Operation Sheba
Page 31
He whistled under his breath. “The FBI, huh? Sounds important.”
Julia smeared cream cheese on two bagel halves and pressed them together. “I’m ready to try something different.”
“Like what?”
Julia dug a sandwich bag out of her cupboard and stuck the bagel in it. “I’ve got the bug again. I think I want to get back in the field.”
Conrad lowered the paper and waggled both eyebrows at her. “Need a partner?”
“No.” Grabbing her purse off the chair, she pulled out the keys to her Audi and tossed them across the table at him. “But I do need a driver.”
Another killer day over in his still somewhat new position as Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, Michael Stone threw his briefcase on the kitchen counter and drew in a deep breath.
Pongo trotted into the kitchen with a brand new rawhide dog bone the size of a small child’s leg hanging out of his mouth and dropped it at Michael’s feet.
“Where’d you get that, boy?” he said, frowning at the bone. Pongo whimpered and wagged his stubby tail.
Michael continued to frown as he bent over to pet the dog. He had not given Pongo the bone and the only person Pongo had ever accepted treats from, besides him, was Julia.
With a lurch in his heart, Michael stood and, pulling his tie out of the neck of his shirt, took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom.
At the top of the stairs, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and he stopped short.
All was quiet. He could pick up no hint of anything out of place or anyone in his house.
But as he crossed into the bedroom, it hit him full force. Lavender. Not just an innocent trace of it. An unabashedly rich essence that made his knees weak.
Abigail.
Julia.
His gaze darted around the room and he called her name hesitantly. He hurried to the French doors and threw them open to see if she was sitting out on the deck.
Nothing.
She was not there. He started for the adjoining bathroom and that’s when his eyes saw the envelope on the bed, his name written in her tidy, elegant hand. Snatching the envelope up, he ripped it open. A picture fell out, landing on the bed, while he unfolded the note inside.
Dearest Michael,
Abigail Quinn is gone now but she was real. She was real because you reached out and helped her. Gave her reason to believe in fairytales again. Showed her there was a right way to live and there was something worth living for.
I, Julia Torrison, am forever in your debt. Even though I chose to leave your fairytale world, I’ll always carry the perfect love you gave me in my heart.
The picture is to remind you that Abby was real and so was her love for you. Forever, Julia
Michael reached down and grabbed the picture. It was one Liz Scofield had snapped of him and Abigail while they were on the Scofields’ sailboat. The two of them were laughing, Abby’s face turned up to his as sunlight glimmered on the water in the background. And even though he knew her carefree manner had changed seconds after the picture was snapped, the unadulterated love in her eyes at that moment was like a soothing balm on his wounded heart.
Walking out to the balcony, he stood still and let the moon bathe him in light. Propping the picture on the ledge, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Julia”, into the night.
Epilogue
Cozumel , Mexico Julia watched as Con made his way across the white sand, balancing two tall, gaudily outfitted tropical drinks in his hands. With his dark features and deeply tanned skin, he was beginning to look like one of the natives.
From the moment he’d sallied up to the bar with his signature alpha-male walk, he’d turned heads like light attracting moths. Female eyes appraised him and found him to their liking. Male eyes followed their companions’ stares and a sudden wave of testosterone-driven posturing had begun.
Cozumel was beautiful and warm and a million miles from Langley. They’d needed a vacation and some time alone. They both had big career decisions waiting for them back in Arlington, but for this week, they could bask in the sun, snorkel in the ocean, make love on the beach and forget about their careers.
Still attracting attention, Conrad shot her a grin as he worked his way around a group of sunbathers dotting his path. She smiled back, absently rubbing the new silver band on her left ring finger.
Looking down at the book in her lap, she carefully reread a line of prose Emily Brontë had written more than a century before.
Whatever our souls are made of,
his and mine are the same.
Raising her head, Julia felt a warm ripple of familiarity when her gaze locked with Con’s.
He’s mine, she thought. All mine.
About the Author
Misty lives in a small town along the Mississippi River with her husband Mark, her twin sons Sam and Ben, and her big dog Max. She has been writing fiction for six years and has taught creative writing classes at the local YWCA. A member of several writing organizations, she is the publicity chair for the Mystery and Suspense Writers Chapter of RWA and blogs twice a month at Shades of Suspense blogspot (www.romanticsuspense.blogspot.com). To learn more about Misty, please visit www.readmistyevans.com. Send an email to Misty at misty@readmistyevans.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Misty. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MistyEvansSuspense.
Look for these titles by Misty Evans
Now Available:
Operation Sheba
Doing whatever it takes could get them both killed.
