Gunning for the Groom

by Debra Webb

  “But not as exciting as your previous career.”

  “Few things are,” Frankie agreed.

  “Your message sounded quite urgent,” Victoria said, concern in her eyes.

  “It is. Thanks for seeing me.”

  Frankie had rehearsed the talking points on the flight and refined them in the cab. Now her stomach clenched. Maybe she should’ve taken more time to review the flash drive first. No, the statement alone was damaging enough to enlist Victoria’s opinion and guidance. “I need some advice,” she began.

  Just start at the beginning and walk through it step by step, she coached herself. She was more convinced than ever that her mother had been part of the plan to railroad her father. What baffled her was why. And rushing straight to that conclusion without the backstory would get her nowhere. Victoria was her last chance.

  “I’m glad you came to me,” the older woman said, her voice soothing.

  “You knew my parents well?”

  She nodded. “I knew them both, long before they married.”

  “Did you follow their careers?”

  “Not particularly. Mainly what they shared in Christmas cards or when your father made the news.” Victoria reached for her cup of coffee. “For his successes.”

  Frankie rubbed her palms on her jeans, wishing she’d worn the one dress she’d packed for this trip. Her soft green sweater set felt too casual next to Victoria’s polished style, and Frankie felt absolutely outclassed by the elegantly furnished office. Everything screamed experience and expertise. Which was why she was here. “I don’t know who else to turn to,” she admitted. “I found evidence that my mother lied to me about my father’s case, and probably several other things, as well,” she added, thinking of the passports.

  Victoria set her coffee aside. “What sort of evidence?”

  Frankie pulled the statement from the envelope in her backpack. Handing it over, she explained, “Sophia had a choice and she willingly contributed to his guilty verdict.”

  “Sophia?” Victoria echoed with an arching eyebrow. She studied Frankie over the top of the document. “You actually believe that.”

  “I’ve suspected it for some time,” Frankie replied. “You’re holding the proof.”

  Victoria picked up a pair of glasses and set them in place to read the statement. When she finished, she placed the papers gingerly on her desktop, as though they might explode. “How did you get this?”

  “A friend of Dad’s came to see me. He gave me a key to a safe-deposit box and warned me the contents could be dangerous. That document was one of several items inside.”

  “Go on.”

  “False passports with Sophia’s picture, a flash drive with more information that connects her to my father’s death, and other personal items from Dad.”

  “Did you recognize this friend?”

  “No,” Frankie admitted. She pulled out her phone and brought up the pictures she’d taken at the diner. “Do you? He told me he was close to my parents.”

  Victoria adjusted her glasses and carefully examined each photo. “I’ve never seen him. You should speak with your mother and verify your source and the accuracy of this statement.”

  “I have.” Frankie swallowed her impatience. “Well, I haven’t asked her about this man, but we’ve talked about Dad. Argued really. Her answers weren’t clear or helpful. Or even honest, in light of all this.”

  “Frankie. You’ve been part of covert operations. It’s a world of smoke and mirrors. You know reports rarely give the full picture of any situation.”

  “You won’t help me get to the truth?”

  Victoria sighed. “What are you asking me to do?”

  Frankie wanted to get up and pace or scream, or otherwise release some of the frustration building inside her. Instead, she remained in the chair. “I have nightmares about my dad’s downfall and death. He wasn’t a traitor.” She stopped and swallowed when her voice started to crack. “I can’t believe it, not about the man I knew.”

  “Frankie—”

  “I know I’m looking at this with a daughter’s eyes. I talked with Sophia several times when he was accused and after they found him guilty. She was too composed through the whole mess. Never a tear or any sign of worry. What kind of wife doesn’t worry when her husband is accused of treason?” Frankie paused, pulling on the tattered edges of her composure. Losing it would get her nowhere. “Sophia never gave me anything but the same tired reply—trust the process.”

  “It’s sound advice.”

  “It didn’t work.” Frankie left out the irrelevant piece that trusting a legal process included zero comfort factor. “It was a self-serving answer,” she argued. “Suicide isn’t part of any fair or just process. How did he even manage that with the security team that must have been surrounding him?”

  Frankie took a moment to compose herself. “Aunt Victoria, I have a new job, I’m making a new life, but I haven’t moved on. Not really.” She scooted to the edge of the chair. “I need the answers. I deserve to know what happened and who I can trust. There’s no way I can move forward until I clear up the past.”

  “I understand how that feels,” Victoria said, her words heavy with the wisdom of experience. “But leaping to conclusions will only hurt you. Others, too, most likely. I’ve known your mother a very long time. Her word should be enough for you.”

  “What word? She won’t explain herself,” Frankie pressed, desperate for Victoria’s help. “My father’s been silenced. I want to understand what happened.”

  “You want revenge,” Victoria stated bluntly. “Who will you target and what price will you pay?”

  Frankie forced herself to calm down, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “My dad isn’t a traitor. Even dead, he doesn’t deserve to bear that notoriety.” She fidgeted in the chair, wishing again she could get up and pace. “Apparently the friend of his who found me yesterday is the only person who agrees with me.”

