by Debra Webb
He had suspected as much.
“Is it Thomas?” Victoria’s hand on his arm accompanied her whisper.
“No, no. Thomas is fine.” He hoped it wasn’t a lie.
He stepped back up to the desk. “This came over the landline?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to check the caller ID?”
“Please.” He showed Victoria the note while he tried to formulate a reply. When the clerk reported the name of a motel just west of Denver, he asked them to return the call.
Lucas waited while the woman made the call and related his response, which consisted of no more than a time and his cell phone number; then he thanked her again.
Victoria was still pondering the strange message: Whelan arrived four weeks ago ready to party. May attend with a date and a gift.
“Sounds ominous. Should Cecelia adjust the seating chart?” she offered with a smile that held no amusement.
“That won’t be necessary.” Shaking his head, he pocketed the note as he guided her back to the elevator and the party. So many things in their line of work required privacy.
Until his last breath, he would strive to do everything in his power to protect Victoria from harm or distress. Not because she couldn’t handle a crisis—she was beyond capable—but because she’d handled so many on her own through the years.
This time when the elevator doors closed, there was no embrace, just the flash of her eyes, so perceptive. “What should I know?”
“It would seem trouble is on the way.” He leaned on his cane, debating the options.
“Do you know who this Whelan is?”
“Not personally.” She sent him a questioning look. “He’s known as an explosives expert and there was an incident this afternoon at the airport. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“What are you contemplating?”
“Not knowing who sent the message, it’s hard to know just what I’m to do with the information.”
“Why didn’t you ask?” She handed him the note. “Is there a chance it was sent by this Whelan person himself?”
“No, this was sent from a Specialist.”
Her gaze narrowed and he knew they were both wondering what business brought a Specialist to Denver, but not to the wedding. “Who?”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “You aren’t going to sit back and wait.”
He dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Would you? I’ll talk to a few of the guests who can set up a watch and double-check the staff background. If this criminal is out to hurt Thomas or Casey or otherwise ruin her wedding day, he’s in for a significant surprise.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Any chance you’ll let someone else head up the ‘surprise’?” she asked as they exited the elevator.
“I suppose I have to.” He feigned an innocent expression. “We’re semi-retired.”
Just as he’d hoped, she smiled as they walked back into the party.
Chapter Eleven
11:30 p.m.
Thomas tried to get comfortable on the couch in front of the fire, but he couldn’t stop kicking himself. Being tired and frustrated didn’t excuse how poorly he was coping with this situation. Personally or professionally.
Jo didn’t deserve the brunt of his anger and frustration. None of the many rationalizations rolling through his brain would be enough to mend the rift he’d created. Only a sincere apology would work. Or the truth.
He wasn’t ready to face that yet.
The truth was muddied up with his feelings, floating somewhere in the murky space between the past and the present. Johara DeRossi was special. Just thinking it, he recognized the words as an extreme understatement. He might have pushed her away for her own good way back then, but it felt like a monumental mistake now.
“Hindsight,” he muttered, gathering the quilt Jo had been using. Looking back with the benefit of experience he might well have done things differently where she was concerned. Now it was too late. Wasn’t it?
He distracted himself with speculation about the wedding party. Cecelia and Casey had booked the entire resort for several days. It had been a smart choice, considering the bride-to-be was CIA and the groom a Colby investigator. Their combined guest list meant security was as important as the dress or flowers for this wedding.
He knew tonight was just a casual reception. It was probably better he was stuck out here. Having logged his fair share of time in the field, he felt more comfortable navigating tricky terrain or elusive enemies than a ballroom full of friends and family. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted Jo hovering at the fringes of the happy event in her official capacity, raising eyebrows or dragging his name through the mud on Casey’s special day.
The lights flickered once, interrupting his thoughts, then the cabin went dark, except for the fire. Quiet fell almost as suddenly as the ambient noise from the refrigerator and furnace ceased to fill the air.
The second hand on the battery-operated wall clock shouted each passing second in the eerie stillness and he listened carefully for any creak or crunch of someone approaching outside. Instead there was only a shuffle followed by a thud from the bedroom. Sitting up, he softly called Jo’s name.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
The absolute silence that followed confirmed she, too, was listening for any sounds that didn’t fit the weather conditions outside. Long minutes ticked by and the lack of footfalls, breaking glass or red dots from a laser sight had him breathing normally again.
Jo emerged from the hallway, pausing at the edge of the glow from the fire. “This is crazy,” she muttered.
“Hard to believe the power lasted this long,” he said, finally convinced it wasn’t another attack.
“How could all weather radar miss something this big?”
He chuckled. “Did Mother Nature mess with your plans?”
“Yes,” she said, her frustration evident. “It was supposed to be an easy thing. At least a civilized meet. We sit, we talk—”
“After I woke up from the sedative, you mean.”
