by Katie Reus
He frowned as an unmarked black van pulled up to the scene where a group of men and women not wearing any identifying badges or uniforms had sectioned off the area. Though the crowd at the hospital was growing, everyone was keeping a respectful distance from the accident.
A team of men dressed in black retrieved the body before putting it in the back of the van. It all happened so quickly, as if they’d choreographed the scene. The news crew on the other side of the hospital hadn’t even arrived yet. The way these men moved in so quickly and efficiently told him they had to be working for some government agency in a clandestine capacity.
As the van steered away, two police cruisers were pulling onto the street. One of the cruisers immediately blocked the van’s exit, a cop exiting and drawing his weapon, though not raising it at the van. From the other cruiser, a uniformed cop exited and then cautiously approached the van. The window rolled down and after a few minutes of speaking to whoever was inside, the cop waved the van through. Just like that. There had been no questioning of the driver who’d hit the man, nothing. At least not from the men in black.
That was . . . interesting. At the sight of a news van pulling up behind one of the police vehicles, he turned and headed back to one of the parking garages. The last thing he needed was to be seen on camera. He seriously doubted he would even be noticed, but right now he had to be cautious. He pulled his ball cap low and kept his pace steady as he broke away from the crowd he’d been using as cover.
As he walked, he texted Mihails what he’d witnessed with one of his disposable phones. The Latvian would definitely want to know that his man had been killed and then taken away by unknown government men. And he had no doubt that it was the government. Which branch, however, was a mystery.
• • •
“I can’t believe you’re here. You need to be at home resting or . . . something. You just shouldn’t be here.” Leah Davis sat across from Maria’s desk, leaning back in the comfortable leather chair that had seen better days. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore her standard faded jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. Today’s color was blue. Like her eyes.
Maria hadn’t actually come to work, but to escape. “I know. I just didn’t want to go home. Because as soon as I pack a bag, Nash is taking me to my parents’ house.” Which would be filled with constant reminders of her mother. Maria leaned back in her own chair and rubbed a hand over her face. She still couldn’t get the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach to go away. Maybe seeing Cade after so long had affected her more than she’d realized. Either that or there truly was something she desperately needed to remember. Because the truth was, the fact that she’d been outside during the blast was odd. She’d had no reason to be where she’d been found.
“Honey, I know. It might be good for you to be surrounded by her things, but . . . if it’s too much you know you’re more than welcome to stay with me. God knows you’ve been there for me through bad breakups and my own mom . . .” Her voice and expression were gentle as she trailed off.
It was true. Leah was more like a sister to her. They talked on the phone multiple times a day if they weren’t working together, and she couldn’t count the number of times they’d drowned their sorrows over glasses of wine because of some loser. Then when Leah’s mom committed suicide, Maria had practically lived with her friend until she’d gotten back on her feet. “Thanks, but no. I need to be there for my dad. I just can’t figure out why I was outside when the explosion went off. It makes no sense.” She’d been wondering about that even before the police, Homeland Security, or the NSA had asked her. She looked at Leah imploringly, as if her friend had any magical answers. The not knowing was driving her crazy.
“It’s a miracle,” Leah said softly.
Maria had no response. Sitting in her office at the center always made her feel better, more grounded. She spent so much time here it was more like home than her actual house. The framed art on the walls had been done by various kids who’d grown up and moved on to become contributing members of society. One had actually become a famous artist. The others were just drawings, sketches, or paintings by kids who’d needed an outlet. Looking at all the art made with love, she swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” she muttered, feeling like anything but a miracle. She felt almost guilty that she was alive and so many others weren’t. Pushing up from her chair, she stood, ready to head home, when the door to her office opened.
Javier, a sixteen-year-old boy who’d been coming to the center for the last two years, ever since getting out of his older brother’s gang, stepped inside. Wordlessly he strode toward her and around her desk and pulled Maria into a tight hug. Tall for his age, he was almost six feet and still growing. With lanky arms he held on, though he was slightly shaking. “We’re all so sorry about your mom, Miss Cervantes.”
Afraid she’d burst into tears again, she patted his back gently. “Thank you, Javier. That means a lot.”
When he stepped back, he blinked rapidly, looking impossibly young for just a brief moment. “Some of us were here last night when the . . . when it happened. We all knew you’d gone to the party and thought . . .” He swallowed hard as he trailed off.
It had taken almost six months to get Javier to open up to her or show any kind of emotion other than anger, but once he had, she’d learned more about his past than she figured anyone knew. She also understood that she and Leah were mother figures to so many of these kids who didn’t have one. Now they were more alike than ever before—but at least she’d had a loving mother for so many years. It was something she’d be holding on to. “I’m okay and not going anywhere, I promise.”
He nodded, clearing his throat. “If it’s okay, most of us want to come to your mom’s funeral.”
Crap, now she really was going to cry. “I’d really like that.” Maria struggled to continue, but thankfully Leah stepped in.
