Secondary Targets

by Sandra Edwards

  “You believe what Cherilyn’s saying about daddy being part of some secret organization, don’t you?” Grace knew that both Eric and Marcus believed the goods Cherilyn was selling.

  Grace had known from the get-go that something weird was going on, but Cherilyn’s claims of covert operations was a little hard to ingest.

  “Right now, it’s the only thing that makes credible sense.” He dismissed the implication with a shrug.

  “What do you suppose is the purpose of daddy’s key?”

  “It leads to something,” he said. “It has to.”

  “Something that somebody else wants?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so last week, but I’m leaning that way now.”

  Maybe it would’ve been better if she hadn’t walked back into Eric’s life. Placing him in danger was never Grace’s intention, but now she was afraid that’s just what she’d done. Regret swirled around her, threatening to stagnate the air in her vicinity. She had to think of Eric for a change. Forget about the mystery surrounding her father. Above all else, she needed to do what was best for Eric.

  “So, we just need to figure out who wants the damned key and give it to them.”

  “Hell no!” Eric’s sharp tone accosted her. “Whatever the key leads to, that’s what we want. We get that, and we’ve got bargaining power.”

  “Are you sure we need to be getting mixed up in all this?” Grace backed her head up a little so she could look into Eric’s eyes. She wanted to see his reaction. “It seems pretty dangerous.”

  “Honey, we’re already in it. And now we’ve got to do whatever it takes to survive.”

  Okay, so maybe Eric had a point. Grace had never believed that her father had killed himself. Then again, she hadn’t been able to wrap her head around a solid reason why anybody would want him dead either, but that was quickly becoming the least of her priorities.

  What if she’d put herself, Eric and Marcus in danger?

  If she had, their hope rested with Cherilyn. But Grace didn’t feel exactly comfortable about placing their lives in the hands of a woman she didn’t know, even if she was Marcus’s ex-wife.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE early morning view from the table on the terrace at Cherilyn’s beachfront home hypnotized Eric, but he fought its magnetic power. A faint scent of salt drifted through the sea air and the water was amazingly calm, except right up along the shoreline where it rolled lazily in and out. Eric pulled his gaze away and stared at the mocha-black coffee steaming in his mug, the muddy liquid fueled his imagination.

  If the General had belonged to some covert organization, not unlike the one Cherilyn professed to be a member of, that sure would explain a lot of the man’s secrecy just prior to his death.

  Maybe the General’s colleagues had wanted something he wasn’t willing to relinquish. But what? What could the General have had that would’ve caused his associates to put a bullet in his head?

  Was it incriminating evidence? Eric had no doubt that just such a thing was going to be found at the end of the trail, wherever that might be. But he didn’t believe for a second that it had caused the General’s death.

  The man he’d known, served under, was much too loyal to build a case against his colleagues without a really good reason. Eric didn’t know what bugged him more. The notion that the General would be mixed up in a mess like this in the first place. Or, that Eric couldn’t figure out what would make his former commanding officer turn on his own kind.

  As far as he could see, there was only one thing that would induce the General to do that and she was sitting an arm’s length away. Grace.

  Eric hadn’t looked at Marcus for more than a second or two since breakfast was over, but he could feel Marcus’s analyzing gaze from the other side of the table.

  “What are you thinking about?” Marcus asked.

  Grace. Everything was about Grace. Somehow, some way, it always came back to her.

  “You’re on to something, aren’t you?” Marcus said.

  “Look—” Eric tilted the chair back onto its hind legs. “Since you guys think our pursuers are after something.” He paused and finally looked directly into Marcus’s eyes. “I might be able to sort of...confirm that.”

  A degree of confusion fell across Marcus’s face. “How’s that?”

  “A few months before the General passed away, he showed me a compartment hidden inside his desk.” Eric folded his arms over his chest, but failed to subdue the uncomfortable feeling that accompanied leaking the one piece of information the General had insisted he keep to himself. “It was empty at the time.”

