Reckless Whisper

by Barbara Freethy

  "Why don't you just change your phone number? Stop talking to him?"

  "Because I can't cut him off. The more he talks, the more likely it is he will make a mistake and reveal something that will help us find him."

  He wasn't so sure about that. It sounded like the kidnapper knew exactly what he was doing.

  Bree tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ears, as she adjusted the hard hat on her head. "What shocks me is how deep he's dug into my past. He's found a secret that no one else knows. How did he figure it out?"

  "I never told anyone, Bree. Did you?"

  "I told two people when I was at Quantico."

  "Really?" He was surprised by that.

  "I didn't have a choice. We did an assignment where we had to discover each other's secrets. That's when it came out. But one of those people is dead, and the other person, Parisa, is not in Chicago, and she would never set anything like this up. She's my friend."

  He hoped that was true, but seeing the pain and uncertainty in her eyes, he had a feeling that the thought that someone she trusted had betrayed her was worse than whatever mind game the kidnapper was playing on her.

  Bree wrapped her arms around herself, and the familiar gesture tugged at his heart. There had always been a lonely quality about Bree. She hadn't had many people in her life who'd hugged her, protected her. He'd wanted to put his arms around her a million times, but he'd always stopped himself, always thought it was a line he couldn't cross…shouldn't cross.

  But now she looked so lost and alone, he found himself breaching the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  She stiffened in surprise, her gaze widening, but she didn't push him away.

  "Just take a second," he whispered, pressing her head against his shoulder, his mouth so close to her ear, he could smell the sweet, sexy scent of her shampoo. "Breathe."

  She didn't just breathe; she surprised him by sliding her arms around his back and taking the hug to another level.

  He could hardly believe he was holding her and that she was holding him back.

  Now he was the one having trouble catching his breath.

  What the hell had he just started?

  And how was he ever going to let her go?

  Before he could come up with an answer, Bree pulled out of his embrace, giving him a shaky, uncertain smile.

  "Thanks," she said.

  He didn't want her thanks; he wanted her back in his arms. But the moment had passed.

  "Nathan, I need something else," she began.

  "What? What do you need?" Right now, he wanted to do anything that would take the anguish out of her eyes.

  "I need you to tell me it wasn't her. I need you to make me believe it."

  "It wasn't her, Bree. It wasn't your daughter on the train." He didn't know who the girl was, but he just didn't believe that it was her child.

  "It couldn't be, right?"

  "No. And just because someone found out you had a child doesn't mean they know where that child is. You took steps to make sure your child didn't end up in Chicago."

  "I know. I was so careful. I didn't even go to Cleveland like I told you; I went to Detroit. The woman from the agency you set me up with suggested I do that, so that no one, not even you, would know where I was."

  "I had no idea."

  "The woman—her name was Diane—said my child would not be adopted by a family in Illinois. That she would be kept far from Johnny's sphere. But now I don't know if that's true. I need to find the girl on the train, Nathan."

  "I don't think she's your daughter, Bree. A kid wouldn't act like that unless someone told them to. And if she really thought you were her mother, she wouldn't have run away from you."

  "Then someone used her to get to me, which means she could be in trouble. I need to find her."

  "How?"

  As she pondered his question, he could see the fear receding from her gaze, replaced by strength, determination, fight—another side of Bree he remembered very clearly. She knew how to put her emotions away, to compartmentalize, to focus on the reality of the moment and nothing else. It had been a necessary trait to survive the unpredictability and sadness of her childhood.

  "I'll check the security cameras at the train station," she said. "Maybe they caught the girl leaving or meeting up with someone else."

  "Good idea. But is it possible that the kidnapper wants you to chase this girl instead of Hayley?"

  She met his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure that's part of his goal. But at least I know what this girl looks like. If she can lead me to the kidnapper…"

  "Then you're right—she might be in very big trouble," he said somberly. "Can I ask you a question? How did this kidnapper get so fixated on you?"

  "I found his last victim in Philadelphia. I saved her before he could kill her. The press was on the scene. I was on the news. I became the face of his adversary."

  He did not like the idea that some deranged kidnapper was stalking Bree. "What is the FBI doing to protect you?"

  "I can protect myself. At the moment, he is not trying to hurt me; he just wants me in his game."

  "For now. This could end with him trying to kill you."

  "My concern at this moment is for Hayley and the unknown girl on the train. I should go."

  "Bree, wait. I haven't heard you say anything about another person who could be involved in this."

  Her face paled. "Johnny doesn't know about the baby. You said so."

  "I said I didn't tell him, but beyond that…" He shrugged. "Have you looked him up? Do you know what he's doing now?"

  "No. I have never wanted to know anything about him."

  "Because you were afraid you'd go back to him?"

  Anger flashed in her gaze. "Definitely not. I would never have gone back to him. I may have been young and stupid and lonely when I first got together with him, but I was sixteen, Nathan. Two years later, I knew a lot more about him, and I had seen his dark side."

  "You were way too good for Johnny."

  "I didn't think I was back then," she whispered. "I didn't think I was good enough for anyone."

