by Rachel Grant
Rav planted his forearms on the desk, leaning forward. He wore his calculating expression. The one that indicated he was weighing his options as well as his words. “I can say this. If what I suspect is true, we need to be on the lookout for white men between eighteen and…seventy?”
Sean snorted. “Way to narrow it down.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Definitely white, though, if that helps.”
“Does this have to do with that white supremacist conspiracy website? The one you’ve been pushing the Senate to investigate?”
Rav cleared his throat and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
If Sean remembered correctly, the modus operandi of the online “news” site—Voigt Forum—was to dox those who openly opposed them and to sic their racist followers on the exposed, asking them to stalk and harass and basically make the person’s life a living hell. Rape threats and death threats were just the starting point. A month ago, a Black man who’d been profiled on the site had been lynched, and Rav had called for the site owners to be held accountable, to be tried and convicted for murder along with the white men who’d actually done the lynching.
A senator from West Virginia, Christopher Small, had been a regular contributor on Voigt Forum prior to his election. He’d taken exception when Rav had called for a Senate investigation into the lynching. It appeared Senator Small hadn’t broken all ties with the website as promised.
“Do you think Senator Small is behind this, to get you to back off?”
“I’m not naïve enough to dismiss him as a suspect, but it seems improbable.”
“I’m with Isabel. I don’t understand the need for secrecy,” Sean said. “I mean, I’m fine pretending to be with Hazel, but why is it necessary? It’s just going to be us at the inn the first night. Can’t we pretend for the other wedding guests but tell our friends the truth?”
“Too much room for error.”
Sean studied Rav, and slowly, the truth dawned. The redacted part of the note hinted at—or outright stated—a connection to one of the wedding guests. And maybe that person was involved somehow.
It was easy to rule out ninety-five percent of the guests. He’d trust all but one with his life. And that one was a newcomer with a top secret past. “Motherfucker. Matthew? You don’t think he—?”
But Rav’s suspicions did make sense. Matthew Clark had, after all, been a Russian spy and assassin. But the CIA, FBI, DOJ, and probably a dozen other letters Sean didn’t know about had vetted him. As far as Russia knew, Dimitri Veselov—also known as the Hammer—died in Palau along with his handler. The man had spent months in intensive debriefing with the CIA and FBI. How was it possible they’d missed something?
Rav was silent. Finally, he said, “We can’t be too careful.”
But dammit, Dimitri—Matt—was crazy about Ivy, crazy about the son they were in the process of adopting.
He frowned. “I’ve never picked up racist vibes from Matthew,” Sean said. “And believe me, I notice.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Rav said. Silence settled between them. There were a lot of words cloaked in that silence. Finally, Rav let out a deep sigh and said, “We’re good for this weekend, then?”
Sean nodded. “I’ll protect Hazel and make sure we’re convincing.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “This situation is…delicate. Any action I take that triggers Hazel—or anyone—to get wind of Matt’s past, and Ivy could lose Julian. That little boy can’t be put through losing another mother. And Matt could very well be innocent, and his carefully constructed new life could be yanked away if I screw this up. There’s a lot at stake here. Probably even more than I realize. I want you to know I wouldn’t have asked this of you if I didn’t believe it was necessary. Having you guard Hazel is the only way I can think of to keep this under wraps while keeping everyone I love safe. This way, even Matt is protected.”
Sean nodded. He was starting to get an idea of the stakes, and the secrecy at least made sense, even the fact that he couldn’t explain it to Hazel.
If Hazel ever learned the truth about all the ways she’d been lied to—by Rav, by Ivy, and even by Sean, she’d be livid. It was a good thing she would never, ever find out.
8
“Aside from the death of your childhood friend, there’s another area I want to explore that could be a trigger for your anxiety.” Dr. Parks’s smooth, even voice was comforting, even as she said things that made Hazel uncomfortable. “You mentioned last week your experience in Ukraine, which predated your work in Croatia. Being detained for thirty-six hours by Russian separatists must’ve been a huge ordeal, yet you downplay it. It’s possible you suppressed that trauma, and in Croatia, other work stress piled on and it all became too much.”