“Come on, Javi. Maria’s got to get out of here. She needs rest, but I’ll make sure everyone is informed about the service and when Maria will be back.” She looked at Maria and mouthed I’ll call you over her shoulder as she steered the teenager out.
Sighing, Maria decided to suck it up and go to her parents’. It was a Tuesday evening, so it was quiet at the center, but she’d left Nash in the gym with two adult volunteers and a group of twelve-year-olds to help referee their basketball game. Mainly because she’d needed some space from him too and she’d wanted some privacy with Leah. That was one of the great things about her friend: she didn’t need to fill silences, but she was always there no matter what. Maria had just wanted to soak up her friend’s support and strength while she could. Before she’d taken more than two steps from the desk, her door opened again and Cade O’Reilly strode in.
And he was pissed. Alarm jumped inside her.
She could tell he was trying to mask his anger, but it was clear in the harsh lines of his handsome face. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of him and she chastised herself for even noticing. But it was hard not to. The man was huge and sexy. Sweet Lord, why did he have to be so damn good looking? And why did she have to notice? The sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt were pushed up to his elbows, showing off all those tattoos and muscular arms. Arms that had held her gently while he comforted her. Inwardly cringing, she met his piercing gaze. “How did you find me?”
His jaw clenched once before he answered, his expression almost incredulous that she’d asked. “I work for the NSA. Tracking your phone wasn’t hard. Why did you leave?”
“I . . .” She thought about lying, saying there had been some emergency, but the lie wouldn’t come. “I didn’t want to deal with your questions or seeing you. I felt like an idiot after I blubbered all over you and was afraid I’d do it again.” His expression softened but she continued. “I’m exhausted and back at the hospital I didn’t think I had any answers for your questions then.”
He went
impossibly still. “What do you mean then? Do you now?”
Sighing, she leaned against the front of her desk, perching on the edge of it as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s probably nothing. I still don’t know why I was outside the Westwood mansion when paramedics found me. I keep trying to rack my brain, but I can’t think of any plausible explanation for why I would ever be outside and that far away from the party. And when I was washing my face at the hospital, I got a flash of . . .” She splayed her hands out in front of her as if that would help explain what she didn’t understand herself. “I don’t know. I was scared, like I needed to tell someone something. And I know that makes absolutely no sense to you, because it doesn’t to me either.” Maria stopped talking, feeling like she was rambling as he pinned her with that intense stare.
He was silent for a long moment, assessing her, as if he was deciding if she was telling the truth or not. Finally he spoke, his voice grim. “I caught a man sneaking out of your bathroom at the hospital. He was armed with two knives. When he saw me, he ran and died during the chase—an accident, he was hit by a truck. On my way here one of our analysts informed me that according to his fingerprints, he’s a known Latvian terrorist. He’s worked with various outfits before, but things always end bloody with any group he’s been involved with. He likes to kill his victims with a blade. I can’t know the specific intent for sure, but he was in your hospital room for a reason. My guess is either you know something or someone thinks you do.”
Maria was glad she was sitting down as Cade’s words slammed through her, because the blood drained from her face, leaving her dizzy. She didn’t know what to make of what he’d just said. Or what the hell she was supposed to do about some dead terrorist wanting to kill her. What did it mean? She’d been so convinced she didn’t know anything, but that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach was growing out of control. Now it was even worse.
“So what happens now? I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t remember the explosion or even being at the party. I wish I did, though, believe me. Wait a minute, if the man who was in my room is a known terrorist, then it stands to reason his partner or partners would be in Miami, right? He can’t be working alone, and if some guy was sent to kill me or whatever—”
Half smiling, he stepped farther into the room, his posture slightly relaxing. “My guys are already looking into all his known associates, how he got into the country, and what he’s been doing since he got here.”
None of which Cade would tell her, she was sure. “Oh.” She still wasn’t certain what that meant for her.
As if he read her mind, he said, “From this moment on, I’m more or less your shadow. I know it’s less than ideal especially with everything you’re dealing with. For that, I’m sorry. You can either fight me and I can tail you twenty-four-seven or you can suck it up and deal with me until we figure out why that terrorist wanted you dead. Because believe me, after reading his file, I have no doubt in my mind you would be if you’d stuck around the hospital. You’re a hell of a lot better off having me as your shadow right now.” There was a dark note in his tone she couldn’t read.
It was impossible to believe that someone wanted her dead. But a couple of days ago she would have said it was impossible that someone could get away with such a horrific act of terror in her city, or that her mother would have died in a terrorist attack. When her brother had died in Afghanistan, it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to deal with. But their family had always known that his death was a possibility. Someone didn’t go to a war zone without that knowledge. The way her mom was killed was too surreal.
And Cade was right. There was no solid reason for a terrorist to be hiding out in her hospital room other than malicious intent. “If you’re my shadow, what does that mean? I have a lot of things to take care of, including dealing with my mom’s funeral.” Her throat tightened at the thought, but at least she didn’t break down into tears again.
“Consider yourself in my protective custody. I’ll basically be your chauffeur and bodyguard.” There he went again with that tone she couldn’t read. Everything about him was hard to read. He barely moved when he spoke, keeping his body rigid and under control.
