Secondary Targets

by Sandra Edwards

  This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the odd accessory. Not that there was anything wrong with it, really. It’s just that the odd piece of jewelry seemed like something a teenager would wear.

  She tried to smile, but her eyes failed to hide her fear. “I’m scared, Eric,” she said awkwardly, wrapping the beads around her fingers.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Gracie.” A confident tone accompanied his promise. “I’ll protect you with my life.”

  She closed her eyes and a heavy sigh had little effect on the monkey riding her back. “Why?” Her eyes opened again and the fear residing in them just seconds ago had been replaced by conjecture.

  Eric didn’t understand why Grace didn’t get his motivation. “Don’t you get it?” Considering that she was raised on the military, she should.

  The General. It was all about the General. Wasn’t it?

  “I get that I walked out on you, eleven years ago, without so much as a word.” Grace could hardly believe that she had actually brought up the subject. Was she trying to chase him off? No, but she didn’t get his motivation and she needed to know what drove him. “And now, here I am, back again and with no warning at all.”

  Good, Lord. I’m awful. She censured herself, as Eric’s gaze remained staidly still, piercing her with an intense glare. Sensing the barely controlled resentment coiled within Eric, Grace’s composure and self-worth withered.

  “It’s looking more and more like I’ve placed you in a life-threatening situation. And still, you drop everything to protect me.” Her words held a measure of confidence, but her tone was like forcing them over broken and jagged glass. “Why?” she asked again. “I don’t deserve your help.”

  Nor was she worthy of it, but she needed his help. Without it she was screwed. Still, even if she didn’t deserve it, she wanted his motivation to be because he loved her. She didn’t want to hear about how he owed it to her father.

  But what other explanation was there? Eric didn’t owe her a damned thing. So why was he willing to put his life on the line for her? That’d probably lose appeal quickly if he found out about her weakness.

  Yes, it was probably best to keep her distance.

  Blood was pounding at the end of Grace’s fingertips and she realized she’d wound the worry beads so tightly around her fingers that she was cutting off the circulation. She released the bracelet and it snapped back in place on her wrist.

  Breaking the rehab trinket was a bad idea. It might induce him to ask questions about its origin.

  Eric hated that she didn’t seem to trust his motives, in effect, distrusting him. He wanted to touch her cheek, to draw her into his arms, but his lingering resentment wouldn’t allow it. “I was mad at you for a really long time.” The desire to drag her into his arms swelled inside Eric. Not the best of ideas. He needed a task to preoccupy his hands, and commenced tucking the blanket in around her protectively. “But, as mad as I was at you, I kept this picture of you and me, on my desk, for all to see.” He didn’t understand his logic behind that inspiration, but the fact that he’d kept a photograph for eleven years of a woman who hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye was an interesting insight. “And you really need me to tell you why I’d willingly die, trying to protect you?”

  A cold knot tightened around his fragile heart. Why? Why hadn’t she loved him the way he’d always loved her. And why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t he seen her subtle pulling away? There should’ve been tell-tale signs, but he hadn’t seen them even in hindsight.

  Maybe he’d been too crazy in love. Good thing that was over.

  “Don’t leave me alone, okay?” The look on her face matched her shaky voice. “You can have the bed and I’ll sleep out here.” She gestured toward the chaise-lounger. “Just please, don’t leave me here by myself....” Panic broke her words, and she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her fear.

  Tears welled slowly around her eyes and almost made him forget about his own anger. “I’m not going to leave you alone.” He couldn’t fight the urge any longer and trailed his fingertips along her jaw-line. “And I’ll sleep anywhere you want.”

  A tear escaped, although he suspected that she hadn’t wanted it to. He pulled her into his arms, wondering if he could offer her comfort. He hoped so since this was something he was probably going to end up regretting. Then again, holding her had never been disappointing.

  She fell easily into his arms but her body tensed. Eric blew out his regrets with a heavy breath and tightened his embrace.

  Memories invaded his head and clouded his ability to reason. He thought he’d settled the past a long time ago. Eric wasn’t plagued by conjecture of the unknown. He knew all too well what it was like to make love with Grace, to feel the heated passion that had always ignited anytime they were anywhere near each other.

  His recollections of those times mingled with his current faltering efforts to keep her at a safe distance and the combination of both were starting to get the better of him.

  He hadn’t tried to fight it back then, and he had no plans to deny it now. Even so, that didn’t mean he had to like it. In fact, he didn’t like it one bit. Nevertheless, it had no bearing on anything. It didn’t change recent events. And, it didn’t change the way he felt—no matter how much he wished otherwise.

  Eric had gotten himself caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. He did not want to be here, in this vulnerable place, and he couldn’t walk away—because of the General.

  CHAPTER 20

  Hollywood Beach, Florida

  MARCUS lounged in silence at the snack bar separating the dining room from the kitchen. Cherilyn had busied herself with the task of putting a pot of coffee on to brew.

  The morning sky’s golden haze, and bright and vivid sunlight set the scene for a successful day. But what constituted success? Learning the truth? Eluding those who’d snuffed out the General? Staying alive?

  How about getting a hold of this fascination with Cherilyn?

