by TL Schaefer
Then he was moving across the room, his strides purposeful. I rolled to the other side of the bed, almost making it before his voice, his words, penetrated.
“It’s just me, Monica. It’s Heath. Settle down, settle down, settle down.” His tone soothed, as if he were talking down a wild animal.
As my heartrate began to return to normal levels, I took a deep breath, let it out, acknowledged he wasn’t all that wrong.
He stopped on the opposite side of the king-size bed, clad in boxers, his body still mostly cast in shadow. But it was as if his eyes glowed. Blue fire.
“Are you okay?” he asked in that same gentle voice.
I swallowed, nodded, not quite ready to trust my voice.
I swiped at my damp cheeks, shame curling through me at the evidence of my weakness. I’d never been a crier before, had always been the strong one. Being the weak link was more debilitating than I’d ever fathomed.
“Can I do anything?”
I swallowed, hard. Why was he being so nice, so kind? I’d just awoken him, likely with screams.
Then he was walking around the end of the bed. He grasped my shoulders lightly and I knew I could pull away if need be.
“Monica, are you all right?” He was repeating himself, and I realized I’d never answered him.
“I’m fine,” I lied, and saw from the flash in those blue, blue eyes that he knew I was fibbing. “Just had a nightmare.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping it would be a hint for him to go back to bed.
Instead he dropped into the wingback chair next to the bed so we were at eye level, pinned me with his gaze.
“Wanna talk?” Now his voice had gone low, almost dangerous.
“I never remember them,” I blurted, horrified as the words bolted out. I felt tears prick the back of my eyes again, and this time they had nothing to do with the nightmare. They had to do with Tori and Joe and the fact I was still falling apart, no matter what I’d tried to do to fix myself. And if I couldn’t fix myself, then how the hell was I supposed to save Tori, avenge Joe?
Heath stood in one fluid movement, pulled me into his arms, then settled back into the chair.
I froze, shocked by the heat coming off of his bare chest, by the fact that lying against him was natural as the sun rising, by the fact the hand cupping my nape made me feel safer than I had in a long, long time.
“Just let it go,” he murmured, his breath whispering against my ear as he cradled me. “I’m here, Monica, I’ve got you.”
And God help me, I did. Something just broke inside. Not like earlier today when I’d mourned Joe. No, this was something raw and primal and scared, and when it rolled out of me it was ugly and jagged.
I sobbed against his bare chest until I was wrung out, so emotionally exhausted I could barely think.
I laid there, soaking in his heat, then lifted my head.
Our faces were inches apart and that old electricity arced between us like a living thing.
I bit my lip. Considered biting his, and watched his eyes flash again as he figured out what I was thinking.
Then, instead of making a move that we’d both likely regret in the morning, Heath lifted me, tucked me beneath the covers, brushed his lips over my forehead. “It’s okay, Moni. Sleep.”
My last thought before the night claimed me again was of Tori. I knew she was alive, felt it with every beat of my heart. They wouldn’t have taken her if they intended to kill her.
WHEN I AWOKE THE NEXT morning, my eyes were swollen, my brain muddy, and it took me precious seconds to remember the night before. When I did I collapsed against the pillows, my chest hollow.
Oh God. I’d completely disintegrated in Heath Farrell’s arms. Drowned him in a river of tears.
I’d never cried in front of Joe, never been willing to let him see that much of me, even after twelve years of marriage. Especially after twelve years of marriage.
Why had I let my guard down with Heath?
It had to be stress, everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. My terrible sleep patterns the last nine months.
Last night it had all come to a head, and Heath had been the one to see my collapse in vivid technicolor.
Mortified didn’t even begin to describe how I felt right this second. But at the same time, I felt clean, as if I’d purged something negative nesting inside. Like a parasite that fed on my emotions, on my terror.
I crawled out of bed and opened the heavy curtains, surprised to see the glow of dawn on the horizon.
