by Debra Webb
“Can Aidan do this alone?”
“I believe so.”
“And if we lose them both as a result of this strategy?”
“As long as we get Galen and Center is protected, we’ve accomplished our mission.”
“So both he and the girl are expendable?”
O’Riley shrugged. “Aren’t we all?”
“You’re expecting that special bond that once existed between the two of them to carry them through this ordeal, aren’t you?”
“I’m not only expecting it, I’m counting on it.”
If Remington only knew how true that was. The woman was the key to far more than he knew.
That was one secret O’Riley intended to keep.
Chapter Eight
New Orleans
Sunday afternoon
Traffic was light on I-10 as they made their way to the West Bank exit across the Crescent City Connection Bridge. From there, General de Gaulle East led across the Intercoastal Waterway Bridge. A right on Louisiana Highway 406 and less than thirty minutes after leaving her apartment, they had reached English Village, the community where her parents’ home stood empty.
Aidan drove his sporty black sedan. Two doors, low to the ground, sleek and sexy with tinted windows and four on the floor. Hot and fast.
So, she mused, he was one of those guys who liked to shift gears, pushing an engine for all it was worth before rocketing to the next level. She should have known there would be a racy side to this quiet, enigmatic man.
Contrastingly, the only vehicle she owned was the old Cadillac she had inherited from her parents. It stayed in the garage at their home, gathering dust more often than not. A car was just in the way in a busy city like New Orleans.
Aidan stopped at the security gate to the residential community long enough for Darby to show her ID. A gated neighborhood located on the riverbank, with numerous parks and family-oriented amenities, the Village had been a great place to grow up. Safe, prestigious. But it was the nights she’d spent in the city with her friends that she recalled most about her childhood. The secret strolls along the cobblestoned streets of the French Quarter and adrenaline-pumping adventures in the cemeteries. Her parents would absolutely have suffered heart failure if they’d had any idea.
The vibrancy of the city had been like lifeblood to Darby. Even now when she ventured too far away from New Orleans proper, she felt lost and out of sorts.
“Take a right there.” She pointed to an upcoming cross street.
Aidan slowed and took the turn.
“The second house on the left.”
He pulled into the driveway and Darby immediately experienced an ache in the center of her chest. Even after five years, it hurt to come here.
The Georgian-style home offered every amenity. More than four thousand square feet of elegance. Her friends couldn’t understand why she refused to live here. But she would some day…maybe. If she could beat down her addiction to the steamy, gritty world of New Orleans.
Aidan had opened her door before she’d realized he’d gotten out of the vehicle. Just another of her bad habits. Daydreaming…always lost in thought.
The gardener had already put in the fall flowers. As she moved closer to the house, the sight of those colorful blooms made her think of Jerry Lester and his sickness. Revulsion shuddered through her. Coming here was probably a good thing with him on the loose. She didn’t like wondering if he would discover her new address or if he would risk taking another child.
Darby glanced over her shoulder as the police cruiser parked at the curb in front of her house. They had insisted on staying close by, which added another layer of protection. The officer in charge hadn’t asked about her friend and she hadn’t offered any information. Aidan had said that he’d been involved on some level with the ongoing case. Detective Willis was likely well aware of Aidan’s presence in her life. Still, she’d be sure to mention it later.
She was very lucky to have a man like him on her side.
She unlocked the front door and disarmed the home’s security system. The vaguely unpleasant smell of disuse assailed her nostrils. Though she kept the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter, there was still a lingering staleness. The lack of steam rising from showers…the varied and distinct aromas that accompanied the preparation of family meals…perfumes and body sprays. All of those things were missing, leaving the house to smell like an unused closet rather than a home where life happened. Those same old sentimental feelings tugged at her emotions. When would she stop missing them so?
Aidan closed and locked the door. “Very nice,” he commented as he surveyed the soaring entry hall.
She considered the massive curving staircase and the towering second-story landing and wondered if his childhood home or homes had been similar to this. Her parents had not been exactly wealthy, comfortable more than anything. They were older when they’d elected to adopt, their finances in good order with wise investments. When they’d died, there hadn’t been that much money to inherit, but there was the property, which was more than enough. She would trade it in a heartbeat to have them back in her life.
Darby tossed her purse onto the bench part of the antique coat rack stationed a few feet from the door. “Well, let’s get to it.”
She and Aidan had discussed how best for her to look into her past. He had offered to go through his own sources but she had declined, feeling more comfortable without the involvement of others. What she didn’t tell him was her fear of putting her name out there where the wrong people might see it or somehow have access. She’d never really bothered to dig through the family files, not in depth anyway. All the estate documents had been filed appropriately, not requiring her to do any real searching. Since the accident she’d had no reason to think about her past…not really.
Not until now, anyway.
She would start with her father’s study.