  Maybe it was just nostalgia that had him feeling so sentimental. A lot of years had flown by, but Cherilyn was still just as captivating as the day they’d met.

  Amazing. No wonder he couldn’t commit to Tracy, or any other woman. He’d been comparing them all to Cherilyn. Or at least the notion of what she’d meant to him. Putting her on a pedestal hadn’t been the brightest move, it had made it hard for anyone else to compete. Especially when he’d convinced himself that her choice to leave wasn’t her fault. The possible truth behind his belief that Cherilyn was somehow innocent had no bearing on reality. It really didn’t matter who’d done what to whom. But fault or not, she was gone.

  Marcus had stopped entertaining the notion of her coming back someday, a long time ago. And it wasn’t until this very moment that he realized he’d been helplessly and hopelessly wrapped up in the past.

  That imaginary light bulb was shining brightly in his head now and he was seeing things a bit more clearly. But that didn’t mean he knew what to do about it. Still, recognition had to count for something.

  Cherilyn grabbed a couple of cups from the cabinet, and Marcus wondered how often she came to this place. Was it often? She seemed to know where everything was located. She looked inside the cups and turned to the sink to rinse them out.

  “How long do you think we can safely stay here?” Marcus asked.

  “Three, maybe four days.” She shrugged it off, but he got the feeling she wasn’t as certain as she tried to project.

  Sure, there was always a chance that they could stay here forever and never be discovered. But who was willing to take that risk? Not Marcus.

  Cherilyn filled the cups with coffee and glanced at Marcus, setting the pot back on the coffee maker’s pedestal. “Black?”

  Who remembered a thing like that after all these years? Impressive. “And strong.”

  She slid the cup across the counter with a sweet smile.

  Marcus dragged the mug toward him. “Do you have any thoughts abo
ut what’s going on?”

  “I can only guess.” She leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. “If someone has wiped Grace’s father from existence, literally, why do you suppose that is?”

  Marcus could think of a few reasons, all of them scary. “I don’t know, Cher,” he said, trying to dismiss everything that didn’t make sense. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years. But I’ve never had to consider their authenticity before.”

  Cherilyn drew in a breath and closed her eyes. “If someone has gone to that much trouble,” she said, opening her eyes, “why have they allowed Grace to live? Isn’t she proof that the man existed?”

  Reality slapped Marcus across the face. Why had they allowed Grace to live considering what they’d done to her father?

  “Maybe she has something they want?” Cherilyn’s suggestion came lightly considering its connotations.

  But what could she have that someone wanted bad enough to make her father disappear, yet let her live? “Maybe they think she does.”

  Cherilyn pushed off the counter. “Why do you say that?” she asked, coming around the snack bar and sitting on the empty stool beside Marcus.

  “If she does—” He shook his head in a slow, systematic manner. “She doesn’t know anything about it.”

  Cherilyn paused in silence, staring at her feet. Marcus remembered her stalling tactic well. Finally, she crooked her head around and looked at him. “And you know this because...?”

  He didn’t have to put any thought into her inquiry. “Because I know Grace. She’s totally in the dark.”

  Anguish breezed across Cherilyn’s face. “Are you in love with her?”

  Where the hell had that come from? “No. Grace is a friend.” He paused, shaking his head. “Nothing more.” Marcus clamped his jaw tightly, trying to deter the thoughts in his head from finding their way into his voice. He failed miserably. “There’s only been one girl that I’ve ever loved.”

  Cherilyn smiled in a soft, sad sort of way and glanced off into the direction opposite Marcus, as if she were embarrassed.

  “Hey,” he said, touching the soft fabric covering her arm. “Don’t mistake my concern for Grace as being something it’s not. She’s simply a friend. Just like Eric.”

  “I guess you can still see through me.” A nervous cackle followed close behind Cherilyn’s words. A blotch of crimsoned embarrassment stained her porcelain white cheeks.

  She leapt to her feet and Marcus followed as if he’d been yanked up by some invisible cosmic chain linking them together.

  Their close proximity brought with it anxiety—at least for Cherilyn—evident by her staunch arms hanging stiffly at her sides, and her quivering lips.

  She was trying to distance herself from him, and Marcus couldn’t have that. For once, he needed her to stay and fight. Fight for them and everything they could’ve been and still could be, with just a little effort.

  Eric didn’t take pleasure in the thought of confirming for Grace what Marcus and Cherilyn were so certain was the case, but what other explanation could there be? With everything else that was going on, the General’s key gave credence to Marcus and Cherilyn’s assumptions.

  Admitting it though meant clueing Grace into the fact that her father had lived this mysterious and secretive life. One that Grace, and possibly her mother, hadn’t known about.

  Well, it looked like the time for disclosure had come. No more putting it off until later. Sooner had arrived. But it didn’t mean he knew what to do or felt comfortable with his ensuing task.

  Eric remembered the way Grace’s eyes had lit when she first caught sight of the chaise lounge on the balcony. “Let’s go outside.” He nodded toward the bedroom’s double doors leading outdoors. “And take in a little fresh air.” He winked and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.