If nothing else, my crying jag had emptied me out enough for me to get a full night’s sleep. Finally.
I needed every second of that rejuvenating sleep. Today I had to be on my game. Today we’d find out what had happened to Tori. We had to.
I took a quick shower, pulled on the least wrinkled clothes in my go-bag, steeled myself against what I was about to face, and headed down the stairs to confront Heath Farrell. To confront my weakness.
I would not be embarrassed by what happened. I would not feel vulnerable. I would be kick-ass Monica. Sergeant Foudy. Detective Foudy.
He was sitting in the war room at a small table for two, reading his tablet, the remains of breakfast on a plate that had been pushed aside. My stomach growled in response.
He bookmarked something, then looked up at me, his gaze traveling over me as physically as a caress. I steeled myself against shivering in response and sank into the seat opposite him, grabbing a cup of coffee from the insulated urn.
“Breakfast is in the oven,” he nodded at a door I hadn’t seen before, and I realized we were sitting in his dining room. He’d turned his dining room into a damned war room. I wasn’t sure what to think of that.
“Do we need to talk about last night?” There. I’d done it. Broached the subject I least wanted to.
The Iceman was back. “You had a nightmare. It happens to all of us.”
His admission to a vulnerability surprised me, then I realized he was trying to level the playing field between us. Why, when he’d never bothered before?
Maybe it was the fact our children were in harm’s way. That Joe’s death had changed the dynamic between us.
I didn’t much care about the whys.
Having a partner like Heath by my side made finding Tori soon, unharmed, that much more likely.
I had to think like that, had to believe it, otherwise I’d fall apart.
Last night’s catharsis had opened space in my emotional vault, so I tucked away the guilt at failing my child, the terror, just like I had yesterday in the car. Years ago in Afghanistan.
Hopefully this time it—I—would be more effective.
I had to believe it, had to have faith Heath and I would get the job done.
The dulcet tones of the exceedingly expensive doorbell rang throughout the house, and Heath and I stood at the same time, walked to the foyer with a shared purpose.
The faces on the other side of the door were happily familiar, as well as being a welcome distraction from further dissection of last night.
Seeing Brian and Sara made something click inside me.
I reached for Sara and hugged her tight, surprising a startled oof of air from her lungs. Then she pushed me back to arm’s length and looked at me. “Oh Monica, it’s worse, isn’t it?”
Then I was moving into Brian Roney’s arms for another big hug. We’d been in the shit together in much sandier places than this, back in the day. When we’d both been Security Forces in the Air Force. Bonds like that tend to run true and strong.
Heath shook Roney’s hand, then led us all into the dining room.
Now we could get down to business and figure out where the hell my daughter was. Nothing else mattered.
Before we’d even poured coffee, the doorbell rang again. Heath answered it, moments later leading Lawrence Foudy into the room. Lawrence pulled up a chair without a word, not even bothering to introduce himself to Sara and Brian, so I did the honors.
“Lawrence Foudy, Sara Covington and Brian Roney.” I paused, not entirely sure how to categorize the relationship I had with the two, that Heath had with them. In the end, I left it at that. But I did wonder why he was even here.
Farrell answered my thought. “I invited Lawrence this morning in case we receive a ransom call. If it happens, he’s the best equipped to handle it from a financial standpoint.” That squared with what I’d thought earlier. Then Heath recapped everything that had happened yesterday. Well, almost everything.
Brian gave us both a considering look. “Word in the precincts is that this was likely a professional hit, made to look like a hit and run. Betting pool is fifty-fifty that you hired it out, Monica. I imagine the forensic accountants are getting woodies right now waiting to get their hands on your bank accounts.”
Lawrence sucked in a pained breath. I held up a hand before he could speak. “They’re welcome to them. Joe and I never shared accounts. We set up a joint housekeeping account and another to take care of Tori, but for the most part, I’ve been living on a cop’s salary for the last thirteen years.”
