“So, what do I do with this?” Miranda asked, holding up the bracelet.
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t mean for you to give this to me.” Her eyes clouded, then widened. “You don’t think—”
“He wasn’t cheating,” Brooke said quickly. “His last words, his last thoughts, were of you and the kids—and the fact that he wasn’t a traitor. He wanted me to pass that on to you and said to keep it safe.”
Tears flooded the widow’s eyes and she dashed them away as though the action was just habit now. “Thank you,” she whispered and held out the bracelet for Brooke. “He bought it for a reason. Or maybe someone gave it to him to give to me.”
“Why don’t you keep it until we know for sure?” Brooke said. “If nothing turns up, at least you’ll have it.”
Miranda dashed away another tear. “Sure. I’ll put it in my jewelry box with the rest of my stuff. You’ll know where it is if you figure out what to do with it.”
“Thank you. Well, I guess that’s it,” Brooke said, taking a step back toward the door. “I really just wanted to give you that and see how you were doing.”
“My parents don’t live too far away, so they’re a big help. But I’m surviving. Just taking it one day at a time.”
“Yeah,” Brooke said. She understood that in her own way. “Will you call me if you think of anything else Isaiah might have mentioned that would lead us to figuring out why he was targeted and labeled a traitor?”
“Absolutely.”
Brooke handed the woman her card and followed Asher out of the house.
Once they were back in his vehicle, he let out a low breath. “I need to talk to my former captain.”
“Why?”
“He knows something about Isaiah. He was the one who had the evidence and sent us to the café to pick him up. I’ll call in a bit and see if he’ll tell me anything.”
“He won’t.”
“Probably not, but it won’t hurt to try. Where to now?”
“Home, I guess.” She leaned her head against the window and peered out. Or she could go to Heather’s again. While Asher was making a call, she picked up her phone and sent her friend a text.
Are you at home?
Work. On the way to surgery. Can I call when I’m done?
Sure.
A pause, and then Heather texted.
Everything okay?
Brooke hesitated. She wouldn’t tell her friend about everything over text, but she didn’t want to worry her either.
Everything’s okay. Just give me a call when you can. No rush.
Will do.
Brooke let her phone rest on the seat between her knees. “Heather’s at work and I can’t keep crashing at her place. Besides, if someone’s after me, I don’t want to put her in danger.”
Asher shot her a glance that she saw from the corner of her eye. “You’re sure you want to go home then?”
“Not really, but what choice do I have?”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Okay, then you make it because I think I’m done in.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Asher’s head pounded a steady beat behind his eyes, and when his phone rang, he jumped like he’d been poked. He grabbed the phone from the dash holder and switched it off the car Bluetooth to his earpiece. “Captain Newell, thanks for calling me back.”
Static broke the connection for a brief moment, then finally cleared enough for him to hear the man. “. . . in a meeting. Can you hear me?”
“I can.”
“Your message sounded important. What do you need?”
“First, anything on Ricci?”
“I would have called you if I’d found anything out. All I know is he was discharged for disorderly conduct. Nothing to tell me why he’d break into Brooke Adams’s home. If I hear of anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir. Then I need to know what you know about Isaiah Michaels. I’ve just been to see his widow and they’ve cut off his pension, everything. What evidence is there against him?”
“That’s classified, son. You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Sir, normally I wouldn’t even consider asking, but this is a matter of life and death. I need to know.”
Silence. Static. “. . . can’t tell you! Now quit asking.”
“Someone’s trying to kill Brooke Adams over this. And me as well, if you want to get technical. Now I need to know what Isaiah knew that was worth killing over!”
Brooke stirred.
More silence from his captain, then, “Kill you?”
“Yes. I need to know what—or who—I’m fighting against and I need your help.”
“James—” Asher heard the heavy sigh in spite of the bad connection. “Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.” Click.
Asher wanted to throw the phone.
“You okay?”
He glanced at Brooke. She’d been asleep the moment she shut her eyes and he didn’t blame her. It had definitely been a rough couple of days. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her eyelids flickered. “S’okay. He wouldn’t tell you anything, huh?”
“No, but he said he’d see what he could do and call me back.”
“I suppose that’s something.” Her eyes shut again. “I’m so sleepy. Why can’t I stay awake?”
“Because your body is ready for some rest and you keep denying it.”
“True.” She shifted, gently slapped her face a few times, and yawned.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught her watching him. “How do you feel about getting a hotel room?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now I’m awake.”
Heat flooded into his cheeks and he was glad it was dark. “Or two? You know, one for each of us. With a connecting door. So I can keep an eye on you.” He gave a little groan. “I mean so I can help keep you safe and yet both of us can have the privacy we need to . . . Ugh.” He was making a mess of a simple suggestion. A testament to his fatigue.
“It’s okay, Asher,” she said. “I know you’re not suggesting anything inappropriate.”
