Family Secrets: Books 5-8

by Virginia Kantra

  Except as they approached the other car, the drivers side door opened, and then a door in back. Two tall, strapping, obviously healthy men, in unremarkable civilian clothes with unmistakable military haircuts, wedged through the doors and unfolded themselves to stand by Jimmy. Her heart sank.

  Marcus introduced them with careful formality, as if she actually cared about their credentials.

  May I present Ensign David Skillmanthats Slick to most of usour team medic?

  Skillman, blond, smiling, with a firm handshake and watchful eyes, could have run for senior class president. Or doctor of the month at some tony womens clinic. Samantha murmured hello.

  Petty Officer Third Class Buzz Walters, our explosives expert.

  Walters proffered a wide grin and a massive paw.

  Marcus jerked his head toward the third man. And you remember James Robinson.

  Pleasure to see you again, maam.

  So Im leaving you in good hands, Marcus said, not meeting her eyes.

  Oh, no. Samantha squared her shoulders and set her mouth. At four oclock this morning, shed dressed hastily in yesterdays clothes, too-tight jeans that rubbed her abraded knee and a tiny T-shirt that exposed her bruised arms and announced Im Yours across the bust. Not at all the outfit she would have chosen to meet a military escort. But as far as she was concerned, Marcus had chosen the shirt. Marcus had chosen the slogan. Marcus could live with the consequences.

  Youre not leaving, she said.

  Skillmans sharp gaze darted between them. A faint flush crept under Walterss tan.

  Marcus looked unhappy. That was good. And determined, which was not so good.

  He moved a few yards away, so they could speak without being overheard.

  I dont have a choice, he said, his voice lowered.

  Yes, you do.

  No, I dont. Im a danger to myself and others. Im reporting to Little Creek. The Naval Amphibious Base in Little Creek, Virginia, three hours away.

  Dismay shook her. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him, to persuade him. But she couldnt. Not in front of an audience. Not in front of his men. Dont do that. Not yet. At least wait until Ive talked to Matt.

  I need to talk with my CO.

  And if he locks you up?

  Than at least I can go to sleep without worrying Ill wake up with my hands around somebodys throat.

  Marcus!

  He smiled, but his eyes were deep with pain. Goodbye, Ambassador.

  Samantha was ambushed. Outnumbered. Surrounded. There was no way she could force him to go with her into Washington. But she could make it damn hard for him to walk away.

  She reached out and shewell, she grabbed him, threw her arms around his thick neck, plastered herself against his chiseled body and planted a kiss right on his stubborn, unhappy mouth. Not a polite thanks-and-goodbye peck, either, but a full penetration, I-want-you-need-you-love-you kind of kiss.

  And, miracle of miracles, he wrapped his arms around her just as tightly and kissed her back just as fiercely, hot and wet and deep.

  When he finally let her go, he was hard and she was shaking. James Robinson had averted his gaze. Buzz Walters gaped until Skillman elbowed him in the ribs.

  Dont give up, Samantha whispered. Dont you dare give up on me.

  Marcus turned without a word and walked back to his car.

  The Potomac flowed by, pewter and gold in the early morning light. The sun quickened the silent green hills and threw slanting shadows under the small white grave markers, row on row. Samantha watched until the view dissolved in a blur of tears.

  But he never looked back.

  The interview with his commanding officer was every bit as bad as Marcus feared it would be.

  He sat in a cushy, fake leather chair in a comfortably air-conditioned office with sunlight streaking through the slatted blinds and sweat pouring down his back. He would rather have been driving a rubber raft onto the rocks at Coronado or crawling on his belly under a spray of live ammo from an M-16.

  Navy Commander Greg Woods was tall, bald and lean, with a razor-sharp mind and a total poker face. He did not make buddies with the men in his command. He was seriously married, for one thing, which limited the hours he spent tossing back a few in the bar with the boys. And he had this strictly business and by-the-book attitude that discouraged warm and fuzzy confidences from his junior officers. Marcus had always respected the guy, though. Even felt comfortable during their dry, mission-focused exchanges.

  He wasnt comfortable now.

  So what youre telling me, said Woods, speaking slowly, like a college prof summing up for a roomful of not-very-bright freshmen, is that you arent able to control your actions.

  Yes, sir, Marcus said woodenly.

  If thats the case, you do know what I have to do.

  Lockup. Psych eval. Review board and discharge. Or worse, although discharge was pretty much the end of life as Marcus knew and loved it. What was the penalty for attempted assassination of a United States ambassador?

  Yes, sir. Thats why Im here.

  But Woods surprised him. It might interest you to know that Ive already fielded a call this morning from Ambassador Barnes.

  Marcus sat straighter in his chair. Sir?