  Marcus gave him a stealthy, cautious glance, and Cherilyn threw out an inquisitive look that left Eric curious about her level of interest. He didn’t need to see Grace’s face to know she was just as surprised as the first time she’d heard about the key.

  “And when exactly did you figure out the drawer was no longer empty?” Marcus was doing his best to subdue his uncertainty, but Eric saw the chaotic mess hiding behind his calm demeanor.

  Eric leaned confidently forward, folded his arms and propped them on the table. “After the funeral.”

  Cherilyn failed to catch the sigh before it escaped, even though she tried.

  Marcus cleared his throat and locked his arms together over his chest. He looked away, but Eric still caught sight of the treachery peering out from behind his eyes.

  Eric understood Marcus’s questioning reaction, but he just didn’t get Cherilyn’s. Why was she so damned interested in something that happened eleven years ago?

  Damn it. This thing with Grace had left him unable to trust anyone.

  Marcus turned to Eric with his best poker face. “What did you find in the desk’s hidden drawer?” he said over the lump in his throat. Whatever it was, it’d better be relevant right now. They needed a break. Marcus had grown tired of looking inane and clueless.

  Eric dug his hand deep inside the front pocket of his Levi’s. “This,” he said, placing a key on the table and pushing it toward Marcus.

  Marcus reached across the table and dragged it closer. Picking it up, he inspected it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the gold-colored key. Its only identifying mark was the number “thirty-six”.

  Great. A freaking key. Eric had just stomped on Marcus’s optimism that this might lead to something worthwhile.

  “Why’d you go back to the desk in the first place?” Marcus asked, shaking his head. “Did the General tell you to?”

  “Yes,” Eric said. “He specifically instructed me to come back to the desk if anything happened to him.”

  “Do you know what that leads to?” Cherilyn asked, and Marcus attributed her curiosity and enthusiasm to her profession. The woman had to be good at her job, nobody lasted that long in the business of covert operations if they weren’t on top of their game.

  Marcus was too close to this thing, thank God he’d decided to seek out Cherilyn. She was just doing what needed to be done.

  “No.” Eric shook his head, indicating he had no idea where it led.

  “Okay, so if the General went to enough trouble to hide this key, and make sure nobody but you found it.” Marcus rationalized General Hendricks’s action, at least to himself. “Whatever this leads to...it has to be big.”

  Wild ideas whirled around chaotically inside Marcus’s head and he tried, without much success, to grab hold of any one of them. “The only explanation is,” he said, shaking his head. Not that the thoughts roaming around inside his mind made any sense, but it was the best he could come up with. “General Hendricks had something that somebody wanted. And when he refused to give it to them...they killed him.”

  Grace gasped and the ensuing sobs stole her breath away. While she had probably entertained such a notion, Marcus doubted she was prepared to hear the words spoken out loud. He wasn’t.

  She leapt to her feet and rushed for the stairs leading down to the beach. Eric rose and trotted down the steps after her.

&
nbsp; Guilt consumed Marcus. There was nothing attractive about his insensitivity. Now he knew why he preferred to think things out before voicing his opinions. Little or no forethought only led to hurt and disappointment.

  Evident by Grace running off right now, with Eric chasing after her to offer comfort. Marcus felt like a class-A asshole.

  Cherilyn turned to him. “Maybe we should...” She paused, inspecting her polish-chipped fingernails. Scratching at the paint, she removed almost all the polish that remained on her forefinger. Her gaze traveled back up to meet Marcus’s. “Maybe we should be a little more considerate when we discuss General Hendricks’s demise in front of his daughter.”

  “You’re right. That was really insensitive of me,” Marcus conceded with an abundance of self-denunciation.

  Cherilyn stood, scooting the chair back and Marcus rose as she approached him. Her fingertips grazed along the side of his face and reminded him of days gone by, with Cherilyn lying naked in his arms.

  “Oh, I know you didn’t intend to hurt her,” she said. “It’s just that while we’ve stumbled onto this real life mystery, the thing is, what we have to remember...at the center of our mystery is a man’s death.” Cherilyn gave a lonely, trodden shrug. “Her father.”

