Copeland was right. It didn’t make sense. Killing Carson and anyone else on the team wouldn’t stop the US military from organizing a mission to stop another transfer attempt.
“They’d want me alive if they thought I had it.” But why would they think he had it? And if the mystery man had it to begin with, what had happened to cause him to lose it? “Maybe they want revenge.”
Carson may not have been the easiest target to find after leaving the military, and it would take planning to attack him in San Diego. AdAir Corp had security, and the ranch had a security system. And if they believed Carson and his team had taken the data, they would presume they had given it to the US government. Carson or his teammates wouldn’t hang on to it. The revenge motive made sense in that regard.
But how had the mystery man lost the data? Carson had gone over the mission many times. He could think of no incident during the gunfight when someone could have taken the data. The mystery man had to have gotten away with it, or not had it with him at all.
“I’ve asked Morris to talk to the North Korean border guard he’s coerced to help us.”
“He’s in contact with a North Korean guard? How’d he manage that?”
“We’ll get him out of North Korea in exchange. He’s getting scared, though. Just before you called with the news that someone tried to kill you, Morris learned two North Korean engineers were executed and their families sent to prison camps. We believe this occurred after they failed to obtain the technology.”
“Isn’t it a little rash executing the brains behind his nuclear weapons program?”
“He recruited another engineer. Dual Chinese-Canadian citizen who got a green card and an education.”
“Who’s the engineer?”
Copeland gave him the name. “He isn’t the man we’re looking for.”
The engineer might be part of another mission. In fact, Carson didn’t doubt it. He felt a moment of regret that he couldn’t be part of it. But he was part of this mission.
“I’m happy to continue to be bait,” he said. “Draw the mystery man out.” If he’d shot at him once, he’d try again.
Copeland nodded. “That’s the main reason I asked you to meet me here. This all has to be kept secret. You aren’t part of the team anymore, but you’re my best chance at catching that man.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not doing it because I feel sorry for you. Man up if you’re having a tough time dealing with that.” Copeland pointed to his lame leg.
Carson grinned. The commander had set him straight. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“Good, because I need you. Our problem here is that if the North Koreans didn’t get the technology and we didn’t bring it home, where is it?”
The best way to find out was to expose the mystery man, whom Carson believed was the same one who shot at him, the one who would have made the transfer, but for whatever reason, hadn’t.
“What did the San Diego police have?” Carson asked.
Copeland’s face lit with the good question. “Ah. They traced the car to a rental company. Whoever rented it used false identification. A background came up with somebody who’s been dead for fifteen years. They’re looking for the car now and I’m looking into who might have traveled from Myanmar, or anywhere near there, during the time of the mission.”
Carson nodded. That sounded promising. And despite Copeland’s lack of sympathy, Carson was thrilled to be part of the team again.
* * *
Georgia’s bracelets jingled as she brushed her long hair back over her shoulder and stepped by a row of treasure-lined shelves inside a village bookstore. It was an independent bookstore and the most delightful she’d ever seen. Converted from an old house, it had nooks and cozy seating areas and walls of books. Carson had reserved rooms at an old Victorian inn a short walk from here. The inn was on a farm with white fences and cows. Very upscale and also very soothing in a country way. The village was full of boutique shops and there was even a spa. She was glad Carson wasn’t here to see her melt in pleasure.
He’d left her here and drove to Camp Lejeune to meet with his commander. A classified meeting. Carson had been part of an elite military team and his missions fought terrorism and protected national security. The notion of him in that role clashed mightily with what she expected to encounter when she and Ruby arrived in San Diego. A hero. Carson Adair. An Adair. Hero. The two bounced around in her head, and she kept pushing back the hero version. The bookstore helped. It was like therapy, being among the thing she loved most on earth—books—in a place like this with creaky old floors and the smell of candles, potpourri and ink, made it easy not to think of Carson as a big bad heroic soldier.
Georgia purchased a book amid the soft tinkle of piano music and left with a satisfied smile. Walking up the street toward the white inn, she passed a linen-table restaurant that was only open for dinner and a gift shop. As she drew closer, she saw a limo parked in front of the inn. And then she saw Carson. He stood next to the open back door, waiting for her. Standing tall and lean and handsome in dark jeans and another Henley, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of an ad for a yacht.
She saw him notice her outfit, from the silver flower earrings to the silver boots that went with her gray knitted cardigan over a white T-shirt and dark low-rise jeans.
“Hi,” she said, and then feared there was too much enthusiasm in the greeting. Big bad soldier. Hero.
“Hi.” He grinned. “Let’s go get ice cream.” He opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to allow her inside.
She slid onto the leather seat and he got in after her.
“How did your meeting go?” She looked down his muscled torso to his long, thick legs. If not for his injury, he could probably run really far for a long, long time. He probably had when he was in the military. But he still had stamina for other activities...
“Good.”
His brief answer diverted her attention. “Just good?” That’s all she’d get?
“We’re a long way from finding out who shot at me.” He looked down at the small shopping bag she’d put beside her with her purse. “Did you buy something?”
