I’d tried to answer my question with research and logic and failed. Seeing Graham sitting there in the morning light, apparently having spent the entire night hunting for me, I knew the answer with my heart.
“I want a home,” I told him. “I want a family. I want what Nadia has. I’m not sure I’m brave enough to have that life.”
I think I finally managed to shock him.
He rubbed his head some more, then leaned back on his elbows. “I think you need to expand on that.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do. I can’t say I understand it entirely myself.” I wriggled up against the lousy pillow so I could admire his broad shoulders. He’d taken off his coat, revealing bulging arms under a fitted fisherman’s sweater. “I love my family, even if they are pains in the posterior most of the time. I love you in a different way that has a lot to do with the way you make me feel right now.”
That part, he understood. He sat up, prepared to reach for me, but then he remembered my shoulder. He sank back with a grimace. “Lust is different from love.”
I kicked him. “I don’t lust over just anyone. I lust over people I respect and admire and in your blamed case, love. You are a person worthy of love. Sometimes,” I amended. “You’re also a grumpy hermit with deplorable social skills. I’m prepared to accept that. If that was my only problem, we’d be home right now.”
He sent me the most angelic smile I’d ever been blessed with in my life, and my insides turned to goo. Graham almost never smiled or I’d have been back to being a doormat long ago. As it was, my heart joyously splatted against my ribcage, and I wanted to give up thinking and get back to kissing.
He flopped back against the narrow bed and studied the same cracked ceiling as I had last night. “Okay, I can live with that,” he said with what almost sounded like hope. “You aren’t precisely the most congenial companion, you’ll note. But I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the companion I want beside me for a lifetime.”
A lifetime! That admission really rocked my world. It was the most I’d get from him, I suspected. He was dancing around the emotional words, I knew, but he had me squirming with anticipation. We’d started out on a pretty rocky basis, but we’d learned to work around our differences, usually physically.
So I didn’t really need words. Action spoke louder. He’d probably saved my life last night. He’d gone looking for me instead of saving the heads of important countries, as he was wont to do. I had to be very important for him to abandon his superhero responsibility for all these hours.
The knowledge made me feel special, as I never really had before. I knew I was special, but very few acknowledged that a prickly introvert with anger issues could be anything but annoying.
“You just don’t want to be saddled with my family without me to act as barrier,” I prodded, pushing the threadbare blanket aside to tickle him with my toes. My family owned half his house. He’d have to deal with them even if I wasn’t there.
“True,” he agreed, disagreeably. “But I’m learning to use them. Patra is acting as family spokesman for the media this morning. She’s great at manipulating the story. She’s better than you are at handling interference.”
I wasn’t in the least insulted. The last time I’d dealt with media, I’d smashed all their pretty satellite trucks into each other. “That earns you a gold star I’ll repay when my shoulder feels better. She’ll have Tudor hacking media email to know what questions to prepare for. Is Juliana looking after EG?”
“Does anyone actually look after EG? Or do does she just let them pretend they are?” He was back to watching me.
“Very perceptive, Sherlock. So you understand some of the magnitude of what I’m saying when I say I want my family. Now think back to Magda. Am I turning into her? Will I be endangering them and you as she does?”
His big dark eyes widened. I swear, his lashes were almost as long as mine. Well, no, my almond-shaped eyes are my best feature. I narrowed them at him for effect. He grinned again. I could get very used to watching him smile, if my heart could take it. It was racing a mile a minute.
“No, the question becomes, will they be endangering us? Let’s face it, Ana, they are not homebodies and never will be. They have your mother’s obsessive genes. All their fathers were the kind of men she admired and respected, men who lived dangerously or adventurously—it’s in the blood. You tried to escape that life. How well did that work for you?”
Remembering my years of living safely and sanely in a damp Atlanta basement where my one pride was a moth-eaten carpet, I grimaced. “Not well,” I admitted. “I’ve learned a lot these last months. Demanding justice in an inherently unfair world is not a safe or sane life.”
