Slaying the Dragon (Deception Duet #2)

by T. K. Leigh

  He opened his mouth, but must have noticed something in the distance. Moving swiftly, he covered my mouth with his hand and lifted me up. I struggled against him, my screams muffled as he placed me in the back seat. He slammed the door and ran around to the driver’s side, the entire time my mind racing as I attempted to open the door…to no avail.

  Once he was situated, he turned around to face me. “I’m not following you,” he said finally, insinuating someone was following me. His expression was soft and compassionate, making him look…human, and not like some former military guy with a stick permanently shoved up his ass.

  “Then who is? The guy in the dark sedan that’s been parked outside my condo building the past few nights?”

  “You mean him?” He gestured up the street and my spine stiffened. I watched the dark sedan pull up next to Brayden’s car, the sole occupant getting out. He peered into the SUV, circled it, then paused briefly before looking beneath it.

  “Who is he?” I asked, my voice soft as I observed him scanning the area for what I assumed was my location. He fished his phone out of his pocket and made a call. After a brief exchange, he got back into his car and peeled out of the gas station. As he drove by, I crouched in my seat, trying to hide.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Wyatt said, “but I’m treating him as a potential threat to your safety.”

  “Taking your new position a bit seriously, aren’t you? Or did Paul not tell you that your job was to simply look out for anything suspicious occurring in the building, not follow me to see my friend.” I climbed into the passenger seat, hoping the childproof locks were only installed in the back. As I was about to open the door, a strong, calloused hand clutched my arm and I was once again facing Wyatt’s concerned gray eyes.

  “That’s not my real job,” he admitted through clenched teeth.

  “Then what is?” I hissed.

  “That’s confidential, ma’am.” He released his hold on me. “All you need to know is it’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you.”

  I raised my eyebrows in a somewhat contemptuous manner. For years, I put up with vague declarations that I was in need of protection. I still didn’t really know from what.

  “I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven!” I shouted. “Nothing’s happened to me yet. I’d appreciate it if people would finally be honest with me and tell me what the hell is really going on. Are you willing to do that?”

  “Miss Delano…,” he began, his eyes still stern. I knew there was no way I was going to get any information out of him. My guess was he would carry any secret to his death before putting his job in jeopardy. I knew his type. I fell in love with his type…twice.

  I threw open the door and walked at a fast clip back toward the gas station.

  “If you get in that car,” he shouted after me, “you’ll lead whomever it is straight to your father. Is that something you’re willing to do?”

  My breath hitched and I stopped in my tracks, slowly turning around to face him. I craned my neck to stare at him, my mouth agape in shock.

  “I told you,” he said. “It’s my job to protect you. I can only do that if I know everything about you, including who I need to protect you from.”

  “You mean…my father?” I asked in a muted voice, almost too scared to hear his response. I raised my eyes to his and he exhaled, shaking his head.

  “No. I don’t think he’s a threat to you.”

  The way he said it made me think he still considered my father a threat. I tore my gaze from his, not saying anything in response.

  “Or should I be concerned?”

  “No. My father would never hurt me.” He nodded his head. “Or anyone else, for that matter,” I added, my eyes fierce.

  “Like the sixty-plus people he’s accused of killing all those years ago at the embassy in Liberia?” he asked. I could feel the burn of his eyes on me.

  “How do you know about that?” I glanced at him, lowering my voice. “How do you know who I am?”

  “I told you. It’s my job to know everything about you, including who you really are.”

  “So you can know everything about me, but I’m not allowed to even know who you’re working for? You want to protect me from some unknown threat? Trust is a two-way street, Wyatt,” I sneered. “How do I know this isn’t some sort of sick, twisted joke?”

  I spun on my heels, my irritation loud and clear.

  “Did you know Tyler refused to go back to his house after you ran from him?” he shouted.

  Stopping abruptly, I inhaled quickly, my eyes growing wide as I turned to look over my shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hissed.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, taking slow steps toward me. He stood in front of me, his expression soft. “It was the last Sunday in March. It was foggy in the morning, but it cleared later so when you got into that cab, it was a picture perfect day. But not for Tyler. That was the day he stopped living.”

  “How do you–”

  “That was also the day he found out his own life could be in danger. You see, his brother realized Tyler knew where your father was. I’ve known Alexander for longer than I care to admit.”

  I rolled my eyes at the mention of that name, my animosity toward Tyler’s brother obvious.

  “You may not like some of his decisions, but his main concern has always been his family. Watching out for them. Protecting them.”

  “So…what? He was an ass to me to make me want to walk out on his brother? To protect him from me?”

  “No. Truth be told, until you get to know him, Alexander can be a bit of a cold person.”

  “His behavior was normal?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But your presence certainly took him by surprise. When it all went to hell, he needed to do something to regain control over the situation and protect his brother.”

  “So he sent him away?”

  He nodded. “Tyler didn’t want to go, but he reluctantly agreed after making Alexander promise you’d be safe from harm, as well.”