  She followed him willingly outside and to the chair where he sat first, and she snuggled against his torso. A cool brisk breeze blew in off the ocean and Grace shivered. Eric took the afghan and covered her, draping his arms loosely around her to hold it in place.

  “Grace, honey.” He called her by the intimate endearment and she didn’t seem to mind. “You do know, the last thing in this world that I’d ever want to do is hurt you by tarnishing the memory of your father.”

  “Yes, I do know that to be true.” She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. “So maybe you should just tell me what you’re trying so hard to avoid.”

  “The day we buried your father, and you took off on your sabbatical to sort things out.” Eric had kissed the side of her head before he realized it, and just as quickly he recognized life didn’t hurt quite so badly with Grace in his arms. But it was just a band-aid. It didn’t change the fact that she’d already broken his heart once. Who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again? “I went to the General’s house and did what he’d instructed me to do a few months before his death.”

  Grace’s eyes darkened and her brow furrowed. “What? What did he tell you to do?”

  “He showed me a secret compartment in his desk, and told me that if anything ever happened to him, I should take the contents and never tell anyone about the desk or what I’d found.”

  “What was hidden in there?” Grace’s expression changed from confusion to curiosity.

  “A key.”

  “A key?” Her confusion returned.

  “I have no idea where or what it leads to, but now I’m willing to bet that whatever it is...there’s somebody else out there, somewhere, that wants it.” Eric didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling left by that notion, mainly because it demeaned his mistaken identity theory.

  Grace didn’t say anything for the longest time, and during the silence a fury of conjecture and speculation overloaded Eric’s brain. So many strange and different things were happening. And he was starting to believe—even if he didn’t like it—that they were all tied together. But what was the common thread? Besides the General.

  Her gaze drifted around, taking the long way to land on his face. “If that key leads to something they want, do you think they know that?”

  Eric thought about it. Probably not. “I doubt it,” he said, shaking his head. “Clearly, they’re not above killing. If they knew I had it, and if it is indeed something they want, I’d probably have met with my maker long ago.”

  She stiffened and a gloomy look crossed her face. Grace didn’t like talking about Eric’s death any more than he did. Apparently, she still had a heart after all.

  “How are we supposed to figure out what that is?” she asked in a diluted, dejected tone. “Or, where it’s at, for that matter.”

  “I have no idea.” Eric forced the tough words out, hoping they didn’t sound as pathetic as he imagined. “I think it’s time we clue Marcus and Cherilyn in about the key.” Reluctance over disobeying the General’s instructions settled in a heavy, uncomfortable wall around Eric.

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  “It still has to be okay with you.” Eric paused. “It’s your father’s memory we’re talking about.”

  “And maybe our lives.” Grace’s comment reminded him that she’d always been the voice of reason in their relationship. Good thing too, because nothing made sense to him. “So, whatever you think is okay with me.” Her declaration came almost serenely.

  When she smiled that way, when her eyes lit up every time she looked at him, those things were just more fuel for the out-of-control fire that Eric was trying so desperately to extinguish.

  He touched the edge of her cheek and pushed her glimmering dark tresses out of her face, knowing this kind of physical contact was a bad idea. Her hair felt like the softest silk and he battled with the urge to wrap it around his fingers. Considering a cause and effect scenario, he was able to thankfully push the impulse aside.

  Eric wanted to believe Grace when she said he could trust her. More than anything else, he wanted to feel good about putting his faith in her once again and not have the rug pulled ou
t from under him.

  But, so far, he hadn’t arrived at that place.

  He was however nearing a locale called seeing the light. Eric hadn’t ever wanted to believe or even consider the General’s death was a direct result of the man’s own doing. But the facts being what they were—there was no evidence, nothing to indicate that anything other than a self-inflicted gunshot wound had taken the General’s life—made it hard to remain in denial.

  Logically speaking, and Eric was all about logic, he’d had no choice but to accept what he knew had been so terribly hard for Grace. The General committed suicide. Eric didn’t have to like it, but he had acknowledged what seemed logical.

  He’d also spent the last eleven years wondering what was the purpose for the General’s key. Mostly, he thought it had something to do with himself and Grace. But the more time that passed, the more his over-active imagination stirred up trouble inside his head and had him dreaming up some pretty wild scenarios. None of which he’d ever given much credence to—until now.

  Upon hearing Cherilyn’s revelation about a secret organization, of which she claimed to be a member, the pieces were pretty much starting to fall into place.

  For the first time in eleven years, Eric was seriously considering the notion that the General was most likely murdered.

  Grace had always known that somehow, someway, she’d eventually wind up back in Eric’s arms again. She’d never been able to convince herself of how that was supposed to happen, given the circumstances under which she’d disappeared.

  Even though she’d left him, physically anyway, she’d also left something behind. Her heart. Maybe that’s why she’d never formed any lasting bonds of commitment with any other man. It’s hard to give something away that you no longer have.

  But there were far more pressing matters at stake than Grace’s love life. Like trying to establish how much trouble she’d brought to Eric and Marcus, and subsequently Cherilyn?

  For as much as they’d all told her there was no danger—and all because it wasn’t obvious—but, Grace wasn’t so sure.