“I know, but someone has to do it.” He caught my bare foot and rubbed it. “I’ve been avoiding the complications by not leaving the attic. I really don’t want you involved in what I do.”
“Which brings us to what you do,” I said, not as caustically as I would have liked because I loved the foot rub. “How can we have a relationship when I’m clueless about your connections?”
He stopped rubbing and drew his brow down in a frown. “I work for myself, just as you do.”
Well, I kinda knew that, but there was more to it than that. “Your connections are better than the CIA’s.”
He shrugged. “That’s because I’m willing to work with all the agencies, uniting their information while they bicker with each other. United we stand is a good motto, if they’d just practice it.”
He had once been a presidential aide. He had security clearances out the wazoo. Czar of the underground information network, probably with credentials from every alphabet agency in the world. He really was a spy in my attic—but he didn’t run when trouble loomed as Magda had most of my life.
“What we do is irrelevant to this particular discussion,” he said, dismissing my distracting concerns. “I don’t like what you do either. I want you in my bed where I can see you, not out gallivanting about the city inciting riots. But I know that’s not who you are, and I’d probably get bored if it were.”
I kicked him again. “You would not. I’d see to that. But I might get bored with you,” I taunted, just to baste the gander with the same sauce. As if Graham could ever be boring!
“Come home with me,” he said solemnly, twisting my ankle between his hands. “We need you. Mallard would probably leave me if I lost you.”
I laughed at that. “If Magda shows up, we can have him hover over her until she cries for air and flees.”
This time, he sat up and hauled me into his lap. Finally. I leaned into his shoulder and all the aches went away. Or maybe the pill kicked in.
“From the reports my operatives have sent me, your mother went to Captain Freddy, gave him her complete itinerary, and managed to admit absolutely nothing. I don’t think they can hold her on suspicion of setting pigs loose at a banquet—especially since she was busy being kidnapped. My men gave the feds your sniper bartender, along with his gun, which happens to be the same one that shot Scion. They’ll inform the cops.”
“So many questions, so little time.” For once, I really didn’t care how this story turned out. “Who hired Bill to kill Scion? And can we go get breakfast?” I covered his square jaw with kisses, then crawled out of his lap.
“Even your nosy family doesn’t know what I just told you yet,” he warned, helping me on with Nadia’s coat, which nearly dragged the ground. “You need to keep quiet until the feds have done a sweep of Ivan’s offices.”
“I can do that. I’ll be feeding my face. Text Mallard and tell him I want blueberry raspberry muffins.” I impatiently stamped on Nadia’s oversized boots. Right or wrong, I was going home. The joy rising up in me said I’d made the right decision, probably for all the wrong reasons since love is irrational.
“Mallard needs to sleep sometime. He was up half the night feeding your siblings. I trust they’ll mostly stay in their own homes once assured you’re safe.” He sounded
grumpy, but he helped me tug on the boots and wrapped his big arm around me as if I were a precious object as we went out.
“I’ll make my own muffins,” I declared in a rash decision that would most certainly dissolve once faced with a search for utensils and ingredients. “Why would Ivan Popov order Scion killed? Isn’t that like cutting off the hand that feeds you?”
“This is why the media can’t have this information yet.” He guided me down the snow-covered street. The plows hadn’t bothered with this inner city neighborhood yet. “Bill the Bartender claims his idol Senator Rose ordered Scion removed because he was a liability.”
Chapter 26
Holy Guacamole! Presidential candidate Senator Rose had ordered a hit on his campaign strategist? They could charge Rose on conspiracy to murder? I’d been right and they’d killed Scion for being stupid? Then they ought to kill Rose.
Bombshells apparently enhanced my hunger. My stomach rumbled a protest as Graham tossed me into the waiting car.
