Relic_An Iniquus Romantic Suspense Mystery Thriller

by Fiona Quinn

  The blush painting over Sophia’s face burned her cheeks. She turned and drank down her glass of water. Brian touching her and kissing her wasn’t okay. She had torn herself away from him the night they met in order to protect him. Every step he got closer to her, the more endangered he became. She needed to get him away from her, out of her life. But even if he wasn’t assigned to her directly, he’d still be on the team. Short of quitting her job, Sophia couldn’t think of a way out of this predicament. She reached up and twisted her gold bracelet around and around her wrist.

  “That woman is not normal.” Thorn unwrapped his cutlery from his napkin.

  “That’s an understatement,” Nadia said, following suit.

  Brian’s “Are you all right?” was interrupted when the server arrived with their plates.

  No, Sophia thought, I’m not all right at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brian

  Wednesday p.m.

  Brian excused himself from the table when his phone pinged. Someone had passed through the infrared sensor he had just established around Sophia’s house. Outside, under the buzz of the flickering parking lot light, he opened his phone app to see Nadia’s sister, Lana, climbing out of her van and going into the house. She moved into the far corner of the living room, standing beside the curio cabinet, texting. Then she went into the den to pick up what Sophia had told him was Chance’s “wubby”—a beloved and well-chewed stuffed rabbit. He waited until Lana had pulled out of the drive before he headed back toward the restaurant. As he sauntered up the sidewalk, Thorn and the women pushed through the restaurant door, walking through the gentle warmth of the night toward Sophia’s van. Brian cut across the lot, timing it so he arrived as they did and joined the huddle of goodbyes.

  “Sophia, Nadia told me you were planning on taking a sleeping pill tonight that’s pretty potent.” Brian pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “It’s dangerous to sleep at your place alone. If there were an emergency—a fire, or what have you, you wouldn’t be able to respond. Nadia has plans tonight with some friends that include drinking, so she’ll probably end up staying at one of their apartments. Do you have someone else you could call to stay the night with you?” Brian held his breath, hoping that he’d left it until too short a notice to get anyone else to come over.

  Sophia shook her head. “I don’t have anyone to call, and anyway, I wouldn’t dream of imposing on one of my friends. I don’t need babysitting. I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. The boys are safe with Lana, that’s my only worry.”

  “I’m going to stay with you then. I’ll crash on the couch.” Brian used a certain tone of voice to deliver that information. He’d learned this trick when he was in Iraq, needed compliance, and had a limited vocabulary to make it happen.

  Sophia gave another little shake of her head, looking confused.

  Thankfully, Nadia got involved. “Oh, Brian, would you?” She put her hand on his arm. “That would make me feel a thousand times better.” She pressed her fist to her heart. “I’ve been torn about this all day. I have a friend going through a breakup, and she needs me, but then so does Sophia.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Sophia said again.

  Both Brian and Nadia pretended not to have heard her.

  “Are the boys coming back in the morning?” Brian asked.

  “No, Sophia has to catch up on her sleep, the doctor suggested five uninterrupted nights, so Lana is keeping Sophia’s kids until Monday to give her the time she needs. But we’ll all be together on Saturday when the community pool is having its potluck. Do you think you could stay with her through the weekend?” She turned to Sophia when Sophia pinched her arm. “Ouch!”

  “Nadia! You’ve not my mother, arranging a sleepover. I’m not a baby, and I’m Standing. Right. Here.” Sophia’s dark-chocolate eyes were vivid with anger.

