by V. K. Powell
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Abby?”
“Loane?” Her pulse raced and she felt almost dizzy. “Hon, is that you?” She heard a small gasp on the other end, followed by a long pause, and her heart ached. “Talk to me. Please. I need to hear your voice.”
“Yeah…it’s me.”
Abby collapsed into a chair and tried to steady her breathing. Those three words were the sweetest sound she’d heard in months. The timbre of Loane’s satiny voice warmed her and sent a pleasant thrill up her spine. “Oh, I’ve missed you. Are you all right? Where are you? Can we talk? When can I see you?” The line was quiet. “Hon? Are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Still as talkative as ever…and so am I. You know how I get when I’m nervous—blah, blah, blah. I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you say, but we have to talk.”
“I’m…not sure if…”
The momentary warmth that had filled her evaporated with the chill in Loane’s voice. Of course, why would Loane want to talk to her? She’d chosen work instead of their relationship, and she’d let Loane believe she was dead for almost four months. Her pleas to be heard suddenly seemed selfish and insensitive. Maybe Loane had already made other choices and she no longer figured into her life.
“I understand if you don’t want to see me.” She almost choked on the words as she forced them out. “It’s been a while and there are things I should’ve explained. I’ve missed you. If you could listen, please.”
“Why were you at the club?”
Loane would get the wrong idea no matter what she said. The damage was already done, if the look in her eyes had been any indication. Either she was there officially and hadn’t trusted Loane enough to tell her or she was there recreationally. It was a strip club. If Loane had been looking for companionship, why wouldn’t she assume Abby was doing the same? “That’s part of what I need to tell you.”
“Not really. It seems pretty obvious.”
The statement was like a jagged arrow, piercing initial pain followed by ripping and tearing with each subsequent breath. “But it’s not obvious, Loane. Nothing is exactly what it seems.”
“But given enough time, everything finds its own level. It’s like a muddy river. It eventually settles and the water becomes clear again.”
Abby didn’t like the direction this was taking. Riddles weren’t her idea of clearing anything up, especially the complicated events that affected her relationship with Loane. “Will you let me explain? Then I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I cared about you.”
Past tense. Abby would’ve preferred a bullet, straight to the heart. Bullets were fast and the suffering ended relatively quickly. Did that mean she didn’t care any longer? “I know you’re hurting, and I am too. We owe it to ourselves to sort this out.” It seemed like an eternity as she waited for Loane’s answer.
Loane sank onto the sofa, her legs unable to support her as she listened to Abby’s soft voice. She imagined that she could feel the warmth of her breath through the phone like a caress against her ear. Abby was alive and saying the things she wanted to hear, but could she take the chance? She hadn’t taken it before and it had almost killed her.
“We can talk.” She had to see her to make sure she was all right. If not, these past months would be meaningless. Whatever happened after that was a crapshoot. She knew what she wanted—still—but wasn’t sure it could ever work. Damn Abby for making her care.
Abby exhaled a long breath. “Thank you. Where would you like to meet?”
Loane considered the possibilities. The home that she and Abby had loved in was no longer available. The condo was her hideaway and not a place she wanted to share with her yet. She had no idea where Abby was staying and didn’t want to ask. “How about Lake Daniel Park at the picnic benches?”
After a pause Abby answered. “Sure.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She imagined a hint of disappointment in Abby’s voice. Did she expect a more private meeting place, a continuation of where they’d left off? A neutral public place where they’d have to contain their emotions and talk calmly was best. Considering Abby’s avoidance over the past months, Loane wasn’t sure even the constraints of public decorum could curb her reaction once she was near her again.
“See you then.” Abby closed her phone and looked around the small office. Kinsey was at lunch. Tiny and Ray weren’t due until late afternoon. None of that mattered. This place didn’t matter. Loane had called and she was going to her. She’d hoped for a more intimate setting, but she’d take whatever she could get. She just had to be sure she wasn’t followed and that Loane was protected.
She wanted to freshen up, change clothes, look her best but didn’t have time. She felt like a teenager going out with the first girl she had a crush on. She was anxious, but this wasn’t any woman; it was Loane. Their deep connection was still tangible, even through the phone line. What she wore wasn’t important. What mattered was how to convince the love of her life that she was precisely that, when everything else she’d told her was a lie.
Five minutes later Abby sat at the picnic table and watched Loane walk across the wilting grass toward her. God, she loved to see her move. She made a slow walk look like a hooker’s stroll down a high-dollar street. Loane wore tight, low-riding black jeans, an equally revealing black T-shirt, and fingerless black gloves. A red tattoo dripped down her right arm, and piercings dotted her usually unblemished ears and lip. Loane’s short platinum-blond hair was like the whipped-cream topping on a hot fudge sundae. Her desire for Loane, though never truly dormant, flared. Moisture pooled low in her body, and her mouth dried as she recalled an image of Loane naked, prone, and sated on her bed.
“Abby?”
When she looked up, Loane was standing close enough to touch, but she didn’t dare. The warmth of the day disappeared when Loane’s cool blue eyes skimmed over her. She brushed a shaky hand through her hair and returned it to her lap. “Hi.” How lame. She hadn’t seen the woman she loved in months and that’s the best she could do? “I mean, how are you?” Without asking she started toward Loane, needing to feel her, to hold her and know she was real.
