by Pat White
“What do you want from me, Annie?”
“I want you to be honest. I want you to let go.”
“Meaning what? You want me to bare my heart and soul to you?” He tossed the log beside the fireplace. “You want me to describe in graphic detail how my father beat us and bought off the local cops whenever they came around?”
He stormed to the table and gripped the edges with shaky fingers. “I had to control myself to keep from giving him the satisfaction. Each time he hit me, belittled me for being stupid, I sucked it in and didn’t show an ounce of emotion.”
“But you felt it.”
“I don’t feel anything. Just like him.”
“Is that right?” Anger coiled in her gut.
“Face it, you fell in love with a heartless bastard before the accident.”
“That’s not who I’m in love with now.”
He spun around. “Don’t say that.”
“What? That I love you?”
“Don’t. You couldn’t possibly love me.”
“Why not?”
“Because, all right?”
“Let it go.”
“Damn it, stop saying that!” he cried, flipping over the kitchen table. The backpack and bags of supplies crashed to the floor.
It was a good start.
“I hate the bastard!” He kicked at the table, then reached for the chair and tossed it across the room. It crashed against the wall and fell on its side. “I don’t want the old man’s damn legacy!”
“He’s a son of a bitch!” she encouraged, snatching a pillow from the double bed.
“I never wanted to be like him!” He pounded his fists against the wall. She tossed the pillow at him and he swung at it, sending feathers shooting across the room. Some clung to his hair.
“I wanted…” He threw the pillow to the bed and punched it dead center. Again. And again.
“You wanted what?”
“I wanted them—” he continued punching “—to love me.”
He pushed away from the bed and slid to the floor, the deflated pillow clutched between his fingers.
She sat cross-legged next to him. Feathers dotted his hair; his cheeks were flushed red, either from anger or embarrassment.
But she was sure of one thing. She’d proven her point: letting go was a completely healthy experience, not a violent one that would hurt someone he loved.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“Confused.”
“Why?” She plucked a white feather from his hair.
“Because all I can think about right now is making love to you.”
Her breath caught at the need in his eyes.
“Why does that confuse you?”
“Look at what I just did. I lost it, I trashed the place, I—”
“You peeled away some of that crud around your heart. You needed to do that.”
He glanced into the burning embers, the flames dancing in the reflection of his eyes. She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingertips. He blinked and looked at her, his green eyes tinged with confusion yet brimming with desire.
“Now there’s room in your heart for me.” She brushed her lips against his, then guided his cheek to her chest. His arms naturally wrapped around her midsection.
This felt right and safe. And real.
“Thanks,” he said.
She stroked his hair. “Sure.”
With one last kiss to her cheek, he stood and extended his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, their bodies close, on fire.
“How about some coffee?” he said.
“I’ll make it.” She broke contact, needing some space to catch her breath.
She loved him. And she was pretty sure he loved her.
“You don’t know how to make coffee,” he said.
“Wanna bet?”
Digging through the box of supplies, she found a metal tin of instant coffee. She slipped off the top, cool against her fingers.
A flash popped in her brain like a strobe light. The can should be empty. Something inside. Heart racing. Couldn’t be caught.
“Oh, my God!”
Chapter Twelve
Sean gripped her shoulders. Damn, was she going to pass out again? Had the medical team given him the wrong advice by having her up her dosage of medication?
“Annie?” he said. “What is it?”
She emptied the contents of the tin onto the table. “It was empty. I put something inside. About an inch long, some kind of mini hard drive, I think.”
“Okay, sit down, breathe.” He needed her to remember and figure out who Raymond was, who Sean was. His heart skipped with panic. No, it was okay now. She knew it all, yet still loved him. He could feel it.
She pulled out her journal and scribbled notes. This could do it. If she remembered where she had hidden the formula, they could get it to the proper authorities. Once the formula was in the government’s hands, she’d be safe.
He paced to the window. But where did that leave his case? He had nothing on Raymond Phelps unless he could link him to the formula. Somehow that didn’t mean as much as keeping Annie safe.
That was a first, he admitted, staring outside at the peaceful trees. Putting away the bad guys had been his driving force for the last ten years. Locking them up, making sure they couldn’t hurt anyone.
He’d be damned if he’d let Phelps get within a hundred feet of Annie.
“Damn!” she cried, slamming the pen to the table.
“What’s wrong?” He massaged her shoulders.
“It’s making sense. I’m remembering what works and what doesn’t. But it’s like there’s this blind spot where something’s hidden. And it’s the weirdest thing…”
He guided her gaze to meet his. “What’s weird, sweetheart?”
“I think Mom’s got it.”
“What do you mean?”
She clutched the coffee tin. “Why would Mom have the formula? That makes no sense.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m losing my mind,” she muttered, placing the tin on the table. “Damn, it’s so close.”
“Annie?”
“What?”
“We’d better go see your mom.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“You need to remember it all. If your mom holds the key, then that’s where we’ll go.”
She nodded and hugged him with such abandon.