Lawrence looked shocked down to the soles of his shoes. How had he been unaware of that little tidbit? Hell, even Farrell looked surprised. Only Sara nodded, as if she couldn’t imagine me doing anything different.
It had been something Joe and I fought about a bit, early on, but eventually he’d just given up. I hadn’t married him for his money, I’d married him for our child. And once we realized we just weren’t in love, no matter how hard we tried, the decision seemed even more logical.
Lawrence was still eyeing me as if I were some exotic reptile. He’d never understood me, and this revelation had likely upped his level of incomprehension to all new heights.
This little conversation was all well and good, but it didn’t get us any closer to finding Tori and discovering who’d killed Joe. I looked at Sara.
"Where do we need to go, and what do we need to do?"
She closed her eyes and went into what I'd describe as a trance, if I didn't know better. Sara had lived too much of her life on the run to put herself at risk by zoning out. Even with Roney and me at her back.
When she opened her eyes, her expression was troubled. “I can’t really see anything, which is weird. I’m getting much better at this, so for me not to see anything at all...”
“Like someone’s blocking you?” Farrell asked, beating me to the punch.
“No,” she shook her head. “More like there’s an absence of anything, almost like a Null space, but not quite.”
Huh. I’d only met two Nulls in the year I’d been associated with this craziness, people who couldn’t be read by an empath like me or an aural reader like Sara. Roney was one, Lloyd Trang, Farrell’s old bodyguard was another. And wasn’t that a chilling thought?
“Trang?” I asked, really, really hoping I was wrong. That Farrell’s ex-bodyguard had nothing to do with Tori’s disappearance, with Joe’s death.
“Shit,” Heath swore under his breath.
Trang had been a weird guy from day one, loyal only to Farrell, and in a way I’d describe as almost feral. Last fall in Denver, he’d completely lost it, killing our only lead, Dave Gordon. Gordon’s death had completely dead-ended our investigation into a spate of murders that crisscrossed the country. Trang had claimed it was a gift to Farrell.
At the time we’d thought it to be a fucked-up parting gift of sorts, that of a devoted and disgraced employee taking out a potential threat to his boss. But Jesus, what if it had been more?
Farrell was already dialing his phone. "Jonah, it’s possible Trang might be involved." He spoke for a few moments to the headmaster of CASI, then disconnected. "Everything is fine, or as fine as it can be with a school full of Talented kids on lockdown. I increased the security detail as soon as Tori was taken, so they’re safe."
"What do we do?" I asked all of them, even Lawrence, who was sitting in a corner watching us with barely disguised cynicism. The logical side of him had to be kicking and screaming, but he wanted his grandchild back, so was willing to accept this craziness—for now.
I’ll take matters into my own hands if I have to.
I stopped mid-thought. How in the hell had I “heard” that? I wasn't touching him, was clear across the room. I bit my lower lip.
Was it getting even worse?
Then an even more chilling thought struck. How would I ever be able to control myself around Tori when we got her back?
Futility roared through me. What could I possibly do to change this? How could I ever handle it?
Then Sara was beside me, her hand on my shoulder, her eyes concerned.
I shook my head, indicating that we'd talk later. If there was one person in the world I could talk to right now, it was Sara Covington. The comfort that thought brought was amazing in its simplicity, in its relief.
Heath was watching us with narrowed eyes but answered my question. "We start in Colorado Springs, at CASI. I need to check in with Jonah, and it makes sense to base out of there, at least right now. We need someplace to start, and my gut tells me this is about the Talented."
As much as I hated the idea of potentially heading in the wrong direction, my feet itched to get a move on, to find my child, to find Joe’s killer. Deep inside, I knew that staying in Dallas wouldn’t accomplish that end.
CASI seemed like a sensible place to start, even if the place did give me the heebie jeebies.
Lawrence stirred from his quiet place in the corner. "I don't know what all of you are babbling about, and I don't like it. But if it's going to help us find out who kidnapped Tori and killed Joe, then I'll go with you."
