Sandman (Unknown Identities #3)

by Regan Black

Matthew’s gaze went cold. “Tell me what Galloway means to you,” he countered.

  She crossed her arms and stared him down for several interminable seconds, but she flinched first. “I already told you. He’s nothing to me. We went out a few times, that’s it. I didn’t even know he was in the States.”

  “He never asked you for anything related to your work?”

  “No.” She pushed to her feet again, but her legs felt like jelly. Wobbling, she found herself caught by Matthew. His light grip at her elbows held her steady.

  Something in his touch made her want to lean against that wide chest and forget the years between then and now. Did he wear the same cologne? Did he still order French food with a perfect accent? And was the red wine from her family’s vineyard in Italy still his favorite?

  She shifted out of his reach. “I’m okay,” she lied. She’d started to think she might never have her balance again, if this useless reminiscing kept up. “What do you know about my work?”

  “Not enough and I wish it could stay that way, but you need to fill me in, Renata.”

  He had a way of speaking her name that made her shiver inside. In the best way. “I’m sorry you’re mixed up in this now, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Galloway is obsessive –”

  “Bullshit.”

  Whatever else she’d meant to say simply floated away. Matthew had never once used a foul word in her presence. Miraculous, considering her temper and her natural gift for creative insults in any language.

  “If you know him so well,” she snapped, “enlighten me.”

  “I don’t know him at all,” he said. “But that obsessive label doesn’t fit. He’s a thug and a coward who has friends in high places. He wanted something from your apartment. Went to great lengths to get it. What was it?”

  She didn’t have any idea. Shaking, Renata took a step back as Matthew advanced. The only trouble was the lack of space.

  “Rather than snatch you off that jet way himself and force you to hand over what he wanted, he hired a kidnapper. Let me assure you, he had no intention of ever making good on the trade he offered your cousin. He left your fate to the kidnapper. Why would he do that, Renata?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Eyes wide, he jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “You never lied to me before.”

  “You weren’t dead to me before,” she shot back, instantly regretting it when he closed his eyes and gave her his back. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. It wouldn’t be safe – for either of them.

  “Galloway fooled me.” Admitting anything else would put them both in jeopardy or give him a way to exploit her longing for what they’d once had.

  Of the countless people in her professional acquaintance, she hadn’t suspected Galloway of being anything more than a pretty face. Oh, sure there had been an edge to his voice on the rare occasions when things didn’t go completely his way, but she’d chalked it up to petulance and a privileged upbringing.

  That the self-absorbed, well-dressed Irishman might be one of the people she’d been warned to watch out for… it was a ridiculous notion. The news blindsided her and threw her off almost as much as seeing Matthew alive and well had done.

  “It won’t be long before we might both be dead to the rest of the world,” he said, breaking the silence and interrupting her thoughts.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The car that delivered you, the trunk you busted out of, exploded yesterday.”

  “That was yesterday?” She resented the loss of so much time.

  “Yes. You went into shock and I’ve been hoping you’d snap out of it before we have to find another safe location.”

  She’d traded one shock for another. Her body and mind might be back online, but her heart was still in trouble. She pushed her hair back from her face, feeling disgusted by the disarray of her foul-smelling, torn-up clothes and the stink of fear clinging to her skin. Matthew, however, looked fresh and handsome as ever. “At the risk of sounding utterly selfish, is there any chance of cleaning up before we move?”

  “Not selfish at all,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “There’s a shower through that door.” He pointed. “Only cold water.”

  “As long as it’s clean water.” She really didn’t care about temperature. With her hormones on simmer since discovering Matthew hadn’t been a bitter trick of her imagination, cold water would be better anyway. Why did he have to look so good, especially when she was looking and feeling her worst?

  “When I saw the police report, I didn’t bother going by your apartment, but I did pick up some clothes for you. They’re in the bag in there.”

  She paused in the doorway between this small room and the smaller bathroom and started ticking off the details on her fingers. “You saw the police report. You know Galloway’s in custody. You knew I’d been kidnapped when apparently no one else did.” She met his gaze directly. “You aren’t dead. Why won’t you just tell me how you’re connected to this awful situation?”

  She needed to know, but she wasn’t sure what kind of reply she hoped for. His answers might tempt her into a few admissions or confessions of her own. Not smart, on any level.

  He shook his head. “Clean up, then we’ll sort it out.”

  “I’ll be quick,” she promised, thinking again of the cold water. She closed the door, needing to block the view of his face and the concern shining in his eyes.

  But when she reached out, her hand missed the light switch and the complete darkness swallowed her whole. The scream built in her chest, burning in her throat. She clamped her lips shut in a desperate effort to contain it while she slapped at the walls. The switch had to be here somewhere. She reached out in every direction, her eyes locked on the sliver of light leaking in from the bottom of the door.

  Open it, she thought, but the handle wasn’t where it should have been. Her nails scraped against the thin wood and the scream finally broke free.