Hazel considered the doctor’s words carefully. She hated thinking of what happened in Ukraine. Detained and accused of being a spy, she’d been terrified. Yet she’d known the accusations were a ruse—an attempt to expel ICMP from the country because they were exposing an atrocity committed by Russia. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t make an example of her, though. The threats they’d made had been very real.
Alec had pulled political strings and got her out of the country in record time. After what had happened to Ivy in Palau, her cousin didn’t mess around.
“It’s possible,” she said. “But I’m not dreaming of the men who detained me like I am about the kids.”
“Your brain might be protecting you by having you process the trauma you can handle. I would think the fear you felt in Ukraine was a sort of terror entirely different from the heartache triggered by your work. One you are used to processing, the other is unknown. In our next sessions, I think we should delve deep into those thirty-six hours. Maybe through hypnosis, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“I suppose…” Even as she said the words, revulsion rose inside her. Yeah. She was resisting thinking about Ukraine. The doctor could be on to something.
“Delving into that event, like exploring the loss of your friend at a young age, are the long-term strategies for relief. If we can root out the source, we can maybe put an end to the panic attacks and make the anxiety manageable, maybe even disappear.”
Lord, how she wanted the anxiety to disappear. But she was under no illusion there would be a quick fix, much as she wanted one.
“In the short term, we can discuss antidepressants and anxiety meds, as well as exercises to use when you feel an attack coming on.”
“Yesterday, in the lake, there was no warning. I just…fainted.”
“But you said you were seeing children’s bones and confusing the locations. Those were the warning signs that your anxiety was ratcheting up. If you can learn to identify those and do a few simple exercises, you might be able to stave off an attack, or at least lessen the severity. The fainting is really alarming, but given that the attack had a trigger—the strong association of the bones in the lake to the bones in Croatia—the sudden drop in blood pressure makes sense. What you are suffering from is different from a simple panic attack. It’s more like a phobic trigger—some people see blood, and their phobia makes their blood pressure drop so fast, they faint.”
“I can’t do my job if I faint at the sight of bones.”
“Exactly. But unlike a person seeing blood without warning, you know when you’re going to see bones. So you need to learn mechanisms to ground yourself. You should share these techniques with Isabel and your cousin, and anyone else you spend time with, so they can help you in the event of another attack. Are you seeing anyone? Is there anyone with you when you can’t sleep?”
The point-blank question startled Hazel in that she realized she had to lie to her psychotherapist, which didn’t seem like the best thing to do. But Sean had spent last night with her, so it wasn’t so much of a lie. “Yes. It’s a new relationship, though.” Really, really new.
The doctor frowned. “Generally, I wouldn’t recommend starting a new relationship right now, but it can be beneficial to have
someone talk you through the panic, and it sounds like your worst episodes—with the exception of yesterday—happen at night.”
“Yes. Except now I need to examine the bones during the day.” She shook her head, realizing Alec’s ridiculous fake-boyfriend idea actually could help her here. “Although my boyfriend is taking time off work so he can be with me while I’m examining the bones. I’m setting up a lab on the estate. It’s just across the yard, an easy commute, and a place where he can hang out. He’ll be with me if I have problems during the analysis.”
“That sounds perfect—exactly what I would have recommended if possible.”
“I think it will be fine. though. I’ve never had an issue in a lab situation. It’s always the field. Seeing human bones discarded like garbage…” All at once, the image of a small skull peeking through dirt came to mind. A tiny red tennis shoe. A stuffed frog, once green but now grayish brown from dirt and age.
Another skull, staring up at her from a shallow, fake lake. Rust-colored water filled the eye sockets like dark bloodstains.
Her breathing went shallow.