The man in front of her would never be anyone’s chauffeur, and something told her he would consider bodyguard duty more like babysitting. But the surprisingly subtle look he raked over her told her he didn’t exactly view being her shadow as a chore. She could tell he liked what he saw, even though he was trying not to show it. For just a brief moment, his green eyes filled with something that looked a lot like desire.
For her.
It was hard to be sure, but she’d been on the receiving end of an appreciative male look enough times to recognize it. Maria was surprised she could feel anything other than grief, but a ribbon of awareness curled through her before his gaze completely shuttered, blocking her out again.
Just as he’d cut her out of his life eight years ago.
Shoving those thoughts from her mind, she went over her options. If someone wanted her dead, being guarded by an NSA agent was smart. Not to mention that nagging feeling in her gut. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wouldn’t go away. Maria rarely ignored her instincts. So many people did and it was often a huge mistake.
Sighing, she nodded as she pushed up from her desk. “Fine. Nash drove me here, so I need to let him know I’m leaving with you. I need to drop by my house to pick up some things before heading to my parents’ home. You can ask all the questions you want on the way. Maybe something will break through,” she muttered, frustrated with herself that such a huge block of time was missing from her memory. It was scary not to be able to remember. She also had some questions for Cade and hoped she found the courage to ask them.
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” he said softly. “Give yourself time. Your memories might come back.”
“I hope so.” The door opened before she could say anything else and Nash paused in the doorway.
His gaze zeroed in on Cade as the two men more or less sized each other up. The dislike between them was so vivid it surprised her since they hadn’t known each other before today.
“Nash, I need to go with . . . Mr. O’Reilly to answer some questions.” Saying “Cade” seemed too familiar somehow even if they had been friends at one time. “There’s been a . . .” She struggled to find the right words, still trying to swallow the fact that a terrorist had been in her hospital room.
Cade took care of it for her. “I’m going to be guarding Maria from this point forward. She’s of interest to the NSA and we feel she needs our protection. Nothing about her schedule will change, but I will be with her twenty-four-seven.” His expression was almost challenging as he spoke to Nash.
Her friend was no better, his glare cutting. “Of interest? What the fuck does that mean?” He stepped into the room, a foot from Cade as they faced off.
Maria didn’t feel like explaining everything to Nash right now. Not when she just wanted to get her belongings and go see her dad. He should have landed and would be home soon. Even though she was dreading going to her parents’ home, she needed to be there. Stepping between them, she placed her hand on Nash’s forearm. “Nash, just let me go with him and get these questions out of the way. If I can somehow help find who killed my mom, I’m going to.” Saying the words made her feel stronger. She might be torn up inside, but she desperately wanted to help if she could. She wanted justice for everyone who had been ruthlessly killed.
It was clear Nash wanted to argue, but he nodded tightly. “Fine. I’ve got my cell if you need me.”
Yeah, he definitely wanted to say more. He shot Cade an almost threatening look before stepping out of her office.
Both men hovered behind her, making her feel awkward as she locked up. The walk down the quiet hallways until they reached the side exit was even more awkward, the tens
ion excruciating. The exit door automatically locked behind her. One of the volunteers or employees would have a key card to get back in if necessary, but after a certain time of day the locks were set to stay closed for the safety of everyone.
Maria kept pace with Cade, following him to a black SUV with tinted windows. Nash headed for his vehicle but waited until she and Cade pulled out of the parking lot before leaving. She also noticed that her home address was already programmed into Cade’s GPS—which told her he’d planned on her cooperation. She wasn’t sure if that should annoy her or not.
“I’m sorry, he’s just worried about me, that’s all,” Maria said into the relative quiet of the SUV. Normally she didn’t feel the need to fill silences or apologize for anyone, but she did now. After the way she’d run from the hospital—though now she was thankful she had—then Nash’s hostile behavior, she wanted to smooth things over with Cade. If they were going to be spending any amount of time together, things had to be civil.
“He’s more than just worried about you,” he said, his voice wry. “And no more ‘Mr. O’Reilly.’”
“I know, I don’t know why I called you that.” It was just as lame as she’d accused him of being in that hospital room. She shifted against the leather seat, staring out the window at the passing traffic. Dusk had fallen and the city was bright and vibrant with life. It was just another seemingly normal night in Miami, but nothing would ever be normal again. “So, what questions do you have for me?”
“Why were you at the Westwood party and how did you get there?”
She was fairly certain he already knew the response to both those questions, but she answered anyway. “Bayside Center depends on donations. So that’s the main reason I was there. And Nash, who you must know works for my parents, drove me. I was sick for days and was too weak to drive, but I needed to attend the party.”
Cade was silent for so long she turned away from the window to glance at him. He had a strong profile, a chiseled jaw that was so defined it seemed almost unreal. It was as if the man had literally been cut from stone and molded into flesh and bone. Absolute perfection. Finally he spoke, but his question surprised her. “What is Nash to you?” His voice was rough, uneven.