  “I’m sorry, Sophia,” Brian said. “I don’t want you to feel disrespected, but I’ve been doing this kind of work for a long time. I’ve been around when people have been through hell, I know for a fact they can make bad decisions while under extreme stress. Choices that put them and others at risk. Crazy things like not being able to sleep for days and deciding to go for a drive—that’s what killed a man I was tasked with protecting. I bear the weight of that death to this day. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt someone else that night.” They were toe-to-toe, looking into each other’s eyes. Brian desperately wanted to touch her, wanted to run his hands down her arms, gather her close so her cheek rested against his heart, wanted to kiss her hair and take her home. He blocked those feelings, knowing that that stupid-as-hell kiss in the restaurant, while effective in getting Marla to move on, might have been a fatal error. If she reported it, Brian would be off the case. Period. Maybe even out of a job. “I want you to rest. I want you to know you’re safe while you sleep. My hitting the rack on your couch doesn’t inconvenience me—it’s part of my job.”

  “It’s not you who would be inconvenienced,” Sophia muttered so softly, Brian almost missed her words.

  “My teammate dropped me off earlier. I’ll drive your van home.” He held out his hand for her keys.

  “Don’t you need a bag or something?” Sophia was obviously grasping at straws.

  “Nope, I left one at your house earlier.” He waved his hand for her keys, which she reluctantly handed over to him.

  Sophia looked thoroughly deflated as she turned to kiss Nadia on the cheek then moved toward the passenger seat of the van.

  Brian felt victorious.

  The restaurant was only five miles from Sophia’s house. Sophia had scrunched herself over toward the door as if to create more space between them. Brian had his eye on the rearview mirror. A car had pulled up on his tail so close that it looked like they were sitting in the backseat. He pushed the gas down, and the person behind him held tight. Brian wouldn’t be surprised if they were touching bumpers. A passing car lit up the other driver’s face as they passed. Marla. Son of a bitch.

  “Sophia, do you have trouble with Marla riding your bumper?”

  “All the time.” Her forehead was resting on the window. She seemed unaware that they were being followed. “I can’t slow down when she does that. One false move, and it would be a car accident. She scares me. I don’t know what she’s capable of—how far she’d push things. My therapist says there’s no way to tell in advance. That doesn’t help my anxiety.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t.”

  “I’ve talked to the police about it, and they just shrug their shoulders. They think she needs to cause me harm before they can do anything.” Sophia sat up and turned around to see Marla behind them. “It’s uncanny how she always seems to find me.”

  Brian whipped the car to the right and slammed on the brakes, reaching out his hand to steady Sophia. Marla flew on by. Brian yanked the wheel to the left and got right on Marla’s bumper as he followed her all the way home. “This, Sophia, is against the law. It endangers you and your kids.”

  Sophia was gripping at the door handle. “Then why are you doing it?”

  “Giving her a taste of her own medicine.” Brian stopped at the top of Sophia’s drive where he wanted Sophia to park from now on. “Wait here.”

  Marla had turned in the cul-de-sac and parked in front of the Sheppards’ house, jumped from her car, and was racing toward the van with her fists up like she was ready to rumble. It would have been laughable, except this woman thought she was coming to pummel Sophia. Brian stepped out of the van and put his hands on his hips. He had the woman by eight inches, a good sixty pounds of muscle, and the fierce hand-to-hand combat training of his Marine anti-terrorism unit. Marla came to a screeching halt and her mouth hung open with shock. She looked toward the van, but Brian moved into her line of sight so she wouldn’t see Sophia. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to; his body radiated hostility. Marla turned on her heels and beat a fast retreat. He watched her until she was all the way home.
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  Brian walked around the back of the van, stowing his combat energy. Sophia needed calm. By the time he opened the passenger door for her, he was fully back to his impassive guise. “This is where you park.”

  “Got it,” she said. A few steps later she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Is this a good idea?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.”

  “I need to make sure that we’re clear on this, especially after you kissed me.”

  Brian wasn’t about to mention that she’d kissed him back.

  “I’m not interested in having a relationship with you outside of my capacity with AACP and the need to have security in place. That I’m even considering letting you into my house to spend the night is against my better judgement. I’m only agreeing to this,” Sophia shook her finger at him, “because Nadia needs to be with her friend, and I don’t want her to feel conflicted or guilty because of me.” She moved her hands to her hips and squinted her eyes. “This isn’t your job. Your job is to secure us while we’re on our expedition. Why are you here, exactly?”