  I absorbed what Wyatt was telling me. Being angry at Tyler for disappearing was so much easier when I thought he simply used me, then abandoned me, despite what his mother had told me. Now that I knew he was ordered to leave, that he did everything to ensure my safety, it softened my resentment.

  “When will he be back? And why hasn’t he picked up the phone?”

  Wyatt’s expression hardened once more. “It’s not my place to say, ma’am. However, you should know that Mr. Burnham considers your safety to be a top priority.”

  “What does he know?” I asked, placing a hand on my stomach. An uneasy feeling washed over me at the prospect that Wyatt had been working for Alexander and was communicating with him about me.

  “Only what is necessary to successfully complete the assignment, nothing more, ma’am. And nothing of a personal nature,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  “It’s not my place, ma’am.”

  I nodded and fidgeted a bit, uncomfortable about the heavy silence. “Well,” I said, clearing the air. “I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  “Right,” he replied, escorting me up the block and back to the gas station. As if he knew precisely what he was looking for, he lowered himself to the ground and pulled a flashlight out of his pocket, shining it on the undercarriage of the SUV. “Just as I expected,” he commented, reaching underneath the car. After a few seconds, he raised himself.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “GPS tracker,” he said. “Government-issue, too. Identical to the one I pulled off your convertible this morning. It looks like our friend stuck it beneath Mr. Weller’s car so he could track your whereabouts.”

  “Government-issue?” I asked. I didn’t know what was worse…an unknown entity keeping tabs on me or a federal agent. “Why didn’t you remove it?”

  “Because if I keep the tracker on, I can lead him straight to me and find out
who he is and what he wants.”

  “Do you think he’s looking for my father, too?”

  “It would appear that way, wouldn’t it? Give me your keys. We’re switching cars,” he said, tossing his keys at me. I reached into my purse and handed him the keys to Brayden’s SUV. “You go do what you need to do, but I will check in every hour. Understand?”

  A million thoughts circling in my head about who the man in the sedan could possibly be, I remained in a daze as Wyatt walked me to his car and helped me into the driver’s seat. With each day that went by, my life was spiraling more and more out of control, ghosts of my past resurfacing. I feared it would only be a matter of time before it all came crumbling down on top of me.

  Mackenzie

  THE SUN WAS SWELTERING when I stepped out of the car several hours later and made my way across the church parking lot, past the main building, and proceeded up the familiar path to the rectory. It had to be over a hundred degrees, the white material of my dress sticking to my skin.

  As I approached, I tried to suppress my urge to turn around. I was apprehensive about seeing my father for the first time in over four months. So much had happened, I didn’t even know where to start. Between the drama with Charlie, Tyler’s deception, and the pregnancy, I had no idea how he was going to react. I prayed he would offer me some sort of guidance about what to do, like my mother would have if she were still alive.

  I knocked on the door, fanning myself. It was nearly five in the evening, but the rays of the sun were strong and practically unbearable. The door opened and I felt a momentary relief when a rush of cool air escaped the house. I expected a nun to answer, as was normally the case. Instead, I stared into Father Slattery’s tired eyes.

  “Good evening, Mackenzie.”

  “Father Slattery,” I said, nodding.

  He surveyed my appearance, his eyes settling on my stomach. Taking a timid step backwards, I pulled at the hem of my dress and stared at my feet. I didn’t know what to say. I thought about defending myself, but didn’t the church teach forgiveness, not judgment? I couldn’t really remember anymore.

  “When’s the last time you went to confession, Mackenzie?” he asked in the same pacifying voice that calmed me when I was younger.

  “It’s been a while, Father.” I shuffled my feet, staring off into the distance, feeling ashamed.

  “I suspected as much. Please, come in.”

  I shot my eyes to him. “But the mass for my mother… I need to–”

  “Some things are more important and can’t be handled during a mass,” he interrupted, almost trying to tell me something with the way he stared at me, his gaze narrowed. “Please, Mackenzie. Come in.” For the first time in nearly fifteen years, I cautiously stepped foot in the rectory.

  Being back here made my skin crawl with the memories I had struggled to forget over the years. It looked just as it did during the period of time my mother and I lived in a cramped room. Removed from the only life I had known. Forced into hiding. And why? I still had no definitive answers, only speculation.

  “This way, child,” Father Slattery instructed, heading down a long, dark hallway and stopping outside a large cherry wood door. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a key and unlocked it, pushing it open.

  I stepped into a spacious, dimly lit office, the smell of old books and wood finding its way to my senses. The walls were lined with shelves containing hundreds of hardbound books. In the center of the room sat a large desk, and several chairs were strewn throughout. The windows were covered with blackout curtains, although one was pulled back slightly, allowing a sliver of sunlight to filter into the room. Dust particles danced in the air and I smiled as a memory rushed forward.

  “What are those, Daddy?” I had asked my father when I couldn’t have been more than three or four.

  “Those are angels, mi bichito. They’re just here to check on you.”

  I still thought of my father and angels whenever I saw dust particles being illuminated by sunlight.

  The sound of the door shutting startled me and I jumped, spinning around to see that Father Slattery was no longer behind me, as I expected him to be. The door knob began to jiggle and I heard the click of a lock.