  She sucked in a deep breath as light spilled into the small space. Matthew filled the doorway and she tumbled into his embrace.

  “Breathe,” he murmured.

  She clung shamelessly, her face buried in his shirt, her fists clutching at his shoulders. Caught between his steady heartbeat and the strength of his arms, she started to believe she was safe. “The dark –”

  “Just breathe,” he repeated gently, his fingers combing gently through her hair. “It’s okay.”

  “The dark,” she began again. “I didn’t expect to be so afraid.” She dropped her forehead against his chest. It was a little like banging her head against a wall brick wall covered by the soft fabric of his shirt. “Where the hell is the light switch?”

  He laughed. Not outright, more of a low, rumbling chuckle. “It’s a pull string.” Slowly, as if he was afraid of setting off another overreaction, he let his arms fall away from her. He reached up and pulled the string and the bare bulb glowed from the ceiling. “Better?”

  She nodded, embarrassed.

  “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have moments like that.”

  She chewed on her lip. How could he know? Then again, he’d watched her jump from the trunk of a moving vehicle. That kind of action made it obvious how urgently she’d wanted to escape. He’d tended to the wounds of her ordeal. In the past, Matthew had always known just what to say in every circumstance. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want a buddy?”

  Was he teasing her now? “Pardon me?”

  “You’re not moving. If you need someone to, you know, stay in there with you…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”

  Here was the Matthew she remembered so fondly. “How gallant of you,” she said, throwing in a colorful insult in her native Italian.

  His sudden burst of laughter chased away the last of her fears.

  “Just don’t leave here without me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said solemnly. “I’ll stand right here and keep watch.”


  Whatever had brought him out here, whatever he’d endured in the years they’d been apart, some things hadn’t changed. He was still an innate protector.

  She studied him for another long moment. Just in case he did up and disappear again, she wanted to remember every detail. With more than a little gratitude, she entered the bathroom again. Even with the light on, she left the door cracked just a bit.

  Chapter Six

  New Year’s Eve 4:08 a.m.

  From his lookout in the farm house attic, John Noble kept watch on the road, while Amelia sat at the other window, alternately keeping eye out for any unwelcome activity in the overgrown fields behind the house and piecing together the data she’d compiled on Renata Vaccaro.

  For two people who were supposed to be dead, him courtesy of an Unknown Identities sniper and her by way of a car accident, they were doing pretty well. He’d been concerned about both of them during this transition, for different reasons, but each day only reinforced what she kept telling him: they could manage anything as long as they were together.

  “Good work arranging this location,” John said to Amelia.

  The car they’d bought with cash a couple of days ago was hidden about a half mile away. Thanks to a little insider intel from UI, provided by Ben, an active UI agent who was inexplicably more loyal to John, they’d been covertly preparing for the possibility of a rescue mission. Selena’s call for assistance simply confirmed Messenger’s lack of interest in rescuing Renata alive. So far, they’d only been observers. He hoped it stayed that way.

  “Just a matter of knowing how to work the public records,” she said.

  “Right.” He marveled at her ability to limit Sandman’s options for the exchange. “You picked up some skills during your Larimore investigation.”

  She gave him a non-committal hum. “If I weren’t here, what would you have done?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the dirt driveway, but he was grinning. He found himself doing more of that since crossing paths with the feisty, passionate reporter who’d joined him for this next stage of his life.

  It was the first stage of a real life, he admitted. The years of training and impossible assignments had simply been a grueling holding pattern. When he looked at Amelia, when he held her in his arms, he knew it had all been worth it.

  “I would have thought of something. I’m not entirely without imagination.”

  “Obviously.”

  She was quiet so long he thought she might have given up the subject.

  “I’m asking,” she said, “because the dynamic has changed. Not just the way you operate now that you have help like Ben and me, but how your new decisions might change how your enemies respond.”

  That was Amelia, always thinking and analyzing. Often along the same line as his thoughts, but this was an angle he hadn’t considered. This was new territory for both of them, the op as well as the relationship, but he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the way her mind worked.

  “By now,” he said quietly, “my enemies all boil down to one lethal instrument: Gabriel. As Messenger for the UI agency, he has unlimited resources and intel. As long as he believes we’re dead, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Fair point.”

  He knew from her pensive tone she wasn’t done with the topic. “Find anything in her employment history?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re still thinking about it.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I understand Galloway was trying to make a buck off the data hidden in the watch. But how did he rate the use of a UI assassin if Messenger wasn’t in on it?”

  “Hard to say. There’s always a strategy where Messenger is concerned. He prevented the data from changing hands and now he has Galloway in custody too.”

  “Win-win?”

  “Depends on the agenda,” John said. Messenger might well have designs on using Galloway. Preventing the sale screwed the spy’s reputation in both the CIA and criminal networks around the world, making him a prime candidate for Messenger’s standard life or death offer.

