by Katie Reus
“Damn it, Soph!” Jack twisted their bodies until they were flat on the bed with her underneath him. Her blow didn’t hurt as much as being the target of her rage and mistrust. Hell, he almost welcomed the physical pain. “I couldn’t tell you the truth.”
“Fucking liar! Did you know I mourned for you? I cried for months and months when I learned you’d died. I lost so much weight I had to see a doctor. You bastard. . . .” Her voice cracked as she trailed off. She closed her eyes and looked away from him as if she couldn’t stand to look at him. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and he felt like the biggest bastard in the world.
Rolling off her, he lay flat on the bed and cursed. She instantly jumped up, hovering near the foot of the bed, watching him warily. “I could strangle you right now.”
He sat up, ready to move on her if she tried to run. “Are you going to run away or are you going to stay and talk?” Jack tried to keep his voice calm when he felt anything but. Raw panic scraped over him. If she tried to leave, he’d have to stop her, and the thought of restraining her that way shredded him.
“Why did you lie to me?” Her glare sliced into him.
“I didn’t have a choice. Besides, what would you have done if I’d waltzed into your office and announced I was your childhood friend, back from the grave?” He hated the hurt look in her eyes as she angrily swiped away the remaining errant tears, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. He needed her to know that he’d only been trying to protect her. That he’d do anything for her.
“How long have you been Jack Stone?” Her voice was cold, unforgiving.
“Since Sam died in Afghanistan.”
“You talk about yourself in the third person?” That temper flared in her gaze again, white hot and ready to burn him.
The vise around his vocal cords loosened a little. “It keeps me sane. . . .” He hadn’t struggled to bury Sam, but he had struggled to bury his past with Sophie. It had been the only damn thing that had been hard about leaving his old life behind. “How’d you know who I was?” he asked once he found his voice again.
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “Little things. Your birthmark, your eyes, the way you look at me, and the way you called me Soph like it was natural was a big tip-off. Then when we made lo—had sex—it was . . . intense. The way you made me come so easily, the way you touched me, it was like we’d done it before. Damn it, you even smell the same! I kept thinking I was crazy for even thinking you might be Sam. I can’t believe you let me mourn you!”
“I swear I didn’t want to lie to you,” he rasped out.
“But you did. Just like you lied about Hannah. How do I know anything you say is the truth and not part of the job? Why did they send you on this mission? There’s no way it was a coincidence we used to know each other.”
His paused for a moment as he tried to choose the right words. “Because of our history.”
Her face tightened. “So what do you want from me?”
That was easy. “Everything.”
She pressed a shaky hand to her abdomen and exhaled. When her dark gaze met his, he saw confusion and something a lot like resolution there. She took a step back. “Jack—Sam, whatever, I can’t even look at you. I need to leave. . . .” Her voice broke and the fresh, unshed tears he saw glistening in her eyes cut right through his chest.
He tried to reach out for her, but she shook her head and stepped back before retreating to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her with incredible force, and though she turned on the shower he could hear her crying. Sobbing, actually.
Fuck.
Though he wanted to go in there, demand that she listen and forgive him, he knew he couldn’t. It would just make things worse. She needed time to adjust, to digest everything he’d told her. He couldn’t leave her completely alone, so he headed for the attached room with the extra television and couch. Walking away from her tonight was killing him, but if it was what she wanted, he’d do it. But only for the night. He’d give her time to digest everything he’d told her. That was it. Then he was making his claim and his intentions clear. She was his, had been since she was seventeen.
He wasn’t walking away from her again.
His job, everything else could be damned. Sophie was the one thing he couldn’t walk away from. Ever again.
• • •
Sam checked the address for the tenth time and knocked on the door. A woman with graying hair he didn’t know answered. He assumed it was Sophie’s new foster mother. At least this woman looked nice. Soph hadn’t been answering any of his attempts to contact her, and once he’d found out what happened . . . fuck, he wanted to kill that bastard. Technically Soph was too old to still be in foster care, but the state was letting her stay a couple of extra months until she got on her feet. Probably because they were afraid she’d sue them.
He cleared his throat. “Is Sophie here?”
The woman eyed him skeptically, no doubt taking in his desert cammies. He’d be shipping off soon, but his staff sergeant had given him a few days’ leave.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Sam. We used to live together, with Ms. Bigsby.” In eighteen years, Ms. Bigsby was one of the only decent foster parents he’d ever lived with. Unfortunately she’d been in a bad car accident on the way back from her bingo night and wouldn’t be able to keep any kids for a while.
The woman frowned but opened the door wider to let him in. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go get her?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He clasped his hands in front of him and waited in the foyer. The two-story house looked nice enough. From what he’d learned, Sophie was the only kid living here.
He stared at his watch until he heard Sophie descending the stairs. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a baggy sweater and loose faded jeans. When she reached the bottom she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him with a blank expression. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was flat, lifeless, so unlike the girl he loved.
