“What?” She drew her lips in a straight line and her forehead creased with worry.
He squeezed her hand, bracing her for what she didn’t want to hear. “I can’t think when I’m around you. Clearly. And I’m worried I won’t make the best decisions because of that. I promise I’ll find Henry. I will stop whatever might happen. But I can’t do it with you by my side. Not while worrying about you.”
She studied their clasped hands and looked up at him. “I don’t want anything happening to you because of me. I can’t let you do this alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have people helping me. But—”
“My being near you means you’re less focused, which means you’re at a greater risk of injury,” she said, clearly coming to terms with his rationale.
“Yes.”
“Well, then, what do you want me to do?”
Relief poured through him. Thank God. “We leave for Boston in the morning. I’ll have two friends, former Marines, who will take you to a safe and secure location until this is over.”
“And how long do you think it might take?”
“Hopefully we get to the bottom of this, and soon. The longer it takes, the less chance we have at finding Henry alive.”
“Do you think he’s even still alive?”
“I don’t know, Ava. But if he gave them what they wanted, I don’t see why they’d still be after you. Which means he might be holding out, and they—whoever they are—won’t kill him.” He fervently hoped he was right.
Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “Okay . . . I guess we’re going back to Boston tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he responded with a deep voice.
Her brows rose. “You’re kidding, right? I should be the one thanking you. You’ve given up everything to help me. To help an uncle you don’t even know. You are my Irish knight.”
Aiden forced a smile to his lips and tightened his grip on her hand, wishing it were truly so simple as that.
“Aiden?” She looked up at him with suggestive eyes. “Since we’re parting tomorrow, maybe we should be together one last time.” She drawled out the words with a slight hesitation in her voice.
“What makes you think it’ll be the last time?” he asked in a deep voice, his groin already responding to her suggestion.
She started to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss, seizing her mouth with his, giving in to the needs of his body.
Because part of him knew she might be right—it could very well be their last time together.
Chapter Sixteen
Aiden sipped his coffee and shoved his free hand in his pocket as he stared out Michael’s office window. The sun had yet to rise, and he wasn’t ready to wake Ava yet. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
He knew it was the right thing to do, but he still hated being away from her. He hated the idea of trusting her protection to anyone but himself.
He moved toward the phone on the desk and dialed up the number he had memorized before he destroyed his burner phone.
“Hello?” A female voice came on the line.
“This is a secure line,” he answered without hesitation.
“Why aren’t you on your burner phone?”
“It’s no longer safe,” Aiden explained.
“Is this about the other night?”
“Someone sent me a message. A warning to back off.” He sat in the leather desk chair and set his coffee down.
“I take it you’re not going to let a little warning get in your way?” She was straight to the point, which he’d always liked about her.
“Of course not.”
“Well, do you have enough evidence?” she queried.
“Ava’s the only evidence I have right now. I’m working on leads and trying to find out more. I’m getting help from someone outside the government who I can trust. But I’ll find Henry, and I’ll find out everything we need.” He leaned back in the chair and coiled the black telephone cord between his fingers, feeling fidgety.
“How much does the girl know?”
“She knows enough. I’ll get her to talk. I promise.”
A floorboard creaked, and Aiden turned.
It was Ava in the doorway, her mouth ajar, her tan skin turning to ash. He thrust the phone back on the receiver, but she was already gone.
“Ava.” He ran to the door.
She turned away from him, shaking her head, and began down the hallway with frantic movements.
“Wait. It’s not what it sounds like.”
Her face twisted in disgust. “It sounds like you are pumping me for information.”
“Let me explain.” He caught up with her in the living room.
“Get away from me,” she commanded, jerking her arm from his grasp, her hair whipping him in the face as she spun away. Her blue eyes darkened as clouds of anger smoked through her.
His heartbeat pounded against his chest as he tried to form some semblance of thought. “You can trust me. Nothing has changed, I promise.”
“Who were you talking to?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and took an uneasy step back. “A contact of mine. Someone at Homeland I trust.”
“But why? We’re getting help from Michael. You said you trusted him. Why didn’t you tell me you’re talking with someone else? And you told them about me? Did you tell them everything?” she rattled off questions with a shaky voice, and he didn’t know what to answer first.
“It’s complicated.”
“Then un-complicate it,” she yelled, jutting her chin, a ferocious bite in her words.
“Can we just sit down and talk?” He waited with barely fused nerves. “Please, Ava,” he pleaded, his eyes softening.
She folded her arms and stood her ground. “I don’t need to sit down. Just talk.”
He swallowed. What in the hell was he supposed to say? He’d lied to her—he’d been lying to her since the night she opened up to him in the motel room.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving.”
You just might try and leave if I do. “That would be a mistake. You know you’re safer with me.”
“Prove it.”
She was going to find out eventually, he reasoned.
“Talk.”
