Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8)

by Barbara Freethy

  "Only about being a bartender."

  "And an actor."

  "And an actor," he conceded.

  "What about your family, your parents who died, your adopted parents…"

  "All true." He paused. "I'm sorry."

  "Are you? We slept together last night."

  His lips tightened into a line. "That was separate from my job."

  "Your job? What does that mean? What are you doing here now, with me? Why aren't you at the club doing whatever you're supposed to be doing?"

  "Because you're in danger, and I want to help you figure out what happened to your grandmother."

  "Why does she matter to you?"

  "Because she matters to you."

  She shook her head, feeling even more confused. "I don't know what to believe. You're a very good liar."

  "Not good enough. Why did you suddenly start doubting me?"

  "I don't know. Everything just started adding up wrong. Now I know why you kept blowing hot and cold."

  "I've been trying not to get involved with you, but I couldn't make myself stay away. At first, I was just concerned that you would stir up problems at the Firebird Club. I wanted to see what you were up to. When Wallace gave me that envelope, I saw a chance to get more involved. I never expected to walk in on the middle of a burglary. And I never expected to like you so much."

  She wanted to believe he had real feelings for her. But how could she?

  "I decided I would try to help you, so I could get you away from the club," he continued. "I even asked my team to look into your grandmother's death."

  "Did they find anything?"

  "Not yet. While you were getting the journals, I called my boss, and I asked him to set up security at your sister's house and your grandfather's living facility."

  Now, she was surprised. "You did? How do you even know where my sister lives?"

  "I told them her first name and that she lived in Carlsbad. But if you want to give me her address, that would be helpful. You told me where your grandfather is staying last night."

  "Her last name is Bolton. Her address is 2736 Crestmore."

  He took out his phone and texted the information to someone, then said, "We'll have a team watching your sister's house and another team at your grandfather's facility until we find out who's behind these attacks on you. Your family won't know they're there. Since your brother is out of state, I wasn't as concerned about him, but if you are, we can get someone to cover him, too."

  Her anger dimmed a little in light of what he'd just told her. "I don't think my brother is in danger, but I would appreciate someone watching out for my sister and parents and my grandfather."

  "It's done. If you want to tell your family, feel free."

  "I will. I need to check in with them anyway." She took a breath. "You seem to have all the answers, Jax. Does your friend work for the FBI, too?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm going to need to see some proof."

  "I can show you my badge. It's in the house." At her hesitation, he repeated, "I would never hurt you, Maya. I hope you can believe that if you can't believe anything else."

  She did believe that, God help her. She followed him into the house. He pulled his badge out of a safe that was hidden under the window seat. She caught a glimpse of some other items inside, one of which was a passport, but there was also currency that wasn't U.S. The reality of his job hit her in the face.

  "Here you go." He handed her his badge.

  "Special Agent Jax Kenin," she read aloud. "You use your real name undercover?"

  "Sometimes."

  She handed him back his badge. "I guess that looks real. Not that I've ever seen one before. But why did you keep stopping me from talking to the police when you're in law enforcement?"

  "Because it would complicate my cover. But my team has already been in touch with the local police. They'll be coordinating the investigation into Julia's death, and I've told them exactly what she said before she died. They're going over her note and her house in excruciating detail. They'll also be overseeing the investigation into the fire at your house."

  "Why are they doing all this if your case is not related to my grandmother's murder?"

  "Because there could be connections between your grandmother's killer and what I've been looking into."

  "Which is what? You have to tell me something, Jax."

  "We're looking into a potential spy ring," he said.

  She sucked in a breath. "Russian spies?"

  He met her gaze. "Yes."

  "And now you think my grandmother might have been a spy, too?"

  "We'll know more once we can decode the cypher. But if your grandmother was spying, I'm guessing one of the old guys at that club found out."

  "And one of them killed her. How are we going to figure out who?"

  "Maybe the cypher will tell us." He paused as his bell rang. "That's Brandon. Are you okay, Maya? Are we good?"

  "I don't know how to answer that question," she said flatly. "But you can let him in. We have to figure out the cypher. That's all that matters right now."

  He gave her a grim look and then he went to open the door.

  As he walked away, she felt like she was losing something important. But maybe it hadn't been important at all. Maybe it had all just been a game.

  Brandon Tarek had dark black hair that fell over his forehead and a pair of glasses that slid down his nose as he studied the code in her grandmother's journal. Brandon and Jax had set up shop in the living room. Jax was reading through Natasha's more personal journals, and Maya had spent the past few minutes wandering around the room, before deciding to leave them to it. She went into the kitchen, took her computer out of her bag and set it up on the island.

  Thankfully, she hadn't lost it in the fire. She had all of her Natasha notes on the laptop, and while most of those notes were backed up, she didn't know if all of them were. She also had work stuff on there, too, emails that she should probably be reading today. But she couldn't work. She was far too distracted by her grandmother and by Jax.

  Both of them might be completely different people than she thought they were, and that was more than a little unsettling. She had to admit that Jax's secret had stung. It felt like a betrayal. She'd really thought she'd found someone she could trust completely, but Jax had been…using her. Maybe he wouldn't call it that, but wasn't that the truth? Had he stuck around because he wanted to help her, or because he'd started to believe that her grandmother was tied to the spies he was tracking?