  His heart turned over at the candid admission. But then how could he blame her? Bree had been thrown away by a lot of people who were supposed to care about her. "You were always good enough. You just didn't pick the right people."

  "I didn't."

  "You might need to look into him now."

  "I really don't think he's part of this. This kidnapper has been operating out of the Northeast. Johnny is in Chicago."

  "He could have expanded his operations. You don't know."

  "My gut says he's not involved."

  "Well, forgive me if I don’t completely trust your gut where Johnny is concerned."

  "I guess I can't blame you for that. But for now, I'm going to assume he's not involved. And whether or not that girl on the train is my daughter, I am going to find her. Now, I better get back to the office."

  "Will you call me if you get a lead on the girl?"

  "I thought you wanted me to stay out of your life."

  "Well, that doesn't seem to be working, does it?"

  "I didn't know who else to go to."

  "I'm glad you came here. And now I'm intensely curious as to what's going on." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Put in your number."

  She punched it in and then sent herself a text, so she'd have his number as well. "I'll let you know if I find out anything," she said.

  She'd barely finished speaking when his phone rang. He saw Adrienne's name flash across his screen as Bree handed him back the phone.

  "You can take that if you want," she said. "I'm going to go."

  "It's fine." He silenced the call and put the phone back in his pocket. "I'll walk you down."

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he took her hard hat and then walked her out to the sidewalk.

  "I'm going to call for a car," she said. "I think I'll stay off
trains for a while." She glanced down at her phone. "There's one only five minutes away."

  "I'll wait with you."

  A minute of silence followed his comment, and then she said, "Is Adrienne your girlfriend?"

  "We've gone out for a few weeks; I wouldn't call her a girlfriend."

  "Still noncommittal when it comes to relationships?"

  "I've never liked labels."

  "That's true. Have you ever come close to getting married?"

  "Nope. I've been busy building my company. What about you?"

  "There was someone in my life a few years back, but he died."

  He thought about her words. "Was that guy at Quantico with you? The other person who knew your secret?"

  "Yes. His name was Jamie Rowland. He was a military man turned FBI agent, and we clicked for a while. I don't know if it was a forever kind of thing; I certainly wasn't looking for that, and he wasn't, either. But he was funny and generous and just a really good person. His death was a tragedy. It happened during a training exercise. I almost quit after that. But I knew Jamie would have wanted me to keep going, so I did."

  He found himself feeling a little jealous of this unknown man. At least when she'd been with Johnny, he'd had someone to hate for a lot of reasons, but this military hero and justice fighter seemed to have had a lot of things going for him.

  "Sorry," he muttered.

  "I only knew him a few weeks, but he made an impact on my life. He encouraged me to turn my painful secret into something positive. That's why I decided to get involved in finding missing kids. I know my child isn't missing, and I gave her up by choice, but I do know what it's like to lose a piece of yourself. And if I can help some other family get whole again, I will."

  "I'm sure you do a lot of good. I'm sorry I was an asshole when you first showed up at Josie's house. You threw me," he said candidly.

  "I was shaken, too. I was not expecting to see your face. I honestly had no idea that Grace's mother was Josie. I just had Grace's name. I don't even think I saw the names of her parents. But then everything was happening really fast. I got a call at six a.m. yesterday to get on a plane and come to Chicago. It's been a lightning blur since then."

  "When did you first hear from the kidnapper?"

  "Actually, I got that call right before my boss got in touch with me about Hayley's disappearance."

  "That's interesting. The kidnapper knew they were going to call you in."

  "Sometimes, I think this whole case is about me and my past. And that's why he picked Chicago and moved out of the Northeast. He wanted me in his game, and this is where he could make me the most vulnerable. But I'm not going to let him win. I'm going to find Hayley and this girl on the train, and I will make sure this kidnapper ends up in jail for the rest of his life."

  "I believe you."

  She checked her phone and groaned. "Now it says five more minutes."

  "There's a lot of traffic this time of day. That's why the trains are usually faster." As he spoke, he glanced around the neighborhood, wondering if someone was watching her even now.

  She followed his gaze. "I didn't see a tail," she said. "I watched on the way over here."

  And he didn't see anyone sitting in a car or hanging out in the doorway of a building, but he had to admit he felt decidedly tense.

  "So, what does Adrienne do?" Bree asked.

  "She's an event planner."

  "That sounds fun."

  "She seems to like it." Standing next to Bree, he could barely remember what Adrienne looked like. How was that possible? Two days ago, he'd been thinking she might be someone he could think of as a girlfriend. Now, she seemed like a very pale comparison to Bree and all her fiery passion. Of course, that passion also came with a lot of problems. Bree was drama and pain. Adrienne was light and fun.

  Hadn't he had enough darkness in his life?

  "Have you told Adrienne about your childhood, your stepfather?" she asked.

  "Why would I? It's not important to our relationship. And we're definitely not to the point where we're sharing secrets. Hell, I haven't even told her I don't like Brussels sprouts."

  Bree raised an eyebrow. "You don't like Brussels sprouts?"

  "No. I don't care if they're roasted or steamed or covered in garlic and cheese. I just don't like 'em."

