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

by Barbara Freethy

  She thought about his story as they got back on the freeway. She'd never thought her search for her grandmother's killer would tie into Jax's life. But then, she'd also never imagined that he was an FBI agent, that he was working undercover at the club, and that he was lying to her about everything.

  She still felt angry and betrayed. Maybe he couldn't tell her in the beginning, but last night…after they'd almost died together—he should have come clean. Why had he let the lie continue through the night and into the morning? He should have trusted her. That hurt the most.

  Actually, that wasn't what hurt the most. What really stung was that she'd thought she knew him. She'd felt connected to him. In fact, she'd felt like she was falling in love with him. But she'd been falling in love with a person who wasn't real. She should have seen through his stories. But once again, she'd been too trusting, too naïve.

  She let out an angry sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and while that had been a good thing, now the exhaustion was catching up to her.

  "Are you thinking you should have seen through my cover?" Jax asked.

  She gave him an annoyed look. "I don't like your mind-reading skills."

  "Your big sigh gave you away."

  "There were signs, but I kept buying your excuses. The first time you ditched me at the club, I wanted to believe you were just worried about your job."

  "I was worried about my job."

  "Not in the way I thought. You couldn't really tell me anything about your acting career, either. Even when we drove on the lot this morning, it felt like you'd never been by a sound stage before. But I just let it go. Because…"

  "Why?" he asked. "Why did you let it go?"

  She met his gaze. "I liked you."

  "Past tense, huh?"

  "Doesn't it have to be? This wasn't going anywhere for you anyway, was it?" There was a tiny smidgeon of hope in her soul that he'd refute that assertion. But he didn't.

  "I wasn't thinking too far in the future," he admitted.

  "Which makes sense, because we met three days ago."

  "It feels a lot longer than that. And I liked you, too, Maya. In fact, I still do."

  "It doesn't matter. This isn't about…that."

  "No, it's not about that, but I need you to understand that we're both in a dangerous situation. You may no longer be able to trust me personally, but I hope you can put your trust in my abilities as an FBI agent. If I need you to do something, and I don't have time to explain why, I need you to do it, no questions asked, no stalling. It could literally mean life or death. After what happened last night, I hope you realize I'm not exaggerating."

  "I'm very aware of the danger we're in. I do appreciate that you might have a better idea of how to keep us safe than I do, so I'll follow your lead. That's all I can promise."

  "Fair enough."

  "But I have one question before we get to your parents' house… Is it okay that I call them your parents?"

  "Yes. They asked me to call them Mom and Dad when I was young. They said it would be too confusing if I used their first names. It felt wrong at first, but I got used to it." He glanced over at her. "I know what you're thinking. That's another red flag. They didn't want people to know I wasn't their biological kid."

  "Was it a secret, though?"

  "Not really. I told my friends they adopted me, but I never got into the details. I didn't want to talk about my real parents, and no one else did, either." He paused. "You said you had one question…"

  "When I asked you the other day if they supported your acting career, you said yes. Do they think you're an actor?"

  "No. And I didn't say yes; I said they supported me in anything I wanted to do. They did."

  "So they know what you do for a living. And yet they still didn't ever tell you anything about the weekend your parents left you with them."

  "No, and I told them I was researching their accident when I joined the FBI. They just asked me to let them know if I found out anything, which I didn't."

  "Which could mean there was nothing to find out."

  "Maybe," he conceded. "But my gut tells me there is a lot to find out."

  He took the next exit off the freeway, and she sat up a little straighter as he drove into the heart of Pasadena, a suburb of Los Angeles. His parents lived in a neighborhood of mostly one-story homes with grassy lawns and big trees.

  "Who else lives here?" she asked. "You said you had sisters. Will they be in the house?"

  "No. They don't live here. One is in San Francisco; the other is in Austin, Texas. It's just Rick and Carol now."

  "That might make it easier. They won't have to keep up a pretense in front of their daughters."

  "I don't think there's going to be anything easy about it," he said, as he pulled up in front of a light-blue house and turned off the engine.

  They sat there for a good minute, and then he unbuckled his seat belt, and she did the same. She followed him to the front door. He rang the bell and then rocked back on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  First, she heard barking. Then the door opened, and two golden retrievers bounded onto the porch, greeting Jax with happy licks. A woman with blonde hair and brown eyes appeared behind them. Carol Kenin was dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt and was short and curvy She gave them a friendly but shocked smile.

  "Jax, oh, my gosh, what a surprise." She pulled him in for a hug. "I did not expect to see you at my door, but I'm so happy. And who is this?"

  "Maya Ashton," Jax said, stepping back as the dogs now came to greet her.

  She tried to pet them as they jumped up and down in front of her.

  "Down, boys," Carol commanded.

  The dogs settled down, but they were still barking and nuzzling Jax's hand.

  "Nice to meet you, Maya. I'm Carol," the woman said.