Graham had dragged poor Sam out of bed to come after me at this ridiculous hour. Today, his multi-talented driver was driving a flashy-looking black Subaru instead of the limo. I didn’t want to force Graham into the public eye, but if Mallard wasn’t fixing breakfast, I needed food. A Subaru would go through a drive-thru better than a limo.
“Bagel shop,” I said. “I’ll run in and buy everything.” I really was operating on adrenalin and joy.
Graham pulled out one of his ever-present phones and ordered a dozen of everything, delivered, probably from one of the most expensive shops in town if he had it in his contact list.
I really needed to get used to living like this.
I wasn’t sure I could.
“Psycho Bill is bringing down Senator Rose?” I said in a hushed whisper after Graham returned his phone to his pocket. “For real?”
“He has nothing left to lose. His sister tried to kill Nadia. She failed with the hit-and-run. The cops found her car after she tried and failed again in the hospital. The feds were preparing to deport her but now she’s behind bars. If Bill actually killed Scion, he’s up on murder one. A plea deal keeps him from the chair.”
“DC has no death penalty,” I said, frowning. His sister? I was missing a few pieces.
“Maryland still does. Scion died in Bethesda. Wouldn’t you rather hear this on a full stomach?” He drew me against him since I was shivering.
“I’m not sure I want to hear this at all. Bill has a sister?”
“Computer programmer, calls herself Michelle Lee, hooked on Mylaudanix, will do anything for Ivan and drugs. Bill isn’t on the drugs, but he’s not quite right in the head. He thinks if he spills everything, we’ll praise him, give him money, and he’ll be another Scion someday. Delusional. They were checking out Nadia’s hospital room the day Tony’s phone rang and you handed it to my guard at her door. That’s how they guessed you were getting too close—they called that phone and saw you.”
“He seemed like such a nice kid,” I said. “But I still don’t get it. I thought Ivan Popov worked for Scion Pharmaceuticals, and Bill worked as a bartender for Ivan, and how does Rose fit into this anywhere?”
“Keeping in mind this is Bill and Ivan’s versions and what little we’ve had time to piece together from other sources. . . Rose foolishly believed Scion was working for him and for Top Hat, but Scion was and had always been a loose cannon who worked only for himself. He was not a team player.”
“It was Top Hat that ordered Tony to kill our fathers, right? Scion wasn’t part of them back then,” I clarified, afraid the pain pill was making my head woozy again. “Rose was barely a cipher at that point.”
“Do you remember when Tony said the bloody kid snitched? He meant Rose. Rose was younger than my father or yours, but he knew they were connected to wealthy men like Max, so he insinuated himself into their company. We may never know how he found out that your father was backing out of the arms deal. Rose was the one who informed Top Hat. Scion learned it from Tony later when Tony bought the bombs from him.”
I sat stunned. I’d despised Rose because he had the morals of a baboon, but having the actual evidence that he was responsible for my father’s death? I wanted him flayed within an inch of his life and hung out to dry.
“That was just the start,” Graham continued. “Rose talked his father into using the mine for the weapons. Your grandfather wouldn’t have known any of this since they knew Max would go ballistic after losing his son-in-law and his protégé. But Rose had been helpful enough to Top Hat at that point that they agreed to support his political career.”
“Rose essentially blackmailed Top Hat,” I translated, “although I’m guessing he let them think they were supporting a rising politician to help their cause.”
“Mutually compatible,” Graham agreed. “They’re all cannibalistic roaches. Scion had his fingers in a lot of pies. He and Tony were old pals from the same IRA group your father belonged to. That’s how he knew about the GenDef people handling the weapons even though he was still in Ireland at the time. Scion eventually went from selling guns to pushing drugs. He was too rough to be part of the Top Hat team, but he had knowledge, and they needed his wealth and eventually, they all worked together to get Rose on the platform.”
“Does Top Hat know what Scion was investing his wealth in?” I thought of the weapons manufacturing industries across third world countries, many disguised as pharmaceutical plants.