“Hazel, focus on my words. Spread your hands on the arms of the chair. Feel the texture?”
“Yes.”
“Describe it.”
“Leather. Cold.”
“Feel it warm beneath your hands. Send your warmth into it. The warmth is the flow of energy through your body. Take a deep breath in.”
Hazel did as instructed.
“Hold for a count of four. Now exhale. Focus on the outbreath. Make it long and slow. Again now.”
She followed the instructions and the images faded. All she could think of was breath and the energy her hands exchanged with the armchair. She opened her eyes, which she hadn’t realized she’d closed, and took a normal breath.
“That was a pretty basic technique that helps if you catch the anxiety build up right as it starts,” Dr. Parks said. “If you’d been sitting at a table, I’d have had you put your hands on the flat surface. Texture is important to grounding yourself. So is breathing. You can do that exercise alone or guided, as I just led you. But there are other techniques you can use as well, and you’ll want to try them all to see what works best.” She leaned forward, staring into Hazel’s eyes. “How do you feel?”
Hazel took another slow breath, and considered the question. And strangely, she felt…good. The simple technique had worked to refocus her thoughts before they spiraled out of control. She smiled. “Good. Like I can do this.”
Dr. Parks smiled broadly. “I’m so pleased. You are going to work through this, Hazel. I’m so glad you didn’t waste any time coming to see me. So often, people resist seeking help in the early stages of anxiety, but this is perfect timing to begin the work.”
“It was Isabel’s idea.” Isabel had recommended Dr. Parks because the woman had helped her after her ordeal in Alaska and to process her grief from losing her brother.
By the time the session ended, Hazel felt revitalized. For the first time, she had real hope she could work through this. With the coping mechanisms, she’d have a way to deal with the physical manifestation of her anxiety while she processed and worked through the mental issues.
Of course, the quickest solution would be for Sean to hold her every night. He could be her therapy. She shook off the thought as she stepped into the waiting room where he sat. He might be handsome and charming and hot and have an unexpected caring side, but he couldn’t cure her. She needed to do the hard work herself.
As they left the office, Sean said, “I called Ian. We’re all set for the weekend.”
“So it’s official. We’re dating.”
“We are. Also, my mom wants to meet you.”
Good Lord, how would they navigate that? “I’m sorry you had to lie to your mother.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like the time I told her I was sleeping over at a friend’s but really was planning to take my girlfriend to a hotel so we could lose our virginity together in something other than the back of a car.”
“And you got caught?”
“Yeah. Most kids get busted for using a fake ID while buying beer. I was using it for the hotel room. Except, at seventeen, I really did look like I was twenty-one, but my girlfriend, who was also seventeen, looked like she was about fifteen. The clerk called the cops, figuring he was saving a young girl from statutory rape. So that was fun.”
“Oh my God. Were you arrested?”
“No. Because we were the same age—and we hadn’t even gotten our room—the only thing I was guilty of was having a fake ID. The police took it and called my mom and my girlfriend’s mom. Not surprisingly, we were both grounded for two weeks.”
“Did you end up losing your virginity together?”
“Ah, so we’re already to the sharing our sexual history part of the relationship.”
She smiled. “Hey, you brought it up.”
He laughed. “True.”
They descended the stairs. The staircase was wide and sweeping with an old, carved railing. She ran her hand down the smooth, dark hardwood. Taking in the texture. Feeling grounded.
“To answer your question,” Sean said, “sort of, but not then. Our parents conspired to keep us from being alone after that—and eventually we ended up getting in a big fight and broke up.” He shrugged. “High school.”
They reached his SUV in the small parking lot behind the doctor’s office. Hazel climbed into the front seat and said, “I’m still trying to figure out what ‘sort of’ means.”
“Well, when we finally had sex, I was a virgin and she wasn’t. You asked if we lost our virginity together.” He shrugged. “I was home on my first break from the Navy. I ran into my ex-girlfriend at a party and…might have made a point of letting her see that the muscles she’d liked before had multiplied.”