  "It's nice to meet you, too," she replied.

  "Well, come inside, you're letting all the heat in." She waved them into the house, and the dogs ran down the hallway as a man came toward them. He was of average height, a bit overweight, with thick, dark hair.

  "Jax," he said, giving his son a hug. "You're looking good."

  "You, too," Jax replied. "This is Maya."

  "Hello," Maya said, a bit taken aback when Rick swept her into a hug. He was certainly a friendly guy.

  "Can I get you something to drink?" Carol asked. "I just made some iced tea. Why don't you come back to the kitchen?"

  "That sounds great," Jax said, as they followed his parents into the kitchen at the back of the house. They sat down at a round kitchen table by the window while Carol filled tall glasses with tea and then passed them around.

  "Now, it's always good to see you," Rick said. "But is there some reason for this visit?"

  "There is," Jax admitted.

  Rick's smile faded a bit at Jax's tone. "You sound serious."

  "I am."

  "What is it?" Carol asked with concern. "Has something happened?"

  "Something has come up about my—parents." Jax seemed to stumble over the word, as if he were afraid to offend Carol and Rick.

  Maya watched their reactions closely. Rick became guarded. Carol looked worried.

  "What about them?" Carol asked.

  "I found some information about my dad. He was playing chess at an LA club called the Russia House. It appears to have been the gathering place for a Russian spy operation. Dad's name was mentioned in the journal of someone who was most likely a spy. Which leads me to wonder if he was as well."

  "You think your father was a spy?" Carol echoed, her eyes widening. "That's crazy."

  Maya didn't think she was as surprised as she was purporting to be. There was something about her tone and the quick look she gave her husband.

  "We told you before that we did everything we could to find out what happened to them," Rick put in.

  "You did tell me that," Jax agreed. "But what we never really discussed was why they br
ought me to you that weekend. You had moved from Alexandria to Boston a year earlier, and there were babysitters closer to home who had stayed with me before. But they took me to another state, and they packed a bag with clothes that would last weeks, not just a weekend. They made sure I had my favorite toys and my chess set." His voice grew husky with emotion. "And when they left, I remember my mom squeezing me so hard I almost couldn't breathe. She said to always remember how much they loved me and how proud they were of me."

  "They just wanted to make sure you were comfortable," Rick said. "You looked them up on your FBI computers and you never found anything about their deaths not being an accident."

  "I never found anything about them at all," he admitted. "But now, I have information I didn't have before, and I need you to be honest with me, because, frankly, I could be in danger. I ran into someone at this club. It exists now under another name, and he kept staring at me. He said I reminded him of someone, and that someone was Andrei Markov. I have to know what you know."

  "You do," Rick said.

  "No, he doesn't," Carol said, giving her husband a pained look. "If he's in danger…" She turned back to Jax.

  Maya's breath caught in her throat as she waited for Carol to tell him the truth. Her heart went out to Jax, who had frozen at the few words she'd already spoken. He was mentally preparing for the worst.

  "We don't know very much," Carol said. "But your mom told me that they might be gone longer than a weekend. It might be weeks. She asked me if I would take care of you for as long as she was gone. She scared me with her words and with the fear in her eyes. I said, of course I would. I loved her and I would give you all the love I had to give. That seemed to make her feel better."

  "Did you ask her where she was going? Why she wouldn't be back for so long?" Jax asked, his words clipped and harsh.

  "Yes, I did. She wouldn't say. She told me it would be better if I didn't know anything. She also said that it was important that no one ever know where you were."

  Jax shoved back his chair and stood up, walking over to the window. As he stared out at the yard, Rick put his hand over Carol's, and they exchanged a painful look.

  "Jax," Rick said.

  Jax turned around, anger in his eyes. "You had to know that there was something wrong."

  "The only other thing your mom said was that your father was dealing with a situation that he wanted to keep away from you," Rick added. "They never told us they were spies. If anything, I thought maybe the Russian government was trying to pressure them to move back to Russia, because your dad was getting so famous in chess circles."

  "Your mom wanted him to stop playing tournaments, but she said he couldn't quit yet," Carol said.

  "Maybe because he was spying during those tournaments," Jax bit out. "How could you not tell me this before?"

  "I promised your mom," Carol replied. "It was the only other thing she asked. She never wanted you to know anything but that they loved you very much. I'm only breaking the promise now because you said you might be in danger, and I don't want anything to happen to you. I know I'm not your real mother, but I've loved you like a son for most of your life."

  "I've loved you, too, both of you. But the time for secrets is over. I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a federal agent. And if there is anything you are leaving out…"

  "There's not," Rick said. "We told you what we know, which is very little."

  "You must have thought something happened to them when they didn't come back," Jax said. "You must have known it wasn't an accident."

  "We talked to the police and they said they were investigating, but when they died, all we could think was that we had to make sure you were safe. So we moved across the country to Portland. We gave you our name and we tried to make sure no one from your old life knew where you were."

