by Cindy Dees
She’d been left at home to wait and worry and raise her son as a single parent. To dodge the difficult questions about who and where his father was when Adam got old enough to start asking. It hadn’t been easy keeping her act together, and for the first time, she admitted to herself that she’d hated Nick a little for it.
In fact, she still hated him a little for it. She knew intellectually that he’d been through no picnic himself. That five years of captivity had nearly broken him mentally, physically, and spiritually. Maybe she just wanted a little acknowledgement from him that she hadn’t had an easy path to walk, either.
She was being selfish. Immature. Downright stupid. But she was also too exhausted to keep up the Super Mommy façade any longer. She wanted Adam back, and she wanted all this crap from Nick’s past to go away and leave her and the kids alone. Was that too much to ask? Was that selfish of her? Maybe. But she couldn’t help it. That was how she felt.
Finally, as physical and mental exhaustion claimed her, she crawled into the big bed in their room. Nick joined her in tense silence. Thankfully there was little chance of a repeat slip between them like earlier.
She lay in the dark for long hours beside him, listening to his deep, even breathing. And everywhere her thoughts turned, she only ran into questions and more questions. Thing was, she was an answer kind of gal. If she didn’t start getting some of those soon, her head was going to explode.
“Why don’t you two crazy kids go out for breakfast?”
Nick glanced up at Agent Morris and smiled. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I think Laura and I would rather get straight to work finding our son.”
“The FBI’s doing everything in its power to find Adam. We’re not exactly schlubs when it comes to that kind of thing, you know.”
Nick answered smoothly, “And we appreciate all your efforts. But we can’t help using all of our personal resources as well.”
Morris nodded in commiseration. “If it were my son, I’d be doing the same thing. Do you need me to keep an eye on Ellie while you two run around this morning?”
“Actually, that would be incredibly helpful.”
“All right, then. I’ll hold down the fort here.”
Laura emerged from the bedroom just then and Nick glanced up at her cautiously. He didn’t blame her for being in a volatile emotional state, but frankly, he didn’t have any idea what to expect from her this morning.
Frustration scored across his skin like the tines of a fork—sharp enough to hurt, but too dull to make a nice, clean cut. He was not accustomed to feeling so damned helpless. Even when he’d been at the complete mercy of his captors, he’d never succumbed to the ever-creeping sense of helplessness. He’d controlled his own schedule, tracked weather patterns, exercised, and engaged in any number of mental activities to stay sane. At least until he got so debilitated that he couldn’t do it anymore. But that had only been near the end. Not long before Laura and her friends rescued him. All else aside, he’d always be grateful to her for that.
“How did you sleep?” he murmured to her.
She shrugged. Which meant she hadn’t slept at all. He followed up with, “Come up with any new ideas while you were staring at the ceiling all night?”
“I’ve got to go to Langley this morning. I need to make sure the Agency delays the announcement about the trial like it said it would. And while I’m there, I’ll find out what they’ve got on your wife.”
Uh-oh. Meredith was “his wife” this morning. He winced and muttered, “I prefer not to think of her that way. She will be my ex-wife as quickly as my law firm can file divorce papers.”
Laura merely pressed her lips together as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Shall I drive you?” he asked in resignation.
“If you like.”
“Agent Morris has volunteered to babysit Ellie for us.”
Laura turned and thanked the FBI man warmly. Okay, then. So this morning’s chill was reserved for him. Nick sighed and stood up. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
The morning traffic had mostly thinned out by the time they reached the heavily wooded Rock Creek Parkway. In thick silence, he guided the nimble BMW along its winding curves. Without warning, the GPS screen mounted in the middle of the dashboard shattered, and his hands jerked on the steering wheel in shock.
“Shooter at six o’clock!” Laura bit out, turning in her seat while she fumbled at her purse.
No kidding. He stomped on the accelerator and glanced in his rearview mirror. Sure enough, a small round hole had appeared in his rear window, a spiderweb of cracks radiating outward from it. A silver sedan matched his acceleration behind them.
As soon as he spotted a break in the oncoming traffic, he ordered, “Hang on.”
Slamming on the brakes, he yanked the hard left on the steering wheel, came off the brakes, and floored the accelerator as the Beemer screeched around in a sharp one-eighty turn. His side window shattered, showering him with tiny chunks of tempered glass. He ducked, but grimly kept his foot on the gas. As tires screeched behind him, their car roared down the Rock Creek Parkway in the opposite direction.
The BMW wove in and out of traffic, startling drivers and leaving a trail of irritated horn honking in their wake. The good news was the frightened drivers had mostly been forced to brake hard to avoid his driving tactics, and in so doing made themselves an even more difficult obstacle course for their pursuers to wind through.
It took a few minutes of entirely reckless driving on his part, but eventually, Laura announced, “I think we’ve lost them. Time to get off this road.”
Nick took the next right turn slowly enough not to lay down any tire marks and accelerated down a side street in northwest D.C. Brick row houses flew past in a red blur. He turned a few more times, and eventually, eased off the accelerator. He guided the car west until they hit the Beltway and followed Laura’s instructions until an unobtrusive sign for CIA headquarters came into sight.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Nick said, “But did someone just try to kill us?”
