Past Sins

by Debra Webb

  A firm shake of his head followed by, “I didn’t start it, Vanessa, I derailed it. You had been targeted. I was informed. I knew the only way you’d pay attention was if I activated your code name and used your boyfriend as the bait. It was the only possible way I could hope to get your full attention.”

  She felt stunned. “I knew it was you. Who the hell was Soderbaum?”

  “A retired agent who owed me a favor.”

  The fury that threatened to erupt inside her was hampered by so many other emotions that she wasn’t sure which one to pick from. “You lured me into this trap.” Her gaze held his, searched for any sign of deceit. “You risked Jeffrey’s safety…ruined my life all over again—”

  “I probably saved your life, Nessa.”

  She slugged him. Couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t even realize the synapse had occurred until her fist made contact with his jaw. This time he was the one who didn’t see the move coming.

  He didn’t sway but he damn well flinched. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs in an effort to keep up with her racing heart. How could he do this to her? Wasn’t once enough?

  “I guess I deserved that.” He rubbed his jaw. “However angry you are with me right now, Nes…Olivia, remember that unless we determine the source of the threat to you, you could end up dead. I doubt your friend Jeffrey would be pleased if we let that happen.”

  “Wait,” she snapped as she massaged her forehead, tried to block the ache that had started there. “Why would anyone want to dig this back up now? Is there some political agenda I don’t see?” If anyone appreciated the idea of not having the past come back to haunt them, she did, but she didn’t see what this particular past had to do with the present. “Who’s your source, Landry? Who told you I had been targeted for elimination?”

  “That’s a little complicated.” He turned back to the sink and gestured for her to resume her duty of washing.

  She wanted to scream. But she knew him too well. He wouldn’t continue until she did as he asked. Olivia stuck her hands into the water and grabbed another glass, careful not to take her frustration out on it.

  “The political agenda is not yet clear to me,” he admitted. “But whatever it is, you can rest assured that it ties in closely with what happened on that final mission. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in line for elimination.”

  “I’m following you so far.” She wouldn’t say she agreed with his conclusions. She didn’t have enough information to form a solid conclusion, and neither did he, it appeared. All she had was his word that a source he wouldn’t reveal had tipped him off. Not exactly something she could or would take to the bank.

  Landry took the glass she’d just washed and rinsed it. “When Al Hadi changed his mind about supporting the U.S., for whatever reason, the CIA had him eliminated, ensuring that the other candidate, Bahir, won the election.”

  What did that prove? “Bahir, as I recall, was far less influential in the region than Al Hadi.” She shrugged, trying to see the value in his point. “Still, I suppose it ultimately worked out.” From what she had seen in the news, things had turned out just the way the CIA had wanted. It had taken a little more time, but hey, that was life.

  Landry slowly turned the towel around the glass he’d rinsed. “Bahir is a man easily controlled but one who lacks any scruples at all. He could turn any time. All he needs is the proper motivation. The details of your final mission could provide lots of motivation. I’m certain the CIA will do anything to make sure that never happens.”

  She passed the last of the glasses to him. That was true of any politician. She didn’t know a single one who could be trusted. Why even talk about this? “Do you have reason to believe the U.S. should be worried?” The way he persisted along these lines, surely he had his reasons.

  “I do.” He put the glass away. “I believe that tenuous balance is part of our current problem.”

  His theory wasn’t totally off the mark. “I’ll buy that, but it still doesn’t explain what it has to do with me or my final assignment with the CIA.” She handed him a freshly washed cup. “I was the one who took the fall. I was written up as a rogue agent, suspected of treason, et cetera. That’s why Hamilton took me out of the picture. Faked my death. No one would come after a dead agent.”

  He dried the cup and stowed it as he had the glasses, then leveled his gaze on hers. “I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for just yet. I only know that someone wants you dead, and if they want you dead, that means they want me dead.”

  “Why you?” He’d walked away clean last time. Why would anyone drag him back into this?

  “They—whoever they are—have to know that I was privy to the same details as you. Wouldn’t that make me a target, as well?”

  Possibly. Both she and Landry were low profile. They could be eliminated, blamed for the Agency’s past mistakes, and no one would really care. The facts were that she’d assassinated the candidate poised to win the election three years ago. The sitting president, Umar, had been a staunch enemy of the U.S., but his health had deteriorated to the point that he could no longer intimidate the people into keeping him in power. What relevance did those facts have now? If she and Landry were targets for what they knew, why wouldn’t Hamilton be one, as well?

  Then again, maybe he was too high profile to easily eliminate.

  She stared out the window over the sink, looking at nothing at all. There was simply no way to form a reasonable theory. “This is going to end badly, Landry.” The realization came suddenly, with an intensity that shook her. Maybe the current political climate and the relations between the U.S. and some little Middle Eastern country that most people couldn’t even locate on a map had nothing at all to do with her dilemma. Maybe the bottom line was that she hadn’t been meant to survive that last mission. It could be as simple as that.

