The Only Reason: A Novel (Trident Trilogy: Book Two)

by Donna Schwartze

“I don’t know, but something’s going to happen. Maybe he will give me information that gets us closer.”

  “Are you going to tell Alex?”

  “No. Raine was right. There’s something off with him. I’ve never seen him so out of focus. I think I’ll keep it to myself for now and see what happens tomorrow.”

  He nods. “We’ll stay outside the spa while you’re in there. Close enough that we can hear you yell if anything goes wrong.”

  “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want to get a massage?”

  He shakes his head as he starts laughing. “I’ve told you how I feel about strangers rubbing on my body. You rubbing on my body is another story. You think you can arrange to be my masseuse?”

  “Master Chief, do you ask that of all your agents?”

  “Every one of them. Even the guys.”

  “Well that’s something we’re definitely going to have to discuss when we get home,” I say, smiling. “I should get back to Alex before he gets suspicious and comes looking for me.”

  “Mills. I’m trying to be objective, but if he kisses you again, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  “Not if I kill him first. It was completely inappropriate.”

  “Are you sure you’re safe in the same room with him?”

  “Yeah,” I say quietly. “He was drinking at dinner. He’s never been able to hold his liquor. It makes him kind of creepy. But he’s fine. He’s not going to try anything. He knows I don’t want it, and he hates being rejected.”

  “Are you going to sleep in the same bed tonight?” His tone is light, but his eyes are serious.

  “I don’t know. If we do, it’s a king-size bed. We’re not going to even touch.” His eyes aren’t blinking. “Mase. Alex is a lot of things, but he’s not going to force himself on me. I’ve made it clear I’m not at all interested. He’s not going to try. Even if he wants to.”

  “Okay.” He finally blinks. “I’m just in the next room.”

  “I know. I’ve got to go.”

  “Agent Marsh,” he says as I walk away. “I like the costume you’re wearing.”

  I turn around to find him giving me a very appreciative once-over. “It’s not a costume, you weirdo. It’s traditional dress for this region.”

  “I definitely think you should bring it home. Maybe you can wear it when you’re giving me the massage.”

  “Stop,” I say, laughing as I duck under the jasmine vines and out into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mason

  Islamabad, Pakistan

  2020

  “Mase,” Bryce says as he shoves my shoulder hard, waking me up instantly from my light sleep.

  I leap off the bed and grab my pistol from the nightstand. “What’s wrong? Is Millie okay?”

  “I’m not sure. We heard what we thought was her yelling. Ty went in and found Alex on top of her, trying to pin her down.”

  I’m already across the suite and through the adjoining room door. Ty has Alex pressed up against the wall. Alex is wearing pajama bottoms, but no shirt. Millie—fully dressed in sweatpants and my fleece—is rocking back and forth with her head in her hands.

  “She was having a bad dream!” Alex shouts at Ty and then turns to look at me. “I was just trying to wake her up. She was having a nightmare. I wasn’t trying to attack her. Are you fucking kidding me? I was trying to wake her up.”

  I point harshly at Alex. “Out of the room. Now.”

  “This is ridiculous,” he says as Ty pushes him roughly toward the other room.

  “Does he get to live or not?” Ty pauses at the door and looks back at me.

  I tilt Millie’s face up and see the anguished eyes she always has after she has a nightmare about her dad. “Yeah. He can live. He didn’t attack her. Just keep him in that room for the rest of the night. No one comes back in here,” I say without taking my eyes off Millie.

  I hear the door click behind me as I gently sit down on the bed next to her.

  “Hey,” I say quietly as I start to rub her back.

  She looks up at me. The tears start welling up as her head collapses down on my shoulder.

  I pull her to my chest and whisper in her ear, “Which one was it?”

  “The one where the house blows up and his body is flying toward me and he’s yelling my name,” she says, sobbing into my shoulder. “Why do I keep having these nightmares? Why can’t they end?”

