“I love you.”
Destiny finger waved to man-bun guy and said, “Who doesn’t?”
They caught a cab to Destiny’s apartment, which was a richly furnished three-bedroom apartment with an “almost” view of the capitol. After Destiny fed her ugly naked cat, she popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and poured them each a generous glass. She and Leah snuggled with fuzzy blankets on her white couch and Leah told her everything, starting from the day she saw the Wanted poster in Agent Ashill’s office and ending with her decision to move back to Pennsylvania and getting fired.
Destiny listened with the laser attention that made her such an excellent saleswoman. When Leah finished, Destiny slumped into the couch cushion, finished her champagne with a long swallow, and said, “Holy crap.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Then let me say it again, holy crap. That stupid goddamned Vincente. I never liked that jerk, I really didn’t. He made my skin crawl. I never told you this, but one time he hit on me. You guys had been dating for a few months and he sidled right up to me and suggested we have a threesome. I put him in his place, don’t you worry, but you were so caught up in thinking he was the perfect man, and you’d had such bad luck that I didn’t want to take that away from you by telling you. I thought it would crush you.” Destiny’s expression turned stricken. “If I had though, maybe none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t go there, Destiny. Vincente—Sokolov—was assigned to keep an eye on the DA’s investigation regardless, so it wouldn’t have made a darn bit of difference if you had.”
Destiny refilled their glasses in an attempt to hide her wet eyes. “Leah, you almost died! If it wasn’t for this guy Ian you’d be six feet under right now.”
Leah chewed on her lip. She’d been frank about Ian’s role in saving her, but she’d left out the part where she stupidly fell in love with him. Even so, Destiny was an astute woman and caught the flash of repressed longing on her face. “Oh my God,” she said slowly. “You and Ian…you were a thing?”
Leah let out a breath. Well, there was no point in holding back now. “We sort of, um, slept together.”
Destiny squealed. “Details!”
Leah wasn’t a graphic sharer, but she told Destiny enough to have her flapping her hands in front of her face and pretending to swoon. “Girl, that man sounds just your speed.”
“Well he’s not.” Leah’s tone was sharper than she intended. “He has a business in Norway and I’m studying U.S. law. There’s zero future for us. And besides, he sort of just took off on me to hunt down Sokolov. I probably won’t ever see him again.”
Destiny pursed her lips. “I need to think.” She stood and disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bag of honey mustard pretzels, which she dumped into a clear glass bowl on the coffee table. Destiny was militant about what she put into her body, but she did have a weakness, and it was honey mustard pretzels. Leah knew she reserved them for emergency situations only. In fact, she’d only ever seen Destiny break the pretzels out twice before: once when Destiny’s fiancé dumped her, and the second time when her boss made a pass at her. Leah was touched that Destiny considered her situation honey mustard pretzel-worthy.
After Destiny chewed a few pretzels she asked, “Do you love him?”
Leah sipped her champagne. “I’ve read that a high-stress situation can trick people into thinking they have feelings for one another when they don’t.”
“Do you love him?”
“I really haven’t known him for long. The sex was so amazing I could be projecting my feelings from that onto the relationship.”
“Do you love him?”
Leah huffed, annoyed with Destiny’s tenacity. “All right! Yes, I love him.”
Destiny grinned. “I bet he loves you too. Why else would he put his own life in danger to keep you safe? If he didn’t care, why would he fly all the way to the United States and give the FBI hell for sending you alone into Senator Roth’s office?”
“No, you don’t understand him. He’s just like that; he’s got this honor code. He’s one of those people who compulsively follows through with what he starts. Besides, he’s a protector at heart. It’s in his DNA.”
“If you were just a job to him, why’d he take you to bed?”
“Well, I didn’t say he wasn’t attracted to me.”
“He’s going to come back for you. I know it.” Destiny used a pretzel to mime a giant heart over her chest.
“But Destiny, don’t you understand that whether or not he loves me is moot? We can’t be together. We live an entire ocean apart.”
“Maybe he can move?”
Leah shook her head. “No. He loves what he does. He and his partner live and breathe their company, and he’s not going to abandon it and travel halfway around the world to live in a foreign country for a woman he barely knows.” Leah stood and began pacing the thick carpet. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s over. I just have to accept that. It was amazing while it lasted, but it’s done now. Eventually I’ll get over him. Time heals, right? Besides, I’ll be so busy with law school I won’t even have time to think about him.”
“Here, here!” Destiny cried, lifting her glass. “I’m so proud of you for deciding to go back to school. I’m going to miss you like crazy, but you deserve the chance to chase your dream. You were always too good to be taking Amanda’s shit.”
“Thank you,” Leah said, her determination renewing. “It’s time to move on with my life.”
Now if only her heart would get the message.
Chapter 48
1 Month Later
Kerguelen Islands
South Indian Ocean
Ian Haugen lay on the side of the mountain, the tall grasses sweeping over his camouflaged body. A fly buzzed around his head, excited by the prospect of munching on something other than a seal or bird. Wind tunneled relentlessly through the grass, turning the fifty-degree weather into what felt like thirty. The uninhabited and unnamed island had a tundra climate and winds that could knock a man off his feet if he weren’t careful.