“I’m not. I’m simply wiped out and I don’t feel like driving back. I thought you might feel the same.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have offered to drive.”
“You have to be awake to do that.” He shot her an amused smile. “No way was that happening.”
“There is that. A hotel sounds like a good idea,” she said.
He could feel her studying him and kept his eyes on the road. “Why do I feel like a bug under a microscope right now?”
“While I’m sure you’re exhausted, why do I have the feeling that your suggestion to stop at a hotel is coming from something other than fatigue?”
Was that amusement in her voice? “I can’t be tired?”
“You were special ops. I’m sure you’ve been beyond tired before and I doubt you needed to find a hotel room.”
“It’s really scary how well you read me.” What was actually scary was that while it made him a bit uncomfortable, he found he didn’t mind her keen insight into him. Very weird. “Yeah, okay. I’ll admit I’m a little concerned about driving back in the dark. Those guys had a reason for chasing us off the road earlier. And they did their best to track us down. I don’t trust them not to try again.”
“So what’s your plan?” she asked.
“I think I want to call in some reinforcements.”
“Who did you have in mind?” she asked. “Gavin?”
“Yes.”
“What can he do to help?”
“He’s got tools and resources that can help make sure we’re doing everything possible to shut down these guys as fast as possible.”
“Shut them down?”
“Meaning we catch them or set them up for the cops to do so. Either way, we need to get them in custody so we can find out why they’ve targeted you.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I’m thinking on it. As soon as I have a plan, we go on the offensive.”
“Works for me.” She shut her eyes again and Asher stared. Just like that she trusted him to do what was best for her. For them. It kind of blew him away.
And scared him to death, as memories from his past rushed in to pound him.
Half of his unit had trusted him to lead them and do what was best for them on their last mission and they’d wound up dead. He swallowed. God, don’t let me lead her wrong. Don’t let me lead her to her death. I can’t handle another person dying on my watch.
Victor looked at the map on his phone and glanced at the man in the seat beside him. Chester “Buzz” Howard. They’d been in Afghanistan together, but Victor hadn’t realized he was involved in their secret. “How’d you get pulled into all this?”
“It’s a well-known fact that I gamble. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at it. I guess word reached the powers that be and I was made an offer I couldn’t turn down.” The fact that the man had no trouble killing probably had been the only reference needed to ensure him a spot in the closed group—and a cut of the money coming in.
“Check this out.” Victor passed him the phone.
Buzz studied it before lifting his gaze. “Were they headed to where I think they were?”
“Had to be. Nothing else around here makes sense, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Michaels’s house isn’t too far from here. He had a cookout there once and a bunch of us who lived around here went. They had to be going to see the widow.”
“It’s been hours. You think they’ve already been there or do you think they holed up to lick their wounds?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Victor took another swig of his iced tea, then pulled out of the fast-food restaurant. They’d been regrouping since Buzz crashed the stolen white SUV. Victor had been trailing in the black van, keeping a good amount of distance since James had spotted him and would be looking for him. He’d picked up Buzz and they’d given chase, only to be outsmarted at the barn. “We underestimated her,” he said.
“Not her. Asher James.”
“Speaking of James,” Victor said, “what was he doing in that office yesterday?”
“No idea.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe Ricci killed the wrong person.”
“Whatever. We just have to get the right one or we’re all done for.”
Victor pulled onto Miranda’s street and parked two doors down. He shut off the engine to wait while Buzz caught a nap. Victor didn’t begrudge the man his rest. He was earning it.
When the light in the kitchen went out, he knew it wouldn’t be long before they could make their move. She had two kids she’d want to keep safe, which meant she’d give them whatever he decided to ask for. As the dashboard’s clock ticked toward midnight, he ate his protein bar and went over the plan in his mind.
He waited another forty-five minutes just to be sure she was good and asleep, then nudged Buzz, who opened his eyes, instantly awake. “It’s time?”
The light in the kitchen went back on and Victor smothered a curse. “I guess not.”
Buzz settled back against the door. “We’ll give it another hour. There’s no hurry. She’s not going anywhere.”
Asher lay on the double bed, hands tucked under the back of his head, gun at his side. He’d called Gavin, and after he’d filled his friend in on everything, Gavin promised to meet them at Brooke’s home first thing in the morning.
Now he stared at the ceiling while the television on the dresser silently played the local news. Every so often, he’d glance at the screen and had caught the blip about the wreck with the white SUV. One thing he’d learned was that the vehicle had been stolen early that morning.
He ran the timeline of events through his mind, trying to make some sense of everything.
First, there’d been the dead woman in Brooke’s office. That could have been a simple robbery gone wrong, but when one added in the facts that Ricci was in Brooke’s home and someone had tried to run them off the road and shot at them . . .
In his book, that meant someone wanted Brooke dead.
But why?
He didn’t have a fat clue and that bothered him, so he turned his thoughts to Brooke.
Brooke Adams.