  “You don’t know that.” Victoria tapped the papers in front of her. “This statement doesn’t prove your mother was complicit if there was a concerted effort to ruin your father. She had to make an accurate report. Her position and her integrity required it.”

  “It’s not accurate. Dad was in Bagram when she stated he was in Kabul.” Frankie hadn’t felt so helpless since she’d woken in a hospital bed with no feeling in her legs. She needed an ally. Just as the candid support of the medical team had empowered her recovery, one trustworthy partner would make all the difference now.

  Victoria’s eyes lit with troubled interest. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I was there. I saw him.” She nearly cheered when Victoria’s brow furrowed as she reviewed the report again.

  “Let me see the passports.”

  Frankie handed them over and endured the small eternity awaiting Victoria’s response.

  The older woman reached for her phone and pressed a button. “Ask Aidan to join us, please.” She replaced the handset and met Frankie’s gaze. “Aidan Abbot is one of my best investigators. No one’s better with documents or ferreting through layers of security or fraud. He can tell us if the passports are fakes.”

  “How could they possibly be real?”

  Victoria flipped through the pages. “Frankie, you know there are times when an established alias is necessary. Or all of this could be an elaborate setup to turn you against her.”

  “I’ve already been against her for months. We haven’t spoken since his funeral.” An event that had been postponed a full month so Frankie could attend. Too bad it hadn’t made anything easier. The delay had only given her mother more time to pretend life with her spouse hadn’t existed. The brutal lack of emotion had shocked Frankie. Still did. If Sophia so willingly cut out a husband, losing a daughter probably hadn’t registered on her sca
le. Everything Frankie thought she knew about love and family had been turned upside down by a disaster someone had manufactured. Hurting, her blood beating cold in her veins, Frankie fixed her gaze on the window and the city glittering beyond it.

  “Let’s assume you’re right,” Victoria continued. “It would require serious planning and resources to systematically take down a man of your father’s standing. To create evidence strong enough to ruin his career and push him to suicide without leaving a trail would be almost impossible these days.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Frankie turned to see it open and a man with thick, dark hair in need of a trim, and vivid, cobalt-blue eyes, enter.

  “Aidan Abbot, Francesca Leone.”

  “A pleasure,” he said, shaking her hand.

  There was a trace of Ireland in his voice and it sent her pulse into some foolish feminine skipping. He probably got that all the time, she thought, irritated with her reaction. “Likewise,” she replied.

  “Francesca’s a lovely name.”

  The way he said it made her want to sigh and forget why she’d come here. She cleared her throat. “Call me Frankie.” She’d been named in honor of both her grandmother and father. Her full name had always felt too exotic. “Frankie” was a better fit for the tough and proud little girl who’d spent her life aspiring to be like her dad.

  When he was seated, Victoria handed Aidan the passports. “Frankie has some concerns about these.”

  Frankie watched him examine them, involuntarily admiring his hands, as well as his attention to detail. More annoying was the difficulty she seemed to be having with the fact that he wore some appealing cologne that reminded her of the Pacific Coast on a clear, sunny day.

  “One woman with two names implies that one of them is a fake,” he said after a moment.

  “Both are fakes,” Frankie stated firmly.

  Aidan arched a dark eyebrow, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. Frankie felt a warm tremor just under her skin. It was a relief when he turned that bold blue gaze toward his boss. “If there’s no question, why call me?”

  “There may be good reason those passports were issued. Would you mind taking a closer look into the names and any travel records?”

  “Not at all.” He tapped the closed passports against his knee. “How much time do I have?”

  “A few hours at most,” Victoria said, her eyes cool. “Frankie wants the information yesterday.”

  Frankie couldn’t sit still a moment longer. Her back ached from the travel and the tension. She wanted the freedom and clarity of a quick run but settled for pacing the width of the office. The patience she’d relied on in the field and in her work didn’t translate to this situation. “That’s a start. Can you tell me what sort of legal action we can take?” She shoved her hands into her pockets.

  “Why don’t you give me what you have?” Victoria suggested. “Let my team investigate while you go back to Savannah. We’re good, objective and fast. I’ll call you as soon as we know something.”

  Frankie shook her head, her ponytail swinging. “I’m not sitting this one out.” She’d been relegated to the sidelines too often since her injury. While she couldn’t say she knew her parents better than anyone—the opposite appeared to be true—she wouldn’t deal with this long-distance via secondhand reports. She wanted to see her mother’s face when the truth finally came out.

  “Then why did you come to me?”

  She felt Aidan’s gaze on her as Victoria waited for an answer. Frankie wished she could ask him to leave. She didn’t want to share the ugly Leone family secrets with a stranger. “For support and guidance,” she replied, keeping her gaze on Victoria. “I took vacation through next week. I’ll go to Seattle and confront my mother about that statement while you investigate the passports and other documents. Won’t that be enough time to know if we have a case against her?”

  “Frankie—”

  “I’ll tell her I want to reconcile, to mend the rift,” Frankie explained. “Hopefully, she’ll buy it and open up. If that isn’t enough, I’ll ask for a job. Anything to lower her defenses.”