The French called the archipelago Îles de la Désolation, the Desolation Islands, for a reason. The closest civilization was 2,051 miles away in Madagascar, and it had taken Ian seven days by ship to reach the islands.
The fly landed on his hand but his skin didn’t so much as twitch. He twisted the scope a fraction of an inch, adjusting for the wind. Tracking Sokolov had been his greatest challenge yet. Despite his loathing of the man, he had to admit he was a formidable foe. He was well versed in the art of disappearing, and his survival training was extensive.
But then so was Ian’s.
Ian’s task had been made easier by the discernable trail of misery Sokolov left in his wake wherever he went. Sokolov’s last mistake had been kidnapping a woman in Madagascar and spiriting her away with him to the Kerguelen Islands. Ian didn’t want to imagine what she’d endured under Sokolov in the nine days she’d been his prisoner. She’d likely bear the emotional scars the rest of her life—but at least she would be alive.
When he’d arrived on the island and discovered the woman still lived, Ian had had to accept that he wouldn’t get to see the look in Sokolov’s eyes when he delivered his final justice. Ian had wanted him to know that it was he who’d hunted him down, that it was Finn’s murder that had brought the Russian to this fate. It frustrated him to be denied this personal pleasure, but Sokolov’s body count was already too high. Ian could not, would not risk Sokolov using the woman as shield, which he had no doubt the coward would do if he confronted him directly. He would have to end Sokolov’s life the way the way the other man had lived it: coldly, impersonally, brutally.
The wind kicked up a notch. Ian made another mental calculation and adjusted his equipment in response. Sokolov’s tent was the color of graphite and blended in with the rock edifice he’d used to shield it from the worst of the weather. Ten yards from the tent lay a small ring of stones t
hat he’d formed into a cooking pit, now charred and cold. The bones of a seal lay in a pile not far away. Sokolov’s food supply on the island was limited to insects, seals, and birds, leaving Ian to wonder how long the Russian had intended to hunker down there. Sokolov’s training gave him the skills to survive nearly anywhere, but that didn’t mean he was above desiring creature comforts.
A shrill, ear-piercing scream shattered the silence and startled into flight a flock of birds nesting on the rocks. The tent vibrated and the woman streaked out. She was naked and Sokolov had sheared off most of her hair. Ian could clearly see the deep slashes across her back and breasts. Anger hardened, icy and leaden in his belly, but he forced it back. He couldn’t afford the luxury of emotions, not if he wanted to remain focused.
Sokolov emerged from the tent, excited by the prospect of a chase. He was naked as well, his member stiff from the challenge the woman had just posed. Gleaming in his hand was a long, curved knife. Ian was too far to hear what Sokolov said, but through the scope he saw the effect his words had on the woman. She quaked and her knees slowly began to collapse. Displeased with this turn of events, Sokolov’s face turned ugly. He liked it when his prey was spirited; the evil inside of him thrived on crushing it.
Trembling, the woman tried to straighten herself. She brushed the back of her hand over her face and looked heavenward, as if praying to a God she no doubt felt had abandoned her.
Ian inhaled and then exhaled slowly. He would get one shot, and one shot only. He’d spent a full month tracking the bastard through cities, jungles, and across oceans, and he was tired. He was tired of living out of a backpack. Tired of surviving in the wild. Tired of being separated from Leah.
Leah. Every time he thought of her it filled him with an overwhelming urge to touch her, to hear her laugh, to watch her eyes go smoky with passion. He’d dreamed of her every night since he’d left her in that van on Constitution Avenue five weeks ago, and every morning he’d awoken with a hollow feeling inside of his chest that had never been there before.
At first he’d thought the ache would dull with time, but the longer he’d been away from her, the stronger his need for her had grown. He couldn’t understand why his feelings for her hadn’t dissipated with the danger. Instead of slowly recovering emotional ground, every time he’d seen a sunset streaked with red and gold, a street vendor with a rough-hewn face filled with character, an adorable baby with its mamma, he’d wanted to share it with her. It hadn’t taken him long to realize he wanted to share more with her than beautiful sunsets and passion-drenched nights; he wanted to share everything: the good, the funny, the ugly. He wanted to wake up beside her and know that no matter how the day went, she would be there at the end of it.
Within a week of his departure he’d come to terms with what he’d known since Leah had literally clocked Jeremy Walker over the head: he’d fallen in love. He—Ian Haugen, ex-FSK agent and world-class human tracker—had been taken down by an American with big eyes and bad taste in men—excluding himself of course.
After he’d accepted the fact that he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, it had taken him the next four weeks to figure out how to do it. His business, his entire life was tied up in Northern Wolf Services. As for Leah, her interest was in American law. He’d briefly thought about trying to convince her to take a go at Norwegian law but had ditched the idea almost as soon as it had occurred to him. Leah was finally going to chase her life-long dream of being a lawyer, and he’d be damned if yet another man stood in her way, even if it was him. He’d then toyed with the idea of long distance, but had known he didn’t want to go weeks at a time without seeing her.