Hazel laughed. “Your shirt was accidently ripped off?”
“Something like that. Anyway, we ended up having sex in a car after all.” He fixed her with a look. “How about you?”
“My story is boring in comparison. Sophomore year of college with my first real boyfriend. We dated for about a month before having sex in his bed in his apartment. We continued dating for a couple of months until I came home one day to find him banging my roommate on our couch.”
“Ouch. That the guy Ivy took cyber revenge on?”
“Yep. Although I don’t think she ever did anything. Honestly, after the initial heartbreak passed, I was more devastated by my roommate’s betrayal. She was all teary and claiming it only happened the one time, saying it was an accident. I asked what that even meant—had he tripped and his dick fell inside her? She was pretty damn sorry, though, when I demanded she move out. Alec’s dad owned the condo, so I wasn’t leaving. Her rent was only a token amount too—just enough to cover utilities. So really, she’s the one who paid the biggest price for sleeping with him. He was such an ass, I doubt he even cared.”
She cocked her head. “This was quite a tangent, but I suppose it’s good to know some of these details about each other. It will add authenticity. But really, I’m sorry you had to lie to your mom about us. That doesn’t feel right.”
Sean shrugged. “You’ll be lying to your sister, and if this goes on for any length of time, probably your parents too. Don’t they live in the area?”
“They live in the Eastern Shore region of Maryland, in a tiny town in Dorchester County. They visit the DC area far more than I go there, so yeah, if this goes on for too long, they’ll get wind of my new boyfriend.” She smiled. “After what happened to Ivy in her first marriage, they would ask Alec to have Raptor run a background check on you—they were so relieved by Raptor’s report on Matt—and they’ll be unabashedly thrilled to know you’re pre-vetted.”
“Not the usual way I go about impressing my girlfriend’s parents, but I’ll take it.” Sean put the car in gear. “Okay, what’s next? Do we need to get you a dress for the wedding?”
“Nah. I’ve got plenty of dresses. Let�
��s head back to Alec’s so I can set up the lab and get to work.”
As Sean pulled out into traffic, she felt calmer than she had in months. Partly it was feeling good about her conversation with Dr. Parks, but more than anything, it was the ease she felt with Sean after he’d held her last night. Something had changed. But if she wasn’t careful, she could easily make the mistake of falling in love with him.
Sean helped Hazel set up four eight-foot banquet tables in the conference room in the annex that had been cleared to be Hazel’s lab. He knew this room well. In the early days, when Rav had first purchased Raptor, he’d run the company out of the estate annex while both the DC office and Virginia compound were overhauled to get rid of everything the previous owner, Robert Beck, had his corrupt fingers on.
There’d been a biological weapons lab in the Virginia compound, forcing the entire compound to close for six months as it was carefully searched by the FBI and then cleaned by a federal hazmat team. When he wasn’t on assignment, Sean and a few other operatives had worked with Rav in the annex during those months, planning the trainings they now ran at the Virginia compound and Anderson Lake property in addition to providing feedback on the operational structure of the private security company moving forward.
He and Rav had a connection in that they’d both left the military to spend time with dying parents. The job had been a lifeline for Sean.
As the company came together, he’d felt a renewed energy. It had been an exciting time, working with Rav as Raptor reformed into a company to be proud of, and being in the annex triggered a bit of nostalgia.
Hazel bent over to pick up one of the large metal trays they’d stacked just inside the door last night, and thoughts of Raptor past whooshed out of his head as he took in her ass.
She stood, large, heavy metal tray in hand, and placed it on the nearest table. He shook his head to clear away the haze of lust and crossed the room to help her. It only took a few minutes to set out all sixteen trays she’d borrowed from Talon & Drake. She then took bags of bones that had been collected from the lake and set one in the center of each tray.