  Now that mistake had to be rectified.

  The urgency in Hamilton’s voice when he’d told her three years ago that there was no other way to save her outside faking her death had broadsided Olivia. He’d wanted her out of the way as quickly as possible. Had pushed her to agree to his hasty plan.

  She turned back to Landry once more. “Hamilton was in charge of the entire operation. He was the one who confirmed my orders. Now here I am, caught up in the game again. When no one else knew I was still alive but him. But why would he do this after he saved my life?”

  She didn’t want to believe that possibility. But it held far too much merit to ignore. Hell, it was the only feasible possibility she even had right now if she believed anything Landry had told her.

  Landry lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “Maybe. But he isn’t the only one who had access to this information. You must know that.”

  “Director Woods?” Hamilton was only the deputy director of field operations. Woods was his superior. Landry was right, she supposed. Woods would likely have known most every step Hamilton made. Or, at least, that was the way it was supposed to work.

  Landry nodded an affirmative. “Along with a couple of others.”

  “But Hamilton was the only one who knew I was still alive,” she argued. As much as she didn’t want to believe it was him, he was the most likely suspect. Disillusionment turned the breakfast she’d eaten minutes ago into an unyielding rock in her stomach. He was the only one.

  Except Landry. He’d already admitted that he’d somehow known she was alive almost from the beginning. And now he’d blown her cover. Olivia lost whatever cool she’d had left at that precise instant. She slugged him again, this time with everything she had. She didn’t knock him off his feet but he definitely staggered a bit.

  “A repeat performance wasn’t necessary,” he grumbled, rubbing his jaw again.

  “The first time was for trying to get me killed.” Not to mention Jeffrey, she didn’t say. “This time was just for being a jerk.”

  “Bloody hell, Vanessa, I’m not trying to get you killed. I’m trying to help you.”

  “In case you ha
ven’t noticed, I was doing fine without you or your help.”

  “But danger was headed your way,” he urged, his voice soft and compelling. “I had to do something. I couldn’t stand back and let them take your life away again. They took everything, Nessa. Stole who you were.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Stole who we were.”

  “And you want me to believe that all I lost somehow mattered to you.” Like she would believe that in this lifetime.

  His fingers curled around her upper arms and pulled her closer. She told herself to resist, but it didn’t happen. “It matters,” he murmured.

  He couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like he meant.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Olivia? Are you all right?”

  Her attention swung to the kitchen door. Jeffrey stood there looking suspect and immensely concerned.

  She shrugged off Landry’s touch. “I’m fine.” She glanced at Landry. “We’re finished here.”

  She walked out of the kitchen. She needed to think.

  Without the presence of her past, recent or otherwise.

  Chapter 9

  Olivia sat on the back porch, staring at the place where the grass gave way to the woods. She imagined that at one time the dense forest had owned this clearing. Sometime in the last hundred or so years the owner had made way for the house, changing the landscape forever.

  That was what the CIA had done to her. They’d cut down her career—her life—and changed the landscape forever. She knew it wasn’t fair to blame the Agency in general. This was the result of decisions made by one or two. People who liked playing God. Power-hungry bastards who cared only for themselves. She’d taken the fall for a mistake. The price was her life as she knew it.

  She sucked a deep breath of fresh air into her lungs and expelled it slowly. Why hadn’t he left it alone?

  She’d gotten used to the fact that her preferred career was over. With no family ties, vanishing had been easy. Well, easy might be an overstatement, but certainly doable.

  For months she’d grieved the loss of her career, of her former self. Of him.

  Somehow, maybe because of her training in the workings of the mind, she’d managed to fall into sync with her new existence. She’d built a new career along with a very basic life. Had made a couple of friends. Her patients were eccentric but they paid the bills. There had been a long line of one-night stands and then she’d met Jeffrey. Her life had begun to feel…normal.

  But she wasn’t normal. She would never be normal.

  She’d taken so many lives in the line of duty. The reality of that career had taken a toll once she’d been still long enough to dwell on it. Once she’d truly lived among the “normals” and had to face the differences between herself and others…civilians.

  Maybe that was why she’d never committed fully to Jeffrey. Better the possibility that her former career had handicapped her in the area of emotions than the idea that she was still in love with Landry. Tamping down even the concept, she mentally moved on. There was no way to change the events that had occurred recently. Landry or Hamilton or maybe both had seen to that. If she intended to have a future, she had to have a plan.

  Or maybe Landry had one. Yeah, right.

  He had given her up. Oh, he had his excuses, just like last time. That made twice he’d screwed her in the most negative sense of the word. Yet his theory about why someone had targeted her for elimination contained so many elements of truth it would be hard to label any single part of it a lie.

  Did she trust him or not?

  She just didn’t know. The first thing she needed to do was find out Landry’s precise plans, if he had any. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t start something he didn’t have a scheme for finishing. That he might very well be using her for bait fired her up but the deed was done. Finding out the reason had to be her next move.

