by kimberly
Besides, she’d made a vow. One she didn’t want to risk breaking.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SEAN
January 24
7:54 a.m.
Loosen up.
As he drove to the kennel, Sean couldn’t get Cole’s words out of his head. Loosen up, indeed. Cole had no idea what kind of world he’d lived in all these years. On the surface, it looked enviable. Living in a mansion, surrounded by staff. Hosting elegant fundraisers where the tickets sold for $2,500 a head. Attending coveted dinner parties with politicians.
And his office. A nice little 1500-square-foot corner suite at the top of CROM tower, with walls of windows, two full-time secretaries he didn’t need, and enough technology to run a small country.
He’d come to hate it all.
Cole was right. He was stiff. His whole life had been stiff. Rigid. Trapped in the confines of lies and deceit he hadn’t even known were binding him. But he was free now. So why did he still feel . . . imprisoned?
Maybe he should take up watching television. See how the real world lived. Isn’t that what most Americans spent their free time doing?
Then again, he’d rather not. The few channels he’d flipped to other than his favorite ESPN were filled with reality shows that seemed about as far removed from reality as the moon was from the earth.
He was stuck.
His father’s words raced back into his mind. His gut churned. Then the message in the bathroom mirror drifted into his mind.
The churn turned into a rolling boil.
“Stop!”
He slammed his fist against the dashboard. But the growing fury remained.
All those years he’d worked under his father’s thumb, stuffing his frustration. His resentment. It wasn’t until he broke free, until he was days into his trek across country, that the rage finally erupted. And kept erupting. Sometimes when he least expected it.
He’d gotten good at holding it all in until he was alone, but that wasn’t the answer and he knew it
God, I’m done with that life! Why can’t I let the anger go?
No answer. Well, what had he expected? More and more lately, when he prayed, that was the result. Silence. Like God’s words to him were somehow being blocked . . .
Not blocked. Deflected.
Sean frowned. Deflected? By what?
But even as he asked the silent question, he knew.
By him.
By his anger.
For months he’d wrestled with this burden. The ever-increasing weight pressed into his shoulders with every mile he’d walked. And now . . . that weight had seemed to turn to brick and mortar and stack into an invisible wall.
One that has come between you and God.
The thought brought him up short. He pulled over onto the side of the road. Shut off the engine. And sat there. Taking in the truth.
His anger—and refusal to let go of it—was getting in the way of his relationship with God. The walls, the distance he felt, were of his own making. The rage inside him toward his earthly father waged a battle against his yearning for a closer relationship with his heavenly Father. Instead of allowing himself to heal after cutting the ties with CROM, with his father, he’d fed the growing infection until it festered. And the pain of that was all he could feel. The raging of that resentment was all he heard.
Sean leaned his head back against the seat.
He needed to throw off his old self. Completely. And that meant forgiving his father—and himself—and letting go of the years of bitterness and resentment. Because he wasn’t that person anymore. The person controlled by lies.
The person who hated.
For the first time in his life, he felt real. This was the real Sean. Hardworking. Starting over. So maybe he shouldn’t worry about what anyone thought. He needed to be himself. Even if he needed loosening up. Certainly a few months with the incredible people at Naltsiine Kennels could help him.
Father . . . help me. Help me let go of the past and savor the present You’ve given me. I keep struggling with anger and it pushes me away from You. I don’t know why I can’t conquer this, but You do, Lord. You can help me get past this. Just show me what You would have me do.
He let loose a sigh, then turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road, a fresh peace filling him.
The drive to the property from his hotel would be the last. Over the past few days, Anesia had the cabin cleaned, he’d bought furniture and necessities, and he’d even installed Wi-Fi. The race this weekend wore him out, but the last of his new furniture would be delivered this morning. He would finally settle in.
A basket sat on the seat next to him. Wanda at the hotel sent him off in style with fresh fruit, dozens of cookies, and a couple books about Alaska and racing. What a neat lady. She’d always had a smile for him, sacrificed time and energy to help him. He needed to do something special for her. Maybe he’d ask Anesia to help him come up with a few ideas.
He arrived at the long driveway that would take him to his new home.
Home.
A wonderful word. But more than the word was the feeling it evoked. A feeling he’d never experienced.
He belonged.
Here.
With these wonderful people.
Anesia and Zoya bounced down the front steps, pulling on coats as he pulled in front of the house. More purchases from town loaded down the bed of his truck.
He pressed the button to lower his window. “Hey there. This is a nice welcome.”
Anesia beamed. “Well, you deserve it. We want to get you comfortable in your new place.” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “What can we do to help?”
“Would you like to hop in the truck and ride with me to the cabin?”
Zoya giggled and covered her mouth.
Sean smiled. Laughter and smiles seemed to come easily here. “What?”
“You said ‘hop.’” She snorted and laughed harder. “It’s so . . . normal. You’re usually so proper, it just made me laugh.”
“I did indeed.” His laughter joined hers. “Guess I might be learning to be a little more laid-back after all.” He opened his door so he could walk around the truck and open the passenger door for the ladies.