He wanted to stay this way forever, wrapped in her warmth.
She pushed away from him. “But it’s dangerous.”
“Not if we do it right. On our own. If we run into any trouble, I’ll handle it.”
“I’m going to see Mom. And the farm, I remember the farm. Pigs and horses and cats. We had tons of cats,” she said, stuffing clothes into the pack.
“We shouldn’t meet her there. We probably shouldn’t call her, either.”
“We could be waiting for her in one of the vacation homes she cleans. She does Millerstown homes on Tuesdays, I remember that. I used to go with her sometimes. She’d make up these silly songs…” her voice drifted off.
He held her in his arms. “You’ll see her soon. We’ll end this, nail the bad guys and you can go back home.”
He let go and headed for the door. “I’m going to do a once-over on the truck. The farmer who sold it to me said it guzzles oil.”
“Sean?”
He glanced at her.
“Thanks,” she said.
If she only knew how much he had to thank her for.
He closed the door and Annie stared at the worn oak. They were taking a big chance by going to see Mom.
He’d taken an even bigger one earlier. He’d given in to the pain, trusted her enough to let go and become completely vulnerable. He trusted her, maybe even loved her.
She scooped a pillow from the floor and tossed it to the bed. She couldn’t stand the thought of Sean doing this alone and risking his life to protect her. She’d found love, joined with a man who completed her. She wasn’t
about to lose him. And as a fugitive, Annie was putting Mom in danger, as well.
They needed help, but Sean said he couldn’t trust the FBI. There had to be someone who could help, someone powerful and trustworthy.
She spied Sean’s cell phone on the kitchen table. “Of course,” she whispered.
THE DRIVE TO Millerstown was the longest three hours of her life. They waited in the musty basement of the Pinewood Cabin, the place Mom kept her supplies, and her first stop every Tuesday morning.
Sitting on the cellar steps, she remembered the first time her mother had brought her here when she was seven. Annie was fascinated with the old library hidden in the basement, filled with books about so many interesting things: cell structure, protists, the animal kingdom. Her choice of subject matter was evidence that Annie was different, smarter than the average seven-year-old.
Sean paced the damp cellar floor. Somewhere between the cabin and Millerstown, he’d transformed from generous lover into hardened FBI agent. They’d situated themselves in the cellar last night, waiting for her mom to show up this morning. All night long he’d rattled off backup plans and more backup plans. He was ready for anything. And so was she. She’d dig her way out of this mess without putting Sean’s life in danger. Her plan was under way, as well.
He paused and gripped the railing to the stairs. “Remember, I should talk to her first. She thinks you’re dead. You sure she’ll even come down here?”
“She has to.” She pointed to a bucket of supplies beneath the utility sink.
He started pacing again, raking his hand through his hair.
“Relax, everything will be fine,” she said.
“How can you be so calm? You know what they’re capable of. They won’t stop until they’ve got what they want.”
“Well, they don’t know we’re here, do they?”
The sound of the door opening upstairs made him freeze in midstep. He put his index finger to his lips and motioned for her to join him beneath the stairs.
She held her breath, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. How long had it been since she’d seen Mom?
The cellar door opened and the old wood steps creaked with the pressure of footsteps. Annie’s eyes burned as she stared through the wooden slats, recognizing her mother’s white, crepe-soled shoes as they descended.
Sean stepped into view. “Mrs. Price.”
She screamed.
Annie could see Sean, but the wooden railing blocked her mom.
“What are you doing here?” Mom said, breathless.
“I need to talk to you about Annie.”
“I don’t understand.”
Annie couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped out from the stairs. “Mama?”
The older woman blinked twice and reached for the support beam to steady herself. “I’ve lost my mind.”
“It’s really me.” Annie walked slowly to her mom.
“Annabelle? But how?”
“I’m alive, Mama.” She reached out her hand.
“If I touch ya, will ya disappear?”
“No, Mama.” She read the shock in her mother’s eyes, the disbelief. “I missed you.” She touched her mother’s sweater.
Margaret Price’s legs wobbled and Sean caught her. “Hold on there. Come on, you’d better sit a minute.”
He guided her to the stairs and motioned for Annie. She sat beside her mother and brushed a wisp of graying hair from her forehead.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven. That’s what this is,” she said. “Must have taken a tumble down these old steps and broke my neck.”
“It’s really me. I’m okay. I’m alive. You’re fine. We’re all fine.” She glanced at Sean.
He nodded and walked over to the half window that looked out onto the street. “Is this place rented out, Mrs. Price?”
“No, sir. Not until Friday.”
“So we’re safe, for now.”
She stared into her mom’s clear blue eyes, so like her own. “Everything’s going to be okay,” Annie said. “Sean will make sure everything is okay.”
She gave her mom a hug, inhaling the scent of talcum that she knew so well. Her mom hugged her back, tentatively at first, then squeezed, as she had when Annie was a child. Tears watered her eyes.
Annie broke the embrace and smiled.
“You’re really here,” Mama said. “But, how can this be?” Mama’s eyes darted from Annie to Sean and back again.
