife and daughter.
With a few hours to kill, he ambled between museums and played the part of tourist as memories of Leone family vacations rolled through his mind. He was strolling along, desperate to sink his teeth into some action, when he noticed the man tailing him.
A chill slid down his spine at the thought of Halloran pegging his last clean fake ID, until he remembered how easily Hellfire could track Sophia. Maybe she was right that he’d been at this alone for too long. Frank’s pulse leaped at the potential to get some information from the enemy. The challenge was staying calm, letting the man believe Frank hadn’t noticed him.
As a career army officer, he hadn’t had much training in espionage or spy tactics. Working his way up to general, he’d learned how to assess, observe and stand out. He’d learned to manage his immediate support staff as well as the many units under his command. Blending in, disappearing and operating alone had required practice after his initial escape from prison as a corpse.
The man dogging his heels didn’t look familiar. White male, average height and build, medium brown hair, nondescript jacket and jeans. At the current distance, it was impossible to pin down an age range to anything more specific than “over twenty-five.”
Frank led the younger man trailing him away from the rendezvous point just in case Sophia returned early. He walked near groups of tourists and then separately, giving him room to make a move. Picking up his pace, he aimed for the metro station and hurried down the stairs, stepping aside to wait for the tail to catch up.
As the younger man hurried by Frank’s position, the profile didn’t reveal anything helpful about his identity or his affiliation. It had to be one of Halloran’s spies. No one else had reason to be this persistent. Frank fell in behind him, keeping out of sight.
A train arrived and people jockeyed for position. Frank stepped up behind the younger man and shoved the knuckles of his fist into his back. “Looking for me?”
Caught, his shoulders slumped. “You’re getting better at this, Leone.”
“As if I care about your opinion.” Up close, he realized the spy was even younger than he’d guessed at first. Probably a recent washout from one of the elite military teams, searching for a way to clear the chip off his shoulder.
Frank struggled against his first instinct to listen and advise. Although he and Sophia had only one child, he’d counseled many young people through the years, urging them to explore one path or another to suit their skills. This wasn’t that kind of meeting.
“You should.” The kid tried to look over his shoulder.
“To the right,” he said, urging the kid closer to the nearest trash can. “Unload any weapons.”
“If they’d sent me to kill you,” the kid said, dropping a knife and a handgun into the trash can, “you’d be dead already.”
Frank ignored him, pulling a cell phone out of the kid’s rear pocket while he was distracted. The warning sounded for final boarding and he gave the kid another shove. “Get on the train.”
“I knew you weren’t armed,” the kid challenged.
“If you know me at all,” Frank retorted, “you know I don’t need to be.”
With a terse nod, the kid obediently surged forward, joining the last stragglers to board the train.
“Who sent you?” Frank asked when they were seated and the train was under way. Part of him hoped it was a federal agency rather than a criminal operation.
“You already know the answer.” The kid shook his head. “If you’d recommit, I wouldn’t be your enemy. You’d have support, a way out. Face it, you need it.”
Frank glared at him.
“No one wants to hurt your family. Cooperate and the danger goes away.”
“Cooperate how?” Frank asked, willing to play along for a few minutes. He could just imagine what hellish task Halloran had dreamed up for him to prove his renewed loyalty to Hellfire. “The last time I cooperated, your boss hung me out to dry.”
“Ease up,” the kid said. “No one was going to leave you in prison. You should’ve been patient. A man’s word is his bond.”
Neither Halloran’s “word” nor Hellfire’s promises had been worth the air wasted to explain them. “Right.” Frank calculated the upcoming stops and how long he could keep this kid talking until he had to get back to Sophia. “My wife and daughter were no threat. Your boss started this when he targeted them. You can tell him I’ll finish it.”
“Hey, you’re pissed. I get it.” The kid flared his hands wide, then stuck them in his pockets. “Easy to lose the faith considering that nasty treason charge.” He kept his voice pitched low. “You keep our secrets and this will still work out according to the original agreement.”
The agreement had a small fortune flowing into an offshore bank account in Frank’s name and a solitary slice of a private beach in the Caribbean. The same bogus agreement that had left his family believing he committed suicide rather than face justice as a traitor. “I can’t ever be me again,” he muttered only loud enough for the kid to hear. “No matter what I choose.”