She snorted and shuffled closer. “I’ve explained that. Repeatedly. Build a bridge, Director, and get over it.”
He smiled at the sight of the ever-elegant Agent DeRossi swaddled in a thick blanket shuffling closer to the fire. There wasn’t a fireplace in the bedroom and she’d freeze back there without the furnace. “Is there a backup generator?”
She shrugged. “If there is, it would’ve been added by the management company and it wasn’t mentioned in the rental brochure. Feel free to go look for one.”
“I’ll pass. Guess we’re both better off out here tonight.” He moved to put another log on the fire.
Her reply was an unintelligible grumble.
When the log caught, he shifted the couch and chair closer to the fire so they could rest more comfortably. He smiled, having never seen her disheveled. They’d come through a rather harrowing exit out of Germany and she’d never once let the stress show. She’d dug a bullet out of him and patched him up without being this shaken.
“The idea that I sold a weaponized virus really upsets you.”
“No.” She curled up in the chair, tucking her feet under her. “You being targeted by false accusations upsets me.”
“Why?”
She was avoiding eye contact, another behavior he’d never witnessed before. He wanted to get to the root of her distress. For the case. Right. Quizzing her now was all about his own selfish curiosity.
“There is something bigger at play here, behind the scenes.” She slid a glance his way. “Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t heard so much as a rumor. It’s just a gut reaction. Maybe they were right about my inability to be objective where you’re concerned.”
As far as he knew this was the first time she’d been directly assigned to him or his Specialists. Her position gave her extensive access to most of the records and files anytime she wanted to exploit the advant
age, but to his knowledge, the Initiative committee had never had cause to take an in-depth look at Mission Recovery.
Her announcement echoed in his brain a couple of times.
“What does that mean?”
She sighed and snuggled deeper into the chair, pulling the blanket snug up to her chin. “We’re an oversight committee, Thomas. What do you think we do?”
“I thought you investigated when there was suspicious activity.”
“There’s a term that defines our general career paths.”
“True. What prompted a closer look at Mission Recovery ops?”
“Your success.”
“My team is suspect for being good at the job?”
“Yup.”
“Initiative has never sanctioned us. Am I to believe that’s because of you?”
“Who’s fishing now?” She turned, finally looking him in the eye. “We both know your success is because you hire the best and they run clean ops.”
“That must be devastating to the committee.”
“More than you know.”
“Be clear, Jo. Are you saying we should thank someone inside of Initiative for today’s fun?”
“Maybe.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just a working theory, but who else could claim there was a source without having to share it?”
“I can think of a few people in more than one agency.”
“I know. And before you insist we risk life and limb to find another place for the night, let me reiterate there is no way anyone can trace this cabin to you or me.”
“I wasn’t going to insist on anything of the kind.”
She shot him a doubtful glance.
“Not in this weather.” And not since he’d made the call from the convenience store requesting an assist from Specialist Jason Grant. He wasn’t sure what to think since she’d told him Grant was here in Denver, but he knew the man was loyal above all else. Jason would get the warning to Lucas at the lodge and if Whelan had something showy planned, Lucas would stop him.
“I owe you an apology. It seems we’re safe enough, since no one’s put us on the defensive.”
“Thanks.”
She was quiet for a while; he thought she might have dozed off, but weary as he was, Thomas couldn’t sleep. He stared at the firewood stacked in the box, thought about the groceries in the kitchen. He couldn’t help wondering how long Jo had been preparing for this weekend. All the signs pointed to a carefully staged and meticulously planned mission.
This little cabin wasn’t something she’d rented on the fly because the Initiative told her to investigate him, no matter what she said. He understood, based on the intel she’d shared, why she was worried about his career. He believed that Middle Eastern village had been targeted and used to undermine his reputation and to cast doubt that would cause an all-out upheaval in Mission Recovery.
He wouldn’t let that happen, but he understood the attempt and threat was real even though it was patently false. It was the timing that niggled at him, forced him to look at Jo with as much, if not more, personal curiosity than professional distance.
The wedding date and destination had been set months ago. For the few people who knew him, it wasn’t a stretch to know he’d clear his calendar and would attend the ceremony—Cecelia was the last of his family and her daughter was as close as he’d get to having a child of his own.
Someone obviously wanted him out of the way and chose the ideal time and place to attack. But why? Even if they caught up with Whelan, without a lead on the supposed buyer, he might never know who was behind this.
Jo shifted and he realized she was still awake. “How long have you been planning this ambush?” His voice sounded too loud in the quiet of the cabin and despite the bulk of the blanket wrapped around her, he saw her jump.
But when she turned to look at him her dark eyes were almost sad. “Haven’t we been over this?”
He shrugged. “What else are we going to do?”
“Sleep? Make a plan for tomorrow?”