“Fine…”
She wrapped her arms around Loane but cringed when she didn’t hug back. She’d dreamed of this moment every night they’d been apart and refused to back away. This is where she belonged. She pressed her face into the crook of Loane’s neck, inhaling the musky outdoor fragrance of her perfume. Quivers of excitement shot through her, and she stepped in until there was no space between them. Loane didn’t stop her. She felt their bond immediately and closed her eyes to savor the moment. “I want to kiss you.”
“No.”
She’d gone too far, taken too much for granted. Loane edged out of her embrace and moved to the opposite side of the picnic table. Abby hated every inch that separated them.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Loane said. Her attempt at a neutral expression couldn’t hide the delicate worry lines that had cropped up between her eyes and across her forehead since Abby had seen her last. Her decision had cost Loane dearly, and Abby was beginning to realize how much. No job or oath was more important than the woman she loved. How had she rationalized that decision in her mind for even one second? And how could she explain something to Loane that she didn’t understand?
“Like my new look?” Loane sat across from her and fingered the spike of hair over her forehead. Abby imagined that was her new nervous tell and found it charming.
“It’s different. You’ve lost too much weight, but you’re still the most amazingly attractive woman I’ve ever seen. Any reason for the makeover?” She regretted the question immediately. Loane’s eyes darkened and her features clouded like a stormy afternoon. “Sorry, I’m prying.”
“I’d rather talk about you, since I thought you were dead.”
Though the delivery was cool, Loane’s statement didn’t carry the accusation or venom she though
t it would. Her tone was that of a truly concerned individual weary from a long struggle and ready for answers. “I should start at the beginning.”
“That’s usually a good place.”
She took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer that she’d find the right words to help Loane understand what she’d done and why. “My name isn’t Abby Mancuso.”
Chapter Fourteen
Loane stared at the woman across from her as if she were a stranger…apparently she was. She was still the gorgeous brunette with brown bedroom eyes and an alluring body, so perhaps she’d misheard. Breeze rustled through the fallen leaves, creating a whirlpool of color and sound. Maybe she’d been transported somewhere else like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Abby’s statement seemed out of context and made no sense. “What do you mean your name isn’t Abby Mancuso?”
“My real name is Abigail Marconi. Still Abby, just not…” When she looked at Loane, her attempt at humor died in the tension-charged air between them.
Loane’s cheeks flushed with anger, her default response to all things not immediately understandable. She tried to speak but the words stuck in her throat, choked out by an overpowering wave of sadness. Not Abby Mancuso. Abby reached for her hands, but Loane withdrew.
“Loane, please listen. Let me explain.”
“Is that even possible? If you lied about who you are, doesn’t it follow that everything else you told me was a lie? Why don’t I make that assumption and leave right now? You won’t have to waste your breath and I won’t have to be reminded what an idiot I’ve been.” God, she didn’t want to believe that. She’d changed her life on the slightest chance that Abby was alive. The thought that she’d been intentionally misled cast doubt on their entire relationship.
“There’s more,” Abby said.
“I’m riveted.” Her sarcasm tasted bitter but she couldn’t contain it. She wanted to be patient and understanding, to hear Abby out, but she’d been knocked off center.
“I’m an undercover ATF agent, not a confidential informant.”
“And I’m the director of Homeland Security.” She joked long enough to wrap her mind around what she was hearing. If Abby was an ATF agent, she would’ve gotten some indication, felt it somehow. Wouldn’t she? Her handler would’ve known, but he wouldn’t have told her. Bowman wouldn’t give her air if she were in a jug. But the death of an ATF agent in an explosion would’ve made big news…unless there was a compelling reason to conceal it.
As if reading her thoughts, Abby continued. “Two people know who I work for and who I really am—Hector Barrio, Special Agent in Charge of the Miami Field Division, and now you.”
“I don’t know you at all.” The shock of finding out she’d slept with a woman for three months and had no idea of her true identity or that she was lying to her every day rattled Loane’s confidence. Her emotional intelligence had never been great, but she’d always been able to depend on her instincts—until now. Had she been kidding herself about Abby’s feelings?
“Barrio shut the Greensboro investigation down after the explosion and put a gag order on any news coverage.”
Some of the fragmented pieces in Loane’s mind shifted and floated to the surface. “That’s why I couldn’t get any information, a gag order?” She’d painted everyone with the same brush of disloyalty, even her own brother. A sick feeling gathered in her stomach. It’s not that they wouldn’t help, they couldn’t. She’d deal with that later. Right now Abby had more explaining to do. “How did you…ATF?”
“Barrio recruited me while I was in Moscow.”
“Moscow? Are you some kind of Russian spy?” The more Abby talked, the less sense it made and the more Loane’s head ached. She wanted a simple fix so she could move on, with or without Abby. Her life had been on hold for too long, and she was physically and emotionally exhausted. “Tell me the truth, all of it.”