Living Lies
© 2008 Dawn Brown
Twelve years after her sister’s disappearance, Haley Carling spends her days trying to hold what’s left of her family together, running her late father’s shop and caring for her alcoholic mother. Then her sister’s remains are uncovered in the basement of their old home, and fingers start pointing. At the Carlings.
Dean Lawson, long the prime suspect in the Carling girl’s disappearance, is sure he’s got evidence proving who the killer is. He’s determined to clear his name, and he won’t let anything stand in his way. Not even his lingering attraction to Haley.
Haley is just as determined to protect her family from the former town bad boy’s accusations. But now someone is stalking her, and Haley realizes Dean’s the only one she can trust.
With a killer closing in, Dean wonders if he’s made the biggest mistake of his life…a mistake that could cost Haley her life.
Warning: This title contains a mystery to keep you turning the pages late into the night.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Living Lies:
The Mountainview Motel was neither on a mountain nor did it offer a view of one, as the name implied. Little more than a row of shabby rooms slightly north of town, Haley was surprised the place managed to remain open. As she drove into the lot, she spotted Dean’s car parked in front of one of the rooms and pulled up next to it. What was she doing here, really? Hadn’t she had enough drama for one day? Maybe, but she needed to know why he was back. Why now?
With a sigh she opened the door and stepped out into the cold. The walk running the length of the motel had been shoveled, exposing weathered wood planks. She crossed to his door and knocked loudly before she changed her mind.
After a moment, the door swung back and Dean filled the opening. He didn’t look at all surprised to see her. Al had probably called to warn him after she’d left.
She could understand how she hadn’t recognized him. The boyishness had left his face, making his features sharper, almost predatory and, if at all possible, more attractive. Even his body seemed harder and leaner than she remembered.
Her heart rate quickened, and something fluttered in her stomach. Could he really have killed Michelle?
Killer or not, she would have to say something soon. She couldn’t just stand there staring like a twit all day.
“I didn’t recognize you earlier,” she said. Better than silence, but only marginally
.
Dean leaned casually against the frame. “I figured.”
“Erin recognized you.” She should have stuck with silence.
“What do you want, Haley?” His voice was deep and quiet.
“Why are you here?”
He sighed and moved aside. “Do you want to come in?”
She hesitated. If she went inside that room, would anyone ever see her again? Allister was the only person who knew where she was and she didn’t have a whole lot of faith he’d come to her rescue if she needed him to.
“People know where I am,” she said at last.
Dean smirked, but said nothing as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“Nice place you have here, Matthew Clarke,” she said, taking in the faded beige wallpaper and gold shag carpet. An ugly oil painting of a gnarly sea captain hung over the sagging double bed.
“I wanted to keep a low profile.”
“I thought you would have stayed with Al.”
“Have you seen Al’s apartment?” A faint smile touched his lips. “This place is a palace.”
He had a point. She had seen Al’s apartment once and had gone straight home and showered.
“Sit down,” he offered, gesturing to the only chair in the room. As she pulled it away from the desk, she noticed a thick envelope and file folder with bits of paper curling around the edge stacked neatly in the top corner. She would have loved to go through those pages. To see just what Dean studied on alone in a grubby motel room.
“So,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“Maybe I just wanted to pay my respects.” He sat on the corner of the bed, his eyes bright and his mouth still twisted in that slightly mocking smirk.
“By lurking in the parking lot?”
The grin vanished. “I wasn’t in the parking lot the whole time. I watched the service from the door. When I saw you get up and start to leave I decided to go.”
“You came back for the memorial?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
“Or maybe you’re worried there’s something to link you to Michelle after all.”
A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw. “Is that what you think?”
I don’t know what to think, and you’re not giving anything away. “I don’t think you came back here just to watch Michelle’s memorial from an open door. So why not tell me what you’re really doing here?”
“What do you want me to say, Haley? That I did it? That I killed her?”
“Did you?”
“If I did, it wasn’t too smart to come looking for me now, was it?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge, jagged, like a serrated blade.
A tiny ember ignited within her. A slow fury growing hotter and brighter each time he spoke. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said on a sigh, suddenly sounding very tired. “No, I’m not.”
“Why are you here?” she asked again.
“I’m not ready to tell anyone yet, but when I am, I’ll tell you first.”
“That’s it? That’s the best you can do?”
He nodded.
“Well, sorry, not good enough. Tell me why you’re back. I’m not going anywhere until you talk.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “I was thinking about ordering dinner. Pizza or Chinese?”
“This isn’t a joke, Dean. My sister is dead.”
“I know. And I will tell you why I’ve come back, but not yet. I need to be sure of some things first.”
“Fine. You have until tomorrow. If I don’t get some answers before the end of the day, there isn’t a person in this town who won’t know you’re here.”
Haley stood and strode out the door, suppressing a smile at the sight of his stony stare.