“It’s complicated and I’m still in danger,” Annie said. “Bad men are after my research. After the car accident, the FBI kept me hidden. They didn’t want the bad men to get me.”
“But you didn’t tell me—”
“I was unconscious for a long time. Then I woke up and didn’t remember anything. Except the sound of your voice.”
They hugged and Annie fought off a flood of tears that threatened to escape. “Mama, I love you.”
Sean glanced out the window, cataloging the Jeep and maroon Buick parked across the street. He felt like an intruder, listening to sobs of joy of a reunion between mother and child. A reunion he’d never experience.
He closed his eyes on the jagged pain. His mother may not have been able to defend him against the tyrant of a father, but she was still his mother. And she didn’t deserve to die at fifty-one.
“How’s Crystal?” Annie asked her mom.
“She’s got a new job.”
“No!” Annie said in disbelief.
“As a computer salesman, I mean woman. She flies all over the country.”
As they caught up and as each minute passed, Sean realized how foreign this was to him: family, friends, neighbors who cared about one another. His upbringing had consisted of running and hiding, of making up excuses for teachers but wanting them to guess the real reason he could barely move his arm or the real cause of his black eye.
“And Aunt Jo has taken up in-line skating,” Mrs. Price said.
“She’s got to be seventy!”
“Seventy-seven,” Mrs. Price confirmed.
He didn’t belong here with Annie and her sweet mom. He was a beaten dog, trained to be mean. Annie could make him punch as many pillows as she wanted, but it wouldn’t change the fact that sooner or later Sean would lose it and attack, like his father.
“I’ve still got that tea you sent me from London,” Mrs. Price said.
“What tea?” Annie questioned.
“The tin of Earl Grey you sent about two weeks before the accident. You told me to save it for your next visit because it’s your favorite. I didn’t think you liked tea.”
Sean looked at Annie. A puzzled expression creased her brow.
“Annie?”
“I don’t like tea, do I?”
“You never drank it around me,” he said.
“You couldn’t stand the stuff,” Mrs. Price said. “Ever since you stayed with Aunt Jo when you were ten and had the flu. Jo, bless her heart, pumped you full of some homemade tea concoction. You wouldn’t go near the stuff after that.”
“The tin of tea.” Annie stood. “That’s it! I remember taking the tea bags out—” she mimed the action with her hands “—I slipped a mini hard drive into it.” She looked at Sean. “The hard drive must have the formula.”
And, he hoped, the accidental recording she’d made of Raymond’s plans to release a Level Four virus. Annie didn’t understand why he would do that. But Sean did. Raymond planned to drive up the price of the vaccine by releasing the unknown virus.
He’d explained that to Annie that cold February night, but she wouldn’t believe him. That’s when he spilled the whole truth: he was FBI assigned to expose Raymond any way he could, even if that meant using Annie’s feelings to get close to Raymond. Even worse, Raymond had ordered Sean to kill her.
“So, it’s almost over,” she sighed.
It was almost over. This case, their love. He knew once she remembered it all, she’d want no part of him.
And that’s as it should be. She’d go home with her m
om, settle back in with family and friends in her small farm community and surround herself with people who cared about her.
And he’d get back to business finding a new mark to punish.
“We’re going to be okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He glanced at her mom, whose disappointed expression didn’t surprise him. She could see he was poison. Everyone could see it, except Annie.
“Hang on.” He broke the embrace. “We need to figure out how to get the tin without putting you or your mother in danger.”
“Let’s go get it.” She helped her mom to her feet.
“That definitely isn’t a good idea,” he said. “Your mom should go through her normal workday and go home. We don’t want to draw suspicion to her.”
“You think people are watching me?” Mrs. Price said.
“Yes, ma’am. I suggest you go about your business, and we’ll hook up tomorrow.”
She gave him the location of her first job. She hugged Annie one more time.
“I love you, Mama,” she whispered.
They held each other for another minute, and then her mom started up the stairs.
The door swung open and Hatch grabbed her, shoving a pistol into her rib cage. “Hello there!”
“Mama!” Annie cried, racing up the steps.
“Annie, no!” Sean called out.
“Stay back,” Hatch threatened.
Sean dug his fingers into the stair railing. This was his fault. He hadn’t seen it coming. But how?
Another figure stepped into the doorway. Hell. Agent Jackson.
“So, the perfect agent MacNeil really screwed up this time,” Jackson said with a smirk.
“Let her go!” Annie said.
“Zip it,” Hatch ordered.
Sean analyzed his options. They didn’t look good.
“What are you thinking, smart guy?” Hatch said, pulling Annie’s mom closer. “You wouldn’t be thinking about escaping this little mess you made, would you?”
Sean clenched his fist.
“Now, what should we do with all of you?” Hatch said. “All I really need is the brainy lady there.”
“Let them go,” a voice said from behind Hatch.
Hatch did as ordered and raised his hands. Jackson did the same. They moved out of view and another form filled the doorway.