Anesia must have anticipated his move because she stopped him with a hand to his arm. “No need. We’ll hop in.”
Girlish giggles permeated his truck as he drove around to the cabin. His cabin. It all made him feel more a part of this family. Moving here also gave him a sense of providing. Protecting. Senses that were innate in men awakened with new strength. New desire. They’d always been stripped from him with his father. As if his own manhood had been taken away. In fact, if he were quite honest, he’d not wanted to admit that he often felt like his father owned him. And no man should ever—ever—have to feel that way.
After the incident on the picnic, Sean wanted to protect these two. Cole had been a great example. This is where he belonged. This is what he needed to do.
The whole crew tromped up the steps to his domain. He inserted the key into the dead bolt and opened the door for the ladies with a bow.
“Why thank you, Sir Connolly.” Anesia curtsied before entering.
“You’re so weird.” Zoya giggled.
“Zoya Sabiile’!” Hands on her hips, Anesia looked ready to pounce on her teen.
Zoya appeared to be trying to squelch her laughter and smile after a glance at her mom who still wore her scolding expression. “Sorry, Sean. I didn’t mean it. I’m just not used to all the manners.”
Sean laughed. “Didn’t you tell me that your daughter was very quiet and shy? Didn’t really talk to people?” He winked at Anesia. “So”—he tweaked Zoya’s nose—“I’ll just take your words as a sincere gesture that you trust me. Perhaps even like me?”
The young girl erupted in laughter that doubled her over as she sat on the couch.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Anesia just smiled at him, h
er big brown eyes twinkling, and headed back out to the truck for another load.
So beautiful. He shook his head. She was his boss. He couldn’t be thinking of her in that way. Well, he shouldn’t. But she was beautiful.
Change the subject. “So, what does Sa-bee-lah mean?”
“Sabiile’?” Anesia grabbed a few more Walmart bags out of the back. “It means rainbow.”
“Wow, that’s very pretty. And unique.” He ordered his mind not to watch the way she walked, the way she flung her braid over her shoulder, or how she scrunched up her nose whenever she lifted anything.
“Thank you. It’s Ahtna. Just like our last name. There aren’t many of us left, so I wanted to make sure she carried on the heritage of the Athabaskan with her name even if she married and dropped the Naltsiine part. Her first name isn’t a native name—has more of a history with the Russian people here—but it means life and that meant a lot to me.”
“Very nice.”
They traipsed up and down the steps several times, carrying on with the small talk.
On the last load Anesia placed the box she carried on the table and winked at Zoya. The younger Naltsiine headed out the door and around the cabin. When she came back in, she held some sort of insulated bag.
Zoya bounced up and down. “Welcome home, Sean!” She held out the bag.
Speechless, he took the proffered gift, but stood stiff, not sure what to do next.
“You’re supposed to open it.” Anesia just shook her head as she stood in front of him and opened the zippered compartment. “We had Derek hide it over here on the back porch a few minutes before you arrived.”
Steam and delicious smells rose to his nostrils.
“It’s coffee cake. And Jenna’s famous peanut butter bars. And”—she pulled the steaming tray out—“homemade Lumpia.”
“Wow.” He found his tongue. “I don’t know what to say. It all smells so delicious.” He looked down into Anesia’s eyes. “Thank you. But what’s Lumpia?”
“It’s Filipino. A friend of mine taught me how to make them. Kinda like an eggroll, but filled with beef and veggies. And I’m the one who should be thanking you. I can’t tell you what it means to have you here.”
And for just a moment he caught a glimpse of what he thought was attraction, coming from the eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. His heart soared.
He really was home.
* * *
COLE
January 24
Richardson Highway
6:47 p.m.
The truck barreled down the highway toward North Pole. What a rotten day. The pressure was on, and he wasn’t a millimeter closer to discovering the code. And to top it all off, intel came back on the murder Zoya witnessed. The FBI wouldn’t allow him to give the details to Anesia—fearing it might incite panic in the already paranoid mom—but Agent Philips cleared Cole to give Sean enough information to help protect the Naltsiine girls.
He looked down at the speedometer. Once again, he was speeding. A lot. Jenna always harassed him about having a lead foot.
He eased his right foot off the accelerator. Needed to keep his aggravation under control. He wouldn’t be any good to anybody if he ended up dead from a careless accident. Especially on the icy roads.
The miles disappeared as he ran over the details in his mind. Anesia and Zoya needed constant protection. But the FBI didn’t have anyone to spare, every available man was on the case. They also wanted to prevent panicking the Naltsiines.
When Anesia found out though, she would skin him alive.
Jenna would help.
And Andie.
Wasn’t looking forward to her finding out. A teenager protective of her best friend? Oh yeah. Dead meat would be his new name.
Too complicated. Marc, did you ever have any idea what all this would cause? Cole slammed his palm on the steering wheel. What a mess.