In addition to the logistics of working out their relationship, there was the fact that he still had to convince her to take a chance on him. She’d told him she wanted one night with him. She’d agreed to an affair. What made him think she’d change her mind just because he had?
The obstacles seemed insurmountable. But then Ian always had liked a challenge.
The woman screamed again, the sound stark with terror as Sokolov waggled the tip of the blade in a come hither motion with one hand, the other dropping to his erection.
“For Finn,” Ian whispered, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 49
It was nearly 7 PM and Leah was still at the offices of Hutch & Dorsey even though the partners and support staff had left hours ago. Because she was the first temp to work there in years, she’d inherited a boatload of neglected filing and had been granted permission to log overtime in order to complete the tedious task.
She hummed as she sat on the three-legged stool and pulled out a filing cabinet drawer. The work was monotonous and far below her skill level, but she didn’t mind because yesterday her acceptance to the Pennsylvania School of Law had arrived. She was slated to enroll for the spring semester and her credits would transfer from William Harrison, meaning she would enter as a sophomore.
When she’d received the letter she’d hugged it close to her chest and danced around her tiny apartment kitchen while a pot of water boiled over on the stove. She couldn’t wait to tell Ian. She knew he’d be incredibly proud of her and—she’d stopped then, some of the excitement draining. It had been more than a month since she’d seen him and yet she still caught herself wanting to share her joys and sorrows with him. The day she’d submitted her online application she’d wished she could call him and listen to his deep voice congratulate her. The time her new boss had yelled at her for spilling coffee on his suit she’d wanted to vent to him. When her mother had made a dig about her lack of a relationship, she’d wanted to roll her eyes and laugh about it with him.
Yet she hadn’t so much as had a smoke signal from him. There hadn’t been any news coverage of Sokolov’s death or capture. There had been nothing but six weeks of silence. Unable to bear it any longer, two weeks ago she’d contacted Agent Ashill, who’d sheepishly admitted that as far as he knew Sokolov was still at large. A week after that she’d worked up the nerve to contact Northern Wolf Services. Mia had answered and immediately transferred her to Erik, who told her he hadn’t had any communication from Ian since he’d called to say he was going after Sokolov nearly a month ago.
“Don’t worry about him,” Erik had assured her. “Ian will get his man in his own time.” His tone had been matter-of-fact, as if it had never occurred to him that Ian might fail. “I’ll have him call you when he gets back.”
“No,” she’d said quickly. It had been clear to her that Ian wanted a clean break. All she wanted was to know that he was alive, and then she could finally move on and put it all behind her. “I’ll call back.”
But she wasn’t sure she would.
Her phone chimed musically from her desk in the reception area. She set the stack of files on the floor and stood to answer it. When she looked at the caller ID she groaned before clicking on. “Yes, Mom?”
“I got a letter for you,” her mother said without preamble.
Since Leah had moved back to her hometown she’d been seeing a lot of her mother. She couldn’t say their relationship had improved all that much, but when she’d settled into the apartment over the bakery and visited her mother for the first time in two years, her mother had seemed so much older and frailer than she’d remembered. Leah had been ashamed that she’d allowed her work to keep her from visiting the woman who’d raised her. Since then she’d been trying to make amends by dropping by her parents’ for weekly dinners and biting back scathing retorts to her mother’s incessant barbs.
“I’m coming over for dinner tomorrow so I’ll read it then,” Leah replied, absently flipping through the mail that someone had left on her desk to sort.
“I already read it.”
Leah set the mail down. “I’m pretty sure that’s a federal crime.” She could almost hear her mother purse her lips over the phone.
“I thought it was mine. It wasn’t until I opened it that I realized it was for you.”
Leah’s heart rate picked up a notch. If her mother was calling her about the letter instead of waiting until she saw her tomorrow, then it must be bad. Her thoughts immediately went to Ian. Would he send a letter to her parents’ address when he realized she no longer lived in D.C.? Or could it be from Amanda? A photocopy of her termination letter? A last paycheck?
“It’s an apology letter,” her mother said.
Leah’s brows shot up. Who owed her an apology? Unless Ian had sent her a version of a Dear John letter, in which case she was going to kill him.
“From William Harrison University School of Law.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “What on earth are you talking about?”
For as long as Leah could remember her mother had been brusque and efficient. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Leah, but warmth and introspection had never been her strengths. Now, for the first time ever, when Mae Parker spoke she sounded unsure of herself. “Leah, what really happened to make you leave law school six years ago?”
“I don’t—why are you asking me?”
“I’m holding a letter of formal apology for the actions of Professor Arnold Deering, who has recently come forward and admitted to sexually harassing and assaulting a number of female students. Care to tell me why they’re sending this letter to you?”
Leah gulped in air. “Umm. Well, here’s the thing. I didn’t just drop out of law school because I couldn’t commit. I was kind of asked to leave.”
“I see.” The two words hit Leah’s ear like a ton of bricks. She’d known her mother wouldn’t understand. “And why were you asked to leave?”
“I hit Professor Deering.”
Silence.
“Because he tried to force himself on me.”
Finding Lies Page 25