  Victoria glanced at Aidan. “Frankie’s mother owns Leo Solutions, a security firm in Seattle.”

  “Cyber or personal?” Aidan inquired.

  “Both, if I understand the setup,” Frankie answered. “She and her business partner built it on the backs of their government careers.” Regretting her burst of bitterness, she plowed on. “Once I’m out there, I thought I’d worm my way past her defenses. With your agency working this behind the scenes and me working on-site, I’m sure we can get to the truth quickly.”

  “Frankie.” Victoria leaned back in her chair, her reading glasses in her hands. “Going out there with the intent to deceive your mother is a terrible risk.”

  Frankie paused, studying her. “I’ve worked undercover before.” She couldn’t afford to think of this as anything other than a mission. If her mother could ignore the bonds of family, so could she.

  “That’s not what I mean. Please, sit down.”

  Reluctantly, Frankie returned to her chair. She didn’t want to endure a lecture on discretion or family unity in front of Aidan, but it seemed Victoria wasn’t giving her a choice.

  “Since I clearly can’t stop you from going, I’m sending Aidan with you.”

  “Pardon me?” Having braced for the lecture, Frankie needed a moment to digest the actual statement. “That’s not necessary.” She shot a quick look in Aidan’s direction. “Can’t he research the passports and documents from here?”

  “I want him on-site,” Victoria said. “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

  “I’ll keep you updated—” Frankie began.

  “I know you will,” she interrupted. “That isn’t the point. I refuse to take any chances with your safety.” She turned to her computer monitor, and her hands rattled on her keyboard for a moment. Then she met Frankie’s gaze with a thoughtful expression. “Assuming your mother’s statement is legitimate, your search will likely lead to someone better prepared to retaliate than offer up a confession.”

  Yes, Frankie was angry and she was hurt. That didn’t make her a fool. “I’ve considered that and taken precautions.” She didn’t want or need a babysitter. The fewer witnesses to her family embarrassments, the better.

  “Good,” Victoria replied.

  “You know I can protect myself.”

  “This isn’t up for debate, Frankie. I’ve known you since you were a child. You’ll give your mom a call and let her know you’re coming out for a visit. We’ll get Aidan an interview with your mother’s company by Monday afternoon.” She held up a hand when Frankie started to protest again. “I’m sure he’ll be hired. As former Interpol, he knows his way around security and covert operations. Once the details are settled, the two of you can work together.”

  Call her mom? She wasn’t a teenager caught smoking in the girls’ room. Her mother wouldn’t believe Frankie suddenly had an urge for mother-daughter bonding time, and Frankie wanted the element of surprise. “That’s not—”

  Victoria cut her off. “I insist that you have someone watching your back.” Standing, she came around the desk and pulled Frankie to her feet for another hug. When she let go, her eyes were misty. “Legal debacles and strained relationships aside, try to focus on the things your parents did right. They gave you their love and affection through a wonderful childhood. Both of them raised a strong, independent woman.”

  Frankie did her best to muster a smile as the grief sliced through her. She’d questioned every nuance of her life lately, wondering what to believe about her parents and how that impacted her view of herself. Cornerstones of her upbringing seemed little more than loose theories in light of recent events. “I’ll be careful,” she repeated, not wanting to lie to Victoria.

  “I hope your
mother helps you find what you’re after.” The woman’s smile was sad. “Would you like us to stay while you make the call?”

  Frankie hesitated, but only for a moment. If this investigator would be trailing her around Seattle, he might as well get a taste of what he was in for. He’d be combing through her family’s secrets soon enough.

  * * *

  AIDAN DID HIS best impersonation of an invisible man while Frankie spoke briefly with her mother. It was clear she wasn’t happy about Victoria’s insistence on the task, but his boss was difficult to outmaneuver. Her voice cool and her face pale, Frankie managed a polite exchange, excusing herself from the office the moment it was over.

  “The woman’s a spitfire,” he observed, closing the door behind her. He admired her grit. Not to mention her lush sable hair, expressive dark eyes and that generous mouth. Even without the surname Leone tipping him off, her perfect posture implied a military background. Although with those cheekbones and long limbs, she could’ve passed as a model. If she wasn’t a new client, he might have asked her out for a drink. “I’m to get myself hired and then what?”

  “Find a way to stay close to her. If the documents are real, she’ll be a target as soon as the person pulling the strings learns she found them. I want you there. You’re the best at unraveling knots like this one.”

  That was Victoria’s way of saying she suspected fraud, his primary focus during his time with Interpol. “Do I report to you only?” The freedom and case variation were nice, though his favorite part of being a Colby investigator was the concise chain of command.

  “Yes, please. I don’t care for the way she was led to what she considers proof positive her mother willfully ended her father’s career. The only thing I believe about the man who dropped this in her lap is that digging for the truth could get her hurt. Or worse.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Aidan waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “General Leone was an excellent strategist,” Victoria said, almost to herself. “Frankie takes after him. She’s smart and highly skilled, but I’m afraid she’s rejecting the most logical explanation. It’s understandable under the circumstances. I’m sure you heard the temper and need for vengeance in her voice.”