by C. J. Miller
Difficult for him to explain why that was the next logical step for his career. He couldn’t work international operations for the rest of his life. His body would break down. The job required skills and physical acuity that would fade with age. Being a farmer was going home. He’d acquired a great deal of savings in his line of work. “When I’m finished in this line of work.”
“Finished being a bodyguard.” She let the word bodyguard hang in the air between them. He sensed what she was really asking, but he wasn’t ready to discuss it. He thought of Bianca, of her betrayal and the testimony he was giving against her. Trusting easily had never been in his repertoire, but on the heels of stinging disloyalty, it was especially difficult.
* * *
The three-story brick town house built in the 1800s had been restored and was the West Company’s remote office location in Washington, DC. Polished wood floors and sparkling white trim, the space wasn’t what Jack had expected. The house was a twist of historic and contemporary, fresh and inviting.
He had been in communication with Kelly St. John, his lawyer, over the last several months. She was wearing a navy blue skirt suit and greeted him cordially at the front door. Marissa was welcomed inside and escorted to the reception area.
“If you don’t mind waiting, we’ll be across the hall,” Kelly said, ushering Marissa into a room that smelled of fresh coffee and spices. A television was turned on to a national news station and the coffee table was covered with magazines and books.
“You don’t have to wait here. You could explore DC,” Jack said. “This is supposed to take anywhere from one to three days.”
Marissa shook her head and patted her bag. “I have my laptop. I have work to catch up on. But if I need to go out, I know how to call for backup. I want to be here in case you need me.”
Her last sentence wrapped around him and his uneasiness about this process lessened.
The West Company had arranged for another bodyguard to be available to protect Marissa, if she wanted to sightsee. She was sticking around for him. If Kelly thought their relationship was unusual, she didn’t indicate as such.
Kelly and Jack entered the room across the hall.
Two FBI agents, a contact from the CIA and a representative from the West Company were waiting in the meeting room. The long wood-topped table sat twelve. The fireplace was unlit, the sun from the front windows warming the room. Jack removed his suit jacket and placed it over the back of his chair.
“Is Bianca coming to the meeting?” he asked. Better to brace himself for impact and not leave the question looming over him.
No one answered. In the room filled with special operatives, no one was quick to volunteer information.
Kelly cleared her throat. “She will not. Her lawyer will be here this afternoon in her stead.”
Jack loosened his tie and unfastened the first button. This didn’t need to be an ordeal, but it would be.
More questions, more review of the information he had submitted. He was forced to relive the time he and Bianca were undercover. Each agency had their bases to cover and ultimately, Bianca’s fate would be known to few people outside the room. Jack wasn’t sure he would be told what exactly would happen to his former partner.
When they asked him questions he couldn’t answer, Jack told them as much. He hadn’t been aware that Bianca was intimately involved with the target. He didn’t know why he’d missed it. No, it wasn’t that he’d had feelings for Bianca that had blinded him to her deception. He didn’t have feelings for her now. He wasn’t holding back to protect her.
Their questions ended around five in the evening. Jack had spoken more today than he had in the last week. On the plus side, they had covered everything that was needed. He was free to return to New York. Stepping out of the office, he half expected Marissa to be gone.
She was still in the reception area. She was watching television and had removed her shoes. She looked like she was at home, relaxing. Looking up, she smiled when she saw him.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Great.” Terrible. Going over the events had made him feel ill and tired. His brain was fogged, as if half-awake. “We’re done. I don’t need to return tomorrow.”
Marissa frowned. “You seem upset. I realize you were doing something difficult, but I’m still worried. Don’t box me out.”
“I’ll be fine. I need to eat.”
“I have a great idea,” Marissa said. She seemed excited, her eyes sparkling and she rose on her toes slightly. “Since you had planned to be here for a couple more days, let’s fly to Springfield and see your family. It will be therapeutic for you.”
He liked the idea. Being around his siblings would help take the edge off and no one looking to hurt Marissa could anticipate the trip. “Okay.”
She clapped her hands together. “That easy? You want me to meet your family?”
His thoughts stuttered. He hadn’t considered that angle. His sisters would be like foxes who’d caught the hen. They were after him often enough about his personal relationships. But he’d agreed and he couldn’t back out. “That sounds fun.”
“I have more good news. I got in touch with a friend and we have a table, if we want it, at Donahue’s, a cool, new restaurant. Any interest?” she asked.
He wanted to check into their hotel and flop face first into the mattress. But she seemed excited about eating out and she had waited for him all day. “We can do that. You must have been bored today.”
“Not at all,” Marissa said. “I was worried about you, but I had work to distract me.”
She slipped on her shoes and stood. They came together and when her arms went around him, he enjoyed the closeness of her skin, the scent of her hair and the warmth in her embrace. He couldn’t recall the last intimate relationship he’d had with a woman that extended beyond the bedroom. But he had it with Marissa, genuine affection and deep caring for her.
It scared him a little, but he enjoyed it much more.
