by Debra Webb
Parker’s expression sobered and she wished she could erase the question, except now that it was out there she wanted to hear his answer.
He finished with the gas pump and gave her a hard look through the open car window. “It has to be my fault,” he said. “Somehow the scarred man was on my tail when I went by your apartment. I was an idiot and I’m—”
“Don’t apologize again.” Without Parker’s intervention, she might be dead by now. “And he tossed my apartment for a lead?”
“Probably.” Parker shrugged and hopped back into the truck. “A lead on either one of us, I’m betting. He didn’t find me until I used my SUV. It’s the only car registered in my name.”
She looked around. “So, where to next?”
His expression was unreadable. “There’s a great little place down the coast, if you’re up for another hour on the road.”
She was up for just about anything with him, and an hour later he pulled the truck off the road and parked in front of a wind-battered restaurant perched on the edge of the cliff. Below she could hear the surf crashing into the coast. The sound put a smile on her face, and when Parker took her hand, her heart melted.
Inside, the ambience was a throwback to a classic diner, including padded chairs and stools upholstered in cherry-red vinyl. Tables were arranged to make the most of the view, including a long L-shaped counter. “Can’t you just see this place fifty years ago with a full soda fountain?”
Parker took the counter stool next to her, chuckling as she swiveled back and forth. “You having fun?”
“Yes, actually.” Her stomach rumbled and they ordered burgers, milk shakes and a double order of loaded French fries as soon as the waitress came by.
He dragged his hand down her arm when they were alone. “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”
“Where’s that coming from?” She leaned back, startled by the curiosity in his gaze.
“I snooped through your life, remember? Your work has taken you all over the world. What have you enjoyed most?”
While they watched the ocean, she relayed some stories of working on her father’s sets in the United States and abroad, traipsing merrily through the good memories, the awkward and absurd moments in other cultures and her time with the various people who made productions possible. “It’s the same kind of fun with my reporters, just on a smaller scale.”
“Your dad doesn’t get that.”
She understood it wasn’t a question and still she felt the need to defend him. “My dad is busy.”
“I’ve only traveled with the military. They give us culture training, and it helps, though not nearly as much as meeting people one-on-one,” he said. “And traveling with pals isn’t the same as traveling with someone important.”
Was he implying she was important to him? It gave her a little shiver of happiness. She bounced a little on the seat, her stomach growling in anticipation as her strawberry milk shake arrived. “I want you to know I was suspicious of that email from the start,” she said after she managed to get her first taste of the treat.
“Why?” He stirred his milk shake with his straw, eyeing her closely.
“Gut instinct. The family that was supposedly robbed of their fortune would never have reached out to me for help. A news story would have been too shameful.” She handed him a napkin from the dispenser on the counter when their food arrived. “I still had to verify it.”
“I understand,” he said. “In your shoes, I would’ve taken a deeper look too. Sometimes my clients give me the problem in a way that paints them in a better light than it should.”
His words lifted a weight off her shoulders she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “Thank you,” she murmured.
He spread mayonnaise and mustard on the bun and stacked up his burger. “Want my tomato?”
“You’re kidding.” She gawked at him. “That’s a heritage beefsteak tomato.”
“Is that important?”
“Have you ever had one?” He shook his head and she bit back the lecture. “Taste it. If you still want to give it up, I’ll gladly take it off your hands.”
He pulled the tomato aside and cut off a small bite. She watched the reactions play over his face as he went from skeptic to believer with just one taste.
“Remarkable.”
“I know, right? Of course, you’ve just been spoiled for all tomatoes in your future.”
“I think it’s worth it,” he said, stacking up his burger.
They ate for several minutes in a satisfied silence.
“While we were working in that area of Iraq, we worked with two of the sons of the family named in your email and the blackmail note,” Parker said quietly. “They’re good people. According to Jeff, the oldest son, Fadi, is the driver who ran him off that bridge.”
“Not a chance,” she said. “I know we weren’t there long, but I’m pretty good at reading people. Everyone in that village was relieved, delighted and hopeful about the efforts of our armed forces.”
“You thought I kidnapped you,” he pointed out.
“Well, I was on drugs.” She grabbed another French fry from the platter between them. Anything to chase away the grim fog of those minutes. “Bill and I spoke with the oldest boys about coming to America, and they only wanted a better life where they were. I don’t believe anyone in that family would sink to the lows we’ve experienced.”
“I double-checked anyway and called in a favor to confirm that Fadi is still at home,” Parker said. “We know the blackmail letter was a ruse.” He pushed a hand through this hair, ruffling the thick waves. “I played right into their hands.”
They both had. There was something he wasn’t saying, and she wasn’t sure how to ask in a way that he would answer. Parker Lawton was an enigma wrapped in secrets and sealed with tape stamped Privacy Line. Do Not Cross. To respect and honor that line meant walking away, leaving the mystery of him unsolved.