  “So Nadia doesn’t feel guilty.” Brian sent her his most winning grin.

  Sophia let out a huff and spun on her heels, climbed the stairs and stuck her key into the lock. “This is so damned awkward.”

  “That’s not my intention,” he said sincerely.

  She walked in and flicked on the lights. “I know it’s not.” She turned and the look in her eyes tore at him. “I owe you an apology. I’m having trouble being around you because I feel guilty. I left you without an explanation or a goodbye. Please trust me when I say I was trying to keep you safe. I hope you can forgive me. It was a wonderful night. An amazing birthday. And it’s also over. Done.”

  Brian was caught on the fact that she said she’d left to protect him. It was an odd turn of phrase—”trying to keep you safe.” It was hard to listen to the regret that he heard up until she said an “amazing birthday”, then her tone turned to stone cold finality. “Apology accepted,” Brian said without a shade of emotion. “I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, so we can move forward. Right now, that looks like a pillow and blanket for the couch, please.”

  Sophia huffed out the breath she’d held while he spoke. She glanced up the stairs, then looked to her curio cabinet and seemed to focus on a crystal goblet for an over-long time. She turned her beautiful doe’s eyes on him, soft and sad. “I have a guest room. Upstairs. End of the hall. Linens are in the bathroom, next door on the right.”

  They both spun around as the front door crashed open.

  “What the hell are you two doing in my house?” a man bellowed, holding his walking stick like a bat. His face was livid red.

  Brian swung his foot in front of Sophia, creating a barricade with his body. But Sophia pushed around him.

  “Mr. Rochester. My name is Sophia Abadi. I live in this house now. You live next door with your son, Joe.”

  “Joe?”

  “Your son, Joe. Let’s walk over, and you can talk to Joe.”

  “But this is my house.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Rochester. This is your house. But Joe is playing next door, we need to go get him. It’s past his bedtime, don’t you think? Come on, I’ll walk with you to get Joe.”

  The man spun to face Brian. “I’m not leaving this hoodlum in my house!”

  “Of course not, Mr. Rochester, he’s coming with us. He wants to say hi to your son. Joe’s waiting for you.” Sophia gingerly took the old man’s arm and started him across the grass between the two houses.

  They were halfway across the open space when they moved in front of a pine tree, a white bucket filled with engine parts sat beside the open hood of the Buick. Rochester sauntered up and unzipped his pants. Sophia waited patiently as the man pulled out his dick and took a piss. Whoever owned that car was going to be in for one hell of a surprise. Rochester stuffed himself into his shorts, then undid his belt and button so he could get his shirt tucked neatly in place. Brian kept his distance, hoping he was forgotten. The last thing he needed was to have this man try to fistfight him.

  Sophia smiled. “This way, Mr. Rochester, let’s go collect Joe.” She rang the bell and delivered Mr. Rochester to his family.

  “You handled that well,” Brian said as they headed back to her place.

  “My dad has dementia. I’ve had a little experience.”

  They climbed the stairs, and Brian stopped himself from putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her in. As a matter of fact, he was consciously keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them, hoping it would make Sophia feel more comfortable.

  “My heart goes out to families who are trying to care for their loved ones. I wish I could take some of the burden off my mom. But my being near her would just increase the problems. Better that I stay away.” Resignation filled her voice. Her shoulders drooped. That unexpected visitor seemed to take the last of her strength.

  Still, Brian needed to know. “Does that happen often, Mr. Rochester coming in your house?”

  “Yes, well, he lived here when it was built. When he was first diagnosed, his son moved in next door to be close to his father, but as the disease incapacitated him, they moved him in with them. My in-laws bought this house from Mr. Rochester. In his confusion, this is where he thinks he belongs. He lived here for over forty years. I understand the situation. I just have to do a good job of keeping the doors locked.”

  “Sophia,” Brian said softly. “Take your pill and go to bed. Sleep.”

