The Colonel's Widow?

by Mallory Kane

  Irina’s eyes went straight to the scar on his upper back. It was nothing like the neat circular scar on his chest. This one was jagged and ugly.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He half turned as he finished zipping and buttoning the pants. “What?”

  “There. Your back.”

  He grimaced. “The old farmer who saved me took the bullet out. He said it would poison me if it stayed in. Said he’d dug bullets out of his cows before, and a dog or two.” He arched his shoulder, as if it hurt him. “He had trouble finding it.”

  The words hung in the air.

  He had trouble finding it. A simple sentence, spoken calmly, no bitterness, no resentment. Certainly no whining. Just a fact.

  It made her want to cry. Made her realize that she could never imagine the pain he’d gone through, or the loneliness.

  “Did you—” She stopped. She couldn’t even ask that question. He’d been out there alone for two years. If he’d found someone to share the lonely nights, could she blame him?

  Something burned deep inside her. The hurt was so deep, so ingrained, that she thought nothing could make it worse, but the idea of him making love with someone else, of sharing even one night with another woman while she lay alone, thinking he was dead, hurt her through to her soul.

  “Did I what?” He turned and glared at her. “Go ahead and ask. You’ve earned the right not to trust me.”

  She shook her head, swallowing hard against the lump that was growing in her throat and blinking away the stinging behind her eyes.

  “I’ll answer your questions, Rina. I told you I would. But could you hurry? I’m meeting Deke and Dan at seven.”

  “Did you have anyone to talk to?”

  “That’s what you wanted to ask?” He stared at her in disbelief. “The farmer was nice. But, no. I stayed away from people as much as possible. As I worked my way closer to Ordo’s hideout, I became more visible because of my differentness, and the danger increased.”

  He headed for the dressing room. “Now, if there’s nothing else,” he said on a sigh, “I’ve got to shave.” His gaze held hers for another instant, then faltered.

  She didn’t speak.

  He stepped into the dressing room and closed the door.

  When she heard the latch catch, the sob that she’d been trying to swallow escaped, followed by another and another and another.

  Her first thought upon coming face-to-face with him less than forty-eight hours ago was right.

  She didn’t know him at all.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Rook showered, shaved and dressed, it was six-thirty. He needed to get a move on if he was going to meet Deke and Dan at seven.

  The light from the dressing room illuminated Irina’s face. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn’t asleep. The line of her body was stiff. Her eyelids quivered.

  Because of him.

  He clenched his teeth and gave his head a short shake. He had a lot to make up for, but it was going to have to wait. He looked at his watch. Quarter to seven.

  Keys. He had no idea where keys to the cars might be. Hell, he didn’t even know what cars they had. He started toward his dresser, but its surface was polished and empty.

  If everything was the same as it had been when he left, there were extra keys to each vehicle hanging on hooks down in the garage. His mouth curled up at the irony. Everything the same? Hardly. Nothing was the same as it had been.

  Just as he reached for the door handle, the phone rang. The sound slashed through him. Something else he was going to have to get used to again—all the sounds of America. Phones. Cars. Televisions. Buzzing and ringing and humming and blaring. The sounds of technology.

  He grabbed the handset before it could ring a second time.

  “Castle,” he said.

  Irina lifted her head, met his gaze briefly, then turned over.

  “This is Taylor. We’ve got an explosion at the Treasury Building.”

  Rook instinctively snapped into emergency mode. “Casualties?”

  “Unknown. I’m on my way there. I’m calling Cunningham on his cell now.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up with a curse.

  “Rook?” She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. “What happened?”

  “There’s been an explosion in town, at the building where the prisoners are being held.” He pointed a finger at her. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t use the phone. Don’t open the door. Not for anybody.”

  “Who do you think—”

  “Do you understand?”

  She frowned and lifted her chin. “Yes, sir. But how will I know—”

  For a fraction of a second, Rook paused. But time to reassure her was time that could be used to catch the person responsible for the blast.

  “I’ll call you,” he snapped, then turned on his heel and left, locking the door behind him.

  EVERYTHING WAS ready. He was just waiting to hear that the diversion went as planned. He looked at his watch. It should have happened twenty minutes ago.

  His room phone rang. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone.

  “We have an incident.” It was Brock with his typical terseness.

  “An incident?” he said drowsily.

  “Explosion at the Treasury Building. Rook’s on his way.”

  “I’ll get dressed.”

  “Stay there in case this is a diversion.”

  “Yes, sir.” He fumbled as he hung up the phone. His hands were shaking that badly. He already had the prepaid cell phone in his pocket, along with his passport, all the money he’d managed to save and one photo. He looked around the room. Nothing else mattered. He was on his way to his new life.

  He looked at his watch. He had forty minutes to kill, then he’d walk down the hall to his fellow specialist’s room and inform him of the phone call he’d just received from Rook, outlining a change of plans.

  In slightly over twenty-four hours, the finders fee would be his, his personal mission would be accomplished.