  My heart began racing. I had never questioned Father Slattery’s intentions before. He was the one who helped us escape North Carolina, after all. He put his reputation on the line and hid us in this very house for nearly two years. Now I wondered if there was more to it than that.

  “Serafina,” a voice cracked and I whirled around, my eyes falling on a familiar silhouette sitting in a reading chair by one of the large windows. Confused, I glanced over my shoulder at the locked door. “Please, come sit. There’s much to discuss.”

  I remained speechless, my voice nowhere to be found. Eyeing him guardedly, I hesitantly put one foot in front of the other and sat in the reading chair opposite him, noticing a tray of cheese and crackers set out on a table between us.

  “I’d ask if you’d like some wine,” he said in the husky voice that once lulled me to sleep, “but I suppose that question is not quite appropriate, is it?”

  I looked up, almost expecting to see a disappointed look on my father’s time-worn face, but that wasn’t the case at all. He actually looked genuinely happy, perhaps even proud of the woman I had become. For years, the only conversations I’d had with this man were when he’d sit behind me in church, not face-to-face, for fear someone would put the pieces together of who we both truly were. Now that we were in the same room and looking into each other’s eyes, I didn’t want this moment to end.

  My eyes scanned my father, trying to imprint everything about him to memory. His face showed signs of his age. His brilliant blue eyes no longer exuded the vitality I remembered growing up. Scars still covered the entire left side of his body, reminding me of the purpose of this visit. I wanted to know precisely how he1` got those burn marks, and whether his side of the story corroborated Charlie’s.

  “I see you got my letter.” He poured wine into one glass and water into another. “I’m sure you have a thousand questions.”

  “I–”

  “But,” he interrupted, “this works both ways. Full disclosure from this moment forward. I will tell you everything, Serafina. However, I expect reciprocity from you. I want you to understand where I’m coming from and why things have to be the way they are. But I need to know exactly what’s going on in your life. I need to know you’re okay, that you’ll be okay knowing the truth.”

  “Full disclosure?” I repeated, surveying him. I couldn’t help but wonder whether this was a double-edged sword. I had been waiting sixteen years to know who I really was, why my father had been hiding, and why the man I loved felt the need to use me to get information about my father. However, I feared learning the truth may change my perception of everything. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. I just prayed this wasn’t one of those situations.

  “Yes,” he reiterated. “No more secrets. No more lies. Just the truth from this moment forward, regardless of the consequences. You deserve that much.” He stared at me, catching my gaze, regret covering his demeanor. I wondered how difficult it must have been for him to keep his existence a secret from me for all those years. I didn’t know what to think, but I knew the only way to move forward was to learn to trust my father again. And the only way to do that was to finally learn the truth.

  “What about all the talk for years that it wasn’t safe for me to know?”

  He picked up the knife on the serving tray and sliced a piece of cheese, placing it on a cracker and handing it to me before preparing one for himself. “At the time, I thought that was true. However, things have been brought to my attention, making me think it’s no longer safe for you not to know.”

  “How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth? I’ve heard so many stories. I don’t know which way is up anymore.” I placed the cracker on the plate in front of me, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “I wish I had told you eve
rything years ago.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. “If I had, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult for you to trust me now, but there were reasons for it.”

  Straightening my spine, I strengthened my resolve. I went there for answers and I refused to let my apprehension get in the way of them.

  “The embassy fire?” I asked in an even tone.

  “Was not me.”

  “Then who was it? How come you left for Liberia right before it happened? It looks suspicious–”

  “Serafina,” he interrupted, “I joined the army the day I turned eighteen. I left my house and rode my bike thirteen miles to the nearest recruiting center. My parents didn’t want me to go into the army, or any branch, but I had wanted to be a Ranger as long as I could remember and nothing was going to stand in my way. I wanted that Ranger beret and I was lucky enough to spend many years wearing it. I love the army. I love my country. I devoted my life to protecting it, so much so that my superior officers noticed I had a knack for seeing things no one else could. Before I knew it, I was working in Army Counterintelligence. I was thrilled. But my ability to see things no one else could ended up being my downfall.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows. “How so?”

  “I started noticing patterns. Our weapons were being used against us. Our intel was being used against us. Someone on the inside was betraying their own country for profit. For months, maybe years, I tried to find out who, but I was always one step behind whomever it was. Then, one day, I thought I caught a lucky break. I unscrambled an encoded message confirming the U.S. Ambassador to Liberia would turn his head and allow a large stockpile of our weapons to disappear in trade for a substantial amount of diamonds.”

  “Blood diamonds?”

  “Most likely. The civil war in Sierra Leone was winding down, but there was still a great deal of corruption in the area, and Liberia borders Sierra Leone. I was permitted leave to go to Liberia to see if I could stop the arms deal, or at least find out who was behind it all, without causing an international incident. When I got there, I went to the embassy to speak to the ambassador about what was going on, but whoever was behind these deals, whoever the traitor was, beat me to it.”