“Just so we’re clear. Are you threatening Hellfire?”
“No more than they’re threatening me,” Frank replied.
“That’s not the kind of response that makes the top brass happy. Check your account,” the kid said. “A good-faith payment is already there.”
“Top brass” implied the kid was working directly for one of the top three retired generals who’d started Hellfire. Maybe Frank could use this—whatever it was—rendezvous to his advantage. He wanted new intel, some solid detail he and Sophia could exploit quickly. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the account. Sure enough, he was wealthy again. Disgust burned in his gut. Halloran had stolen everything from him. Frank’s sole purpose now was to take him down, wrapping it up quickly so Frankie and Sophia could live in peace.
The train intercom announced the next stop and people shifted around them, preparing to exit. Frank used the shuffling to lift the kid’s wallet. If he could get something helpful out of this kid—something other than an illegal windfall he didn’t want—maybe this little detour would prove worthwhile.
Why wasn’t the kid asking about Sophia or the missing drug shipment? The question had a new flood of apprehension rushing through Frank.
“I don’t know what they have on you,” he said quietly, testing the reaction, “but I can help if you come to your senses before the next stop.”
The kid snorted. “You can’t do a damn thing for me if you’re against them.” His lip curled like that of a mean dog sizing up his next attack. “I don’t want anything from an outsider anyway.”
“Is that so?”
“Look, old man, you’ve got one more chance to be smart.”
The “old man” crack was the last straw. Despite being past his prime, Frank had at least one more good fight left in him. He pretended to consider it while he searched for the most expedient route to the finish line. “Call the shooters off my family,” Frank demanded, holding out the kid’s cell phone.
The kid shook his head, kept his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have that authority.”
“Then you’re no good to me.” Frank tucked the phone away. With a quick move, he slid his hand up the kid’s arm and pressed on a nerve that turned his arm limp.
“What the hell? Wait, you can’t—”
“Just did, son.” Frank stood as the train slowed for the next stop. “I’ve got your wallet, too. If you’re smart, you’ll hurry to the nearest FBI office and trade information for witness protection before Hellfire learns you’ve turned on them.”
“No.” The blood drained from his face, his eyes wide and wild. “You can’t do that. Engle would never believe I’d turn.”
Frank shrugged. “Belief and trust a
re fragile things. Good luck.” He moved through the doors as the warning sounded, glancing back to see the kid fumbling to get his other arm working.
Engle, Frank thought, mentally tucking the new name away, along with every other word the kid had said. Between the two of them, he was sure he and Sophia would find the connections. He started searching through the kid’s phone, knowing it could be a morass of fake IDs and cover stories. Time would tell. If they were lucky, Engle would prove to be a loose link in Hellfire’s chain of command.
He glanced at the clock on the display and winced. He had a lot of ground to cover to make the rendezvous point in time. If she thought he’d ditched her—again—there would be hell to pay.
Tuesday, April 19, 2:10 p.m.
SOPHIA WANDERED ON past the Smithsonian Castle when she didn’t see Frank in the vicinity. Frank should be waiting right here, per the plan. She told herself he hadn’t left her, that he would be here. Wouldn’t he?
Or would her husband, in some ill-conceived notion of protecting her, run away again?
She tried to divert the immediate reaction and the negative spiral of her thoughts with what she’d learned in the chat with her old friend Eddie Chandler. It didn’t work. Very little from that meeting gave her hope they could successfully expose Halloran’s greedy scheme. It would take some creativity and more than a little good luck.
She couldn’t give up. Unless they stopped Hellfire, her husband would be forced to live in hiding indefinitely, an outcome she refused to accept. She checked her watch, circled through a nearby garden and turned back. Where was he?
If he had left her, she’d track him down and wring his neck. Though she could hardly be considered abandoned in Washington, DC, even without her resources and connections, that wasn’t the point. They’d agreed to move forward together. If he reneged on his word...
No. A cold fear curled into a fist in her belly. He hadn’t reneged. She couldn’t believe it. If he’d wanted to leave her out of this mess, he would’ve found a way to leave her in Chicago. Although it was as clear as the sky above that he hated involving her in this crisis, they’d tossed out any other option. He needed someone helping him unravel Hellfire. He needed her.