  The ambassador made it clear to me that she accompanied you willingly, that she had no complaints about your conduct and that she placed the utmost confidence in your abilities.

  With all due respect, sir

  Prior to this episode, Lieutenant, I would have said the same.

  Thank you, sir. But

  Woods leveled a look at him and he shut up. However, despite your friends in high places and your previous record, I cannot ignore the fact that in the course of conducting your mission, you knowingly and unlawfully removed naval property from this base. Do you understand what Im telling you, son?

  I Marcus gave up. No, sir. Not at all.

  You admitted to taking cameras and weapons with you when you escorted the ambassador on her vacation. Theft of military property is an offense under Article 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice carrying a nonjudicial punishment. That means I can suspend you from duty and confine you to quarters for a period of up to thirty days pending further action and investigation. Do you get it now, sailor?

  And he did.

  His CO was actually offering him a reprieve. It was an enormous act of trust. Woods was relying on him not only to comply with his punishment but to keep his mouth shut while the commander got to the bottom of this mess.

  Marcus was grateful. Stunned. Terrified. The COs action could save his career.

  It could also endanger Samanthas life.

  Sir, yes, sir. But

  Im not in the mood for objections, Lieutenant, Woods warned him.

  Hell, his career was probably shot, anyway.

  No, sir. But may I request a guard be placed on my door, sir?

  Woods regarded him with narrowed brown eyes for a moment. He nodded once. Ill have Garcia and Jacobs escort you to quarters.

  I
t wasnt until Marcus got up to go that he heard his commanding officer mutter, And God help us all if you get past them.

  Sixteen

  T hank God thats over.

  Matt Tynans heartfelt exclamation jerked Samantha from sleep on his leather sofa.

  Flanked by her Navy SEAL escort, she had coaxed, charmed and intimidated the building superintendent into admitting her to Matts bachelor pad. Im on his list, she had claimed, which was fortunately true. And I promise you I have absolutely no designs on Mr. Tynans stereo equipment. She remembered his playboy reputation. Or his body.

  Also true, on both counts. But from the sounds escaping from Matts foyer, somebody else might.

  Was that a suitcase hitting the floor? Or a shoe?

  Samantha struggled upright on the deep leather couch and looked at Skillman and Walters, both fully awake and totally alert. Please let it be a suitcase.

  But I liked your family. All your family. The woman with Matt sounded sweet and mischievous at the same time. And very young.

  Family, fine, Matt said huskily. But Im glad to finally have you to myself. Ive spent the past three days thinking of all the things Id like to do to you when we were alone.

  The young woman sighed and whispered something that sounded like encouragement.

  The two SEALs exchanged glances. Oh, goodness. After Samanthas exhibition this morning with Marcus at the cemetery, they must be forming quite an impression of life in the capital.

  Samantha stood, tugged her shirt to cover her midriff and hurried into the hall before the situation got any more out of hand, so to speak.

  Her old chum Matt Tynan and a sweet young thing were locked together just inside the door of his high-end condo. Her fingers were in his hair. His hands were on her behind. One of her legs was wrapped around his thigh.

  Samantha cleared her throat and said, Not quite alone, Im afraid.

  In a practiced move, Matt put his fianceSamantha certainly hoped she was his fiancebehind him while she did something to her blouse.

  Princess! His welcoming smile and the use of her high school nickname did not disguise the fact that Matt was seriously put out.

  Samantha smiled back apologetically. Hello, brat.

  He ran his fingers through his disordered hair. Youre supposed to be inWhere the hell have you been, anyway? Philip wouldnt tell me anything.

  Samanthas gaze traveled past him to the pretty brown-haired woman tucking her blouse into the waistband of her jeans. Presumably this was Carey, Matts choice of life partner. But how well did he know her? And how much could Samantha trust her?

  Aware of her attention, Matt turned and drew the young woman smoothly to his side. This is Carey, he said simply, with evident pride. Care, Samantha Barnes.

  Samantha extended her hand. Its a pleasure to finally meet you. Im sorry to have missed you at the dinner the other night. Ive been on a littlevacation.

  Well, thats good, Matt said heartily. You needed a break. You look much For the first time, his quick dark eyes swept over her, taking in the details of her appearance. Actually, princess, you look like hell.

  Thats Honeys T-shirt, Carey said. When Matt cocked an eyebrow at her, she said, That is, I have a friend who has a T-shirt just like it.

  Samantha felt some of the tension leach from her shoulders. Honey Evans?

  Yes. Carey sounded surprised. She works in the White House. Do you know her?

  No. Her brother. Samantha heard Skillman and Walters moving around in the other room, and turned to Matt. Its complicated.

  He looked over her shoulder to her SEAL escort, looming in the entrance to his living room. Obviously, he drawled.

