by Amy Gamet
She thought back to the first time she’d seen him and the intimate look he’d given her, how it had curled in her stomach, unnerving. Was it possible it was only days ago since so much had changed?
Her father was in the hospital. She had to check on him, but she told herself not to ruin this morning by rushing off to do so. He was well taken care of, and her first priority was right here in this bed.
Would Luke be awkward after their night together, or would he feel as comfortable with her as she now felt? She’d never taken a lover so easily, wasn’t sure of the etiquette the morning after such incredible sex.
More sex ought to do it.
She grinned devilishly and rolled over, her face falling when she saw she was alone. “Luke?”
No answer.
She padded to the bathroom, her thighs and hips tender from last night, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Her eyes scanned the tables and desk. His keys were gone. His wallet.
Everything.
She looked for a note, but there wasn’t one. By this point she was convinced he must have run out for coffee or breakfast and would be back any moment. So she showered and dressed, smiling to herself when she noted the small red marks on her breasts, feeling loved. She took care with her outfit, wanting to look nice for him.
There was a knock at her door and she opened it with a wide smile. “I was starting to think you…” Her voice trailed off as she saw Razorback standing in the doorway. “Oh, I thought you were Luke.”
“He’s gone.”
“Yes, he must have gone to get breakfast—”
“No, he was back at headquarters this morning. Took the rest of the week off.”
“What?”
“He probably didn’t want to wake you. He got some shut-eye and headed home. Been a long week for all of us.”
She worked to keep a crestfallen expression from overtaking her features. She would feel this pain later when she could take it out in the darkness, examine it by herself. “Yes. A long week.”
“I’m here to escort you home, Miss Daniels, now that this nightmare is finally over.”
He left you here. He walked out without even saying good-bye.
It didn’t make sense, was completely out of line with what she would have expected from Luke, and she teetered between hurt and confusion. There must be a reason. Or was there? Had he really just walked away? She pushed the thoughts away. “I need to go see my father.”
“Sure thing. We can swing by the hospital.”
She rode in the passenger seat, discouraging conversation by facing the window and watching the rain fall over Manhattan, thinking about safety. She was out of danger now. Her father had survived his ordeal and was surely on the mend. They’d gotten the brancium back and could begin manufacturing Alloy 531 just as soon as they rebuilt, about ten months from now.
But safety wasn’t everything, and she found she was heartsick over Luke. It hadn’t been a one-night stand. She couldn’t have misread him so completely. They’d shared something incredible that transcended the physical, their experiences and everything they’d gone through bonding them for life.
For life?
Really, Summer?
Her own thoughts were ludicrous, pointing out her naiveté. It had only been a few days, after all. And just because she’d only had a handful of sexual partners in her life didn’t mean Luke was nearly so chaste.
Yes, it was possible he thought last night was just sex, nothing more.
Her throat closed up, tears collecting in her eyes, and she blinked quickly to keep them at bay. She’d been shown something incredible only to have it taken away, and in that moment she desperately wished she hadn’t met Luke Arroyo at all.
A tear raced down her cheek and she swiped at it. If he hadn’t come into her life, she never would have known what really happened to Edward, and she was grateful she knew the truth. It gave her a small bit of peace to spread over her pain, the relief of forgiveness some solace for her soul.
It wouldn’t bring her brother back, and it certainly wouldn’t keep Luke in her life, but it was vital to her ability to move forward. Yes, no matter what came next, she knew she’d lift her heels a little higher and raise her hopes for the future, the information she had learned freeing her a precious bit from her past.
None of that would have happened without Luke.
I want to keep him for myself.
Please.
But he didn’t want that, she could see it clearly now. He hadn’t said good-bye or left her a note because he hadn’t wanted a string to connect them as he exited stage right. He wanted her to go on without him, didn’t want to be a part of her future, had chosen to settle for his place in her past. And it hurt.
Oh, God, how it hurt.
They walked into the hospital in silence, Razorback a half step behind her. She wondered if he’d talked to Luke but decided it didn’t matter if he had. The corridors were white, the fluorescent lights casting an unpleasant glow that was reflected on the gleaming floors.
She rounded the corner into her father’s hospital room, the bed freshly made and empty. She furrowed her brow.
“You’re sure this is the right room?” asked Razorback.
She checked the number. “Three-thirty-three. I’m positive.” A nurse was walking by and Summer flagged her down. “Excuse me, where is Jerome Daniels? He was in this room.”
“He left last night. His brother checked him out.”
“He doesn’t have a brother.” She shot a panicked look at Razorback, who pressed the button on his cell phone.
“Should I get security?” the nurse asked.
“Yes. And call the police. Did you see the man he left with? Or get a name? Anything?”
“I talked to him. He was a nice old man. His name was…” She furrowed her brow. “I don’t remember. They were talking about old times, when they were young. How they worked together at Boeing.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered, her eyes going wide.
“What is it?” demanded Razorback.
Her eyes shot to his, then back to the nurse. “It’s not possible.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Damn it, what?”
“It’s Walsh.”