  She pressed her hands to her forehead, feeling an ache beginning to take root. That ache got worse when her phone rang, and her mom's name flashed across the screen. The last person she wanted to talk to was her mother, but she had to make sure her parents were safe. "Hello, Mom?"

  "Are you all right, Maya?" her mother asked. "I've been worrying about you ever since your father insisted we spend the night at Darcy's. He won't tell me what's going on, so you need to do that."

  "Someone is after Grandmother's journals, and Dad and I were worried they might think he had them. I asked him to take you to Darcy's house."

  "What about you? Why aren't you with us? Are you safe?"

  She drew in a breath. "I'm okay, Mom, but last night someone set fire to my house."

  "Oh, my God. Were you hurt?"

  "I'm fine, but the house is gone."

  "Where are you now?"

  "I'm with a friend. And he's an FBI agent. He's keeping me safe, and he's going to keep you safe, too."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He has a private security team on their way to Darcy's house. If you all stay in the house, you'll be fine. He is also sending a team to Grandpa's facility."

  "This sounds terrifying. What is going on?"

  She debated how much to tell her mom, but she knew she had to give her something. "It appears that one of Grandma's journals was actually written in code. She might have been a spy, Mom."

  "What? That's crazy. She was a
movie star."

  "I know. I can't believe it, either, but it's all starting to make sense." She paused. "I don't think Dad has any idea."

  "I don't think he does, either."

  "Maybe you should wait to tell him until I know for sure, which should be later today. There is an agent who is decoding the book."

  "This is unbelievable, Maya. Natasha was murdered, wasn't she?"

  "I think so. Did Dad tell you anything yesterday?"

  "He told me he was in the car the night she died, but that he just thought she killed herself with his drugs. He feels extremely guilty about that."

  "Well, that probably isn't what happened."

  "I'm scared for you, Maya. I want you to come here, be with us. We're safer if we're all together."

  "I don't think that's true, Mom. I'm the target. I'm the one who knows too much. I can't bring that to you. But you don't have to worry. I'm being protected."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  "I love you, Maya."

  "I love you, too."

  She set down her phone and let out a breath. At least her parents were safe. Hopefully, they would stay that way, but they needed to get to the truth fast.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jax tried to concentrate on Natasha's journals, but his mind kept wandering back to Maya. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the pain of betrayal in her eyes, and he didn't think he could ever forget it. He'd lied to a lot of people in his life. It was often part of his job, but it had never felt like this. He had crossed a line he shouldn't have crossed.

  He couldn't take it back now, and part of him didn't want to take it back. They'd had a great night together. But it was not a great day, and he suspected Maya would have walked out a long time ago if she weren't curious about the cypher or if she had somewhere else to go. But she'd lost everything in the last few days, and he'd just piled on to that loss with his secret.

  He couldn't change that; he just needed to concentrate on the now and move forward, which meant focusing on the words of Maya's grandmother.

  He'd skimmed over the early years of her life. Many of her entries were boring and random: what she'd had for dinner, who she was pissed off at, a bad script, an irritating phone call from her assistant—normal life stuff. He couldn’t really understand why she'd bothered to write a lot of it down, but the passages about love and family were where her writing took off.

  Natasha had fallen for Phillip at a very young age and become a mother when she was barely twenty-one years old, an accidental pregnancy that had made her both happy and sad. She definitely hadn't been equipped to have a baby, and the two years she took off from her career to take care of Rex had felt like she was working out a jail sentence.

  He wondered if Maya's father Rex had ever read any of these passages. If he had, it was no wonder that he resented his mother, because Natasha had certainly resented him. Or maybe it wasn't specifically him; it was the fact that he was a baby she hadn't wanted to have, and he was the obstacle in front of her dreams.

  When Natasha got her first part after becoming a mother, she was over the moon with joy. She didn't care that she would have to leave her then three-year-old for almost three months while she shot her movie. For the next few years, her words sung of adventures and meeting exciting people. By the time her son, Rex, was nine years old, Natasha was completely over being a mother and a wife.

  She started having an affair with Wallace Jagger, her new agent, who was taking her career to new heights. And while she seemed to love Wallace, it also felt like she was mostly in love with herself. She became caught up in her hype, her Academy Award nomination, her trips to international luxury hot spots. Eventually, she divorced Phillip and married Wallace. They loved spending time at the Russia House. Being around so many Russians made her feel like she was home again.

  It was in the next few years of her journal writings that Natasha began speaking of people in nicknames, the Lark and the Wolf. Constantine had told Maya that Julia was the Lark. But who was the Wolf? Was that Constantine?

  He paused on one paragraph where Natasha spoke about the Lark: She reminds me of who I used to be and makes me question my decisions. She also makes me angry. She sees through me. But I see through her, too. And what I really see are two women on the verge of something that could be horrible and destructive, or amazing and freeing.

  Her words sent a chill through him. They felt foreboding. And he sensed that the choice she had made was the one that had taken her life. But what decision had Julia had to make?