He kept asking why she was here and she had to admit wanting to know his story was part of the answer. Not for the show, but for her heart.
“You’ve done the right thing every step of the way.”
He shook his head and hunched over the rest of his meal. She didn’t push the issue further, letting them both eat and rest and fuel up for the events ahead. She suspected even a fake funeral would take its toll on him.
“You know what bugs me most about all this?” she asked when she finished her burger.
“I wouldn’t hazard a guess,” he said, his gaze on the ocean.
She nudged his knee with hers. “Why? Why now, why this method and why the six of you by name?”
“Important questions,” he said. “There’s only one reason I can think of, and even after everything that’s happened it still seems implausible.”
“Spit it out.”
Parker pushed his empty glass and cleaned plate toward the back of the counter. “Not here.” He balled up his paper napkin and dropped it on the plate. “Is there any hope of having you sit somewhere safe until we spring the trap tomorrow?”
“No.” She mimicked his move with her napkin. “We’re in this together, Parker. Surely you’ve noticed I’m not a fragile, porcelain doll. You’re stuck with me.”
“Becca.” He dropped cash on the counter to cover the meal and tip. “A ruthless, creative killer believes his targets will all be in one room tomorrow evening. There’s dedication to a cause and loyalty to friends, and then there’s insanity.”
She studied his face, and although he didn’t move, she sensed he wanted to fidget. She covered his hand with hers. “I was willing to call in my actor contacts for this.” Although she felt confident her contacts could have managed the ruse with his team working behind the scenes, she was grateful he’d assembled the stand-ins. It was progress for him. “I w
ouldn’t have offered if I didn’t believe the good guys will prevail.”
“I appreciate all the positive thinking.”
“You do not.” She stood up. “I grew up in Hollywood. I know how to set a stage, create illusion and see through a smoke screen.” Parker was blowing all kinds of smoke. She just didn’t know why.
“And I know how to set security.”
She bit back her assessment that his constant worry for her safety was stemming from misplaced guilt as much as good reason. If he heard her at all, he’d hear pity, which wasn’t the point she was trying to make. “Do you want to take a walk on the beach before we head back?” she asked when they reached the truck.
“Sure.” He guided her out of the restaurant with the whisper of a touch on her back.
She wanted to lean in or touch him in return. As he’d said, they had unfinished business. She couldn’t forget the feel of his mouth and hands on her skin. Her body hadn’t really stopped humming since Sam interrupted them.
Well, we have the evening to ourselves, barring a surprise attack, she thought as they took the stairs carved into the cliff down to the crescent of a beach. She intended to put it to good use.
They sat on a rock and he drew her close, keeping her warm as they watched the ocean swallow the last rays of the sun. In that lovely, quiet twilight, as the first stars winked on in the velvety sky, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm, then curled his fingers around it.
Back in the truck, she wondered if he’d ever opened up to anyone. He dealt in secrets for a living. Who was his confidant, his release valve? She shouldn’t press him for how those six men from different units came to be on one list assembled by an assassin. If asked, he would surely prefer that she leave it alone, but she would regret it for him.
That was the crux of it, she realized. Parker might have everything in place on the surface, yet underneath, a part of him was lost. She recognized it because it had happened to her. The solution required someone to point it out and then a conscious choice to change.
She was more than a little surprised that the place he had in mind for the night was a courtyard of individual log cabins a couple miles inland from the diner. Although it didn’t look like much on the outside, it was off the beaten path and they had an opening for the night. Inside the room, she was startled to see all the amenities of a five-star hotel, complete with a stocked mini fridge, a microwave and a king-size bed topped with pillows and fluffy white linens. “How did you discover this place?”
“A client,” he said. “Referral from Rush, actually. We worked out a new surveillance system that doesn’t go off every time a raccoon wanders across a porch. I come out once or twice a year just to clear my head.”
“It’s so unexpected,” she said, trailing her fingertips over the smooth linen.
He sat down and started unlacing his boots. “I can order wine if you want. They have a good cellar.”
“Really?”
He slid a look at her and she felt a blush stain her cheeks. They had the whole night ahead of them, and suddenly she was shy. “I’m good.” Ignoring her surging hormones, she grabbed her overnight bag and headed for the bathroom to freshen up after the beach. At the last second, she decided to change clothes too.
In a T-shirt and comfy leggings, her hair brushed smooth, she stared into the mirror. Until Parker wanted to open up about his enemies, maybe they shouldn’t take this further. Her body protested the idea and she sighed. Together they were combustible, that much was clear. She should just enjoy whatever they could share in the moment.
Her concerted efforts at personal life planning had fallen flat. She could hardly expect him to open up while she stayed safely in her shell. She walked out of the bathroom, determined to clear up a few misconceptions. “Parker—”
Her mouth went dry. He’d moved the chair around and his feet were bare, propped up on the edge of the bed, his laptop balanced on his thighs. Inwardly, she groaned. She couldn’t have designed a more drool-inducing scene for herself.