“Walsh is in custody, and he’s not getting bail this time.”
“Not Steven Walsh! His father, John. He’s a paranoid schizophrenic who’s convinced my father stole his ideas. He’s the one we’re after.”
31
Luke swung an axe through the air, the blade slicing into a piece of applewood with a single smack. He’d been at it since dawn, nearly two hours after he arrived home from the hotel room he’d shared with Summer.
He’d snuck out in the middle of the night like a coward, unsure he’d be able to leave if they made love one more time, shared one more touch or intimate moment. He was drowning in her, willing to give up air if it meant he could keep her, but the devil wasn’t offering any deals this time around.
It was better this way. Maybe she’d even hate him, thinking he used her and left her behind without a thought. It would be good if she did. Better still if she wished they’d never met, forgot what it was like when they came together like a spark and fine kindling.
He would always remember.
His mind was full of her, his bad mood just the beginning of what was sure to be months of getting over her. He was hot and sweating, the labor just a distraction for his mind that wasn’t even fucking working. He placed another piece of wood on the chopping block and lifted the axe over his head.
Every touch, every shudder of her body beneath him.
The axe came down hard, slicing the wood into two pieces, each falling onto the ground. His separation from Summer was inevitable, just like the wood splitting in two.
You’ve got to do better than that.
He jumped and spun around quickly, finding himself alone. But the voice in his ear was clear as day, as if someone had leaned in close and spoken the words out loud in a voice that
was all too familiar.
Buckeye.
Jesus, he needed some sleep. He was hearing voices now. There’d been no sleep for him last night. He might never sleep again, especially if Buckeye was talking to him.
He wiped his face. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he let the axe fall into the chopping block, standing with its blade stuck in the wood.
It was HERO Force. “Wiseman, it’s Mac. We’ve got a problem. Walsh’s father, John, checked Jerome Daniels out of the hospital last night.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Couldn’t have been him. He’s got dementia.”
With moments of clarity. Sometimes longer.
“He was positively identified from the hospital’s security footage. They’re also missing one of their nursing aide’s cars.”
Luke blew out air. “Shit. Any idea where he might be?”
“Got a hunch, yeah. Moto did a search. After Walsh got out of jail, he lived upstate, not far from you.”
Luke jogged toward his cabin. “What town?”
“Esopus.” He rattled off the address. “Razorback and I are on our way to you now. Hang tight and wait for backup. Local police might be out there, too.”
“I’m going to check it out.”
“Damn it, Wiseman, I said wait.”
He thought of Summer and how distraught she must be, her father and all he’d been through in the last couple of days. He owed these people a debt, and until they were safe and sound, it remained outstanding. “I’ll try.”
He hung up, racing to get suited up and ready. Zeke seemed to know something was up, following him from one end of the cabin to the other.
One knife went in a holder at Luke’s ankle, another at his waist. His favorite Glock, his bulletproof vest, a tactical vest over it filled with tens of items that came in handy more often than not, his comm set for when Mac got there. He held out Zeke’s bulletproof vest and the dog came to him, letting Luke put it on.
“You ready, boy?”
The dog ran to the door.
Luke finished tucking the last of his ammo into his pockets, his mind flashing back to Buckeye’s voice in his ear outside. He paused. “Can you hear me?”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A conversation maybe, but there was nothing. He went outside and climbed into his truck, Zeke hopping into the back. “I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t want to hurt you, brother.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Silence was the only reply.
But for the first time, Luke thought maybe Buckeye heard him, anyway. He revved the engine, determined to end this once and for all. “Let’s go.”
32
So far, Luke had kept his word, waiting for the backup that should arrive shortly, but he wasn’t making any promises.
He’d found Walsh’s old hunting cabin in the woods between Route 9W and Shaupeneak Ridge Park, barely more than a rusted-out metal shack with a hunting stand some two hundred feet away on the edge of a clearing.
Luke had settled in the stand, well hidden in his camouflage fatigues, Zeke lying quietly on the ground at the foot of the ladder and hidden by tall grass. Luke held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He had a clear view of the shack through the trees while still having adequate cover.
The stolen car was parked outside, leaving little doubt Walsh was in there. But there was only one window, and so far there’d been no sight of either of the men.
The distant sound of a vehicle was followed by Mac’s voice over his comm set. “Approaching the scene. We’re on foot, about a hundred yards out.”
“Affirmative.”
He climbed down from the stand to greet the men, the shape of three people coming into view. The tallest was Mac, followed by Moto but he couldn’t place the shortest of the three.
It wasn’t until she was nearly there that he recognized her, a visceral reaction sending heat throughout his body as they made eye contact. He looked away. “Jesus, Mac. What’s she doing here?”
Mac looked from one to the other. “She was looking for you at HERO Force headquarters when the call came in. Did I forget to mention that on the phone?”
“She nearly died when you let her come to the missile silo.” Luke met her stare, struck by the pain clearly visible in those eyes. “You should wait in the car. It isn’t safe for you here.”
“Forgive me if I don’t listen to a damn thing you say. I can prove my father didn’t steal Walsh’s ideas. That’s why I’m here.”