The richly paneled, masculinely decorated room drew a smile to her lips. Her father had worked at home most of the time, choosing to be with his family as much as possible. His position as board member for one of Louisiana’s premier development companies had allowed him that luxury.
She settled into his big leather chair and started with the files in his desk, then moved to the credenza and eventually on to the file cabinets that lined one wall. Drawer after drawer, folder after folder. She found nothing related to her adoption.
The file detailing her trips to the doctor and dentist. All routine checkups, never an illness or even a cavity. Eye exams—20/20 vision. Nothing out of the ordinary.
She looked up and found Aidan enthralled with family photo albums. Her mother had meticulously kept the matching albums up to date, each labeled with the years they contained. Darby was five years behind…pictures tucked in drawers or wherever they happened to land after she picked them up from the One-Hour Photo.
Her gaze dropped back to the medical file in her hand. “Do you realize I’ve never been sick a day in my life? Not once. And only one broken bone…not the first stitch.”
He looked at her over the top of the album currently holding his attention. “That would please most people.”
She tucked the folder back into place and closed the final drawer, disgusted with her search. “I’m not complaining, it just seems odd.”
He shrugged. “Not so odd. I’ve never been sick. Perfect health is a good thing.”
“But unusual.” She folded one arm over her middle and braced the other one there so that she could tap her chin. Maybe she’d call her father’s attorney. She hadn’t talked to him in years. Maybe now he would tell her what he knew about how her parents had come to adopt her.
“Come here.”
Aidan’s voice elicited a pang of longing, made her want to listen to him speak for hours. Her gaze moved to the dark one focused on her. “What?”
He beckoned to her with the long fingers of one hand. “Come.”
She pushed to her feet, skirted the desk and sidled
up next to him, unable to resist taking in his tall frame from head to toe and back. His penchant for black fit so well with her love of the mystical, her relentless obsession with the city she loved so much. She wanted to know more about him…to know everything.
“Tell me about this.” He pointed to a picture of her dressed in her senior prom gown. “What was the special occasion?”
Aidan listened as she told him about her senior prom and how she’d gone with a guy who was just a friend, hadn’t managed to snag herself a boyfriend. He watched her animated expressions as she spoke. Followed the movement of her lips, his own hungry for the taste of her. He wondered what it would be like to dance…to hold her in his arms as the other man had done at her prom.
They grabbed armfuls of the albums and retreated to the family room, where she curled up on a sectional sofa next to him and led him through her life with the Shepards in pictures. She’d gone from a sullen unhappy child at ten to a breathtakingly beautiful girl at twelve.
Aidan considered his own life during those same stages as she moved through her well-documented past. She’d had many friends, had participated in numerous extracurricular activities. Dance lessons, piano lessons. She had blossomed into a young woman so fascinating he could scarcely take his eyes off her. Not once in the life she recalled had she taken a self-defense class or weapons training. Her life had been nothing at all like his.
How could she have grown up in such a different world, the bond between them severed by geography and culture, and still draw him this way? He knew with certainty that Center had miscalculated the strength of the connection. He recognized that he was too close, but he refused to allow the possibility of another Enforcer being sent to replace him. His objectivity might not be fully intact but he would not lose sight of the mission.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s getting late.”
Aidan followed her gaze to the wall of windows that faced west. The sun had dropped low in the sky. Five or five-thirty already. It would be dark soon. In an hour, perhaps.
“I’ll help you put the albums away.” They both reached for the one they’d just looked at. Their hands touched and warmth spread through him. Now was not the time to pick up where they’d left off so early this morning, but he was very tempted.
She looked away from his steady gaze and hurriedly gathered an armful of the albums. He picked up the rest and followed her back to her father’s study.
When the last album had been replaced, she said, “I need to get something from my old room. I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t wait for a response but she got one anyway. “I’ll come with you.”
She glanced over her shoulder without slowing. “As long as you don’t give me any grief over the color scheme.”
He climbed the staircase a few steps behind her, enjoying the view more than he should. He felt certain she would not be amused if she were to see his thoughts at the moment. Every muscle in his body had gone rigid with desire. Willpower had never been an issue for him. He could go for days without sleep or nourishment. But he was not at all sure how long he would last without sharing complete physical intimacy with her.
Turning to walk backward along the upstairs hall, she warned as she neared what must be the door to her room, “Don’t say a word.” Then she swung back toward her destination, her long hair swirling around her, and disappeared through the open door.
He laughed when he stood in the middle of her room. White wicker furniture and tie-dyed curtains and linens. Posters of rock stars or maybe movie stars lined the walls. It was definitely different from what he’d expected.
“I warned you,” she said from inside the closet.
“You warned me not to say a word. You didn’t say I couldn’t laugh,” he corrected as he went to the bureau and studied the framed photographs of her with some of the same friends he’d seen in photographs downstairs. She smiled a lot. He liked her smile.