As she marched to the wreck parked next to his car, Dean stood in the open doorway, half shocked, half irritated, shaking his head.
She’d threatened him.
It took her three tries to get her heap started, taking a little something away from her dramatic exit. But not much. As he closed the door, he could hardly believe it. Quiet little Haley, who used to watch him with those amazing eyes so long ago, had threatened him. And he didn’t doubt for a second that she meant what she said. To think, he actually felt sorry for her for a second there.
He would have to get things done tonight. That was probably better anyway. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get the hell out of this town.
When a member of the CIA’s premiere counter-terrorism unit discovers the woman he loves is a suspected terrorist, he’ll go to any lengths to uncover the truth.
Long Road Home
© 2007 Sharon Long
Jules Trehan disappeared without a trace three years ago much to the dismay of her parents and Manuel Ramirez. A counter-terrorism specialist, Manny has utilized every agency resource in his attempt to discover what happened to Jules, to no avail.
As suddenly as she disappeared, Jules reappears in a small Colorado town. Injured in an explosion, she’s hospitalized, and Manny rushes to her side, determined not to ever let her go again.
But Jules has one last job to do or Manny’s life will be forfeit. A mission she must complete, even if it means betraying the only man she’s ever loved.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Long Road Home:
Jules stared out her window, the miles passing in a blur. To Manny she probably appeared as though she were resting, unaware of where they were going, but she was paying attention to every detail of the landscape. She hadn’t seen a sign in miles, but the location of the sinking sun told her they were headed south and slightly east. Likely into New Mexico or West Texas.
“If you want to know where we’re going, all you have to do is ask,” Manny said dryly.
She twisted in her seat, surprised once again at his perception. “Where are we going?”
“New Mexico.” He didn’t offer more and didn’t look over at her though she was staring hard at him.
She sank lower in the seat, gingerly drawing her knees up to her chest. Her fingers stroked the duffle bag at her side, drawing assurance from the outline of the gun there. If anyone found her and Manny, at least she’d have a way to defend them.
A sharp pain twisted through her chest and robbed her of breath. She sucked in air, determined not to panic as the scenery blurred before her. Damn, her ribs were on fire. She reclined the seat in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in her midsection.
The pain eased as she stretched out, and her breathing evened. She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, the thudding of her pulse pounding incessantly against her fingertips.
“Speak to me, Jules. What’s wrong? Do I need to get you back to the hospital?” Manny’s concerned voice seared through her haze of pain.
“No,” she said faintly. “I’m all right. Really.”
“Where are you, baby? Because you’re miles away from here right now.”
She cringed, not wanting to voice what she had been thinking. It sounded pathetic and defeatist. But she blurted it out anyway. “I was thinking it should have been me who died. Not Mom and Pop.”
To her surprise, he slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder. He turned on her, his eyes blazing in the faint light offered by the headlights. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that,” he said fiercely. “I thought I lost you, Jules. For three long years I lived with the awful reality you might not be coming home. And then I found you. Don’t you dare wish you had died, because I’ve spent the last three years praying you were alive.”
Before she could respond, he put his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to meet his lips. Her mouth opened in surprise, and his tongue darted forward, gently probing her lips.
It was everything she had ever dreamed it would be. For a moment, she was in high school again, dressing for the prom, depressed because the one guy she wanted to take was eight years older and already out of college. She had closed her eyes and imagined it wa
s Manny kissing her when her date had delivered her to the door with the prerequisite peck on the lips.
He was exquisitely gentle, his lips moving so softly across hers, reverently almost. His fingers worked slowly into her hair, kneading and stroking as he deepened his kiss.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. He pulled quickly away from her and ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “Christ, I’m sorry, Jules. You don’t need that right now.”
She stared at him in shock. With a trembling hand, she raised her fingers and touched her slightly swollen lips.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded. He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He allowed her hand to slide from his, and she took it back, cradling it with her other hand. What was she supposed to say? She was so damn confused, she doubted she could recall her own name at the moment. For that matter, she really had no idea what her real name was. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose quickly in her throat, and she fought to choke it back.
Manny swore softly then pulled back onto the highway. “Get some sleep, Jules. If you don’t, I swear, I’ll call Tony and have you transferred to the hospital we’d planned. It’s what I should’ve done in the first place.”
“Who the hell is Tony anyway?” she grumbled as she lay back against the leather seat. She shivered slightly, and Manny reached over to turn up the heat.
“Tony is my partner.”
“Partner in what? Somehow I doubt you’re still in the computer software business.” He looked far too dangerous to be a computer nerd. She had never been able to reconcile his image with his profession.
“Rest,” he said in a warning tone. “We’ll talk when we get there.”
“Wherever there is,” she said in exasperation.
He smiled.
“What’s so funny?”