  Samantha bit her lip. Ensign David Skillman, Petty Officer Third Class Buzz Walters. Carey Benton and White House advisor Matt Tynan, whom you brought me here to see.

  And that was when Carey forever won Samanthas friendship by stepping forward and saying brightly, Its nice to meet you, gentlemen. Why dont we go see what we can scrounge up in the kitchen while these two old friends talk?

  Baxters on vacation, Matt said, hanging up the phone. So thats a dead end, too.

  But dont you find that suspicious? Samantha demanded.

  He raised one eyebrow. Not really. I was on vacation. You were on vacation.

  I was kidnapped by an honorable man who was receiving subliminal instructions through his computer to kill me. That was suspicious, too.

  Matt sighed. Sam He was using his lets-be-reasonable voice. She hated that voice. She had never felt less like being reasonable. Have you considered the possibility that this Evans guy is suffering from some kind of posttraumatic stress disorder? You mentioned he got back last month from a mission in the Gulf. Im not saying hes a bad guy, Im just saying maybe he needs a different kind of help than youre looking for.

  I thought about that, she admitted reluctantly. Recent incidents with returning Army Rangers had made everyone sensitive to the connection between combat stress and domestic violence. And there was Marcuss distressing loss of memory to consider, and his troubling nightmares. She shivered. But, Matt, if hes crazy, then Im crazy, too. Remember that so-called secure Web site Baxter directed him to? It said Kill Barnes. Im sure of that. I saw it.

  Then why didnt Evans see it?

  I dont know, she snapped, miserable. Frustrated. Maybe he was hypnotized or something.

  Matts head jerked like a puppets on a string. Say that again.

  She blinked. What?

  You think Evans was hypnotized?

  Well, can you come up with a better explanation for why a dedicated, decorated Navy SEAL would jeopardize his career by claiming he feels compelled to assassinate a United States ambassador?

  Matt rubbed his jaw. And youre sure he has no history of mental problems?

  She hesitated. She wanted to present Marcuss case in the best possible light. That was one reason she hadnt confessed to Matt that her interest in the handsome naval lieutenant wasnt exactly platonic. She wanted to convince Matt with facts, not feelings; and yet what did she have to go on, in the end, except the conviction of her own heart?

  And the truth.

  If she truly believed in Marcuss innocence, then she should trust Matt with the truth.

  She took a deep breath. Marcus has alittle problem with long-term memory, she admitted. His adoptive father said his mind was repressing certain memories as a response to trauma.

  Matts usually mercurial gaze fixed on her face. What kind of trauma?

  A car crash, I think he said. When he was ten.

  That fits, he said slowly. My God. And with the hypnosis thingCarey! he shouted in the direction of the kitchen.

  Samanthas heart beat faster. Matt, whats going on?

  Thats exactly what Jake Ingrams adoptive parents told him. Carey!

  Samantha sat there, stunned. Confused.

  Jake Ingram? She knew Jake Ingram. But what did he have to do with this? What did he have to do with Marcus?

  Who the hell is Jake Ingram? Marcus asked.

  He was doing pu
sh-ups in his room. One hundred one-arm push-ups with his left arm and one hundred with his right, and then a hundred handstand push-ups with his legs straight in the air. Jacobs and some fresh-faced kid named Weasel kept count. Garcia had organized a pot in the bachelors quarters, and he and Jacobs were looking to clean up. Marcus figured the bet was payback for the time they were putting in baby-sitting him. Anyway, the exercise helped with the boredom.

  It didnt do a damn thing for his frustration.

  Or the ache of wanting, missing, needing Samanthaher cool intelligence, her warm understanding, her hot body under and around him.

  Seventy-eight, said Jacobs. Seventy-nine.

  Garcia, who had hall duty today, shrugged. Ingram? Some big financial guy. He told the CO to tell you he was a friend of Samantha Barnes, if thats any use to you.

  No use at all.

  Marcus had a TV in his room. He watched CNN. He knew Samantha had been confirmed by the president and was scheduled to fly across the Atlantic tomorrow to address the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council on the implications of the Delmonico Accord. She totally did not need to be tied up with a navy nutcase with a stalled career who might wake up one night and decide to play psycho. So for the past five days, hed ignored her calls. Hed refused her visit the one time she drove down from Washington.

  And now she was sending Jake Ingram?

  Jacobs counted. Eighty-four. Eighty-five.

  He a lawyer? Marcus asked to distract himself from the burn in his shoulders.

  Garcia leaned against the government-issue dresser. Nope. I read in the paper he was helping the FBI investigate the World Bank heist.

  Marcus lowered himself to the floor and pushed back up. And I should care because?

  Hes loaded, man. And he wants to see you. Maybe hes your long-lost brother or something and he wants to leave you all his money.