Dad was just going back to help with the round-up. He had a flight to the Middle East. She promised she’d come back and spend some time with Ry before she deployed for her first tour…
—“Chopper’s here, Sammy, we’ve got to go—”
—“I’m going with you!—” Rita’s voice insistent.
—“No, Rita—”
—“Mack, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving her alone right now. ¡No mames!12 She needs me right now! Mirar, look at her, she’s catatonic!—”
As Mack and Rita led her out of her bedroom, Sam glanced out the window, dazed. The sky was just beginning to brighten from darkest night to a lavender dawn. They ascended the staircase to the rooftop helipad. The rotors of the Wyatt Petroleum Sikorsky whipped the humid Houston wind, thrashing about her clothes and hair, making her eyes sting.
This isn’t happening.
“We’re going to miss our flight,” Sam said dumbly. “If you leave with me, you won’t make it back in time to go to London…” her voice trailed off as she looked blankly at the chopper pilot who greeted them with a grim nod.
This isn’t happening.
“Like hell am I going anywhere but with you right now,” Rita replied, helping her fasten her seatbelt as Mack settled in the leather seat across from them. “You’re in shock, jaina,” she murmured gently, loping her arm over Sam’s shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere,” she reiterated firmly, though her hold was gentle.
This isn’t happening.
Then the chopper lifted, the momentary weightlessness making Sam feel even more off-kilter as it hovered in the air before propelling forward, flying swiftly over Houston’s skyscrapers toward the most debilitating sadness Sam would ever know.
*
Early March—Present Day
Lake Como, Italy
J A C K
Tesoro,
It’s been a couple months of hell without you. Perhaps even redemption—the first payment for the many missteps and mistakes I’ve made in a lifetime of unintended carelessness.
They say making amends is part of the recovery process, but there’s a big difference between making amends and saying ‘I’m sorry.’ The truth is: I’m not sorry for falling in love with you. I’m not sorry for doing what little I could to protect you. Tu sei quella che stavo aspettando.13 I didn’t realize until you came into my life that I’d been waiting for your arrival—that’d you’d come to feel as natural and familiar to my heart as the sun feels on my skin as I write you this letter.
I never believed in soul mates before we met. The idea always struck me as frivolous—the ardent fantasy of those desperate to love and be loved. Foolishly, I saw myself above the fray. I believed who you love and how you love was a simple matter of choice. Now I understand that the only choice is the faith to see things through, particularly when things seem bleakest.
So this is what I must make amends for: not having faith in you when I demanded you have it in me. I kept that file from you when I knew I shouldn’t have accepted it in the first place. I blamed you for what happened to my brother, even though you were the only one with the foresight to try to protect him in the first place. I walked away from you after Brazil, even though I knew you needed me to stand beside you. And I forced you to share your secrets, even after I pillaged them behind your back.
There are so many things I’ve done that I regret, tesoro. So many mistakes I cannot change…
I want you to know I’m returning to Chicago tonight. By the time you receive this letter, I will be on my way to making things right. And though part of me wants to rush to Texas and storm your gates, I respect that you need your time to heal and the space to think. All that I ask is that you contact me when you’re ready.
So che posso sognare, so che non ti avrò mai, ma so anche che non potrò mai smettere d’amarti.14
All My Love,
Jack
~
He sealed the envelope, fingertips running over the linen card stock as he looked out over the deep blue waters of Lake Como, waves lapping gently against the embankment lining the villa he’d been staying in since he left Germany, cleaning out and getting his shit sorted.
“Is this rehab or a five-star resort?” Jack heard from behind him.
Mitch Gartner stood at the edge of the pristinely manicured gardens of the facility Jack had been checked into for the past month. His friend and partner looked stylish in a casual three-piece suit, leaning against an ebony cane like a proper English gentleman. Aware Mitch was still recovering from Lightner’s gunshot to his leg, Jack crossed the lawn swiftly before pulling Mitch into a hug.
“Shit, it’s good to see you outside of a hospital bed,” Jack told him, grinning.