  Uncertainty warred with her sense of reason when she considered he’d insinuated that she mattered. But she couldn’t trust her emotions where he was concerned. Letting him get to her via the past would be a major mistake.

  She’d just have to play it by ear and hope that all her better instincts would check in before she got in too deep.

  The only problem was what to do with Jeffrey.

  Dragging him along wouldn’t be practical or safe. She couldn’t let him go back to L.A. in the event whoever was after her attempted to force her location out of him. She now knew that he had never been a target, but that didn’t mean it was safe for him to resume his everyday life. Not until this was over.

  Maybe taking him along was the only alternative. At least that way she could make sure no one else got to him. But there was no way to guarantee she could protect him. It was a no-win situation.

  Regret that her past had propelled him into this mess sliced deep.

  That was the thing, she supposed, that made the difference in being able to live with her former profession on any level. Every single target she’d ever neutralized had been a player. People who understood the risks, who willingly took those chances for their own personal gain. Not necessarily bad guys, but enemies nonetheless. That was the difference. No one she’d eliminated had been an innocent. Not even the final target, whose elimination had cost her everything. Though he evidently shouldn’t have been a target, he’d still been a player in the game of world domination. His number had simply come up prematurely because of some asshole’s personal agenda.

  Jeffrey, however, was a true innocent. Being in any way responsible for his death was not acceptable.

  Damn Landry for putting her in this position.

  Maybe if she told Jeffrey the truth, he would be reasonable and listen to her on the issue of staying out of sight until this was over. It was worth a shot.

  Determined to get things started toward a resolution, she went inside in search of the men involved in this disaster.

  Jeffrey sat on the couch looking sorely out of place, with the blue and beige plaid background clashing with his pristine gray shirt and charcoal slacks. She was sure he’d packed more jeans, but he’d chosen to dress up today. That he felt the need to compete with Landry might have given her glee under different circumstances.

  Landry, still dressed in the jeans and blue shirt he’d been wearing when he first showed up in her backseat, had claimed a chair directly across from Jeffrey.

  The two were silent when she entered the room, but the tension in the air gave her the impression that might not have been the case as recent as mere moments before she arrived.

  “I’ve reached a decision.”

  Both men turned their attention to her.

  “I’ll need some time alone with Jeffrey,” she said to Landry. This was a private conversation. He knew her history already, there was no reason for him to hang around.

  “Not acceptable,” Landry countered. “I see no reason to pretend we’re not all in this together. Whatever you have to say to one of us, you can say to the other. That’s the way it has to be from now on. I’ve been completely open with you, I expect the same.”

  His unyielding position on the matter surprised her. She wondered if his about-face had anything to do with whatever words had been exchanged while she was out of the house. Just what she needed, two males attempting to mark their claimed territory.

  Arguing would only waste time. “Have it your way.”

  She sat down on the couch, turning her full attention to Jeffrey. Landry might be determined to listen but that wouldn’t keep her from ignoring him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jeffrey.”

  “Evidently.”

  That he wouldn’t look her in the eye roused her suspicions further. Just exactly what had these two been up to?

  “Until three years ago,” she began again, knowing this would be a hard pill to swallow, “I worked for the CIA.”

  She had his total interest now. His brow furrowed unnaturally. “The Central Intelligence Agency?”

  “Yes. I was a field
operative. I rarely stayed in the same place for long. I worked undercover most of the time, using several different identities.”

  Disbelief started to overtake the confusion that had been lining his face. “What exactly did you do for the CIA?”

  Olivia swallowed back the trepidation she abruptly felt pressing against her windpipe and did what had to be done. “I was a black ops assassin.”

  For about three seconds he merely stared at her then he said, “Really, Olivia, what did you do for them?”

  If his voice hadn’t been so calm, his expression so expectant, she might have believed he was joking. “I’m telling you the truth, Jeffrey.”

  “You…killed…people,” he suggested, for clarification, it seemed.

  Some old habits died hard. Before she realized what she’d done, she found herself looking to Landry for backup. She snatched back her good sense in the nick of time and turned away. “Yes. I killed people.”

  Jeffrey looked from her to Landry and back. “You’re serious?”

  “She’s telling the truth, Jeffrey.”

  “I’ll handle this.” She cut Landry a biting glance. He’d done quite enough already, thank you very much. She didn’t need his help, despite her momentary lapse in good sense.

  Jeffrey nodded as if he’d decided to consider the events of the past thirty-six or so hours. “So that’s what this is all about?” The uncertainty and trepidation in his tone confirmed that he still didn’t quite believe her.

  “My last assignment was to eliminate a Middle Eastern political figure,” she explained. “It was a mistake and that’s how I ended up in L.A. starting a new life. My real name is Vanessa Clark.” When the truth of her words sank in, he wasn’t going to be happy about learning about her past this way. “I’m sorry you got drawn into this situation, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  The realization that she very well could be telling the truth dawned slowly in his eyes.