  "What about my grandmother on my dad's side and my grandfather on my mother's side? You used to give me cards from them. Where did they think I was?"

  Guilt ran through Carol's eyes. "We made the cards up. We didn't tell them where you were. That was part of the promise."

  "The promise you made gets longer and longer the more we talk," he snapped. "So I just disappeared?"

  "Your mom said no one else could know where you were; that included family."

  He shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe you made up fake cards from my grandparents but when I asked you if you thought my parents could have been killed, you said no way, it was impossible. And that was when I was an adult. That was five years ago."

  "We didn't want you to be in danger, if it wasn't an accident. We'd kept you hidden away all these years. We didn't want you to turn over a stone that would destroy all that."

  "But I did turn over a stone, and maybe I would have been more prepared if I'd known what I was getting into." His lips tightened. "Do you still have the chess set, the things I brought with me?"

  "Yes," Carol said. "I told you I'd never throw them away. They're in the attic. The boxes are marked with your name."

  "I'm going to look through them," he said shortly, heading out of the kitchen.

  Maya drew in a breath and let it out, feeling very much like a third wheel, especially now that Jax was gone and she was alone with his very shaken parents.

  "He hates us," Carol said, with pain in her eyes. "I was afraid of this day."

  "He just needs time," she said, wanting to reassure her, even though she wasn't sure time would change anything.

  "She's right," Rick said, hope in his gaze. "He'll realize we did our best for him, because we did." He looked at Maya. "I don't know how much he told you, but I assume everything since you're here with him."

  "He's told me some; I don't know if it's everything. But I do know he was extremely grateful to have you as parents."

  "We loved him like our own kids. I know he didn't always feel like he was as much a part of the family as our girls, but he was. They adore him, too," Carol said. "He was always their very protective big brother. He grew up to be a good man. I'd like to think we had some part in that."

  "I'm sure you did."

  "Are you two involved?" Carol asked.

  "That's a complicated question," she said. "Maybe I'll go check on him."

  "You can reach the attic from the stairs at the end of the hall."

  She got up from the table and followed Carol's directions.

  When she made her way into the attic, she saw Jax kneeling in front of a very old-looking box.

  She knelt down next to him.

  "This holds the chess set my father gave me when I was a boy. He made sure I took it with me that weekend. But I never played it. I never even took the board or the pieces out."

  "Maybe you should take it back to your house."

  "I'm going to, along with the other boxes. It's doubtful there's any kind of clue in my old toys, but I need to look through everything, and I don't want to do it here. I want to get the hell out of this house as fast as I can." The anger burned through his voice and his eyes. "I can't believe the lies they told me, the fiction they created."

  "They had a good reason. They did it because they loved you, and they made a promise to your parents to keep you safe."

  "Don't take their side," he warned.

  "Why not?" she challenged. "I heard what they had to say, and I think they did a lot for you. They took you in. They raised you. They loved you. When you first got here, they were so happy to see you. Their love is real. It was there when you were growing up, and it's there now. There's nothing fake about their feelings."

  "I don't know that that's true."

  "That's because you're furious, and I understand your side, too. They should have told you the truth when you were an adult, especially after you joined the FBI. But it's done. You can't change it."

  He met her gaze and let out a troubled breath. "I just can't believe they suspected my parents were killed all this time and never tried to do much about it."

  "What could they do? And how could they do it?
If they'd gotten too involved, they could have jeopardized your safety. That was their priority—taking care of you, not getting justice for your parents."

  "Well, I'm going to get them justice. I just have to figure out who would have killed them. And I suspect it's going to be someone tied to the Russia House, maybe even to your grandmother."

  "I can't argue with that."

  He let out a breath. "Thanks for letting me vent."

  "I know what it feels like to be lied to."

  Guilt flitted through his eyes. "I know you do. I hurt you."

  "That's the problem with secrets and lies, even if they're kept or told for a good reason; they always come out, and someone always gets hurt."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maya's words rang around in Jax's head as he drove back to Santa Monica. He'd lied to her, and his parents had lied to him. Everyone was hurting, but they weren't the ones who should be in pain. The people responsible for his parents' death, for Natasha's death, for Maya losing her house—those were the ones who needed to be punished, and he was not going to rest until that happened.

  He turned his head toward Maya, thinking he would give her that promise, but then realized she was asleep. The exhaustion and stress of the day had caught up to her. He couldn't blame her. They'd been moving at a very fast pace and with the emotional trauma she'd gone through, it was amazing she hadn't passed out before now.

  His gut tightened as his gaze swept across her sweet face. He loved the way her hair fell around her forehead, the rosy hue in her cheeks, the part of her full lips, the strength of her jaw contrasting to all her soft curves. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. She was passionate, fiery, scrappy, and yet also kind, sweet, and caring. She had a generosity of spirit that impressed him. Even as angry as she was with him, she'd still supported him today.