He and Marissa took a private car to Donahue’s. After Marissa gave her name, they were seated within minutes, strolling past a crowded bar of people waiting for a table.
Their table was in a quiet part of the restaurant. They took their seats and Marissa reached across the table and covered his hands with hers. “You look like you could use a drink.”
Jack could have used ten drinks. It would be a while before he could shake loose the emotions surrounding the day. “It was a long day.”
Marissa squeezed his hands. “I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”
Jack wanted to forget about the crushing sense of defeat that dogged him. “It was almost like I was being blamed for what happened. Like it was my fault things went down the way they did.”
“I’m sure no one thinks that,” Marissa said.
“I was in the meeting with some heavy hitters. I was getting looks. Like I missed something important and turned a blind eye to obvious problems.”
The waitress appeared and Marissa ordered drinks and appetizers. Neither sounded appealing, but he had to eat.
As they talked, he realized he was doing most of the talking. She was a good listener. Asking the right questions without prying. It wasn’t like him to ramble, but he was doing just that and it was helping, unburdening some of the emotions surrounding the day.
Marissa wasn’t who he’d expected when he’d taken this job, but she was becoming someone he could trust and could count on. He decided he would tell her what he did for a living. Not name names or give specifics, but he wanted her to know who he was. The urgency and need felt pressing. But not in public where he could be overheard.
A couple hours later, after a decadent dinner and shared dessert, they checked into their hotel. It was a basic room with two double beds, flowered wallpaper and heavy green curtains over the windows.
The bathroom was serviceable, rather than luxurious.
Marissa propped open her suitcase on a small table in the corner of the room.
He watched her, insecurity forcing him to hold back. Scaring her away wasn’t his intention. His career was as important to him as was Marissa. He took a deep breath. The truth wasn’t something to fear. “I haven’t elaborated on what I do for a living because it invites questions. But I want you to know. I want you to understand that my work is important.”
Marissa faced him. “I know your work is important without you telling me the details. Although if you are willing to tell me, I am more than willing to listen.” Her voice was practically a purr and she crossed the room to him, taking his suit lapels in her hands.
The truth as an aphrodisiac. Interesting concept. “I work secret, special operations for the United States government.”
He waited for her to react. She blinked at him. “You’re letting me in and I’m afraid to jinx it with questions, but what does that mean exactly?”
“I usually work internationally and on jobs that the public doesn’t know about. They are jobs that others won’t do. Too dangerous or too risky. But I do them.”
“My sister does this?”
He didn’t want to give away what Kit did. It wasn’t his place. “I don’t work with your sister directly. I’ve worked with Griffin in the past.”
“Okay. Tell me more,” Marissa said.
“My work keeps me out of the country. Sometimes I can’t call home. When I am home, I’m usually training.”
“Your injury kept you in the States and that’s why you’re with me,” she said.
She had put the pieces together. “Once I’m back to a hundred percent, I’ll be wheels-up again.”
He expected her to retreat. With the bluntness of the truth, he wasn’t looking to drive a wedge, but he knew she wouldn’t like it. Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck. “Then I’m lucky that you’re in my life and our paths crossed when they did.”
“That’s one way to think of it.” She was handling this better than he could have expected. Showing interest without prying. Not put off by his description, but reasonably curious.
“I put a lot of this together,” Marissa said. “Even though it’s only been a short time, you have been a constant in my life when I’ve needed it. If not your international work, I knew you would have other clients one day. Thank you for telling me. I know it’s a big deal for you and that means a lot to me.”
Marissa pressed her lips to his. Jack slid his hands down her sides and to her shapely hips. Reaching under her rear, he lifted her and she wrapped her long, slim legs around him. Carrying her to the bed, he covered her with his body. They fell into the mattress, a tangle of arms and legs, locked in each other’s embrace.
* * *
Traveling as often as she did, it wasn’t the trip making Marissa nervous. It was meeting Jack’s sisters. Unsure what to expect her first time in Springfield, Marissa stayed calm as she walked to the front door of the ranch-style house.
“Beatrice is great. She’ll love you,” Jack said, lifting his hand and tapping the brass knocker.
A petite woman with red hair cut into a pixie style opened the door. “You must have made great time. Less than an hour ago, I found out you were coming and here you are. Hi, there. I’m Bea.”
Another woman appeared behind her. She was taller, her hair long and woven into a braid over her shoulder.
“Come in, please. You must be Marissa. I’m Rachel. I made peach iced tea and I have Jack’s favorite cookies,” Rachel said. She hugged her brother.
Jack was silent.
“I didn’t mean to surprise you. The trip was spur of the moment,” Marissa said.
“I’m glad to have you,” Bea said. “Welcome to my home. Rachel lives on the other side of the pond. Travis is out of town and he’ll be sorry he missed you.”
Jack would miss seeing his only brother. “Travis and I will catch up,” Jack said.
The foursome settled in Beatrice’s kitchen. The back windows were open to the farm, providing a view of the rolling pastures, a small pond and fields.