“I’m leaving in a few days and you haven’t been returning my calls. I’m so sorry about . . .” At his words she averted her eyes to the floor, and his throat seized. He’d never been good at expressing himself. His words always got jumbled. Especially around her. He didn’t know what to say to make this right. Deep down, he knew nothing ever would. But he still wanted to be there for her.
“There’s nothing you can do, Sam. I don’t know why you’re even here,” she mumbled.
He took a step forward and she immediately took a step back toward the stairs, so he kept his distance. “I still want you to come with me. I’m being sent to Afghanistan, but when I get back we can get a place together. Even if you don’t want that anymore, I thought . . . maybe you could write me.”
In an instant her head whipped up and her gaze sharpened on his face. “I’m not going to write you. I hate you, Sam. You promised you’d always be there for me. You promised.” Her voice broke on the last syllable.
“I didn’t know the home would be like that.” If he had, he’d have run away with her. “I didn’t even want to go to boot camp right away, but you told me to and—”
“So it’s my fault?” she snapped, anger flaring in her eyes.
“No! I just . . . fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I—”
“Do you know what that monster did to me? He held a knife to my throat and raped me for hours. His wife was in the next room, but she didn’t do anything! You should have been there. You promised you’d always be there for me! I can’t stand to even look at you, Sam! I hate you and I never want to see you again. Don’t call and don’t write.”
At that, she turned on her heel and raced up the stairs. He knew she was saying the words out of anger, but that didn’t stop the jagged edge from piercing his gut. If he’d just waited thirteen weeks, he might have been able to stop what happened. It wasn’t as if he would have been living under the same roof as Sophie, but maybe . . . hell, maybe he could have pr
otected her, made sure no one hurt her.
But he hadn’t, and someone had.
Jack’s eyes opened with a start. It was just a dream. One he hadn’t had in years. His heart beat erratically in his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He felt as if he’d run a marathon.
Looking at his watch, he realized it was three in the morning. Sophie hadn’t come out of her room once since he’d left her. She’d eventually come out of the bathroom, but she’d shut the door to the bedroom and had been quiet. When he’d asked her if she’d wanted room service, she ignored him.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, hating the helpless sensation that had overtaken him. Against his better judgment, he quietly moved to the bedroom door and peered inside. Curled on her side with her eyes closed, Sophie was breathing and completely fine. Maybe not fine, but alive and safe.
It would have to be good enough for now. He’d fucked up so bad he wasn’t sure anything would ever be right again. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her after keeping all his feelings locked up for years, he wasn’t sure how he was going to go back to life without Sophie in it.
Chapter 20
Detonator: a device or a small, sensitive charge used to detonate an explosive.
Ronald shut down his computer with shaking hands. This was it. After six months, he was finally going to see his daughter again. He hadn’t wanted to come to work today, but both the NSA and Vargas didn’t want him to draw any undue attention to himself. Ronald shook his head at the irony.
His cell phone buzzing across his desk made him jump. The number wasn’t one he recognized. “Hello?”
“Are you ready?” Wesley Burkhart didn’t have to introduce himself. His gravelly voice was distinctive enough.
“I think so.” He wiped a clammy palm on his slacks.
“The equipment is working. Remember, we’re listening and watching the whole time. As soon as you get what we need, we’re taking him down.”
“I know.” Even to his own ears, he didn’t sound convinced. If he was going in by himself, he didn’t think he’d be as scared. His daughter was going to be there, though. That made the chance for a screwup unimaginable. Part of him wished he’d gone to law enforcement sooner, but he still didn’t know who he would have turned to if the NSA hadn’t approached him. If he’d turned to the wrong people and gotten his daughter killed, he’d have never forgiven himself. Hell, he still wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen today.
“We’re trained for this sort of thing, Mr. Weller.”
Easy for him to say. It wasn’t his daughter’s life on the line. “I need to get out of here.”
“Take it easy driving. We all know how stressful this is, but you need to show up in one piece.”
“I will. . . . I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”
After they disconnected, he checked his shirt pocket one more time to make sure the pen was still there. As he gathered his things to leave, he started to finger his tie, then forced himself to stop. He couldn’t afford to draw anyone’s attention to it, and Vargas would be watching his every move.
• • •
There was a quiet buzz of anticipation humming through the hangar. Jack had cleared off a table so he could prep and give him and Sophie some privacy. Not that she was speaking to him. She’d been quiet, withdrawn, her eyes puffy and red from crying last night—which made him feel like shit—and he didn’t want to push her too much until this operation was over. Until the threat of death wasn’t hanging over her head anymore. Maybe then she’d listen to him. Or at least think about forgiving him. Then . . . no, he didn’t even want to hope for more. Right now he just wanted to bring Vargas down and save her friend.
Ronald Weller would be meeting with Vargas soon, so all the team members were in position. Analysts were ready at their laptops and the agents were waiting for Wesley to give them the go-ahead. A few men were staked out in a nondescript van near Vargas’s hangar watching the place, just waiting for him to arrive. As soon as the agents checked in with Jack and Wesley, the team would make their move.