“It’s good to see you looking like yourself again, too,” Mitch answered, thumping him on the back. When Jack let him go and stepped back, his friend glanced across the vivid blue waters of the lake, letting out a low whistle. “And here I was feeling sorry for you, thinking that you must be serving some kind of ascetic exile while you sobered up.”
“Bit of both,” Jack admitted with a shrug. As stunningly beautiful as the backdrop of Lake Como and the snow-covered Rhaetian Alps were, the exile had been real. For a man who’d enjoyed all the freedoms that wealth and power provided in excess, the constant supervision, daily therapy, and limited contact with the outside world made the rehab facility seem more of a borderline penitentiary, no matter how striking the setting. And though Jack knew he needed the recovery, he was still unaccountably happy to be leaving for home within a couple hours.
“You look good,” Mitch told him honestly, assessing him. “Healthier than you have in a bit.”
“Thank you. When I’m not in therapy exploring my feelings, I’m working out like a damn monster,” Jack admitted, leading Mitch to the wrought-iron table he’d been writing at so his friend could rest his leg. “How’s the bullet wound healing?”
“Sore as hell in the morning and stiffer than a board most of the time, but the doc is certain I’ll make a full recovery in a few more months.” Mitch patted his injured leg. “Not sure about the running anymore, but I’ve been swimming a bit in London.”
Jack bit down on the soft skin on the inside of his mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for what Lightner had done to Mitch because of him. “Mitch, I owe you so many apologies—”
Mitch gripped his shoulder, his gaze serious behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “You know I don’t blame you, right? Jaime warned me that you’ve been spinning your wheels, worrying about making amends.”
“If I hadn’t dragged you with me to London, you’d never have been shot,” Jack pointed out.
“You had no way of knowing what was going to happen,” Mitch responded matter-of-factly. “No one expected Lightner to blow a crater the size of a baseball field in the city just to kidnap us. You’re a crazy bastard sometimes, Jack, but that’s a whole different level of lunacy we were dealing with when we took over Leviathan.”
“Maybe, but I knew I was waving a red flag in front of a charging bull,” Jack replied grimly. “I knew Lightner would take some kind of retaliatory action—I was just arrogant and short-sighted enough to think I could handle it on my own.”
Mitch clapped him on the back. “More proof that you were high,” he teased.
Jack sent him a look, aggrieved. “I’m attempting to be serious here.”
“Jack, if you need to make amends as part of your recovery, then apology accepted.” Mitch told him. “But before you go whipping yourself some more over what happened in London, let me ask you a question.”
“Anything.”
“If you had it all to do over again, would you have bought out Leviathan?”
“Absolutely,” Jack answered without hesitation.
Mitch nodded. “Then do you think there’s any scenario in which I wouldn’t support you? Even against my better judgment, do you imagine a scenario in which I’d ever let you go into battle alone?”
&n
bsp; “I should have taken that bullet,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “I wish Lightner had shot me instead of you.”
“I know you would have, but that’s exactly why that sick sonofabitch shot me—to hurt you,” Mitch pointed out frankly, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “I hold Lucien Lightner responsible, Jack, and I’ve got to tell you—I’ve been taking great pleasure in gutting and transforming his life’s work. Leviathan is an altogether different animal now.”
That was the best thing to come out of these hellish months. While Jack had originally intended to buy out Leviathan in order to protect Samantha and the empire she’d worked so hard to build, the hostile takeover had become so much more than a myopic attempt at retribution. In a single move, Roman Industries had been transformed from an American property developer to an international security powerhouse.
“I may not have been on board in the beginning, but I have to say, buying out Lightner’s company may have been your most brilliant move yet,” Mitch continued. “Between Jaime’s surveillance and security technology, our holdings, and Leviathan’s reputation, we’ve got international developers lining up out the door. Your plan of protecting high-value buildings from ground and air strikes will be an industry game changer. We’ll be able to build and protect veritable fortresses. Even high, you’re a goddamn genius.”