He punched the speed-dial for Anesia’s home.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Anesia, it’s Cole. I need to talk to Sean, does he have a landline out in the cabin yet?”
“Yep, he sure does. But he’s standing right here. Let me put him on.”
“That’d be great.”
A rustling noise came over the line as the handset was passed. “Hey, Cole. What can I do for you?”
“Hey, Sean. Can you meet me at your cabin in about twenty minutes?”
“Sure—”
“Tell Anesia we want to do some guy stuff.”
“All right.” Sean’s words were hesitant and drawn out.
Cole worked through an idea in his mind. “Do you have the satellite set up yet?”
“Yes, I do.”
The guy was so stinkin’ proper. “Loosen up, Sean.”
The guy cleared his throat. “Sure thing.”
Cole laughed. “You’re great. Look, tell Anesia that I want to check out your new setup and we’re going to watch a game. Which is true. That way she won’t get suspicious.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You got it.”
The drive to Anesia’s property was uneventful. As he pulled through the drive and around to the cabin, he waved at his wife’s best friend peeking out her office window. She returned the wave and bent her head back over her desk. No one could ever accuse her of being lazy. That woman was always on top of everything, and she had so much on her plate. Just like his Jenna.
A porch light on the cabin was new. And it looked like the outside had a fresh coat of stain. How had they managed that in the middle of winter? Or had he just been unobservant?
Sean opened the door to the cabin as Cole shifted to park and ventured from the warmth of his truck. The air was even colder tonight than it had been. He pulled his jacket up over his nose and mouth as he ran into the cabin.
“Hey, Cole.”
“Sean.” He yanked off his boots and coat. “How’d it go with Anesia?”
“She smiled at me and kept working on the books.”
“Good.” He walked straight to the couch and sat down. “Go ahead and turn the game on, but mute it. We’ve got a lot to cover.”
Sean raised his eyebrows. “All right.”
“Anesia and Zoya need protection.”
Sean stiffened and sat in the chair in front of Cole. “Continue.”
“We’ve checked into your background, and the FBI has cleared me to talk to you. But under no circumstances are Anesia and Zoya to find out.”
“Find out what?” Sean leaned forward, his face serious. “About the footprints?”
“That’s only the tip of the iceberg. You know about the murder Zoya witnessed?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the victim wasn’t a homeless man like the police and papers said.”
“Go on.”
Cole took a deep breath. “Sean, how much do you know about AMI?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Amy.”
“Let me back up. AMI isn’t a person. It’s an acronym. Advanced Missile Interceptor. Anesia didn’t say anything to you?”
“No, sir.”
“Drop the sir, Sean.” Cole ran a hand through his hair. “I get enough of that on post.” He tried to soften the words with a laugh. “I’m surprised Anesia didn’t tell you more. She asked me if she could. I know your being here has helped relieve a lot of her worry.”
“I will do whatever I can to help.”
“That’s good to hear, man.” Another deep breath. Where to start? “Marcus Gray was Jenna’s first husband.”
Sean nodded.
“He and I were in the Army together. In the latter years we were in a black ops group. Marc was a genius. Could do anything with computers and designed things no one else could even imagine. Near the end the leader of our group convinced Marc there was more money to be made outside of the military. They started down a road the rest of us knew nothing about. And when we did find out, we didn’t like it.”
“Marc worked on a prototype for a new defense weapon. He lived and breathed that program. I found out about what was going on and confronted Marc. I knew the guy. Claimed he was a Christian. But he got wooed by the money. We fought. He came to his senses. And then Andie had brain surgery.
Sean’s forehead creased. “Brain surgery?”
“Sorry, I’ll back up again. Andie was born with a very rare nerve disorder. Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy. She doesn’t sweat and doesn’t feel pain unless it’s twenty to thirty times the intensity you and I would feel.”
“That’s . . . terrible.”
“Yeah, not quite sure what you’ve signed on for, huh?” A sad chuckle died on his lips. “Anyway, because of her disorder they never discovered she had another condition, because she wasn’t symptomatic until a couple years ago. Anyway, Andie had to have brain decompression surgery. That week was awful. Marc and I had it out, and he was desperate to find a way to protect his family once he turned his back on Viper—the leader. A powerful man you’d never want to cross.”
Cole looked down at his hands. It hurt every time he thought about Marc.
“What happened?”
“Marc was killed by a car bomb while Andie was still in the hospital.”
“Over the program?”
“Yeah. Viper found out Marc had contacted the FBI. But Viper already had a deal with North Korea. He wanted Marc’s program and the money.”
Sean stood abruptly. His fists clenched. “I am so sick”—words came out through his teeth—“of avaricious, and power-hungry men who think they can do whatever they want, whenever they want—”
“Whoa, Sean . . .” Cole held up his hands. What was he supposed to say? This was the first time Sean had ever lost his cool. He seemed so mild-mannered, Cole would never have guessed at the anger under all that. What triggered it? Cole would have to investigate later. But right now . . .
The matter at hand was more urgent. “Sit down. There’s more.”