Graham shrugged. “Some of them would have supported him, but I don’t know who had knowledge of what yet. Magda did a good job, but I doubt we’ll ever be able to bring down the lot of them.”
I could try. But I didn’t like thinking like that yet. “So at some point Scion decided he wanted to go into politics and dug his hooks into Rose’s campaign?”
“Again, mutually compatible relationship.” Graham kissed my hair.
This was a caring side to my spy I thought I could learn to enjoy.
“Scion had Eastern European contacts who would be of use to many of Top Hat’s members,” he continued. “He had access to a huge untapped market. Rose had the political influence to help Scion push his drugs through the FDA, and open doors for any other schemes he had in mind.”
“But my mother began harassing them,” I said, working my way through the labyrinth. “And Nadia and Guy slapped that condemning report on the tables of Congress.”
“And Scion suddenly became an enormous liability to a campaign that’s been losing momentum since you started pulling out their underpinnings. Rose’s team had to cut off Scion and his blackmail before any more dirty secrets leaked.” Graham peered out the window to see why we were crawling.
But it was a snow day in DC. Traffic was inevitable. I contemplated leaping out and finding food while the car inched along. Or hitting the Metro. Could I keep using the Metro if I settled into life in a mansion?
“I won’t have to go to political rallies or fundraisers, will I?” I asked.
Graham sent me one of those mind-bending, eye-blazing looks. “Did you get hit on the head last night?”
Reassured, I beamed up at him. “Just checking.” I’d been processing some of his information and tried my muzzy head on guessing. “Scion had Rose squash Nadia’s and Guy’s damaging report, but that wasn’t enough to keep the report from circulating. He had to get rid of them to prevent them from providing reliable witnesses to the media. He knew Tony could handle one, but not both at the same time, so Scion called in favors from Ivan.”
“Another mutually compatible relationship,” Graham agreed. “The Popovs had given Scion’s company access to Eastern Europe, helped him build his sales team. Scion loaned the Popovs money to buy cell towers and businesses that helped them, and Ivan’s hackers, in the American door.”
“Ivan’s hackers—Bill and his sister?” I asked, still trying to pull together the threads.
“Exactly. The feds are questioning Piotr, but he seems to really believe he’s running legitimate busine
sses, pharmacies, pubs, whatever. Ivan is the one who tossed his bar manager’s house when he didn’t get paid. He employs hackers, assassins, drug pushers, whatever underhanded methods he can summon to expand their territory. He and Scion were peas in a pod.”
The car pulled up to our house—our house, my family and Graham’s. Six months ago I’d arrived on the doorstep determined to build a home for my family—and learned our inheritance from our grandfather had been stolen. I’d blamed Graham.
Since then, I’d learned a lot of truths about myself, about Graham, and our fathers. I had more to learn, but for now, the house was all I had ever wanted—a solid, safe center for my peripatetic family when they needed help or comfort or just companionship.
The brats were all at the dining room table, scarfing down my bagels. They waved hands, newspapers, and napkins as I entered but continued stuffing their faces—until they stopped and stared.
Graham entered behind me, his hand at the small of my back. He helped me into the chair I usually took near the head of the table. And he took the chair next to it that Nick had abandoned in favor of sharing texts coming in on Patra’s phone.
Everyone put down their phones and papers, eyes wide in expectation.
Graham never sat at the table with us. He was showing me and my family that he knew how to be a team player.
“EG, wing me a bag,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage.
Her bangs were pink today. I’m not sure in honor of what since she despises pink. She pushed the bag she’d been digging into in my direction.
The others pushed all the bags in our direction. Not one of the pigs had bothered looking for plates, hence the waving napkins that had been provided by the bagel people.
Juliana jumped up to pour me a cup of tea. I don’t know who had the smarts to boil water, but the cup still steamed as she set it in front of me. Sean gestured at the coffee pot he was on the verge of emptying. “Graham?” he asked.
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