  "That sounds very definitive," she said with a light smile. "Why haven't you told her that?"

  "Because she loves Brussels sprouts—all vegetables, in fact. She is passionate about her health. And it seems too soon to confess such a dark secret."

  "How are you going to have an honest relationship, if you can't come clean about a vegetable?"

  "Honesty is overrated."

  "I don't agree with that."

  "Really? You think telling people what they don't want to hear makes them like you more?"

  "I wouldn't say that, but maybe Adrienne needs to date a guy who shares her love of Brussels sprouts."

  "So, I'm depriving her of the opportunity to find her perfect vegetable match? I guess I need to break up with her."

  "Or come clean. How long have you been dating?"

  "Two months."

  "That's a fair amount of time."

  "Is it?"

  "What is she like?"

  "Why are you so interested?"

  "Because I just am. You used to date a lot of blondes. You had a new girl every week in high school."

  "Well, I always heard blondes had more fun, and I was a teenage boy."

  "Do you ever think about getting married?"

  "Whoa, you are getting way ahead of yourself."

  "You're not getting any younger, Nathan. You're thirty years old."

  "That's not that old. I'm busy with my career. What's your excuse?"

  "I'm busy, too. I'm always on the go. I get called out of town on a moment's notice. Not many guys appreciate that." She paused as a silver Prius came down the street. "There's my car."

  He felt both relieved and unhappy that it was time for her to go.

  She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks again for talking me off the ledge, Nathan. I feel better now."

  She might feel better, but he felt very conflicted.

  He didn't know what to make of the mysterious girl on the train, but one thing was clear. Bree was in trouble.

  Was he going to go back to his old ways and try to protect her, rescue her? Or was he going to walk away and let her take care of herself?

  She was more than capable of doing that. He just had to let her.

  Yeah…it wasn't really a question…

  * * *

  After Bree left, Nathan tried to work. But as the afternoon shadows deepened, and five o'clock approached, he put his tools away and got into his truck. He started toward home, but halfway there, he turned around and made his way toward Craig's, a small sports bar in River North.

  He'd met Alan Craig in middle school, and they'd been friends during most of their teen years, but after Johnny's beat-down, he'd left his old neighborhood and gone dark on all of his friendships.

  Ten years had passed before he'd run into Alan at a market last year. Since then, he'd hung out a few times at the bar, happy to see Alan had taken his grandfather's bar in the old neighborhood and moved it to River North, where he'd found a good clientele of locals and tourists.

  When he entered Craig's, he was immediately enveloped by a warm, friendly feeling. The wood-paneled walls featured sports memorabilia from all of Chicago's teams, the Cubs, the Bears, the Bulls, the White Sox, and the Blackhawks. In addition to a long bar with three TVs behind it, there were a dozen or so tables in the middle of the room facing additional flat-screens, most of which were currently playing a White Sox game that was just about to start.

  There were about fifteen people in the bar: a group of young male executives who looked like they'd just left an accounting or law firm, a trio of twenty-something women who were working their way through a platter of Craig's famous chicken wings, as well as a few other cou
ples and singles sitting at the bar.

  He slid into an empty stool as Alan gave him a nod. Alan had dark-red hair, pale skin, and a multitude of freckles across his face. He'd added a few pounds to his square, stocky build, probably the result of testing out too many of those wings. Or maybe it was because he'd moved in with his girlfriend, Beth, a few months ago.

  "Long time no see," Alan said with a grin. "Thought you'd ditched me again. And it was going to be another ten years before I saw you."

  "Not a chance. I've been working a lot."

  "Glad to hear business is good. I've got a Tank 7 Farmhouse Ale on tap."

  "Sold."

  "How are things going?" Alan asked, as he filled a glass and set it in front of him.

  "Not great."

  Alan's eyebrow shot up. "Problems with Josie?"

  "Not this time. Well, not exactly. Did you hear about that girl who got kidnapped from the school concert?"

  "Yeah, I saw it on the news. That's terrible. You know her?"

  "I do. She's friends with Josie's daughter, and I know her dad."

  "I'm sorry. Are they close to finding her?"

  "I hope so." He took a sip of his beer. "The FBI is involved."

  "That's good, right?"

  "It is good, but one of the FBI agents working the case is Bree."

  "What?" Surprise flashed through Alan's eyes. "You're kidding me. Not Bree Larson?"

  "She changed her last name to Adams, but it's her. She came to interview Grace, Josie's daughter, because Grace was a witness to the abduction. I could not believe it when I saw Bree standing on the porch."

  Alan shook his head. "I can't believe she's in the FBI. That's something else. How did she look?"

  "Really good," he said, taking another long draught of beer.

  Alan laughed. "Man, you still have a thing for her."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Come on, Nathan. I knew you back then. You and her always had some weird dance going on. I never knew exactly what was between you, but there was something."

  Alan's words echoed Bree's from the night before when she'd said she didn't know what they were—friends, enemies, or people who used to know each other. It seemed that they had been all three at some point or another. But she definitely felt more like a friend after their last conversation, after she'd shown her vulnerability, after she'd admitted that dating Johnny was a huge mistake.