He rubbed his hands over his face for a moment, working up his nerve. “Six months ago, I was undercover,” he began. “I’d been in deep cover for a few months, trying to find out if a mosque in D.C. was really the operating grounds for a terrorist cell. We’d been given intel that there was a lot of activity coming out of that mosque.” He was breaking protocol, but she had done the same for him. He should have done it days ago.
“Go on.” Her stance softened.
He leaned against the wall that divided the hallway from the kitchen and living area. He folded his arms and steadied his eyes on her face. “I posed as a construction worker. The mosque was having some repair work done to the interior. My job was to get inside and find out if there truly was any suspicious activity going on.”
“And?”
“In the months I spent there, I didn’t find anything. But . . .” He shook his head. “Some special forces group showed up on my last day—black masks and all. They screamed while aiming their weapons on everyone. They scared the hell out of the people in that mosque—but no one resisted.” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes. “The next thing I knew they were being carted off in handcuffs. When I revealed my identity to the agents, they didn’t even have the courtesy to remove their masks, to show me their identities. I knew something was up.” His voice was taut with emotion. “The next day, I was told by my superiors that I screwed up—that there was evidence of a potential terrorist attack.”
“Chemical,” she whispered, allowing it to linger on her lips.
He forced a nod. “I argued with my boss, of course. I’d searched that place clean, been through every nook of that Goddamn mosque, and I found nothing. I couldn’t let it go—they weren’t terrorists.” He finally opened h
is eyes. “I think they were set up.”
“By J-4-76?”
He shrugged, but it was obvious now that it must have been them. “I didn’t know who the hell they were at the time. But I knew something was effed up. Big time. I kept questioning everything—everyone . . . and the next thing I knew, I was in a screaming match with my boss, and then my badge was taken away.”
Her shoulders appeared to relax. “It fits. Six months ago was when I was tasked with my assignment.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Everything is connected. It’s unbelievable.”
He thought he was off the hook, but saw her frown.
“So why not tell me the truth? When you realized I was involved . . . we could have been working together this whole time.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Confusion running amok on her face.
Aiden cringed. “Can we please just sit?”
“No. I can’t sit right now,” she said with ice in her voice.
He pulled himself together and faced her. “I’ve been trying to solve this case ever since I lost my job,” he said slowly.
“So you’ve been using me to get your job back?” she spat. Her shoulders trembled. “You don’t care about Henry—your own uncle.”
He reached for her, but she flinched and pulled away. “Don’t touch me. You’re just as bad as everyone else.”
“No, you’re getting me all wrong.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“I heard you on the phone. I’m evidence to you. This whole time . . .” She turned away from him and started for the foyer. “I trusted you,” she shouted as she walked.
He chased after her, but she spun around to face him just outside the elevator doors, stopping him in his tracks. “You used me and even fucked me.” Her eyes widened, and her lips fell open, begging him to dispute the charge.
Aiden had pissed off plenty of women before. He’d romanced and wooed them and all but left them naked in bed the next day. He knew he could never have a girlfriend—his job was too unpredictable, and no one was safe.
But Ava was different.
“I need to think. I can’t breathe.” She whipped around when the elevator doors chimed open.
“Get the hell back in here. You’re not thinking clearly. It’s not safe out there.” He reached for her, but she was already inside. He followed in after her. “You can stay here and think.”
“No,” she blasted, banging on the button for the doors to close.
Aiden leaned against the wall as the elevator glided down. “You can’t go outside. Please, Ava. Come back up and talk to me. It’s not what you think.”
“So you didn’t use me? Lie to me?”
He’d never seen her like this before, but he couldn’t blame her. A sick feeling twisted in his core. “I’m sorry, Ava. Please, just hear me out.” He reached for her arm as the doors opened.
“Let me go,” she demanded through gritted teeth.
He obeyed but followed after her. He watched as she tried to make her way through the parking garage, her head switching left and right as she searched for a street exit. She wasn’t in the right state of mind.
“Ava, I want to help find Henry. I promise. I want to help you. But there are seven people tucked away in some underground hell of a jail, their rights being withheld . . . and they’re innocent. I just know it. I can’t have any more people lose their lives because of me.” He closed his eyes as the memory—a village of corpses—tore him apart.
“You should have told all of this to me days ago.” Standing twenty feet away, she spun around to face him, her gaze softening a touch.
Oh God. Before he had a chance to react, a black SUV screeched up behind her. “Ava.” Her name was just a whisper on his breath as shock curled up inside him. “Ava!” he screamed, launching himself in her direction.
The masked men grabbed her in the second before he reached them. Her face was frozen with shock as hands wrapped around her, jerking her into the SUV.
Aiden watched in horror as the SUV pulled away. He vaulted after it, scrambling to memorize the license plate as his feet carried him after her and out to the street. He knew the plate information would be irrelevant within an hour, but he had to try.