Sophie wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture. “I don’t understand why you have to go in there too.”
He automatically checked his Kevlar vest and weapon one more time. Maybe he was stupid to feel any sort of hope that she might forgive him, but he liked that he heard concern in her voice. It meant she still cared. “I started this and I’m seeing it through.” Not to mention he couldn’t let any of these men head into a situation where he wasn’t willing to go himself.
He didn’t personally know any of the men he was working with today. Wesley had handpicked the agents from various special ops outfits for that very reason. No risk of a leak. He recognized two of the men from a classified Delta Force file, so he had no doubt the rest of the men were just as qualified. They’d have to be. Discovering how deep Vargas’s connection was to the Middle East directly impacted national security and the safety of hundreds of thousands of civilians.
Sophie didn’t respond. She leaned back against the table and watched him with those big brown eyes as he adjusted his gear.
“You’ll have video and audio of me at all times,” he added softly.
“I know. It’s just I’m afraid I’ll lose you . . . again.” Her voice cracked and he forced himself to look away from her.
He didn’t know how to respond. They hadn’t resolved shit after last night, but hearing her say those words stripped him completely raw. It gave him the tiniest sliver of hope that just maybe she could forgive him. “Sophie, I . . . I’ll see you soon,” he managed to rasp out.
Avoiding her gaze, he turned and strode across the concrete floor. Now was not the time for him to be thinking of anything other than the mission. Fate had a way of taking things away from a person when he least wanted it. He’d seen it too many times before. He’d seen guys get killed in action weeks after their wedding, and he’d witnessed veterans get blown up by a roadside bomb two days before their retirement. It was the way of the world. No matter how much he wanted to be with Sophie, he had to let this play out.
Wesley stood in a semicircle with five other men around one of the tables. They were going over the layout of the other building again. Despite the fact that everyone had gone over the plan more than a dozen times, no one was worried about being overprepared.
As he neared the table, Wesley’s phone rang. His boss pressed the SPEAKER button. “We’re all here.”
“Weller has arrived alone,” the other man said.
“Good. How many men around the perimeter?”
“Same as before. Three total. Two static, one roving at four-minute intervals.”
Three wasn’t bad—though he knew there’d be a lot more men inside. The only problem Jack could foresee was taking down the roving man by surprise. Each hangar sat alone with a little less than a hundred yards in between any two. They had to get to him before he could contact anyone on the inside and they had to take down the other two men without that guy realizing it. Everything came down to precise timing.
“We’ve got visual contact,” one of the analysts shouted from a few yards away.
“Everyone, you know what to do.” Wesley’s words were all they needed to hear.
Everyone moved into position and Jack resisted the urge to look back at Sophie before falling in line with the other men. He couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.
• • •
Sweat rolled down Ronald’s back and face as he arrived at the hangar. Despite the air-conditioning blasting in his car, he couldn’t cool down. Before he could decide if he should park outside, one of the men standing guard banged on the side of the metal building.
Instantly the oversized hangar door rolled back, giving him just enough room to drive through. The man waved him by. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the door slam shut. The sound echoed loudly even in the enclosed vehicle.
Dread was a live thing inside him, bringing his body temperature up a few more degrees. He
wiped his face with a napkin before getting out of the car and ordered himself to keep his shit together. This wasn’t about him right now.
Immediately one of Vargas’s men frisked him from ankles to shoulders. Then he ran a wand over his entire body. When nothing beeped, the tense knot in his belly loosened a fraction. Not much, but suddenly his chest wasn’t as tight either. Looked as though the NSA’s technology worked. He could do this.
He had to do this.
In addition to half a dozen armed men lounging around on crates, a small Cessna and two black SUVs were in the hangar. So far there was no sign of Vargas.
Ronald turned to the man who had just frisked him. “Where’s your boss?”
The man grunted and nodded toward the plane. As if on cue, the stairs extended and out walked Vargas and two heavily armed men. “You’re late.”
Ronald didn’t have to glance at his watch to know the other man was wrong. “Where’s my daughter?” The question came out shakier than he’d intended. He’d spoken to her on the phone but still couldn’t believe he would be seeing her soon.
Vargas paused halfway down the stairs, lifted a hand dismissively, and one of his men turned back inside.
A few seconds later, Holly and a familiar-looking Asian woman came through the hatch. They were both dressed almost identically, in jeans and plain white T-shirts. Holly’s eyes widened when she saw him, but she didn’t say anything. He couldn’t see any bruises, so he silently prayed both of them were unharmed.
“You ready to do business?” Vargas’s voice jerked his gaze away from his daughter’s.
Ronald focused on Vargas as he walked toward him. His expensive-looking loafers made snapping sounds as he walked across the concrete floor, echoing and bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.
“Who’s the other woman?” Ronald asked when Vargas stood a foot away from him.