It wasn’t genius as much as the fact that Jack had made an incredibly shrewd business move, despite some seriously bad intentions. He’d parlayed what looked like revenge into a new multi-billion-dollar innovation. With their commercial property development and architectural foundation, Jaime’s tech, and now Leviathan, they’d have a legitimate international client base and some of the best security-minded individuals in the world to create a completely new market for building design, defense, and security.
“Jaime told me he’s got a meeting lined up with a defense contractor as soon as I land back in Chicago, to come up with an anti-ballistic interceptor system that will detect and counter short-range rockets and missiles,” Jack said. “His concept is similar to the Iron Dome tech that Israel developed to defend against Hamas. Any building we install this tech in will be beyond fortified—it’ll be a veritable castle.”
Mitch grinned broadly. “We already have interest from D.C. on this, Jack. If we get the Department of Defense on board, imagine the potential!” Mitch shook his head. “The money from a deal like that alone would triple Roman Industries’ value overnight.”
“I’m ready,” Jack responded, feeling a rush of energy at the prospect of getting a new idea off the ground. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so excited about anything. Anything besides Samantha, anyway.
“I’m happy to hear that.” Mitch punched his arm. “Being back at home and working on this project with Jaime will be good for you. Once we get you back to Chicago, I think I’ll stay in the UK for a bit, make sure this side of the business is up-and-running.”
Jack sent him an amused look. “You just like living in London, admit it.”
“Oh come on—” Mitch laughed. “Between Savile Row suits and live football matches, what’s not to love?”
Jack looked out at the sun shining over the water.
“The incessant rain perhaps?”
“I’ll take that over nine months of Chicago winter any day.”
“Fair enough,” Jack conceded, glad that Mitch seemed happy. “It does make sense to have you at the helm, running Leviathan’s transition from there anyway. Save me from some traveling so I can focus on what’s going on at home.”
“Speaking of which….” Mitch leaned forward. “Have you spoken with Sam?”
Jack shook his head. “She’s sequestered herself at the ranch with a security team. I haven’t gotten much besides the fact that she’s recovering slowly and barely speaking to anyone other than her family.”
“And the manhunt for Lightner? Does she know you had me put out a ten-million-dollar bounty?” Mitch asked carefully.
“I don’t know,” Jack shrugged. “But I’m going to make sure that asshole has a target the size of Soldier Field on his back. I want every mercenary on the planet looking for Lightner. With that money, I’ve just insured all the best-equipped and most-invested modern-day hessians will be invested in finding that needle in the haystack.”
Mitch rubbed his chin. “What about the woman working for Sam? The one who pulled us out after she shot Lightner? If this mystery woman was good enough to find Lightner the first time, she’ll likely manage it again,” he pointed out.
“She just might,” Jack conceded. “But we can all do with a little help now and then.”
Mitch shook his head, his expression bemused. “You know who she is?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t think anyone knows who she is, other than she’s one of the tricks up Samantha’s sleeve.”
“One of many,” Mitch speculated with a nod. “How have you been doing without her?”
Jack smiled grimly as he looked out over the water. “Rehab may have cured me of an addiction to painkillers, but it hasn’t changed the way I feel about that woman. Not even a little.”
In his mind’s eye, Jack recalled Samantha’s pale form in the hospital bed, the sound of the machines the moment she’d flatlined. Nothing had hurt more during that moment. At no time in his life had Jack ever felt so utterly helpless. At no time had he been more clear of what he wanted and who he wanted it with, their dense, intricate, complicated history be damned. When everything was said and done, she was the only woman he wanted. Samantha was the only partner he wanted to spend the rest of his days and nights with. She was it for him—no other. Everyone else was always just a placeholder, the thin scaffolding between reality and the dream.
“Had you told me six months ago I’d fall for a woman like Samantha, that I’d risk everything to help her, and nearly lose her, my brother, and my best friend in the process, I’d have thought you were the one taking drugs,” he admitted to Mitch, meeting his eyes.