She replied dryly, “In my experience, when someone’s shooting a gun at you, they generally want you dead, yes.”
He grinned reluctantly.
“You just missed the turn!” Laura exclaimed.
“Think about it. No one tried to kill us until you called the CIA and told them Meredith is a Russian agent. Doesn’t the timing of this morning’s attack make you a little suspicious? You wanted to know if the CIA’s involved with her? I think you just got your answer. Either that, or there’s a leak inside your precious agency, and Meredith and AbaCo’s goons found out we’re on to them.” And wasn’t that a hell of a choice? Meredith was either a double agent herself or working with one inside the CIA.
Laura stared across the damaged car at him in dismay. “If it’s someone in the CIA, we’ve got to get off the road. Hide. They’ll order the FBI to find us. And that bunch has massive resources for tracking fugitives.” Her voice dropped into a tone of horror. “Ohmigosh. We’ve got to get Ellie. Now.”
His heart began to pound. No. God, no. Not his baby girl, too.
Nick yanked out his cell phone. “Agent Morris, listen to me. You’ve got to get out of there. Fast. Someone just tried to kill us. Head back to the estate and we’ll meet you there. And don’t take new orders from anyone else. I’ll explain when you get to the house. Got it?”
“Did he agree to do it?” Laura asked tightly when Nick disconnected.
“Yes.”
She sagged in her seat, her face gray. She looked as close to breaking as he’d seen her since this whole mess started.
“Let’s go home,” he said quietly. He opted not to switch out his Beemer for a new car. It would take too much time. Right now, he just wanted to get them to the estate, surrounded by Laura’s state-of-the-art security system and a houseful of hopefully untainted FBI agents, and get Ellie back under their protection.
Laura nodded wearily as he pointed
the car south.
What had they stumbled into the middle of? How big was whatever conspiracy they’d uncovered? They knew for certain that someone in the CIA was in bed with AbaCo— Kloffman had confessed that to them. But did the Agency know AbaCo was being run by a Russian operative? Was the CIA being duped? Or was it using AbaCo with full knowledge of its shenanigans for the Agency’s own advantage?
From what they’d learned of Meredith to date, his best guess was that the woman was playing everyone against each other and raking in piles of profits in the meantime. The question was did everyone else know what she was doing? Were they all looking the other way because they needed her to do their dirty work? Or was there some sort of sinister conspiracy to protect her and the illegal shipping she would do for anyone?
How deep into the government did the complicity go? Did it reach beyond the CIA? Into the FBI even? Was the FBI legitimately trying to find their son? Or was the whole search for Adam nothing but smoke and mirrors, a ploy to shut them up while Uncle Sam covered its tracks?
This mess was slipping away from them. And Adam was going to end up caught in the cross fire. Sick certainty of it roiled in his gut.
For that matter, Laura was slipping away from him, too. Faster than the tide rolling out on the beloved beaches of his home. She doubted him. Doubted his honesty. Doubted his motives—both in Paris and now. Not that he blamed her. The circumstantial evidence didn’t look good for him. If only he could remember.
The doctors had told him that if his memories didn’t start to spontaneously return on their own within a few months of his release, they were probably gone for good. He’d thought that was just fine until this mess blew up in his face. Now, it was coming back to haunt him in a big way.
His son was gone. His daughter was possibly in the enemy’s hands. Laura hated him. His attorney had been murdered, and now someone had tried to kill him and Laura. It was as if a net had snared him, drawing tighter and tighter until he couldn’t move. And even knowing full well what was closing in around him, he couldn’t find a way out of the trap.
Mile by mile as he drove into Virginia, he felt Laura pulling away from him. The more time she had to think, the farther she withdrew. And there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. He didn’t remember what had happened between them in Paris or why; he had no explanations for her. And he refused to make up some glib lie. She deserved better than that from him.
Their life, their love, was unraveling before his eyes, slipping inexorably through his fingers. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch the falling threads. For the first time in his life, he felt truly helpless.
If only there were something she could do! This sitting and twiddling her thumbs, waiting around for some new development, was maddening to Laura. She needed some fact to uncover, some door to knock down—heck, someone to shoot.
Desperation was creeping up on her, choking her slowly but surely, and there was nothing she could do to hold it back. All of her avenues for finding Adam were drying up, and she didn’t know where to turn next. Even during the long years of Nick’s absence, she’d never felt this alone, this helpless, darn it. MysteryMom could use a dose of her own medicine. If only there was someone who could roll in and save her from this nightmare like she’d done for so many women before.
Her love for Nick had always been her rock, the touch-stone she returned to when everything else in her life went to pieces. But now, she didn’t have the slightest idea if it had ever been real. Had she built her life on a foundation of quicksand, after all?
She glanced over at him. He was staring ahead, his expression inscrutable. He was so beautiful to look at that it hurt, sometimes. And her son was a tiny carbon copy of the man. Adam reminded her so much of him that it was hard to separate her love for the two of them in her mind.