Farrell started to hold up a hand but Foudy interrupted him. "Farrell, you might have contacts I don't, and know more about this craziness than I do, but I've got something you don't. Respect in business circles. The governor of Texas' ear. A winter vacation lodge in Vail. Friends on the Senate Armed Services Committee, to include the senior senator from Colorado. Someone I trust implicitly will handle the ransom when it comes. Don't shut me out on this. I won't get in your way, but I want to be there when we find Tori, and I want my own kind of justice against whoever killed Joe."
Well shit. No one could argue with that. Not really. Because I'd circled in the Foudy's orbit for so many years, I'd forgotten how powerful they were in Texas, and even beyond the state, how much clout an old oil family held. Yeah, we could use him, even though he'd be a burr under Farrell's blanket. If I weren't paralyzed with worry over Tori, it might even be interesting to watch.
I BORROWED ONE OF FARRELL’S cars to swing by my house one more time. I used the excuse that I needed more clothes since there was still snow on the ground in Colorado, but in reality, I needed a bit of time to myself.
Being able to almost hear Lawrence’s thoughts, even from across the room, had thrown me for a loop. Given everything that’d happened to date, that was saying something.
The time away from everyone was what I needed. By the time I pulled into the private airfield where the Foudy’s hangared their jet, I was feeling much better. No, I wasn’t the “old” Monica everyone knew, but at least I felt reasonably competent. We’d see how long that held in an airplane crowded with mostly alphas. I slung my go bag over my shoulder and headed into the hangar.
I could hear my traveling companions from outside. Not their individual words, but the tone, and it was joyous. I began to run.
Had Tori been found?
The crowd around the plane parted, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was Joe.
Battered, bruised, and obviously pissed, but Joe. Alive.
Chapter Five
WHAT CAME BEFORE...
Papa always says family is everything, that family is all you need. I’m old enough now to see the way he looks at me and Mama, as if the sun rises and sets on us, as if just seeing our faces makes him want to cry.
I used to be able to help him when he felt that way, but now that I’m olde
r, the warm fuzzies I used to get from making people feel better are gone. I can’t remember when I stopped being able to help, and it makes me sad, because I loved that feeling.
I’m starting to think that losing those warm fuzzies is just a part of growing up.
Now, Colorado Springs...
Wonder cascaded through me. Followed by a bittersweet ache.
I was glad to see Joe standing in front of me, hearty and whole, but not flooded with emotion. I was simply happy to see the father of my child alive. Happy that Tori would have him to come home to when we found her.
I ran into his arms, gave him a huge hug. He grunted in response, and I realized I’d hit some sore spots, but he closed his arms around me in a return hug, then released me. His mouth was set in a grim line eerily reminiscent of his father, but his expression softened a bit when he looked at me.
Then my relief was swept away as his emotions assaulted me. I staggered back, right into Heath, who supported me as if he’d known this would happen. Joe’s rage was something I’d never imagined he had the emotional well for.
He would find the men who’d dared touch his little girl, and he would end them.
His eyes searched my face, my expression, then slid past me, to Heath.
“What the fuck have you gotten my family into, Farrell?” His voice was hard, uncompromising and one hundred percent shark.
I felt Heath’s hand leave my back and mourned the loss before I caught myself. I stepped away from both men, my attention ping-ponging between them.
Heath gestured to the plane. “I’ll explain on the way to Colorado Springs.”
Joe continued scrutinizing Farrell, then gave a short nod. “Yes, yes you will.”
I LET JOE AND HEATH hash it out. I placed myself in the seat closest to the pilots, since they seemed to be all business, at least when it came to the spouting emotions bit.
There was a bit of a seat buffer around me... Sara seemed to have warned everyone away from me, and I was glad of it. Even from afar I could feel the Foudy mens’ churning emotions, but they were far enough away that I was able to maintain my composure.