  IRINA PACED BACK and forth. It had been over an hour since Rook left. She’d showered and dressed. She should have heard something by now. Rook had had plenty of time to get into town and check out the damage.

  She understood why he’d told her to keep the door locked until he got back. What she didn’t understand was why she couldn’t make a phone call. Of course he could call her any minute, but one brief call to find out what had happened wasn’t going to hurt anything. In fact, she could use her cell and not even tie up the house phone.

  She could call Aimee out in the guesthouse and ask if she’d heard anything from Matt.

  But her cell wasn’t on the charger, and it wasn’t in her purse. She must have left it in her office after she’d called her accountant yesterday—no, the day before. Wednesday.

  She picked up the phone on her bedside table. She didn’t know which room Aimee and Matt were in, but she could call the main guesthouse number.

  Then she spotted the phone book on the lower shelf of the bedside table. The hospital. Mindy—she’d know what was going on, if anyone did.

  Just as she pressed the first number, a knock came at the door.

  Thank heavens. He was finally back. She hung up and rushed over to the door, but stopped with her hand on the deadbolt.

  “Rook?” she called through the door. “Is that you?”

  “Irina? It’s Rafe. Aaron’s here. Colonel Castle sent us to get you.”

  “Rafe? Aaron? Why? What has happened? What about Rook? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, ma’am. We’re to bring you into town, to the Vick Hotel.”

  “What? He told me to stay here. Why didn’t he call me?”

  After a minuscule pause, Aaron spoke up. “He did. On your cell. You didn’t answer.”

  Irina unlocked the door and looked at the two earnest young men. “What happened? Where is he?”

  “Still at the explosion site,” Aaron said. “There were
several casualties. They’re digging them out.”

  “Oh, no. Not anyone we know?”

  Aaron glanced at Rafe.

  “Oh, no. Who?” Irina picked up a jacket that matched her outfit.

  Aaron led her out, with Rafe following. “Two of the Secret Service agents were injured, and one of the suspects.”

  They went down to the basement, where Aaron grabbed the keys to the Yukon. “Get in the back, Irina. You’ll be safer back there.”

  Aaron climbed into the driver’s seat and Rafe got in on the passenger side. When Aaron started the engine, an annoying beeping began.

  “Seat belts,” he said.

  Irina pushed the belt’s clasp into the lock. It seated easily.

  Aaron glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “What about Aimee?” Irina asked. “And her baby? She’s in the guesthouse.”

  “One of the Secret Service agents is going to drive them to the Vick, too. But Rook gave us specific instructions to bring you through the delivery entrance in back of the hotel.” Aaron started the engine and reached up to dial in the code that opened the garage door.

  “Ah, hell,” he said under his breath.

  “What?” Rafe asked.

  “We’re supposed to reset the password on the garage door.” He sighed and reached to unfasten his seat belt. “We should have been out of here five minutes ago.”

  “I’ll set it,” Rafe said.

  “Let me watch. I can’t remember the sequence.”

  Aaron jumped out, then bent and leaned back in. “We’ll be right back, Irina. You sit tight.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” she responded with a tiny smile.

  Aaron and Rafe disappeared through the metal door into the safe room.

  Several seconds later, Aaron came out alone. He sent Irina a small smile as he got in and started the engine. He opened the garage door.

  A twinge of apprehension hit Irina just beneath her breastbone. “What about Rafe?”

  “He decided to stay here and guard the house.”

  “But you said Rook sent you both.”

  “I did.”

  Aaron glanced in the rearview mirror at her, his expression stony, his eyes glittering.

  Her apprehension grew. “I don’t understand.”

  Aaron turned the car around and drove up the driveway to the road.

  “You will.” His voice took on a hard quality. His fingers whitened around the steering wheel.

  Alarm arrowed through her. “Please let me use your phone. I want to call Rook.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that right now.”

  “Aaron, what is going on?”

  He didn’t answer as he pulled out of the driveway onto the road.

  “What has happened to Rafe? Where are you taking me?”

  “You need to calm down, Irina. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  It wasn’t all right. She knew it wasn’t. Aaron was driving too fast. He was acting too odd.

  “What happened to Rafe?”

  He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Rafe didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

  Rafe? “What do you mean? Is Rafe the traitor?” She’d hired him. If he was in league with Novus Ordo, then she’d caused all the injuries, the deaths. The awful things that had happened were her fault.

  “That’s what I’d call him.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing permanent. He was trying to put you in harm’s way, so I had to incapacitate him, and I had to make it bad enough to put him out of commission for a while. I kicked him in the thigh and locked him in the conference room.”

  Shock flashed through her like lightning. “I don’t understand. What did he do?”

  “Let’s just say he has his own agenda.”

  “His own—?” Irina had never gotten to know Aaron very well. He was always polite, but he’d rarely spoken to her unless she deliberately engaged him in conversation. She’d decided that he was painfully shy around women.

  But he was acting odd, even for him. And something didn’t feel right about this whole thing.

  Rook’s warning echoed in her brain. Lock the door and don’t open it to anyone but me.