“And you think he’s going to listen to you? He’s eighty-eight years old, for Christ’s sake. He’s blamed your father for stealing his ideas for more than half his life.”
“He’ll have to listen to me.”
“He’s losing his mind.”
She crossed her arms. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, then.”
“Un-freaking-believable.” He gestured to a woodpile in the distance. “Can you at least stay behind there so you don’t get hurt?”
“Your concern for me is overwhelming,” she said, but she turned on her heel and headed for the woodpile.
He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing her here, Mac?”
“What the fuck were you thinking sleeping with her?”
Luke eyed his commanding officer. Mac was a good friend. “That obvious?”
“Uh, yeah. Now stop thinking with your dick and smoke those old men out of that toaster oven.” He handed Luke a tear gas gun.
“You don’t think this will kill them or anything, do you? I mean, they’re really old.”
“Summer says her father’s in good physical health—aside from the blood clotting thing—and the hospital doctor thinks Walsh can handle it.”
Luke took the tear gas gun and loaded it. “Guess you’ve thought of everything.”
“I try, but I’m still hoping that old dude doesn’t fight back. Nobody wants to shoot an octogenarian. Moto, you’re with me. Let’s get into position. Whoever’s inside there is going to come out in one hell of a hurry.”
Luke muttered under his breath. “Here goes nothing. Geriatric smoke bombing, take one.” He pulled the trigger, the tear gas canister breaking the window on its way inside, the shack filling up with smoke as Luke drew his Glock, waiting.
The door opened, a plume of smoke escaping along with a gray-haired man who must be Walsh, coughing and hacking. Mac helped him to a nearby picnic table as Luke approached the shack, gun drawn.
Daniels appeared in the doorway, coughing and gasping for air. “Help me,” he said, falling into Luke’s arms, just as Summer yelled in the background, “Daddy!”
“Arrest him!” yelled Walsh. “He stole my ideas.”
Luke helped Daniels to a boulder, the old man continuing to hack as he sat down.
Walsh wasn’t letting his lack of air slow down his outrage. “This man is a thief!”
Summer approached, her hand in a brown leather briefcase as she pulled out papers. “That’s not true. He came up with the ideas by himself. These documents are from his original research.”
Walsh twisted and turned against his bindings. “Liar! He took what was rightfully mine.”
She flipped through the documents, stacking papers on the picnic table as she spoke. “Copyright, 1962. Patent pending, 1963. Utility patent, 1966.
“Let me see those,” Walsh snapped. “My glasses.” He glared at Luke. “Get the glasses from my desk.”
Luke furrowed his brow, his hands on his hips. He looked from Mac to Summer, jumping into action when he saw her expression. “On it.”
Inside the cabin was neat and tidy, with enough room for a bunk beds, a small desk, and a little refrigerator. He found Walsh’s glasses and ducked back outside, watching as the old man donned them with pale, spotted hands.
Walsh mumbled to himself several minutes before raising watery eyes to Summer’s father. “What did you do with the originals?”
“These are the originals,” said Summer. “He didn’t st
eal your—”
Daniels snapped at her. “I’m talking to your father.”
Luke cocked his head.
He’s aware of the present.
The passage of time.
For a moment anyway, John Walsh was really with them. Summer appeared appropriately stymied, her hands on her hips while they waited for Daniels to answer.
“Those are the originals,” said Daniels.
“No more lies!” Walsh moved more quickly than Luke thought possible, grabbing Summer with a wiry arm and pressing a kitchen knife against her throat.
Luke drew his weapon in one fluid movement the instant he realized what was happening. “Let her go,” he yelled.
“I’m an old man with nothing to lose,” Walsh sobbed. “You stole everything from me that mattered, my life’s work, my greatest achievement. You destroyed me. Now I will destroy you, too.”
Daniels stood, his arms outstretched. “Let her go.”
“I filled out those papers for you to file. You betrayed me.” A trickle of blood trailed down Summer’s neck and she whimpered.
“I was wrong. What I did was wrong,” said Daniels. “I took the patents and I rewrote them with my name. The copyrights. Everything.”
Holy shit.
Luke watched Summer’s face. She still didn’t believe it. Her father was crying and doubt firmly took root in Luke’s mind. Was it possible her father had actually wronged this man years earlier, and all of this was retribution for that act?
Walsh stood, regal with his white hair blowing in the wind. “How could you do it? I was your friend!”
Summer’s father hung his head. “You weren’t well, John. Not for years before that. But when Jenny died, you blamed the CIA, claiming they’d poisoned her.”
Walsh slammed his fist on the picnic table. “They did!”
Daniels looked around, his eyes landing on Luke’s. “He believed the United States government was out to get him. He didn’t want his discoveries used in the space program. He wanted to give them to Russia. He’d lost touch with reality. If the patents had been in his name, he would have used them to support the other side.”
Daniels leaned heavily on the table as he moved to Walsh. “You were a danger to yourself by that point, John, and to Steven, too. You were already lost to us, but we were losing the boy, too.”