“Tell us how you met,” Rachel said. She set a tray of iced teas on the table and set a glass in front of Marissa.
Jack took another glass from the tray and set it on the blue-and-white-checkered tablecloth. “She doesn’t want to be questioned.”
“If we don’t question her, we won’t get to know her because you won’t tell us anything,” Rachel said.
“No one can know she’s here,” Jack said. “No pictures.” He sounded grumpy about it.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “He is so surly.”
“I agree.” Marissa chuckled, amused to find two people who didn’t take Jack too seriously. The sisters were friendly and warmth rolled off them. She liked them immediately. She sipped her tea. It was good and sweet.
Conversation flowed easily. Rachel and Beatrice seemed interested in what she did for a living and she felt likewise.
“I promised Marissa a tour,” Jack said.
Marissa glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours had passed. She’d been having such a good time, she had lost track. Marissa wanted to see the farm, but was disappointed to leave the sisters. She stood from the table. “It was great meeting you. Thank you for the tea.”
They said their goodbyes, put on their coats, gloves and hats, and she followed Jack out of the house.
“I’m sorry if they were too much,” Jack said. They stepped onto the porch. The air was crisp, fresh and cool.
They had told stories about the farm and their brothers. It was plain to see they loved and missed their brother. “They’re great. Easy to talk with,” Marissa said. She inhaled deeply. “I could stay here for another month. It’s quiet here.”
“Off season,” Jack said.
“I’d spend the day painting,” Marissa said.
Jack looked around. “This is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I love it here.”
As they walked, Jack told her about the land and their crops and Marissa felt his love for his family and the farm. He had been quiet while his sisters had talked, but now he seemed to have much to say, too.
“This place is great, Jack. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Jack slung his arm around her shoulder. It was rare for him to show affection when they were outside and she reveled in this. Maybe it was because the farm was his home and that familiarity and comfort was rolling off him in waves, but in the warmth of his embrace, she felt like she was where she belonged.
* * *
In her office in New York, Marissa was paging through a document of fashion designs Ambrose had emailed to her. He wanted feedback and she hoped to provide worthwhile advice and suggestions. She was coming up empty. Having gone through so much in the last few weeks, she was running on fumes and her creativity was low.
Her phone rang with Clarice’s number on the display. The name jolted her. Clarice couldn’t be calling. Had to be one of her family members using Clarice’s phone. Or maybe the police. With a shaking hand, Marissa answered.
“Marissa? I’m sorry to bother you. This is Jeanne, Clarice’s mom. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
Sympathy swamped her and fresh grief bloomed through her. “Hello, Jeanne. Now is a fine time. I am so sorry for your loss. What can I do for you?”
Jeanne cleared her throat. “I wanted to know if you’d come to Clarice’s apartment. There’s something I need you to see.”
Suspicion and wariness crept over her. “Can you tell me over the phone?”
A pregnant pause. “It would be better if you came over.”
Marissa felt bad saying no to a woman who had lost her daughter. She couldn’t imagine how going to Clarice�
��s would change anything. “All right. I can stop by.”
“Thank you,” Jeanne said. She provided the address and then disconnected the call.
Uneasiness swept over Marissa. Visiting Clarice’s apartment felt strange and she wasn’t clear why Jeanne wanted her there. Clarice could have work items that Jeanne wanted to know about or perhaps Jeanne needed closure or wanted to talk about her daughter.
After explaining the situation to Jack, thirty minutes later, she and Jack were walking up the five flights of metal stairs leading to Clarice’s apartment. The stairs split the complex into two sides. The building was constructed of brick that had been painted red. Clarice’s apartment was on the top floor, the door bright green. Made the whole building seem like it belonged in a Christmas movie.
Jack knocked and Jeanne answered the door. She opened it to allow them to enter.
“Is anyone else here?” Jack asked, looking around.
Jeanne shook her head. “Can I get you some tea? I put on a pot of water.”
The kitchen was small, but modern with dark brown cabinets and granite countertops in brown, beige and black swirls. Not big enough for a kitchen table, a breakfast bar divided the kitchen and the living room. The short hallway leading to the only bedroom was painted bright white, giving the small space better lighting.
“No tea, thank you. Jeanne, you sounded upset on the phone. Can you tell me what’s going on?” Marissa asked.
Jeanne wrung her hands. “It’s better if I show you. This is why I couldn’t explain it on the phone.” She walked into Clarice’s bedroom. Marissa and Jack followed.
On the wall of Clarice’s bedroom were pictures of Marissa, Avery, Ambrose and a few other models who had walked in Ambrose’s fashion week show. Below them were printouts from internet news sites and newspaper stories regarding Avery’s death and Ambrose’s show. Sadness pressed on Marissa, making her feel like she was underwater. Seeing the details laid out in this way was hard to handle. The photos and accompanying articles were lined up neatly in date order.
Struggling to take deep breaths, Marissa couldn’t look away. Upsetting to see her and Ambrose’s pictures posted next to Avery’s.
