by J. M. Madden
“He has a packed bag in the back,” Andrea said.
They looked at each other. “So, think he was trying to clean up loose ends? Or just any evidence showing he was involved?” Andrea asked.
Jack shook his head. “There was too much to clean up. Surely he didn’t think he could erase everything?”
She shrugged. “He was interrogating the kids and he had a weapon on him. And a go-bag in his vehicle.”
“The guy isn’t real bright if he thinks he’s escaping in a government truck,” Silas said, laughing lightly. “These things all have GPS trackers on them.”
Silas had a second response crew respond to the vehicle to process it for evidence.
They checked on the traitor, Watkins, and the doctors thought he would survive his ordeal, although the emergency room doctor was guarded. The patient would be transported up to the regular hospital at some point, more used to dealing with adults than kids. Watkins would be under guard until the Navy took him into custody.
As they left the emergency room, Andrea leaned into him. “I don’t think I can adult anymore, Jack.”
He chuckled as he limped along beside her. “I know what you mean. I told Silas I was done months ago with this shit, but I keep getting pulled back into it. Now I’m one hundred percent done.”
They walked slowly back to the hospital and she heaved a sigh. “There are a few more adult things we need to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mike was fine. He had a concussion but he would be released the next day, the nurse advised them when they went up to his floor. It was way past visitation hours, but with a flash of his badge Jack had them in, although they did give his appearance odd looks.
“What?” he asked Andrea.
“You have blood all over you and you look like you eat live chickens.”
He shrugged, resigned.
There was a pretty woman in the room who smiled at them when they knocked on Mike’s door. She was in her early fifties, curvy and had a very sweet expression. “You must be Mike’s friends from out of town.”
Andrea blinked and smiled. “Yes, we are. And you are?”
“Oh, I’m Violet. Mike and I hang around together a little, and he asked them to call me when he got here. Isn’t it terrible? Someone attacking him to rob the house and drugging poor Goose.” She shook her head, her dark brown curls swaying. “It’s just not like it used to be out there.”
“No, it isn’t,” Andrea agreed. She glanced at the bed. Mike appeared to be sleeping soundly. “We can’t stay but maybe you can let him know we stopped by?”
“Of course, dear!”
She waved them out of the room. They paused in the hallway just looking at each other, at a loss. If Mike wanted to keep his relationship with Violet secret, that was up to him.
“Before this night gets any weirder I vote we head back to Mike’s and get some sleep.”
Once again Andrea tucked her arm into his and they headed to his truck, still parked illegally in one of the drop off loops.
There was a fairly large bloodstain they had to deal with when they got back to Mike’s, but with both of them working it was cleaned in just a few minutes. They walked into the bedroom and paused. “I know I need a shower,” Andrea murmured, “but I don’t think I have the energy.”
“Neither do I. Strip off. We’ll shower in the morning.”
They climbed into bed and curled into each other’s arms, asleep within seconds.
Andrea felt at loose ends. She sat in the back yard stroking a fully recovered Goose. The sedative that he’d been given hadn’t been strong, and the dosage definitely not enough for his size. It was why he’d gotten loopy rather than fallen asleep like Watkins had planned. The vet had monitored him and let him go the next morning.
Mike was inside, going through his equipment and looking for anything else Watkins might have done to his system. From the focused look on his face a bomb could have gone off behind him and he wouldn’t have noticed. She wasn’t sure how Mike had convinced Violet to leave.
Jack was gone. When she’d woken up and realized he was not in the bed beside her, she had a bit of a shock.
She probably needed to get used to it. He hadn’t said anything about staying with her after this mess was over.
To be fair, it wasn’t like they’d had a lot of spare time recently. Something in her heart made her think that he wasn’t going to stay, though. After almost fifty years of being alone would he even be able to be in a relationship? She wasn’t sure he’d even let go of the guilt of being with his best friend’s widow.
And maybe she was okay with that. If he would come in and say hi every once in a while, she might be okay with him not being directly with her. Might be. Maybe.
No, she wouldn’t, she decided. She’d had a half marriage the first time around. If she did it again it would be a complete marriage. No more of the half living together shit. No more would she be the only one fully invested in the marriage.
She took another deep breath, calming her nerves. Why was she getting upset over something she didn’t even have four days ago? Maybe because she’d wanted it for a lot longer than four days ago. Andrea knew that she never would have violated her marriage vows like Dorian had, but Jack had been a temptation for a fairly long time. Years, easily. Now that she could have him, though, she wasn’t sure how to keep him.
Her phone buzzed on the picnic table.
Ma’am?
Dylan! How are you hero? Can I call you?
Yes
Andrea dialed the phone.
“Hey,” that same young, slow voice answered.
Andrea laughed, just because it was so good to hear him. “Dude, how are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess. I think I’m getting a good bit of pain medicine because I can’t feel much. My arm hurts the most. I had one operation on it and I’m going to need another.”
“I’m sorry, buddy. Is there anything I can do for you?”