She knew how strong he was, knew what those muscles felt like in fighting mode, and she wanted to discover what he would feel like in more intimate, uninterrupted pursuits. This afternoon hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity and desire for him.
“Where’d you get the laptop?” She perched on the far side of the bed, tucking one leg underneath her. “Stupid question. Sam gave it to you.”
“No such thing as a stupid question.” He looked up from the screen, and the scowl on his face vanished, giving way to an intense, hungry smile.
Her skin warmed under his gaze. “You found something?”
“I wasn’t in a patient mood. This can wait.”
“Tell me.” She joined him when he waved her over. “My friend at Homeland hasn’t found anything helpful about how the men entered the country. Madison, however, has made progress. And I called in another favor, so the hotel emailed me the security footage from Thursday night. They’d invited me to their office, but I convinced them to send it out.”
“How many people owe you favors?”
He looked up at her, considering. “Several.”
“It must be interesting work you do.” The weak response annoyed her. She should tell him what it meant to her to see him go to such lengths for her as well as for his well-being. She’d forever be frustrated that her own father had never shown such willingness to help her with far more typical concerns.
He set the computer aside, giving her his full attention. “It’s what I do. It’s all I know.”
Though she didn’t believe that for a minute, she changed the subject quickly. “What did Madison come up with?”
“This.” Parker adjusted the screen so she could view it easily. “Look familiar?”
“Maybe?” The man in the picture was much bigger and a bit older than the slim man they’d seen watching the fallout from the car bomb.
“I’m not surprised,” Parker said. “He grabbed you so fast.”
“There’s no scar.” She laid a hand on his solid shoulder and leaned a bit closer to the screen. “Makeup?”
“No.” He went still beneath her touch. “This is Samir Abdullah before...” In a flurry of action, he closed the laptop and stood up.
Before what? She didn’t ask, refused to push him. He had to choose to open up.
He didn’t. He retreated to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.
She scrolled through the pictures Madison had sent. In one, the man, before he was scarred, stood with his hand on the shoulder of a lanky boy, beaming as if he’d caught a prize fish. There was something familiar about the boy’s face as well, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“He was basically a tyrant king running the insurgents in the area where you met Fadi and his family,” Parker said beside her. “With his identity confirmed, Sam notified the authorities. If we’re lucky, they’ll drop a net over him tonight.”
“I’m sorry I mistook you for the bad guy,” she said.
“I wasn’t exactly the good guy, keeping you locked up.”
“Keeping me safe.” She turned to him and smoothed a hand up the placket of his shirt, resting it lightly on his shoulder. “And you never smelled like onions.”
Parker’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. He cleared his throat and hooked his hands in his back pockets. “I should apologize.”
“I believe you’ve done that already,” she said, holding her ground, holding his gaze.
“Not for that, for not being truthful about the whys.”
“It can wait.” She hooked her finger in his shirt collar and tugged a little, until his lips were within reach. The kiss she gave him was light, a flirty invitation if he wanted to play.
He didn’t even blink.
Releasing his s
hirt, she stepped back, racking her brain for the right words to sweep this awkward moment under the nearest carpet.
“Becca. I want you.” His voice cracked on the words. “You shouldn’t want me.”
The pain in his voice sliced through her, and anger followed. “I can want whomever I like,” she replied. “We might want each other, but I believe you need me as well. I’m not perfect and I don’t expect you to be.”
“Perfect?” He groaned. “I’m a killer,” he said suddenly. “We were in the area, a task force sent to stop Samir.” He turned his back on her, and the story poured out of him in a rush that had his shoulders quaking. “The man had stolen children, among other heinous crimes. We shouldn’t have been surprised he used the villagers as an escape strategy.”
She wanted to comfort him, to erase the pain, and knew letting him share was the only way.
“Fighting amid the villagers, we couldn’t call in a drone strike. It was all hand to hand, up close, personal and bloody as we cut down his group one by one. We cornered him and eventually chased him out of that village. Blew up his car as he made a run for the border. I don’t know how he survived, or who helped him identify the six of us. God. There was so much blood and chaos.”
“It sounds like hell.”
“It was.” He choked on the admission.
“And you survived.” She moved to him, rubbing his back and then hugging him from behind, laying her cheek against the solid strength of his back. “You all came home and thrived.”
“Hardly. He used me to find them, and is mowing us down in retaliation.”
“Hush.” She slipped around in front of him and cradled his face. “You did what had to be done, Parker, that’s all. I’m so sorry for the price you’ve paid in the process.”
She pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips. “We have a plan.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll take care of him once and for all.” Kissed the other cheek. “Together.” She smiled, wondering if anything she said was sinking in. “Trust your friends and favors and resources.”
He blinked away the sheen glistening in his dark eyes. “You’re still here,” he murmured, trapping her hands against his cheeks.