  Sophia nodded and dragged herself up the stairs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brian

  Thursday a.m.

  “Nutsbe, can you do a search on Marla Richards in connection with the AACP case?” Brian asked. The three teammates assigned to the case had gathered ten minutes early to put their cards on the table before their FBI counterparts showed up for a meeting.

  “Got anything else?”

  “An address.” Brian pulled out his phone and texted the information to Nutsbe. “Looks like Sophia Abadi has a stalker.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Marla’s actions are serious enough that Sophia’s taken it to her therapist,” Thorn said. “The therapist is advising Sophia to treat the woman as a sociopathic threat.”

  “That’s fucked up—but how does Richards tie into the AACP?”

  “Interesting coincidence.” Brian crossed his ankle over his knee and scrunched lower in his seat. “Sophia gave me a timeline of the car accident that we already have in her file, followed by the move, immediately followed by her tires blowing. Within a week of Sophia moving, the empty house at the entrance of her neighborhood was rented, and a week after that Marla Richards was on scene with her sights set on Sophia.”

  “Sophia made that correlation?”

  “Sophia’s so far down the rabbit hole, she’s just swatting at the next crisis. She can’t see a broader picture—heck, I’m not even sure there is a broader picture. It would be good to have background on the woman in case she was shipped in to gaslight Sophia.”

  “But not Nadia?” Nutsbe asked, his fingers tapping across his keyboard.

  “Nadia isn’t a good candidate for gaslighting—her stress history is clean,” Thorn said. “Her dad had a stroke five years ago. Other than that, it’s the normal everyday shit of modern life.”

  “No love interest?”

  “Nothing significant, and it doesn’t look like she’s looking.” Thorn rotated his pen through his fingers at a hypnotizing speed. “To talk to her, she seems generally satisfied with how things are going. She gets her baby fix when she’s with Lana and Sophia’s kids. When she gets tired of them, she leaves. She has a handful of close friends. She dates on occasion. When she’s not working, she goes to the gym. She reads.” He looked up. “What’s this meeting with the FBI about? Anyone have a heads up?”

  “Nada,” Nutsbe said. “Okay, so this is interesting. The house Marla is in is own
ed by Pierre Richards, a plastics engineer from Toronto, Canada. He’s here on a work visa. He’s single, with no children, according to his papers. The visa was issued in May 2015. Right before the car accident. Anything seem odd about that accident?”

  “I looked over the reports,” Brian said. “Guy had a heart attack, caught them broadside. He died at the scene with no insurance and no assets. So the Pierre Richards visa lists no dependents? I’ve seen two kids at that house, young, maybe three and five years old.”

  “I have nothing in the database on a Marla Richards at that address. Not even a driver’s license in the state of Virginia. Have you seen the husband around, Brainiack?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, this looks like it bears further investigation. I’m on it.”

  Titus arrived and held the door wide. Andersson strode purposefully across the room followed by Finley. The Panther Force operatives rose respectfully while the special agents took their seats.

  Once everyone had gathered in a loose circle, Titus said, “Gentlemen, you’ve had a couple of days now with our suspects. Are you starting to get a clearer picture of the players?”

  Brian knew that if they shared the data they had collected so far that the spotlight would shine on Sophia. It was a trap. Once an investigation honed in on a player, the brain worked to see all evidence as a link and an affirmation. Sure, if he had to pick one of the two, Sophia had all the branding for a perp walk. Maybe Nadia seemed too clean. Maybe she hid behind the fact that if authorities were looking at the partners, she would look wholesome while Sophia looked vulnerable to recruitment pressure.

  While Brian didn’t reject the concept of Nadia using Sophia as a scapegoat, it seemed farfetched. Lana and Nadia both supported and, he believed, loved Sophia. There was a palpable sisterly bond. “We’d like to get a better understanding of this investigation. It would help us to understand the net you’re casting, so we can identify any possible links to move the case forward.” Brian dodged and wove away from the tackle, trying to pass the ball in a different direction.