  Cherilyn’s words were caring, but her demeanor was detached. Marcus could see how she’d probably had to teach herself, years ago, how to be cold and calculating. By now, she had to be an expert at showing little or no emotion. Her survival instincts had to be kicking into high gear, but still, she showed a certain sense of sorrow for Grace, and that’s one of the things about Cherilyn that Marcus had fallen in love with.

  They both knew what it was like to lose someone you love. Their situation may have been very different from Grace’s, but both caused heart-wrenching pain that showed no partiality.

  To that, Marcus could relate.

  The difference, the thing that set them apart, Grace had lost her father but she didn’t know why. Unlike Grace, Marcus knew exactly why he’d lost Cherilyn. Twenty years ago, society had been intolerant of their interracial relationship.

  Marcus knew that circumstance and the luck of the draw had likely been the deciding factors preventing Cherilyn from making an attempt at a reconciliation, even though society’s intolerance had eased a bit over the years. But, if Cherilyn had gotten herself mixed up with the likes of people who’d wiped out the General, then her fate was sealed the moment they joined forces.

  She wouldn’t have come back no matter how much she’d wanted to reunite, if for nothing else but to protect him. Nobody had to tell Marcus that Cherilyn loved him, that she’d always loved him. The bed they shared last night proved as much.

  Eric should’ve said something when he revealed the key instead of clamming up, even though he wasn’t ready to offer any thoughts on the matter. It’s not like he didn’t trust any of them—except maybe Cherilyn, but that’s only because he didn’t know her—but, the General had been so adamant that Eric keep the key’s existence to himself. And, he’d done just that, for all these years.

  Given the circumstance, it made perfect sense, at least to Eric, to give up the key, sit back and watch to see what conclusions Marcus and Cherilyn might draw upon. Then again, maybe he wanted to see if someone else would draw the same conclusions that he had. Sort of a validation tactic to ensure that he wasn’t losing his mind.

  But he hadn’t considered, or even presumed, Grace’s reaction. And for that, he condemned himself.

  Eric finally caught up to Grace by the time she neared the water’s edge. “Gracie...” He clutched her upper arm within the confines of an easy-going grasp.

  She jerked away, breaking free. Moving away from him, she continued along the shoreline.

  Eric stopped. She was doing it again, running away. Her simple act shoved reality into Eric’s face—Grace Hendricks had never had, and still didn’t have, his best interests at heart. It was all about her, or so it would seem. If she’d cared about him at all, then she had to stop this crazy nonsense right now.

  “Don’t you do it, Gracie.” Resented anger bubbled up in his tone. The time had come for Grace to accept responsibility for her actions. For once, she needed to stop and really think about what she was doing. For Eric’s sake, she needed to do that. She may not give a rat’s ass about him, but if that were the case, she was going to own it. Right here. Right now. “Don’t you walk away from me again.”

  Grace froze, and he merely stared, tongue-tied. She gave a hesitant glance over her shoulder and Eric waited, challenging her to turn fully around and face the consequences of her actions.

  Tears glistened her eyes and she swallowed hard, lifted her chin and bravely met his gaze. She moved without haste or purpose, at first, toward Eric, but closing the gap seemed to lure her in like a magnet to steel.

  Eric closed his arms around her and felt Grace weeping silently against his chest. “It’s okay,” he said, attempting to soothe her with his caressing embrace.

  “Why, Eric?” Desperation filled her tone with as much misery as her tears. “Why would daddy risk his life over something materialistic?”

  The truth slapped at Eric in a rippling effect sort of way. Michael Hendricks, the man Eric had served under, would not have risked his life for material gain. The General wasn’t that kind of guy. Money didn’t mean that much to him. But Grace did.

  Grace. Could she be the target? Eric didn’t see how. Hell, she was still alive. These guys, whoever they may be, they weren’t above killing. The General’s demise proved that. Still, while Grace might not be the main objective, whatever that was, it had to have something to do with her. He’d bet on it. And if Grace was the catalyst, that made them all secondary targets.