  “I don’t know, baby. But it’s over now,” I say, pulling her onto my lap and rocking her gently against my chest. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I kiss the top of her head lightly as I whisper over and over, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Her breathing finally starts to slow down a little bit.

  She looks up at me, her eyes a little softer. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”

  “All night. I’ll be here all night. Go back to sleep now, Mills. I’m right here.”

  I lay her down gently and pull the blankets over her. I pull her body tightly to me. “You’re okay,” I whisper until she slips back into sleep.

  I’m awake most of the night, waiting for another nightmare to try to attack her. I’m on full alert—ready to beat it back to whatever subconscious hell-hole it’s trying to escape. It never comes. She opens her eyes as the sun starts shining through the curtains. She looks a little confused when she sees me, but then smiles.

  “Hey,” she says with such familiarity that I think for a second we’re back in San Diego, ready to make out for a while before we grab our morning coffee.

  “Hey. Did you sleep okay?” I pull her a little closer before she remembers where we are and tries to pull away.

  She pushes her body closer to mine. “Yeah, I didn’t have any more nightmares.”

  “Mills,” I say softly, “do you think this all is a little bit too much for you—being here? We can go home any time you want.”

  She breathes in deeply. “I have to at least try to find Azayiz—ask what she knows about Dad.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “Are you ready to tell me the rest of the story yet?”

  She rolls over and looks at me. “Do you think this room is bugged?”

  “Not a chance. We sweep it every time you leave the room. It’s clean. We looked in Alex’s gear, too. Did you know he’s carrying a Glock?”

  “No, I didn’t. He told me we weren’t allowed to carry on this mission.”

  “That figures. We’ll deal with that later. Will you please tell me what I don’t know?”

  She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “So when Chase and I met with George the other day, he repeated that Dad had asked him to help him disappear. George said he called his boss right after Dad left his office. His boss told him that he would handle it from there and ordered George to back off. His boss at the time was Paul Ward who—as you know—is the director now. When George told us the director had taken over my dad’s request, I told him I wanted to meet with Ward to find out what he knew. I didn’t think there was any chance in hell they would grant the meeting, but they did. I was headed to meet with Ward within an hour of my request.”

  “Did Chase go with you?”

  “Yeah. He went all the way to the outer office, but Ward and I met alone. Ward told me they had staged Dad’s death. He escaped the explosion through a tunnel. Agents met him in the tunnel and took him to a meeting spot.”

  “You believe this?” I ask cautiously.

  She rolls over on her back and looks up at the ceiling. “I do. He was telling the truth. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that Dad was alive after the explosion.”

  “You’re the best at reading people, so I’ll believe you. Where did they say they hid him after that?”

  “They didn’t. The agency only agreed to do anything because Azayiz asked them to. Ward made it very c
lear Dad wasn’t at all important to him. They only did this because Azayiz had helped them with the bin Laden raid. She was apparently the key informant. That’s why she had to go into hiding.”

  “So what happened when your dad hit the end of the tunnel? You said they took him to a meeting spot. Who’d he meet?”

  “Ward said Azayiz had arranged for someone to meet him in Baghdad. He said they handed Dad off and didn’t ask questions. They washed their hands of it after that.”

  “So they could have been handing him to the enemy?”

  “Yep.” She closes her eyes for a second. I see a tear roll down her cheek. “I said I believed he didn’t blow up in the building that day, but I think he’s dead. He could have died later that day or a year after that, but he would never stay away from me this long. Never.”

  I take a deep breath. “I love you with everything in me. And I have no problem believing it’s still only half as much as your dad loved you. If someone told me today my being around you was threatening your life, I would disappear forever so that you could live. It would be the hardest decision I’d ever make in my life, but I would do it in a second. I can only imagine your dad would have done that and more.”