He paused for a moment and his voice dropped like he didn’t want someone to overhear. “I talked to one of the little kids and they said one of the guys was in the hospital last night. Is that true? Mom won’t answer me.”
For a moment Andrea debated the wisdom of going over Mom’s head, but Dylan’s peace of mind was more important. He’d already done so much for them, shouldering the responsibilities of an adult. “Yes, there was a man in the hospital talking to the kids. He’s a traitor to the country and Jack made sure he didn’t get away. We believe we caught everyone involved, Dylan, and I don’t say that lightly.”
“Okay,” he sighed, “I just wanted to make sure. I can’t move much right now.”
“I understand your fears but I think you and the others are perfectly safe now. I don’t know if you realize it or not but you have a personal guard outside from Homeland Security.”
“What? Really?” The phone was held away from his mouth. “Hey, Mom, do I have a guard?”
He must have gotten a nod or something, because he laughed when he came back on the line. “That’s kinda cool,” he told her.
“Mm,” she agreed. “Maybe I can stop in and see you on my way out of town. Do you mind?”
“No, I’d like to meet you in person. If I saw you the other night I don’t remember it.”
“That’s okay. I’ll stop and see you in a day or two Dylan.”
“Okay. Thanks, Andrea.”
When she hung up, Jack was standing there in that quiet way he had. She didn’t jump, but she did smile up at him, lifting her chin in case he wanted a kiss. Which, apparently, he did. His lips landed on hers, firmly, and he lifted her up out of the chair. Andrea wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.
“I missed you,” she admitted as she drew back.
Jack frowned down at her, scanning her eyes. “I missed you, too.”
She laughed a little. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing,” and he stepped back. “Would you like an up
date?”
“You know I would.”
Jack settled into one of the bigger lawn chairs, his hands folded across his lean belly. “Mr. Watkins is still out of it. Guess he had a rough time recovering from surgery and he’s likely going to be in a medically induced coma for a few days, at least, but the investigators have put together a pretty comprehensive story of what he’s been doing recently. Mr. Watkins works as a senate liaison officer in DC.”
Andrea knew her mouth had to be hanging open. “Seriously? He’s working for and selling out the government?”
Jack gave her a nod. “And it gets better—he used to be part of Team Ten. Got washed out for a bad psych eval.”
Andrea scowled at him. “He got washed out of the SEALs and they thought it would be a good idea to send him to Washington, instead?”
Jack grinned and gave her a wink. “Of course. It’s the US Government. Makes perfect sense to me.”
“How long ago was this?”
“He got washed out about twelve years ago. Since that time he’s been gathering information and making friends. He’s been overseas almost two dozen times, mostly Iraq and Afghanistan, and has worked his way up through the ranks. They conducted a search of his house in Roanoke and I guess they’ve found a bunch of evidence that he’s been colluding with the enemy. It was supposedly hidden, but not well enough.”
Andrea shook her head, absorbing the information.
“So, he was pouting, basically, that the SEALs didn’t keep him. And in retaliation he gave these terrorists information about the children while the men were away.”
Jack nodded. “And took money for the information. They found a stack of cash, too. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
Andrea couldn’t believe the pure selfishness. If he was in front of her she’d scream at him, for all the good it would do. There would be a very special place in hell for this man.
“What are they going to do with him?”
Jack quirked a brow. “Well, they’ll give him three meals a day, cable TV and all the free time he wants. I suppose they’ll get as much information out of him they can and let him sit in prison until someone shanks him.”
She rested her head against the back of the chair, heartsick. “I just talked to Dylan. He sounds like he’s in good spirits but was worried about the men coming back for him. I told them we’d gotten all of them.”
“And I believe we have. The terrorists we took out in the warehouse were all related, we know that much, and they actually are relatives of Mustafa and the original embassy bomber from years ago. He was their great-uncle by marriage or some shit. The eggheads are still sorting it out. Not sure how he got it exactly but Roger Mann figured out they were all connected. They’re still going through his notes as well, but I got the highlights. Watkin’s name was one of the references they had listed on their school admission forms. Maybe that was the connection. Roger may have known that Watkins was our bad guy the entire time.”
“If only he hadn’t been killed coming to see me,” she murmured, sighing.
“Good guys and innocent people die all the time. It’s a harsh reality of our world.”
She thought of the little girl that had died, and her sister’s endless sobbing. A tear leaked from her eye, then another. Jack leaned forward, clasping her knee. “Don’t cry, baby. It tears me up to see you cry.”
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just emotionally worn out. It’s been incredible highs and devastating lows this week.” She forced a smile for him. “Is the father going to make it back in time for her funeral?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m not sure. Silas said that two of Team Ten’s platoons are being evacced and replaced by Team Seven platoons. All that shifting takes a while though. The Navy will do everything they can to get him back here in time.”
She nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes. “After everything they do to keep the country safe…”
Jack pulled her up out of the chair and into his arms, then he settled back into the chair. It creaked ominously and she snorted. “If we land on our asses…”
“I’ll still hold you,” he murmured.
“I know you will, Jack. I love that about you.”
“What?” he asked, curious.
“The fact that you took care of me all the way through this.”
“Of course, I did. You’re my best friend’s wife.”
She sat up in his hold, her tears drying as she looked him in the eye. “That’s not why you came for me.”
His jaw tightened, but she stared at him, waiting for him to admit it. “You’re right.” He said softly. “Dorian was my friend, but I came for you.”
She curled against him again, content with that tiny concession. They sat there for a good while just enjoying the quiet. Goose snored softly beside them. She hated to break the calm, but…
“I need to get back to the shop. And real life.”
“I know you do,” he said softly. “I heard the washer and saw the stripped bed.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She waited for more from him, some offer to see each other again, or come in for coffee or something. Just some indicator that he would like to see her again. But he didn’t say anything else. Was the kiss on top of her head supposed to be the indication that he wanted to see her again? He was like a freaking Sphinx sometimes. She had no clue.
Her heart was suddenly in her throat. What should she do here?
“Maybe,” he hesitated, and cleared his throat. “Maybe I can come see you sometime.”
Andrea sat up again, unable to keep the smile from her face. “I would love to see you again, Jack. You know I would.”
She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his. She ran her fingers over his face, enjoying the clean shave. It highlighted how stark his face was, but she loved seeing it this way. Even with the scars he was a handsome devil, or maybe the scars just highlighted his handsomeness.
“I’m going to go through withdrawal without you,” she murmured, tongue teasing his full lower lip.
He smiled crookedly. “I doubt that.”
She made direct eye contact with him. “I will,” she said firmly.
His gaze dropped, as if it was hard for him to look at her, so she let him off the hook.
When they went into the house Mike was in the same spot, checking and rechecking his system’s security. They packed their bags and Andrea threw the sheets in the dryer, because she doubted Mike would remember. Then she had Jack drive her up to Willoughby Spit to retrieve her car. She thought that perhaps he would want to go inside, but he made no move to get out of the truck. It had been a silent ride out here, and she worried that she’d angered him somehow, but she didn’t know what she’d done. Was it because she was leaving? Did he expect her to stay forever?
She dug the keys for the car from the bottom of her bag and held them in her hand for a minute.
“Thanks for driving me up here, Jack. I could have taken an Uber or something.”
He sent her a frown and shook his head. “That would have been ridiculous.”
Andrea blinked, kind of feeling like she couldn’t do anything right at this moment. Okay, then. She opened the door and slipped out of the truck, then walked to her car. She hit the unlock button and threw her bag inside, then returned to the truck. She crossed to the driver’s side and waited for him to roll down the window. Was this really how they were going to say goodbye?
“I guess I’ll see you…”
He blinked, beating his thumbs against the steering wheel. Grabbing the side of the door, she lifted herself to the chrome step. Reaching in to cup his face, she kissed him, hard. “You’re a difficult man, Jack Arcadius Bishop.”
He didn’t say anything as she walked away, and he probably didn’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks either.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack had to force his hands to stay on the wheel. If he kept them on the wheel he wouldn’t grab the door handle and he would be able to let
Andrea walk away. At least that was how it played out in his head.
He backed his truck out of the drive, giving her enough room to pull in front of him and take off. The panic was creeping in on him, though, and his chest was tight. For some reason, watching her drive away from him was more traumatic than anything else he’d done this week. He knew it was the right thing to do though. She’d been too emotional today. Too invested in everything going on around her. Once she’d had a chance to get back into her shop and recalibrate, then maybe he would go see her. She needed a chance to get her life back together.
Blinking, he slammed on the brakes as the light in front of him turned yellow. Andrea’s little blue Toyota continued on, and the vice-grip around his chest tightened. Jerking the wheel to the right he pulled into the gas station beside him and circled around to the back, where he slammed the truck into park. Leaning forward he rested his head on the steering wheel, looking down at his dirty boots. There were spots of blood on them, he realized distractedly. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.
Jack expanded his lungs, dragging in as much air as he could, but the panic had a grip on him. He didn’t know why it was so bad this time. What he’d told Andrea this morning stood; they’d gotten all the bad guys and saved all the victims, so he knew it wasn’t the job. It had to be the thought of leaving her.
What right did he have to her though?
She’d said she loved him once in the thick of things, but not again. Obviously, she’d regretted saying it. Maybe in some part of her mind she’d confused him with Dorian. His stomach churned with nausea as all the thoughts and fears and what-ifs raced through his mind. It would kill him if she confused him with her dead husband.
Did he take her word that things had changed between them in her marriage? Actually, what did it matter? Dorian been dead so long.
Dorian had been one of those friends, though, that came along once in a lifetime. What would he think about the two of them being together? At some point in the past few days he thought Andrea had asked him that, but he hadn’t stayed on it very long.