“We should sleep in shifts,” he answered. “And my plan for tomorrow is to get up to Glenstone.” He didn’t have to add that he wouldn’t go all the way to the lodge until they had this issue in hand. “How long, Jo?”
“I told you, the cabin is a rental.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question.”
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and her mouth twitched in a move he recognized as irritation. It was her one tell. Something she’d worked hard to overcome. If her self-control was slipping, it meant she was exhausted.
He felt a little guilty knowing he was going to exploit that weakness to get some real answers out of her.
“If we’re sleeping in shifts, you take the first watch.” She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, but she didn’t fool him.
“So this is your mother’s place?”
Her eyes flew open, all the pretense and masks of a trained field agent gone. “How could you know that?”
“You told me.” It was a rare treat to see the woman behind the facade and he could count on one hand the number of times she’d been that open with him. “During that last night in Austria.”
“I remember,” she said with a tired sigh.
It wasn’t quite the reaction he’d expected. He never allowed himself the luxury of regret, except where it pertained to her. As much as he tried to forget or ignore the shocking intimacy they’d shared on the Isely mission, he’d never been able to completely lock it away.
In the years since, he understood walking away from Johara DeRossi had been a necessity. Now he was thinking he’d done the wrong thing for all the right reasons.
“I only told you she had a place in the mountains. I never said which range. Her place might be in Nepal for all you know.”
Her quiet voice brought him back to the present and carried him through the past simultaneously. They’d been lying together in a sumptuous bed, the first rays of dawn creeping around the edges of tasseled curtains. His palms tingled. Would her skin still feel like warm silk gliding under his hands? He tried to shake free of the memories.
“True, but in the current context it seems like the Rockies are the logical conclusion.”
“Logic is one of your strengths.” She pushed a hand through her hair again. “I swear to you, Thomas, no one in our line of work can trace this cabin to me.”
“You’re sure?”
He realized he didn’t particularly care about the answer. They were alone, apparently safe enough, and both of them were too wired to rest. It seemed almost criminal to waste this opportunity to rekindle the blaze they’d once shared. A passion that might be all too ready to burn hot and fast again if that kiss was any indication. How many nights had he dreamed of her supple body nestled against his, her glossy black mane fanned across the pillows? He shifted, grateful the heavy quilt draped across his legs hid his reaction. Scaring her off wasn’t what he had in mind.
“Keeping secrets and hidden agendas are my specialty,” she said with a big yawn.
“Mine, too. But we both know how to dig up those secrets, too.”
“I know.”
No two words had ever sounded so loaded. “Feels like a tidy coincidence that this place just happened to be stocked and ready for visitors.”
“There’s a management company—didn’t I mention that? They have a comprehensive staff. A staff who doesn’t know who I am. When I need this place, I call and rent it like any other tourist.”
“Of course. And they just happen to know my favorite brand of red sauce.” It was, in fact, the only premade brand he used and only in emergencies. He supposed this qualified.
“Might have been the only brand on the shelf. More likely it was a lucky guess.”
“It’s far too late to play dumb, Jo. Dodging a couple of tactical assaults doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods.”
“Pun intended?”
“If it fits,” he said,
grinning at her.
“Oh, put that away.” She flicked a hand at his face.
“What?”
“There. The frown is much better.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Now who’s playing dumb? You know what that charming little smirk does to me. Did to me,” she amended.
He didn’t know he had a charming smirk and he couldn’t imagine charm having any effect on Jo in either a public or private setting. She always followed her own agenda with determination and focus. The idea of being able to charm her was interesting and something he might enjoy digging into in more detail. When he wasn’t sorting out who was trying to kill him.
“When and why did you book this little getaway?”
He’d almost decided she didn’t plan to answer as several more minutes passed with only the sound of her soft breathing and the occasional snap and crackle of the fire.
“About four months ago I called and booked the cabin for several days before and after the wedding.”
The wedding had been planned long before that. Casey and her mother knew he’d be in attendance from the moment his niece announced her engagement. Anyone who knew him would know that.
“As the date grew closer, I grew more convinced that I needed a face-to-face with you. So I made the final arrangements. Borrowed a few of your clothes and mailed the RSVP card still lying on your kitchen counter.”
At his pointed look, she added, “I wanted to cover all the bases. I’m your plus one, just in case I needed to crash the wedding.”
For her to take that kind of risk, letting herself into his house, there had to be more to this story. He hadn’t bothered with the RSVP card since his niece and sister knew he was coming. “What happened exactly to prompt all these advance preparations?”
“Nothing in particular,” she said, turning to face him once more. “That was the problem. Certain things weren’t adding up and it was like an itch between my shoulder blades. I couldn’t pin it down no matter which angle I took. My plan was to catch up with you on your way to or from the wedding and get your opinion.”
“The committee wouldn’t have endorsed that.”