  She turns and looks at me again. “There’s one more thing. Apparently, Dad made a deal with the agency that if they helped him, he would never resurface. He had to stay away forever. They basically wiped his identity clean—took his passport, erased all mentions of him in naval records, probably destroyed every trace of him.”

  “That would explain him staying away for so long.”

  “Yeah, and apparently he at least made it to Baghdad after the explosion. Raine found the guy Dad’s team had used as a translator back in the day—an Iraqi national. She and Chase are there now. They talked to him yesterday. He confirmed he helped with the meeting with Azayiz’s people.”

  “Raine’s with Chase?”

  “Yeah. That was part of my deal with Ward. He said he’d support Chase and Raine going to Iraq and retracing Dad’s movement from that side.”

  I take her hand gently. “I don’t mean to insult you, but there’s no way in the world the director of the CIA is doing all this for a 25-year-old agent—much less an agent who tried to resign from the agency. There’s something way bigger than you and your dad going on here.”

  “Oh, I’m aware. This has nothing to do with appeasing me. It has everything to do with finding Azayiz. There’s something really suspicious going on with her disappearance. I’m just not sure what it is yet.”

  “Is that everything?”

  “Chase said the translator told him the people they met in Baghdad were from Pakistan, but they were speaking a Dardic language. He thinks it was Kalasha.”

  “Why’s that important?”

  “There aren’t many people who still speak that language. Raine did some research,” she says, pausing for second. “She found out Azayiz’s grandmother was from the Kalasha Valley. She still has family near Birir. If she helped Dad escape, he could be hiding there. It’s kind of the perfect place to hide—remote, cloistered.”

  “Yeah, but from what I’ve read, they aren’t much into outsiders. I can’t imagine they would be okay with an American hiding out there, especially for nine years. I don’t think that’s very likely. Plus, it’s so close to the Afghanistan border and the FATA. It’s not like it’s completely safe. Even if he got there, surely someone would have given him up to the Taliban or worse.”

  “I don’t think we’re that far yet,” she says. “Chase believes the Iraqi guy. He thinks Dad made it to Baghdad. He doesn’t know what happened after that. He and Raine are headed to Birir right now.”

  I reach for her hand as we both look up at the ceiling. We lay there silently for a few minutes.

  “So you think he’s still alive?” She says it so quietly, I can barely hear her.

  I squeeze her hand. “I don’t know, Mills. I really don’t. But for the first time, I think it’s possible.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Millie

  Islamabad, Pakistan

  2020

  Mason and I are still snuggling silently in bed when a loud rap on the adjoining room door brings us out of our thoughts. The door opens a crack.

  “Mase,” Bryce’s voice says quietly.

  “You can come in,” Mason says without removing his arm from around me.

  Bryce peeks his head in carefully. When he sees we’re decent, he opens the door farther. “Alex is whining that he needs to get to a golf game or something. He says he needs to get ready. I can tell him to shut the fuck up again if you want me to.”

  “No. It’s fine,” Mason says, standing up and pulling me up with him.

  Bryce steps aside and motions Alex through the door. Alex glares at Mason.

  “I need to change, and I’m going to order breakfast for us,” Alex says, motioning to me. “Would you please go back to your room, Master Chief?”

  “Naw, I’m good here,” Mason says, sitting on the couch.

  “Millie and I both have appointments this morning. We need to get ready,” Alex says, pointing to the door.

  “Knock yourself out. I won’t look.” Mason looks down at his phone.

  Before Alex can say anything else, I grab my toiletry bag and a change of clothes. “I’ll go first,” I say as I head to the bathroom.

  When I come out, Mason is gone, but the rooms’ adjoining door is still open. Alex is sitting at the table eating breakfast—newly changed into his golf clothes.

  “Join me for breakfast,” he says, waving his hand over the top of the display of food.

  “I’ll at least have some coffee,” I say, glancing quickly through the adjoining room’s doorway as I walk by. Mason is coming back through it. “Do you guys need some breakfast? It looks like Alex ordered enough for all of us.”