“I was on a three-month residency program at the Moscow Art Theater for a Master of Fine Arts degree from Harvard. At the time Barrio was in charge of international recruiting and we met at a job fair. I had no interest in ATF, but I went with a friend. Barrio made a compelling argument for utilizing my acting skills for something greater. He persuaded me to join the agency. I went from Moscow directly into training and undercover immediately afterward. Nobody knew about me, Loane. It was a condition of my employment.”
“Acting, you studied acting?” Their three-month relationship flashed through her mind. She thought of how they met, their first kiss, and every time they’d made love, wondering if it had all been some elaborate performance—a way to distract her.
“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no. I wasn’t acting with you. Everything that happened between us personally was honest and true. Everything I felt, and still feel for you, is real. Could you make love to me and not know that? I’m no good at hiding my feelings.”
“Evidence to the contrary. You’ve fooled the Torres for almost two years and me for months.” She wanted to believe their connection was real, but everything was starting to unravel. She didn’t know this Abby Marconi, had no idea if she had a family, where she lived, or her background. Maybe their bond had only been about the job.
“That’s work, Loane. People in jobs like ours compartmentalize or we’d go nuts from all the things we encounter.”
It was the only way Loane had survived the horrendous acts of violence and suffering she’d seen. She wanted to trust Abby’s feelings, but this news would have to marinate for a while. “Why did Barrio choose you?”
“He apparently saw potential in me. He had a personal interest in the gunrunning case because it was in Greensboro, and he’d set up that office before moving to Miami. He thought there was a leak and wanted me to find it. I started out working in one of the Torres’ strip clubs in Miami and reported only to Barrio.”
“What about Bowman?”
“He thought I was dead too. Now he thinks I’m an informant with clout.”
At least Bowman was in the dark as well. She couldn’t take it if his pompous ass knew things about Abby that she didn’t. But none of this explained why Abby couldn’t tell her the truth or where she’d been all this time.
“What happened…that night?” The memory of it struck Loane as if she were seeing it for the first time. She clasped her hands together to stop the shaking and the image of the explosion.
“Sylvia Torre called while I was at your place. Simon was paranoid, afraid someone was threatening his family. He was convinced they had to leave immediately. She begged me to talk to him. I was never certain Simon and Sylvia were involved in gunrunning. It didn’t fit the picture of the people I’d lived with for a year and a half.”
A young couple jogged by, and Abby stopped talking and checked their surroundings as if looking for someone. “Are you expecting company?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute. When I got to Simon’s house, he was out of control. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated, and he was talking nonsense. I couldn’t reach him. Their grandson, Blake, was crying, and Sylvia was on the verge of hysteria. Their daughter-in-law, Alma, tried to calm Simon but nothing worked. So while they packed the SUV, I took Blake to the restroom and tried to think of another approach with Simon. I never got the chance.”
“So, if you hadn’t taken Blake to the toilet, you’d be dead?”
Abby nodded.
“Were you hurt? What about the child?”
“Fortunately for both of us, the bathroom was in the basement at the opposite end of the house from the garage. Blake was fine. Not sure how, but I shielded him. It was all a blur. My right leg was broken, but otherwise only scrapes and bruises.”
Hearing Abby recount her ordeal was painful. It had to be agonizing for her. Loane reached for Abby’s hands, unable to resist touching her a minute longer. She wanted to let her know that while everything between them wasn’t perfect, she still cared.
“You saved a child and yourself, even with injuries. That’s pretty ama
zing.”
“I acted on instinct. I sure didn’t have any training for that scenario.”
“So the bodies in the SUV—Simon, Sylvia, and Alma?”
“Yes, but how did you know?”
“I followed you that night. I thought you were working the case and I wanted to back you up—whether you wanted me or not.” Her skin chilled as she recalled the hopelessness of those moments before she passed out. “I thought you were in the garage and I tried to get to you. Hot metal and flesh don’t mix.” She glanced at the black leather covering her hands.
“Oh, my God, Loane. You could’ve been killed.”
“Would say I was lucky, but it didn’t feel that way. I was in and out of consciousness for a couple of days. Woke up in the hospital with minor burns, a concussion, and these mangled mitts.” Would she ever feel comfortable enough to remove the gloves? She didn’t want to see pity from anyone, especially not Abby.
“I’m so sorry, Loane.”
“I wanted to die. Nothing mattered after that.” She didn’t want to admit that it still didn’t, until today, but she had to know the rest. “You could’ve trusted me, Abby.”
“I know, but I was new to the agency and undercover work, and I’d sworn not to tell anyone. My family doesn’t even know what I’m doing. All my life I’ve been my parents’ little girl and my brothers’ baby sister—the one who needed protection. This job gave me a chance to stand on my own and do something that mattered.”
Loane understood the need to be her own person, to be good enough. When her secret had ripped her family apart, she’d struggled to keep it together—and ultimately failed. The playful banter between her and Tyler had also been about finding her own niche. She got the whole independence thing. She hadn’t accepted anyone’s help the past four months either, but that didn’t lessen the pain of Abby’s exclusion.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“I fell in love with you and that changed everything. I’d already made the decision to talk to you when I got back that night.”