  John continued to scan the area with his binoculars. He’d taken this window so Amelia wouldn’t have to keep looking at the burned out remains of the car and driver that had delivered Renata. Even in the thick blue shadows of pre-dawn it was a bleak sight. “I’m sure Sandman knows Renata and Galloway were connected, if only briefly. Is she just a wrong place-wrong time victim?”

  “Absolutely not,” Amelia said with such conviction it startled him.

  He rolled away from the window to stare at her. “Based on?”

  “She’s been a guest at some swanky parties all over Europe.”

  “Isn’t that part of her job?”

  “It is. Along with her family connections the social agenda shouldn’t surprise me.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Amelia set aside her binoculars as well. Scooting closer to him, she relaxed onto her side, propping her head on her palm. Her soft smile was a warm beacon in the near-dark.

  “The watch was a gift, yet Adam claimed she found it in the safe. In theory, that means Renata knew what she’d been given.”

  “It was a Rolex. Valuable enough that I bet most people keep them in safes. Or should.”

  “True. But according to her schedule these last few months, she’s spent a lot of time with World War II biographers at various receptions.”

  “You mentioned the diplomat she travels with has been attending museum and archive events since September.”

  “Yes, on official business.” Her voice dripped with skepticism. “Combine that with her unofficial boyfriend in Madrid living in the same neighborhood as a famous historian and it adds up to something bigger,” she said. “She’s Italian.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “While everyone can point an accusing finger at Hitler, Mussolini wasn’t much better. I’m concerned about Renata’s consistent presence at these events. She might be connected to what happened to you and the others.”

  “You’re implying she works for UI?”

  “No, but she’s been nosing around things that they would find interesting. It can’t be coincidence.”

  “Maybe it’s a hobby.” It bothered John, primarily because it bothered Amelia. She had a knack for rooting out the truth. As a personal security expert – a glorified babysitter – he’d usually been told he didn’t need to know anything beyond his assignments, but he’d kept an eye on politics when necessary, simply to help him identify potential threats. “Does the Vaccaro family have some old connection to the dictator?”

  “Not that I’ve found. It could take me months to unravel that kind of detail.”

  John crept closer and pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling back before it became too much of a distraction for either one of them. “People don’t usually brag about their time spent with the losing side.”

  “If it’s there, I’ll find it.”

  “Of course you will. For now, let’s keep Sandman protected while he waits for Renata to recover.”

  They both returned to their respective windows. “I haven’t given Selena any update.”

  “Smart.” John wasn’t entirely comfortable knowing the woman dating a former spy had Amelia’s number, but that’s what disposable phones were for. “We don’t want to chance anyone intercepting the call.”

  The horizon was still dark in all directions and he caught the tell-tale sound of a yawn from Amelia’s post, but she didn’t complain. It was no surprise to John that neither of them noticed Ben’s arrival at the farm until he walked up the stairs, purposely stepping on every squeaky tread in a tacit warning. “Any news?”

  “Yeah. Big news. I barely made it out of the city ahead of End Game,” Ben said, using his favorite nickname for one of Messenger’s top assassins. “Messenger just ordered him to terminate Sandman.”

  “Hang on,” John said. “You’re talking about the same Cleaner that was working with Galloway? How is he back on the program?�
� John asked, referring to the official list of active UI agents caught in Messenger’s web that Ben had given him a few days ago.

  “Guess he never officially left.” Ben scuffed his boots against the floor, letting them know he remained near the top of the stairs.

  Well, the news confirmed one of his suspicions. Messenger’s top assassin had been working as a double agent during his time with Galloway. John swore. That had been the logical assumption and John ignored it. If End Game had really been working with Galloway he would have already been euthanized like an unclaimed dog.

  John had seen it before during a UI mission years ago. The assassin working ‘cleanup’ had decided to give himself a bonus, taking a payoff to allow the target a head start. Messenger had not been amused and the assassin had fallen asleep in his bunk, never to wake again.

  “What about the hostage – former hostage, I mean?” Ben asked. “Is she scared?”

  “We don’t know,” Amelia answered. “But they’re still in the barn. Just the two of them.”

  The shadows near the stairs shifted. “We have to tell them, man.”

  “I know,” John replied.

  “End Game will start the hunt for Sandman here. He reported this location as the meet.”

  “We planned for that,” Amelia said calmly. “Sandman must be dead on his feet. One of us should relieve him. I can do that much while you two hold off End Game.”

  “Sandman’s fine,” Ben replied. “He doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us.”

  She turned to John. “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not,” John and Ben said in unison.

  “How do we want to play this?” John rocked back on his heels while he thought it through. Exposing any of them directly to an agent on the verge of termination wasn’t smart, but a coordinated response was necessary if they were all going to survive this visit from the notorious assassin.

  No matter what Ben had said before he’d wired the car to blow, John wasn’t convinced Sandman was ready to ditch UI. There wasn’t any evidence for a change of heart, and he wasn’t convinced the man’s past relationship with Renata was strong enough motivation for anything more than getting her to safety.