“There’s a bookstore in the village.” She restrained her excitement and stopped herself from going on to say what a fabulous bookstore it was. She could talk about books all day and probably bore him to death. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep the beaming smile off her lips.
“Exactly why I chose this place.”
Because she was a librarian, and he knew she’d love it here. He’d known about the bookstore.
“I do love to read. I collect them, too.”
“Antique books?”
“Yes. It’s a challenge finding first editions at reasonable prices. But when I do...” She raised her eyes heavenward, enough to indicate the joy she felt when she found something special.
“What did you buy?”
Still smiling, she parted the tissue paper the clerk had wrapped her book in before putting it into the bag. It smelled like the store. She handed him the hardcover, a novel about a young girl who ran away from home and overcame countless obstacles. An underdog story. Her favorite.
“Not something I would have chosen but good for you.” He handed it back to her.
“What would you have chosen? Machiavelli?”
He chuckled. “Something Jack Reacher.”
She tucked the book back into its nest of tissue paper as the limo stopped in front of a gourmet ice-cream shop. It was every bit as quaint as the village she’d just left. How much more of this was he going to inflict upon her? And what was he trying to do? Win her over or just prove her wrong?
The driver opened the door. Carson got out and took her hand to help her out. She felt a little ridiculous. Not only was she unaccustomed to this, she was capable of getting out on her own. But he was going out of his way to be a gentleman. He even held the door for her as they entered the ice-cream shop.
“Ah, Mr. Adair,”
the mid-forties man behind the counter said with a big smile. “You finally came back to North Carolina for a visit?”
The man knew Carson, which made him a regular here, which also pricked her curiosity.
“Yes, for a few days.”
“The Marines give you some time off?”
“Yeah. Quite a bit.”
Only Georgia knew the cynicism in that reply.
“You here for your aunt’s party? She ordered dessert. Is that what brings you here?”
His aunt? Who was his aunt?
“That’s one reason, yes.” He glanced at Georgia. “She’s expecting us.”
Her immediate reaction was that she did not want to go hang out with his family. Her next was incensed that Carson had planned to take her without telling her. Part of his ploy to prove she was wrong about his kind.
“That was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, doing his best to show contrition, albeit with a hint of humor.
That he was doing this all in fun helped, but she was beginning to think she should put the brakes on his shenanigans. “Haven’t you surprised me enough for one trip?”
“No. Not nearly.” He faced the man behind the counter. “We’ll share a butter pecan sundae.”
Georgia read the menu. A butter pecan sundae had four scoops of salted-butter caramel ice cream, pecans and whipped cream. Drizzled over all of that decadence was hot fudge and a caramel sauce. Oh, my...
He put his wallet away, and they moved out of the way to allow an older man in line behind them to order something.
“Ice cream is one thing, but a party?” she said. “What kind of party is it?”
“It’s a fund-raiser for missing children.”
How appropriate. He couldn’t have done it on purpose, though. Had he convinced his aunt to throw the party? She didn’t think so.
“Didn’t she know about Jackson?” she asked.
“Yes, but it never came up after years went by with no progress in the search. And my dad moved to San Diego, where he lost touch with his family. I kept in touch with Kate, though.”
“You’re close to your aunt?”
“As close as I can be.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Close to him was his brother and sister. So maybe his aunt was sort of close. But not close enough to warrant talks about a kidnapping that happened before he was even born.
“What is her full name?”
He looked taken aback that she didn’t know. “Kate Winston.”
Winston. “Former vice president of the United States Kate Winston?” She opened her mouth and let out an incredulous grunt. “You’re kidding me.”
“No. Not kidding. She’s Kate O’Hara now. She’s been reunited with her first love and their granddaughter.”
“I read about her. She was led to believe her own daughter died at birth, but she actually was killed in a car accident at the age of twenty-four. It was such a sad story.”
“Yes, very sad, but she’s happy now. And she’s normal. You’ll like her.”
Vice president of the United States wasn’t normal. Georgia was normal. She had an average job and an average income and an average home. She wasn’t known by all. And she didn’t have parents who would scheme against her the way some of those in Carson’s family did. They seemed to be mounting in number. That had her tensing a little. Careful, she warned herself, don’t start liking this man too much. Appearances aren’t everything. He seemed as nice as he claimed his aunt was, but things weren’t always what they seemed. Hadn’t she learned that from Ruby?
Their sundae was ready. Carson took it from another clerk at the pickup end of the counter and took it to a small round table with a shiny metal post.
She sat on a cushioned chair across from him. “How can anyone be normal if they’re in politics?” Vice president. She was fooling herself even entertaining the idea of enjoying his attention! They were so different there was no way they’d make a good couple. He came from such a different background. He couldn’t possibly know what it was like to grow up in middle-class America. He was surrounded by people who ran good people like Ruby out of their lives.
Carson leaned forward. “Stop thinking so much.” He picked up the spoon he’d set in front of her and handed it to her.
“I’m not going,” she said, taking the spoon.