  “Please let me use your phone, Aaron. I want to talk to my husband.”

  “Not now,” he snapped. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you. But things are a little tense and I’m on a very tight schedule. You’ll get to talk to him just as soon as we’re safe.”

  Aaron slowed down to pull into the left lane at the intersection of Midway Road and Highway 43.

  “Aaron wait. You turn right to get to the Vick Hotel.”

  He didn’t respond, but when the left arrow lit, he pulled forward and turned left.

  “Aaron, stop this car immediately!”

  He shook his head without turning around.

  “Aaron!” Irina reached for her seat belt. She punched the release button, but nothing happened. She punched it again. And again.

  Twisting, she tried to examine it. She didn’t see anything physically wrong with it. But no matter how she tugged and struggled, she couldn’t get it to unlock.

  “Aaron, I can’t get the seat belt off.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Be where? Aaron, talk to me. What are you doing?”

  But he didn’t speak.

  Panic burned her temples and scalp. Her fingers shook with dread knowledge. She was being kidnapped.

  Aaron was the traitor.

  They were approaching another intersection.

  Please turn red, she begged the light. Please. Come on.

  The light turned yellow. For a split second, Aaron held on to his speed, but a big truck approached from their right, so he had to slow down.

  The light turned red.

  Send a car, she prayed. Please. Give me a chance to attract someone’s attention.

  But they sat there alone. Irina kept her eyes on the back of Aaron’s head as she tried to slide excess seat belt through, to give her enough room to slide out of the constraining straps. But there was something wrong with the automatic locking mechanism. She couldn’t pull but an inch or so of strap through before the lock engaged. She kept working.

  Just then a car drove up beside them—on the driver’s side—opposite of where she sat behind the passenger seat.

  Forgetting caution or threats, she leaned as far to her left as she could and waved her arms and shouted.

  “Help! Help me!” She stretched as far as she could, but the wide seats of the huge SUV made it impossible for her to bang or even tap on the window.

  “Help!” she screamed.

  “Irina, you’re wasting your time and your breath. Nobody’s going to take you seriously. Besides, the glass is tinted so dark that they can barely see you anyway. You’re wasting your strength, too, and I promise you you’re going to need it.”

  The light turned green and the other car sped away, oblivious of Irina and her plight.

  As Aaron pulled away, she leaned forward as far as she could and tried to beat on Aaron’s head and neck with her fists. She was barely able to touch him, much less hurt him. The best she could do was distract him.

  “If you don’t stop,” he threatened, “I’ll stop the car. Believe me, you’ll regret it if I do.”

  She thought about it. If he stopped the car, at least she’d have a chance she didn’t have now. But the tone of his voice told her that she was at best a noisy annoyance. He was in too much of a hurry. He wasn’t about to waste time stopping the car.

  So she looked around the seat and the floorboard. Usually, there was an umbrella lying behind the driver’s seat. But, no. He must have inspected the SUV and cleaned it out.

  The center armrest was closed. Maybe someone had left a pen or a mini-umbrella in there. But it was empty, too.

  “Settle down, Irina. We’re almost there.”

  “You go to hell!” she shouted,
and kept punching at him. “Almost where?”

  She looked at her shoes. She was wearing loafers. Not even a high heel for a weapon.

  The car careened to the right. She looked up and knew where they were heading. The only thing on this road for miles was a small airfield.

  Oh, no. “No,” she gasped. “Aaron, what are you doing?”

  He ignored her, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and paused, then spoke. “We’re here.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was barely audible. Irina couldn’t make out anything that was said.

  By the time the conversation was over, Aaron had pulled up beside a dilapidated hangar.

  “Aaron—please. Do not do this. You will be in so much trouble. Kidnapping is a federal crime.”

  He stopped the car and turned around, amusement lighting his dark features. “A federal crime?” He shook his head. “Really, Irina, surely by now you know that a U.S. federal kidnapping charge is the least of my worries.”

  Then the reality hit. The truth she’d managed to deny until this moment.

  Aaron wasn’t just kidnapping her. He was taking her out of the country.

  He was taking her to Novus Ordo. She was going to be bait to lure Rook to his death.

  A deep, visceral fear shrouded her, taking the place of the panic. Aaron had fooled everyone, including Deke and Rook.

  “You don’t want to do this, Aaron. When they catch you, they will execute you.”

  “They’ll have to find me first. I’ll be safe with Ordo.”

  “Why, Aaron? You’re an American citizen. Why are you betraying your own country?”

  He turned in his seat to look at her.

  “My country? My country isn’t America. My country is Israel. My relatives were killed in the Holocaust.” His eyes burned with obsessive zeal. “And your famous husband—do you know where his family came from? They came from Germany.”

  “You can’t believe that Rook—”

  “I can and I do. Do you know that he killed my father? He let him die. Norman Gold was a hero. And Castle let him die like an ordinary grunt. Then he had the gall to hire me, as if it made up for what he’d done. For what his ancestors did.”