He leaned down, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His mind filtered through the facts in his brain, and he knew in his core that he’d been right all along. The agency that busted into the mosque six months ago and destroyed seven lives, plus his own, was corrupt.
And he was pretty sure they were the ones who just took Ava.
***
A familiar black bag covered her head. She was pushed to her side, and her hands were yanked back. Something hard, yet flexible, bound them together. She struggled to sit, and a hand pressed down on her, pushing her back down.
“Where’s the needle? I don’t want her going wild while on the plane.”
She gasped at the sound of the man’s voice. No!
But her protest remained silent.
“Here,” a voice barked.
“No, please. Please, no needle,” she cried out. “I’ll keep still.” Her body trembled as something poked her arm.
Thoughts of Aiden popped into her head as drowsiness began to seep into her body at lightning speed. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Why had she left Michael’s home? Of course they’d been waiting for her, hoping she’d do something stupid.
And now she was as good as dead.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m on my way there.”
“Let me come to you. She could still be in Charlotte,” Michael responded.
Aiden held his personal phone tight to his ear, not caring at this point who might be listening. “I need to get to my stuff in Boston. It may help me find Ava.”
“What stuff?” Michael asked, exasperated. “You didn’t stop, did you? You promised me that once you opened the bar, you would give up your damn crusade.”
Aiden gripped the wheel of the Lexus SUV as he swerved fast to switch lanes. He was speeding, but he couldn’t speed too much; he couldn’t afford to lose time being pulled over for a ticket. “No, I didn’t stop.”
He heard Michael suck in a deep breath. “Let me know as soon as you’re back in Boston. Meanwhile, I’m assembling the guys. Is there anyone from Homeland you’re working with?”
Aiden thought for a moment. “Yes, but I think it’s best to contact her only when I know more. Let’s just keep this between our people for now.” If he had done that from the start, Ava would never have overheard, and she’d be safe. “I screwed up, Michael. Big time.” His voice was laced with emotion—emotion he wasn’t used to displaying to anyone.
He ended the call before Michael could comment and slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
Ava’s large blue eyes, framed by her dark, arched brows, flashed to his mind as he chucked his cell phone on the passenger seat. He released a deep breath as he thought about the way the blue in her eyes appeared to lighten with desire whenever she’d say his name.
She’d cast some sort of spell over him. He’d known he was screwed the first time he laid eyes on her. Even when he rejected her, the night they met, part of him had hoped she’d come back. And when she’d shown up at the boxing gym the next day, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her pouty lips and run his hands through her hair. He’d take a million more punches to the face if it meant he’d see her again.
He’d betrayed her trust. He had used her to try and get the evidence he needed. But he always meant to help her—to keep her safe and find Henry. He never lied about that.
But he also never meant to fall for her.
***
Waves crashed onto the shore. Seagulls flew above, and the sun warmed her skin.
Was she at the beach?
No.
A loud thundering noise sounded in her ears as an icy cold wetness enveloped her entire body. She forced her eyes open beneath the water. Blocks of ice bumped against her body. She swatted at the water and found somethi
ng solid to hit—arms. Arms holding her down, pressing her beneath the freezing water.
She was losing oxygen, but the more she challenged whoever was holding her down, the harder it became for her to hold her breath.
Her body trembled violently as she was pulled upward, and she sucked in a breath of air the moment her head broke the surface. She opened her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the tremors from rocking her body.
She was so cold. Too cold to even see straight.
Someone was lifting her out of the frigid water. Dropping her to the ground.
Her eyes focused on the gray concrete floor beneath her hands. She pressed up, lifting her chest off the floor. Beads of water dripped from her face and hair.
Her hands slipped, and she hit the floor again. She groaned as she attempted to fight off the cold.
Chills dashed through her body, and she felt something cover her.
“There we go. Not the nicest wakeup call, but effective,” a deep voice filled the room.
She tried looking up as she wrapped the blanket around her shaking shoulders. “Where am I? Who are you?” Her teeth chattered, and she blinked, trying to adjust her vision. She struggled to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She slumped back down.
“You’re safe.”
She looked around the large, industrial room. The room seemed to be empty of all but her, an icy cold basin of water, and some guy who kept darting out of sight every time she tried to locate his voice.
“I don’t call being held under freezing cold water exactly safe.” The words crept from her lips at a slow pace. She shifted on the floor, wrapping the blanket even tighter around her body. Where are you?
“Over here.”
She laid eyes on the man in black as he appeared before her. Her gaze dragged upward from his army-style black boots all the way to his black ski mask. A recent and all-too-familiar sight. His black T-shirt was damp from holding her beneath the water.
“What do you want?” She just wanted the truth, for once. Her body, riddled with fear, was pulling her in all different directions.
The man folded his arms. He stared down at her, and she could see that he had dark brown eyes.
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