“I’m ready.” She tugged her hair loose from the button-up sweater she’d pulled on. “I’d almost forgotten this old sweater until I saw it in some of the pictures.” She hugged the sides around her. “It’s my lucky sweater.”
Her lucky sweater lacked any real appeal. Bland gray and rather shapeless, the material looked to be wool or something like it. A couple of buttons were missing. He had to admit he’d never seen a lucky sweater; maybe they all looked like that.
“Let’s go,” she said, clearly pleased with her rediscovered treasure. “I have calls to make.”
She took his hand and led him from the room.
“I’m going to call my dad’s attorney and see if he remembers anything about the adoption.” She looked up at him as they descended the stairs. “Surely he wouldn’t have a problem sharing whatever he knows with me now.”
Aidan pushed the corners of his mouth into a facsimile of a smile. “Good idea.”
He didn’t see the point in bursting her bubble. Her father’s attorney would know nothing. According to her file at Center, her adoption had been handled personally by Director O’Riley through one of Center’s attorneys. It would take two lifetimes to wade through the red tape the attorney had wrapped around the case. That transaction would never be traced back to Center.
Darby waved at the policemen as she settled into the passenger seat of the car Center had arranged for him to use. The officers looked ready for a shift change. According to Aidan’s calculations, that would likely occur as soon as they arrived back at her apartment.
Darby relaxed into the leather seat and hugged her sweater more tightly around her. She stole a peek at her chauffeur and smiled. He was so cool. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even this ungodly sweater. He just went with the flow. Whatever she wanted was fine by him. She decided it had to be part of his job. No real guy would have fun flipping through old family photos all afternoon on a beautiful day like today. She suddenly wondered if he golfed or played racquetball. No. He didn’t look like the type. If he participated in any sports, it would be something brutal like hockey or soccer.
She really liked that polished yet tough exterior.
As they neared the Intercoastal Waterway Bridge, pain abruptly seared through her brain. She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut against the intensity of it.
“What’s wrong?”
Dark. Water. She could smell the swamp.
“Darby.”
Trees dripping with moss.
She gripped the armrests and panted to fight the building pain.
Voices. Too indistinct to comprehend.
Then it was gone.
The episode left her fighting for breath, her heart pumping fiercely.
“Tell me what just happened.”
She held up a hand in hopes he would give her a minute to work past her body’s automatic responses to the fierce pain.
Another slash of light momentarily blinded her.
Voices.
Clearer this time…louder.
The children.
Crying out to her.
She blinked to focus and dragged in another gulp of air. “Aidan…I…”
Come back.
Come back, please come back.
“We have to go back…”
“Back where?” He glanced from the road to her.
Only when he spoke did she realize she’d said the words out loud.
“There’s…something I need to do.”
The police cruiser followed close behind them. What would they think about her sudden need to follow the voices in her head? They would call it in and some reporter monitoring the police band would hear her name and rush to get the latest scoop. She couldn’t go through that again. How could she risk telling the cops what she felt?
Darby wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that one. This was something she needed to do alone. She cast a long, assessing gaze at the man behind the wheel. Well, maybe not completely alone. The FBI had sent him to keep an eye on the case and ultimately her.
“When
we get into the city, is there some way we can give the cops the slip? Maybe pretend we’ve—”
“Why would we want to give the slip to your bodyguards?”
She couldn’t quite read his tone, something between noncommittal and suspicious.
How did she explain this without sounding like a fool? Whatever she felt at the moment was different from her dreams. She was wide awake, for one thing, and she felt an extreme urgency rather than the usual dread or panic. She had to do this.
“There’s something I have to do.”
His gaze met hers for a moment. “Related to Lester’s case?”
She nodded.
For three seconds that turned into ten, she was certain he intended to deny her request.
“All right. This is what we’ll do.”
THEY HAD WAITED until it was dark.
When they’d returned to the city, Aidan had made a show of dropping her off at her borrowed apartment and then driving away. He’d parked his car three blocks beyond the opposite side of the apartment building from where the cops had set up their stakeout. He’d given her one instruction before leaving: dress in dark clothing.
She’d dug through her friend’s closet until she found black jeans and a navy sweatshirt. Black hiking boots had completed her getup. Her friend wouldn’t mind…she hoped. If Darby ruined anything, she’d just have to replace it. She’d only brought a few changes of clothes with her to her friend’s home. She hadn’t expected to stay this long.
When night came, she’d slipped out of the apartment, leaving the living room light and the television on, and took the stairs down to the lobby. She’d packed a flashlight and a few other necessities into a small backpack, which she draped over one shoulder. A frown creased her brow when she didn’t find Aidan.
She moved quietly toward the communal laundry room. He’d said they would go out the side door and slip away via the alley between this house and the next. Sounded good to her. She just wasn’t sure where her partner in crime was at the moment. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d changed his mind. Or if something had happened.