  “We’re good. We’ll eat when he leaves.” Much to Alex’s annoyance, Mason sits back down on the couch in our room.

  “Millie, come in here for a second.” I hear Ty’s voice booming from the other room. “My wife sent me pictures of my daughter’s birthday party. You have to see them.”

  First of all, Ty doesn’t have a wife or a daughter. Second, if he did, he would never show me—or anyone—pictures of a kid’s birthday party. I look at Mason, but he’s focused on his phone like nothing unusual is happening. I’m guessing there’s something they want to show me without involving Alex.

  “Aww, I want to see them,” I say with the appropriate amount of fake enthusiasm. Alex stares at me coldly as I walk into the other room.

  I barely clear the threshold when Bryce pulls me behind the door. He grabs me under the arms and lifts me off the floor—one of his hands firmly covering my mouth. Butch grabs my left leg, shoving my skirt up as he slides a garter holster up to my thigh. He takes a .38 revolver out of his waistband and puts it in the holster. Bryce places me back on the ground gently.

  Ty holds up five fingers. “Can you believe she’s only five? I know she looks a lot bigger, but she’s only five.”

  I nod. I’m not sure why they’ve just force-armed me with a gun, but I’ve got it. Five rounds. “She really does look bigger. I can’t believe she’s only five. She’s adorable.”

  I walk back into my room just as Alex is walking by the door. “You said your spa appointment is at ten? I’ll walk you down there on my way out.”

  “I want to finish my coffee first. You can go without me.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” he says quickly.

  I know he wants to talk to me alone, and he’s going to be persistent about it. “Okay. Give me a few minutes.”

  He paces nervously by the door as I manage to get down a little food and two cups of coffee. I grab my bag.

  Mason looks up from his phone. “Agent Laskin, do you want any protection today?”

&nb
sp; “No,” Alex says quickly. “And Agent Marsh doesn’t need it, either.”

  Mason smiles at me. I know he’ll be outside the spa like he said he would.

  As the room door closes behind us, Alex grabs my wrist and pulls me to the elevators. “All of that,” he says, waving his hand back toward our room. “All of that last night was completely inappropriate. First, you come back in the room after dinner smelling like him. What if someone would have seen you two together in public? Then you spend the night with him in our room? You’ve lost your goddamn mind if you think that’s appropriate behavior for an agent on assignment.”

  I break his hold on my wrist as the elevator door opens. “Let’s just get through the rest of this,” I say coldly. “I’ll let you know if I learn any more at the spa today. You can take the next elevator.”

  His eyes bore into me until the elevator closes. The last thing I feel like doing right now is getting a massage, but I push the button for the spa level anyway. As I walk out of the elevator, I see Butch sitting at a table at the top of the staircase that leads down to the spa. As I walk by him, he says quietly, “Keep your phone in your hand during your massage.” I nod and start down the staircase.

  Mr. Bukhari is at the spa’s check-in desk when I walk in. There’s no one else in the room.

  “Mrs. Laskin, I’m so glad you could join us,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “Will you follow me to our waiting room?”

  I smile and follow him through a doorway that leads to what looks like empty treatment rooms. I don’t see anyone—not even spa workers. It’s really quiet. We walk past all the rooms and through a doorway that looks like an exit back into the hotel.

  “If you will wait here, someone will help you shortly. Please help yourself to some tea or water,” he says, waving his arm toward what looks like a hastily set up drink bar. He smiles as he backs out of the room.

  I turn around. The room is big—at least 2,500 square feet. It looks more like a small conference room than a spa waiting room. There are three doors including the one we just walked through. I open the door to my right. It’s a supply closet. I walk toward the other door as it opens slowly. A woman—wearing a scarf around her head—walks in. When she looks up and sees me, she slowly lowers the scarf onto her shoulders. Her eyes widen as she looks at me. She shakes her head slowly as a slight smile comes to her face.