  Still thinking about that, he flipped through a few more pages. The Wolf jumped out at him: His smile hides who he is. I thought he would stop pretending with me, but I don't think he can stop. He's afraid of the dark side of himself. Perhaps I should be more afraid. But love blinds me. And deep in my heart I don't want to believe in that dark side. I keep thinking I'm wrong. What if I'm not?

  The Wolf was someone Natasha loved. That, unfortunately, did not rule out very many people. Out of the original five, he knew she'd been married to Wallace and had slept with Constantine, maybe Bragin, too. What about Edward Coleman and Dustin Paul? So far, he hadn't seen any references to them.

  He kept going, his interest increasing now that she was spending more time writing about the members at the Russia House.

  Oh, my sweet Daniel. He's so smart in so many areas, maybe one of the most brilliant men I've ever known. He took me to a show at the planetarium, and he could tell me about every star, every planet in the universe. That night, I saw the world a bit differently. I realized how small my own world had become. He told me I could be anything I wanted. If only it were that easy. For Daniel, maybe it is. He hasn't made the choices I have. Or maybe he has, sometimes I wonder if the best actors are the ones who don't seem like they're acting at all.

  Jax frowned at the last sentence. So, Bragin wasn't necessarily good, either.

  For the next few pages, she talked about new problems in her relationship with Wallace, eventually asking him for a divorce: Wallace knew it was coming. He said I broke his heart. I'm beginning to think that will be my legacy: a trail of broken hearts. That would make a good headline. But I want my life to be about more than headlines. I need to start living a more authentic life. Maybe then my son will be able to find some reason to be proud of me. I've broken his heart, too. I need to find a way to make it up to him.

  Jax was surprised by the new self-awareness coming across in her writings. She definitely seemed to be examining her life more closely. He flipped through a few more pages, pausing as another name came into focus—Edward Coleman.

  Edward is so smooth. It's no wonder that he got so many people to vote for him. He's charming and he knows how to give people what they need, except for his daughter. I feel bad for Sylvia. She can never seem to get enough love from her father. But as I write this, I now feel even more sorry for Rex. He must feel the same way about me. I'm working on changing things. I hope it's not too late for me to be the mother I should have been. I hope someday he'll forgive me for being so selfish. He probably won't, and I probably don't deserve his forgiveness. I'm just glad his father is a good man. I know Phillip will always be there for Rex, and maybe one day they'll both be able to see me in a different light.

  He wondered again what part of her life she'd been trying to change, and if she'd actually done anything or if her words were just words and nothing else.

  He was getting close to the end of the journal, and he feared he was going to turn to the last page with no questions resolved.

  As he ran his gaze down the next few paragraphs, he froze, shock hitting him in big waves. His gaze blurred. He couldn't believe what he was reading

  I met a young man today. He's studying for a PhD in mathematics, but during his summer break he travels to chess tournaments. He's a true chess master according to Wallace and Daniel, who have already been beaten by him. He moves quickly. He seems to take no time to know the right moves.

  After the tournament, I
invited him to have a drink with me on the terrace. I thought he would be cocky and self-absorbed, that he would try to impress me, but he did not, and that impressed me even more. He spoke of the woman he was about to marry, the children they would have, the life he envisioned for himself.

  We spoke of our pasts, of where we come from, where we want to go. As I listened to him, I became afraid for him. I worry that he will not have that future, not if others have their way. I warned him to be careful. I don't think he understood, and I couldn't say too much. I hope Andrei Markov will have the life he dreams of. I'm going to try to help him if I can. I just don't know if it's possible.

  Jax drew in a breath and let it out, reading the paragraph three more times, but every time the name stayed the same. His father, Andrei Markov, was in Natasha's journal. It seemed like an unbelievable coincidence. But it was there in black and white. His father had known Maya's grandmother. They'd talked at length, and their conversation had been important enough to Natasha that she'd written it down.

  He didn't understand much of it, though. Why was Natasha worried about his father's future? Why had she warned him to be careful?

  He set the book down, running her words around in his head. Natasha had been thirty-six when she died, and this had been written days before that. His father had been in his early twenties during this visit to the Russia House. He hadn't married his mother yet. And Jax hadn't been born.

  He picked the book back up. He was only a few pages from the end. He couldn't stop now.

  With a tight jaw and a tense body, he read through her final entries. But her words became even more cryptic. She'd told the Lark about her Doctor. She would make an appointment. The Surfer promised to get her a new board, but she didn't know when he was going to come through with it. Had Natasha surfed? It was her first mention of surfing. Dustin had asked her to go to the premiere of his new movie, and she'd planned to go but then Daniel had wanted to meet, and she knew he was having problems and needed a friend. She ran into Sylvia at the Russia House and saw her sneaking booze from the bar, which reminded her of Rex. Natasha was afraid of the road he was going down and she was determined to talk to him about it. Clearly, she'd been worrying a lot about Rex in the last few weeks of her life. Her last entry was about wanting to prove to Rex that she was a better person than he thought, that she would find a way to make him proud of her.