“Yes, you are. And you’re going to enjoy yourself around all the nice people in my family.”
His grandparents were not nice. She watched him guess her train of thought with only the look of her eyes.
“All right,” he said. “Some of them have their moments. But just give them a chance. I promised Kate I’d be there. She’s doing this fund-raiser because of Jackson.”
And a tax credit. Georgia tucked that barb away. The party was for a good cause. It was more than a way to show off how much money the host had. She’d go, but only for Ruby. Only for the cause.
Scooping up a large spoonful of the delicious-looking sundae, she brought it to her lips. The flavor was incredible, and she took her time savoring the bite.
“Mmm.”
With the shine of triumph in his eyes, he took a bite of his own. When he finished, he said, “This is one of the top-ranked gourmet ice-cream parlors in the country.”
And he’d had to take her here. Show her what money could buy. She pointed her spoon at him. “You know, aside from the limo and first-class, I could afford all of this on my own.”
“I’m warming you up for the really expensive extravagances.”
He was planning more? “The party?”
Shaking his head, he mumbled, “Uh-uh. Better. You’ll have to wait and see.”
Now was probably a good time to tell him to stop. “Carson, don’t spend money on me. We aren’t even dating. It would be a stretch to even call us friends. Why would you do that anyway?” She scooped a bite of ice cream and put it into her mouth, licking off some caramel from her lips.
Carson noticed and swallowed. She hadn’t tried to be sexy, but her tongue rolling over her mouth must have gotten to him, and he hadn’t expected to react that way. He lifted his gaze from her mouth to meet hers. She swallowed her bite, unable to look away for a few seconds. Then she got ahold of herself and put her spoon down. What if they did start dating?
“Uh...” he stammered, “your bias compels me. And I happen to think I’ll enjoy proving you wrong.” His gaze fell to her lips as though recalling how entranced he’d gotten over her lick. “You will, too.”
She lifted her brow. “I’ll enjoy you proving me wrong?”
“It’s a point I hope to make.”
That she’d enjoy the money he was going to spend on her, that she’d enjoy what his money could buy? She grew a little uncomfortable, and then, not. He was making this fun. He wasn’t out to shove her nose in it. He would really, truly enjoy showing her how nice money was, how nice it was having it and that it was okay to enjoy the luxuries.
“As long as you don’t turn me into a snob, I suppose that’s okay.” She tried to sound bored in a humorous way. She wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off.
It wasn’t only watching her enjoy the money that would give him satisfaction or the only motivator for starting this game. He couldn’t stand being equated with his father. Carson was a good man. A military man. A man who stood up for good and fought evil. He had a fearlessness about him. That’s what made him go after Jackson’s kidnapper and the man who shot at him. But Georgia would not set herself up for disaster by putting herself into a family like the Adairs. Ruby had likely thought Reginald was a good man. Tragedy had changed him into the same people his parents were. Would Carson be influenced that way? Even if he wasn’t, there were people in his family who were not good people. His own mother had attempted to kill Elizabeth.
Georgia didn’t hold his family against him. She wouldn’t do that. They could be friends. Maybe they could even sleep together. Beyond that? Georgia had to remain steadfast and firm in her resolve. She refused to end
up like Ruby, who had thought she was walking into happily-ever-after and had gotten the opposite.
Even while she worked to convince herself to steer clear of any future with an Adair, a nagging sense kept bubbling up that he was different, that the mean people in his family wouldn’t matter because he had such strong conviction about the man he was and the man he would become. He wouldn’t resist going into his father’s corporation so much otherwise.
“Is it really that important to you to be disassociated from your father?” she asked. “I mean, why commit to this relentless—which some might call hopeless—search for Jackson if you hold so much resentment toward your father?”
He swallowed his latest bite of the sundae and put his spoon down, looking at her as though she’d hit on something he struggled with. “I don’t resent him... Well, I used to, but...”
Georgia waited for him to think through what he was trying to say.
“He never told us about Jackson,” Carson said at last. “That is so odd. I can’t figure out why he did that. He didn’t seem to want to spend much time with any of us. Wouldn’t having more kids help? Or was he so grief-stricken that shutting everyone out was the only way he could cope? I can’t imagine him grief-stricken, but that must be what it was.”
Georgia nodded. “Ruby was the same way. Withdrawn. Quiet. She never got over losing Jackson. Never.”
“No wonder you’re so protective of her.” He smiled softly.
“She’s had enough sadness in her life. She lost Jackson. Then she lost my father. All she has left is me.”
Carson had lost a father, one he hadn’t had a chance to know. His father hadn’t shared himself with his own children. All he’d seen was the man who made hoards of money, a powerful man. In death, he had a glimpse of another side to that man, a man hardened by terrible loss and a sense of helplessness. Maybe that was what had driven Reginald to accumulate riches. He didn’t feel helpless when he was in control of an empire like AdAir Corp.
“Do you ever wish you wouldn’t have run away?” she asked. She didn’t sugarcoat what it was. He had run. He’d run from a father who had never been a father to him.
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