He liked her name. Actually, he liked her. A lot. He’d noticed her once on base and had made a point to talk to her. She’d been friendly enough, but . . . distant at the same time. So he’d taken the sneaky route and learned her schedule, making sure to run into her occasionally.
And yes, he knew it sounded stalkerish, but he held no ill will toward her. He’d just wanted to get to know her.
And yet . . . he didn’t. Getting to know her meant letting her get to know him. And that made him terribly uncomfortable.
And yet . . .
The more he learned about her, the more he decided she was way too good for him and he should just leave her alone.
If someone hadn’t tried to kill her today—and if he didn’t think she could help him with the nightmares—he might be able to walk away.
Darkness had fallen hours ago. Brooke was safely ensconced in her room next to his with the door between them cracked. The lights were off and he needed to follow her example and sleep while he could. His gun snug in its holster beside him, he laid his hand it and firmly shut his eyes, picturing the moment he’d first seen Brooke. She’d made him want to smile—and that had made him want to meet her.
His buzzing phone jarred him from the light doze he’d unintentionally slipped into, and he snagged the device from the end table. “Hello?”
“I decided not to wait until tomorrow,” Gavin said, his bass voice a familiar friend.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me in. It’s cold out here.”
Asher rolled to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it and Gavin stood there, eyes hard, mouth tight. “You’re making a habit out of this, aren’t you?”
“What? Showing up to help? I should think so.”
With a short laugh, Asher let the man inside. “What’s up?” he asked and motioned for Gavin to have a seat on the couch under the window.
“I got to thinking about everything you told me and decided I didn’t like you being on your own.”
“I don’t think we were followed to the hotel.” He motioned to his weapon. “And I’ve got backup.”
Gavin patted his hip. “Now you’ve got more backup.”
“Fine, I’ll take it. You can have the other bed.”
“Don’t think I can sleep just yet.”
“Yeah, same here.” Asher pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, let’s look at this logically. One of us is the target. I’m thinking it’s Brooke and not me for several reasons. One, it was Brooke’s office that was the setting for all of this and no one knew I was going to be there that morning. No one.”
“The dead secretary did.”
Asher stopped. “True. But who would she tell?”
“Probably no one. I’m just saying there was at least one more person that knew.”
“Now you’re making me rethink things.”
“I’m not trying to throw you off track. You’re probably right. So let’s say it’s her. She’s been home for four months and a couple of days and no one came after her until now. Why?”
“Exactly,” Asher muttered.
“What’s she been doing during that time? What’s her timeline and what’s happened during it? What triggered these attacks—or attempted attacks?”
“We’ll have to ask Brooke for specifics. I know she was in the hospital in Germany healing from the burns she sustained in the bombing. From there, she was transferred home to the burn center near Atlanta.”
“How long was she there?”
“Not too long, I don’t think. She said most of her burns were second degree. All in all, I think she was in the hospital or the burn unit for t
wo months.”
“Then she came home.”
“And moved into her new house and started working for Marcus Lehman.”
Gavin leaned forward. “So, no issues for the two months she was in the hospital and rehab, recovery, et cetera.”
“Right—and if someone wanted to get to her in there, I don’t think it would have been too difficult.”
“And no issues when she first moved into the house.”
“No. Apparently, everything was fine until yesterday.” Had it only been a day ago that he’d gone to find Brooke and found himself embroiled in a mess? “I just wish I knew why they’re after her.”
“I think I know why,” Brooke said from the doorway.
Asher straightened. “Why?”
“It has to be the bracelet. We have to get that bracelet back from Miranda.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Brooke tried to call Miranda once more, but the woman still wasn’t answering. “She must turn her phone off at night or something. Let’s go. We’re not that far from her house.”
Gavin and Asher looked at her like she was crazy.
“Guys, assuming I’m right about the bracelet, these people have tried three times now to get it. First in my office where they accidentally”—she wiggled air quotes—“killed Sharon and then when they broke into my house, and finally, when they ran us off the road and chased us to the barn. Seems to me someone wants that bracelet pretty bad.”
“If that’s what they’re after,” Asher said.
“Yes. If. If I’m wrong, fine. But if I’m right, I don’t want it in Miranda’s possession a moment longer. If someone figures out we went to see her, she’s in major danger.”
“I don’t see how anyone could know,” Asher said.
“But what if they do?”
“Brooke—”
“What if, Asher? You want to risk her life on that? Her kids?”
He and Gavin exchanged a glance. Then Asher stood and Gavin followed him to the door. Asher looked back at her. “What are you waiting on? Let’s go.”
With a huff, she grabbed her purse and hurried after the men.
Once she’d buckled up in the back seat of Gavin’s Hummer, she laid her head against the rest, relaxed, and closed her eyes. Please, God, I know I keep coming to you with panicked emergency prayers, but please keep Miranda—and us—safe.
Collateral Damage Page 14