And now there was Ellie to add to the pie. She favored Laura a little more in her features, but she had Nick’s dark hair and shocking blue eyes.
What had she done to her children? How were they supposed to grow up with an enigmatic ghost for a father? Would he stick around to see them grow up, or would his dangerous world suck him away from them again, this time for good?
How was she supposed to survive if he left? Her whirling merry-go-round of thoughts screeched to a halt and stuck on that one. She might be furious at him for endangering their son, and she might be pushing him away for all she was worth right now, but she couldn’t fathom his complete absence.
What if he left? The hell of it was that, for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with an answer for that one. The idea of a life without Nick in it yawned before her as black and featureless as Nick’s lost past.
When Nick had been gone before, people kept telling her to carry on for the sake of her son. And they were right up to a point. Even now, she knew she had to carry on for Ellie. But even she had a breaking point. And she was becoming increasingly concerned that she was reaching it. For better or worse, she loved Nick too much to survive without him. Too much to let go of him.
The two of them were headed for a crash, and there wasn’t a darned thing she could do to stop this runaway train.
Chapter 12
Laura’s heart was heavy as Nick approached the estate from the back entrance. He parked the damaged BMW at the far end of the garage behind the SUV Marta usually used to go shopping and run errands, and she followed him silently into the house.
“Is Agent Morris back with Ellie?” she asked with a casualness she did not feel.
“Not yet, ma’am,” one of the FBI agents at the kitchen table answered.
“Any news?” she asked the men.
“No, ma’am. But Agent Blackledge wants to talk to the two of you.”
Laura caught Nick’s faint frown and matched the expression. They stepped into the library and Nick asked shortly, “What’s up?”
The FBI supervisor looked up from a computer. “I need you two to stay in closer touch with me. In fact, I’d prefer it if you stopped your gallivanting around altogether.”
Her warning instincts went on full alert, shouting frantically at her. They weren’t exactly out partying the nights away. They were trying to find their son. What was going on, here? She prevented herself from blurting the question sharply, but still asked, “Why?”
Blackledge’s gaze went opaque. Unreadable. Whatever he says next is going to be a lie. “We’re kicking the investigation into high gear and events are likely to move faster from here on out.”
“Does that mean you have new information you think will lead you to Adam?” Nick asked with a casual calm that was completely at odds with his keen, assessing gaze.
“We have resources well beyond what I can share with you,” the FBI man answered with false warmth. “I’m sure you understand.”
Okay, her warning instincts were screaming at her, now. First, the attack on them in Washington, and now this sudden evasiveness from the FBI agent in charge of Adam’s recovery? She was dead certain the two were related. How deep into the U.S. government did AbaCo’s tentacles reach?
She risked a look at Nick. A pleasant smile was pasted on his face, but he’d gone faintly pale. A person had to know him well to spot it, but he was as freaked out as she was. Not good. Very, very not good.
“Honey, I’m a little dizzy. Do you think you could help me upstairs?” she said wanly. “I think I need to lie down.”
Nick, ever quick on the uptake, took her elbow solicitously. “You haven’t been resting enough, darling. I know you’re panicked, but you have to trust Agent Blackledge and his men. They’re doing all they can. And if anybody can find Adam, it’s the FBI.”
He led her slowly from the room. As she left, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Blackledge’s turned back. His shoulders had come down from around his ears. Good. He’d bought their act.
When the bedroom door closed behind them, Nick opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him quickly to silence. He nodded, his expression grim. Instead,
she said, “Do you think you could get a cold cloth for my forehead, and maybe some aspirin? I’m starting to develop a terrible headache.”
He headed for the bathroom while she went to her closet and opened the safe there. It contained, in addition to the usual jewelry and back-up copies of important personal documents, an array of paraphernalia from her days as a spy. She pulled out a sensitive electronic scanner and checked their room in minute detail for any sign of bugs or cameras.
It was clean. She nodded at Nick. “As long as we keep our voices down, we can speak freely.”
Nick blurted under his breath, “What the hell’s going on with Blackledge? Why the sudden stonewalling?”
“I’m afraid you were right earlier. My call to the CIA about Meredith and AbaCo has upset someone. A lot. Enough to reach into the FBI to mess with the investigation of Adam’s kidnapping.”
Nick spoke thoughtfully, “I don’t think Blackledge was involved in it before. He was legitimately trying to find Adam until this morning. I think this interference comes from above his pay grade.”
“I have to agree with you.”
“That means we can pretty much kiss off getting any significant help from the U.S. government from here on out with finding Adam. We’re on our own.”
The sense of isolation she’d been feeling before slammed into her even more forcefully. Tears, hot and infuriating because she had no time for them, filled her eyes. She swore at herself under her breath.
Nick was there in an instant, his arms strong around her. “We’ll figure this out together. We’re both smart and experienced at these sort of games. Besides, I promised Adam I’d keep him safe from the bad man.”
“I’m not so sure the bad man has him,” Laura mumbled against his chest.