Mitch sighed. “Jack, maybe it’s proof that this isn’t the healthiest relationship for you to be in,” he said gently.
“No,” Jack shook his head. “Since I’ve had this time to myself, there are some certainties I’ve come to grips with: I don’t believe in reasonable success, and there’s no goddamn way I’m settling for discontented stability. I won’t walk away from my problems, and I certainly won’t leave Samantha alone to manage hers. Our lives are intertwined now, and I see my future more clearly than ever. It’s with her. For better or for worse. I won’t live my life half-measure, Mitch, comparing every other woman to her. It’s Samantha or no one.”
Mitch sighed. “And if she doesn’t come around?”
Jack shrugged. “She will.”
“You’re still a cocky SOB, you know that?”
Jack just smiled. “Sometimes you just have to be. It’s the only way to make the impossible happen. Now let’s get out of here. We’ve got more work to do.”
Chapter 6
March—Morning
Tel Aviv, Israel
R O X A N N E
Roxanne admired the view of Tayalet promenade from the wide bank of windows overlooking Tel Aviv’s charming beachfront boardwalk and the impossibly blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. She had a perfect line of sight towards Gordon-Frishman Beach’s pristine white beach, punctuated with colorful umbrellas and a few brave souls who were hell-bound and determined to enjoy the water despite the chilliness of the March weather.
She’d only been in Tel Aviv for a week tracking Avi Oded, but in the short time she’d been there, she’d come to quite like it. Compared to the inclement weather and never-ending dampness of London or the deep-freeze-locker feel of Chicago, Tel Aviv was a dream. For the past few months, she’d been traveling from shithole to shithole trying to track Lucien Lightner down, but now, hanging out in the former Sayeret Matkal operative-turned-Mossad-agent’s apartment, going through his spare but beautifully-appointed home, was actually a pleasure.
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Rox had already scoured through the place, finding a closet full of impeccably-made suits, custom dress shirts with French cuffs, shined wingtips, and a handful of casual clothes. She’d learned that Avi Oded favored sandalwood-scented sundries, he exercised at home using a variety of weights, resistance bands, and a well-used boxing bag and in the morning, he surfed. She could also tell Avi Oded’s impeccable flat wasn’t a home—not really. Just a place to rest his head when he was in town. In fact, it was exactly the kind of space Rox would choose—quiet, excellent visibility with no buildings immediately in front, multiple escape routes, beautiful décor that felt more like a high-end hotel than an actual sanctuary. There were no books, no knick-knacks, no tossed receipts.
The only remotely personal thing she found was a dog-eared photo of him in uniform back when he was probably eighteen- or nineteen-years-old, laughing with men in his first IDF unit. She’d found a champagne cork rolling around in one of his kitchen drawers, written on it was the hand-scribbled date she guessed was the birth of his daughter from about ten years ago. She’d discovered a vintage white gold pocket watch with a man’s initials hidden in the safe beneath the floorboard of his living room. She also found a few thousand in cash, a Jericho .45 ACP combat handgun with the serial numbers filed off, and a handful of fake passports from different nations: the U.S., France, Switzerland, and even Belgium.
She flipped open a random passport. Avi Oded was a handsome bastard. He looked right at the camera with green-hazel eyes and had a kind of mysterious swagger. Maybe it was the undeniable lushness about him—the full, well-formed mouth, the thick brows and fringe of eyelashes, just a couple shades darker than his light brown hair. No matter how you cut it, Avi was a good-looking devil. Rox suspected he knew it too.
She knew he was a smooth operator. After all, she’d done the background check on him before Sam asked Avi to help her out with the mission to kill Ibrahim Nazar a few months back. But Rox didn’t need Sam to tell her what you saw with a guy like Avi wasn’t always what you’d get. Men like him knew how to make their way in a world like hers—at the seams, moving sideways through delineated shades of gray, trading one identity for another like a change of clothes. That’s what made him a good agent. That’s what made him so hard to find.
Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three Page 8