  CHAPTER 22

  ERIC woke early the next morning. Mainly because he was having a hard time sleeping throughout the uneventful yet emotionally chaotic night. He’d lain awake, painstakingly calculating every detail trying to unravel the mystery he’d gotten tangled up in.

  At five-fifteen a.m., waking the others wasn’t prudent, and he headed outside. A walk along the beach would do him good. He needed to clear his mind and regroup the thoughts swirling wildly around inside his head.

  Ever since Grace had walked back into Pink’s—eleven years late—the entire ordeal baffled him. She may not be what “they” were looking for, but they assumed she could lead them to it, and that was just as bad, if not worse.

  He stood facing the water, hands in his pockets, wondering how he was supposed to protect her when he didn’t know who the enemy was or what they wanted.

  Footsteps fell in behind Eric, drawing closer. He didn’t need to check, it was Marcus. Eric let his gaze fall to the shoreline and linger there for a moment before glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge his friend. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “Cherilyn says that—” Marcus stopped at the water’s edge beside Eric. “We need to leave here today.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Eric said, yet he wondered why he wasn’t. Since when had he become an authority in the ways of a spy? Obviously he hadn’t and he wasn’t, indicative of the multitude of questions spilling over in his head. “How long do you think we can go on like this?” Eric was no expert, but it couldn’t be forever.

  Marcus remained silent for a time, and that punched at Eric’s confidence. “Well...” he said in an attitude of never-ending vulnerability. “Hopefully, as long as it takes. Otherwise...” Marcus’s words trailed off, as if too shaken to continue.

  Dread crawled over Eric and clawed at his courage, trying to gain control of his confidence.

  At any given moment, their luck could run out. Marcus got it. Eric got it. He didn’t need to remind himself of the consequences if they couldn’t figure out what was going on or what to do about it before fate flew the coop.

  “Let me ask you,” Eric said with precious little conviction. “What do you make of all this? The General’s literal disappearance? The key?”

  “We
ll...” Marcus frowned in genuine alarm. “As far as the General is concerned, I truly have no idea. I can’t even fathom a reason, a valid one, to erase him from existence.” He hesitated, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, the same way he used to do when he talked about Tracy Kelley, after she took her life. “I’ll tell you what though,” he said, finding strength somewhere in the depths of his voice. “I’m sure your key leads to all the answers we’re seeking.”

  “What are the odds...?” Eric laughed skeptically. “That we’ll ever find out where the key leads?”

  “The General Hendricks I knew,” Marcus said, and his confidence seemed to bloom right before Eric’s eyes. “If he left a key, one he hid from everybody but you...then he also left a clue. Somewhere. Somewhere out there, there’s a clue telling you where the key leads.”

  Son of a bitch! Why the hell hadn’t Eric thought of that? Of course. The General would never have gone to the trouble of hiding some key, for Eric’s eyes only, and not left a trail, probably subtle, leading to something of grave importance.

  Yep. If Eric got his hands on that, whatever it was, then he’d have a legitimate edge at protecting Grace.

  After breakfast, Eric and Grace cleaned the kitchen while Marcus and Cherilyn gave the rest of the house a quick once-over.

  With so much riding on the end result, Eric and Grace worked diligently and cohesively, as if they’d been doing it their entire lives. She hand-washed the dishes while he towel-dried them and put them away in the cabinets. Afterward, they wiped down the counters, cabinets, and appliances.

  Cherilyn had insisted that no one would, or could, associate the house with her, but Eric wasn’t taking any chances. If someone, namely the wrong people, stumbled upon the knowledge that the house belonged to one of Cherilyn’s alter egos, Eric didn’t want it to appear that anyone had been there recently.

  Damn. He was getting good at this spy shit.

  Once the house was clean, they headed for the garage, got in the car and left. Cherilyn insisted on doing the driving, and Marcus put up a minimal fight, but Eric didn’t care. He was content to relax in the backseat with Grace.