Free Fall (25 page)

A smart man? More like a dead man walking.

***

Stella squeezed the doorknob and searched for the will to pull the door open. Her mother waited on the other side and Smith had given them ten minutes to “talk” before they went to work. The reality still hadn’t settled in her brain. She’d barely had time to process her “dead” mother had worked for the CIA. Then to learn in such a shocking fashion that her mother was still alive? She should be rejoicing… if it weren’t for the searing betrayal. They’d even been given a body to bury…

What the hell had Melanie Carson been doing for the past fourteen years while her family grieved for her?

Anger fueled Stella’s feet. She opened the door and charged inside. Her mother sat alone in an industrial metal chair, the hangar walls and beams stark around her. Memories of a trip to the beach sucker punched her with the scent of peanut butter sandwiches and sunscreen.

She should sit. Should. But she stayed against the door instead. “Mr. Smith says we have ten minutes, so let’s cut straight to the chase. You’ve been alive this whole time.”

“Yes, Stella, I have,” her mother said, her voice a bit lower pitched than Stella remembered, but still familiar.

The last time she’d talked to Melanie, they’d gone to the mall, shopping for Stella’s school clothes. She’d tortured herself for years regretting her last words to her mom had been
I
hate
you
. Now to learn all this time her mother had been alive?

How dare she sit there so poised and regal as if they were simply meeting for lunch? “A postcard would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t communicate with anyone in my former life.” Her mother swept her scarf off her head, fully uncovering her chestnut hair—and strands of silver that caught Stella unaware.

She pushed back distracting emotions, sliding into a chair, her shaking knees close to betraying her. “Are you telling me you were in witness protection?”

“In a sense, but deeper.”

Willing her heart out of her throat, Stella counted bolts in the beams…

Melanie smiled. “What are you counting?”

“What?” She sat up straighter, startled.

“You always did that when you were little, counting to calm yourself… crayons, stairs, roadside signs.”

Stella’s already thread-thin control snapped. “How would you know what I’m like anymore?” She smacked the table, leaning forward. “You haven’t bothered to speak to me since I was fifteen years old.”

“Would you believe me if I said I did it for your own safety?” She twisted the headscarf between her fingers.

That took a little wind out of her sails and made sense. Her mother had been an agent, and so many things could go wrong for operatives that would change life forever. But damn it, she didn’t want to feel sorry for her mother. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Teaching at an orphan school, here in Africa.”

“Of course. You always did love this place.” She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. Her mom had cared more about this country and its people than her own family.

“Stella, I’m sorry I had to leave you.” Her mother’s hand inched across the table, close but not touching.

“And Dad and the boys.”

“All of you. I thought I could have this job, stay in the field, and have my family too. For a while it worked.” Her green eyes took on a faraway look. “Until my cover was blown and the only way I could ensure our family’s safety was to disappear.”

“I wanted to come with you.” Their fight at the mall came roaring back, the ache of abandonment. “Did you ever think of offering us the option to join you when you built your new life?”

“Even if I could have justified putting you at risk, your brothers were in college. And what would have happened if you said no? Once you knew I was alive, I would have placed you in danger for the rest of your life.” Her shoulders braced again. “I made the decision and you can be angry with me. Blame me. Hate me. But I will always believe I made the best possible choice under the worst possible circumstances. Think logically, think like the agent you are, sift through it, and you’ll come to the same conclusion.”

Her mother’s words made total sense in a heartbreaking way. Melanie Carson—Annie Johnson—had made her choice: the job. Her mother was the kind of agent she would never be, the kind she didn’t want to be.

Stella squeezed her eyes closed and… accepted.

“What do I call you?”

Her mother might have chosen the right course of action—logically. That didn’t mean Stella had to like it. Right or not, the decision hurt immeasurably.

“My name has been Annie Johnson for fourteen years. I don’t know who I will be after this.”

“Okay, then.” She shoved her chair from the table and walked to the door. Pausing without facing her mom, she said, “For what it’s worth, Annie, Melanie, whoever you are, I forgive you.”

Stella slipped out of the door past her mother’s Egyptian bodyguard and back to her final mission.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jose tugged off his combat boots. He and Stella had twenty minutes—tops—to change into more formal gear and get back to work security for the outdoor festival. Her head had to be reeling after the confrontation with her mother, but Stella had stayed silent during the bus ride from the airport to their quarters.

Not that he’d expected her to talk about it in front of his team and other operatives. And now that they were alone? She was still putting up walls, and he needed to get through to her before they launched this last phase of the mission. Especially when she’d made it so clear she was ready to be done.

Frustration simmered on so many levels. Somebody should have his head examined for planning an outdoor celebration in this volatile region. But he went where he was sent, carried out the assignments he was given. He didn’t know any other way to live. He was fast realizing he didn’t know how he could live without Stella in his life. These past days together again had to mean something to her too. Why couldn’t she recognize that?

He thumbed the buttons on his sweaty ABU—Airman Battle Uniform. He would change back into the same digital camo uniform, but a clean version with a bulletproof vest and his maroon beret. His role dictated he stand out as a security force. Stella, on the other hand, would be blending in.

She pinned her braid into a bun on the back of her head. She wore her standard black pants and tank top, her bulletproof vest, and a kanga resting beside her on a chair. He recognized that length of cloth well. He’d bought it for her on their last date.

God, how could they be so good together and so wrong for each other? But without a doubt, he couldn’t miss the sadness on her face. He pulled off his sweat-stained uniform and reached for a fresh set, tugging on his pants, his eyes never leaving her.

She reached for her Kevlar vest and stopped short. “Is there a problem?”

“Problem? Hell yes, there’s a problem.” He closed the two feet between them, taking the vest from her hand and tossing it aside. He cupped her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to walk away from you again.”

She blinked in surprise, then more of that sadness flooded her green eyes. “Maybe we were destined to fail from the start since we’re so different. You get along with everyone, and I don’t know how to be anyone’s friend.”

Surprise rocked him to his socks. “Why would you say that?”

“Forget about it.” She eased his hands down. “Could you please stop trying to be so nice? We can’t just pretend to be friends, or even just pick up where we left off. And I’m in a crummy place today after talking to my mother, too bad a mood to fake it.”

There she went putting up those walls again. “I know. And I want to be supportive.”

She tugged on her bulletproof vest like armor against him as well as the rest of the world. “The best thing you can do for me is to back away.”

He touched her shoulder.

She shrugged his hand aside. “You’re not listening to me. I. Need. Space.”

“Damn it, Stella, let me spell it out for you.” An image of her out there in the line of fire in her current unsteady state scared the shit out of him. “I care about you. I’m worried about you going in the line of fire in this mood. This region isn’t safe, so you don’t have the luxury of ‘space.’”

“You forget I’m a trained agent.” She strapped on her 9 mm for easy access and a right-hand draw.

“Lot of good that did when you got taken by warlords and had to call me to save your ass.”

“That’s not fair.”

Gut-twisting fear for her safety pushed him past the point of measuring his words. “Nothing that’s happened between us has been remotely fair. Our relationship feels like one big cosmic irony, a guy who never wants to get married falling for a woman craving a white picket fence and babies.”

“Don’t you dare mock me,” she said, standing toe to toe with him.

“Mock you? I’m trying to help you because I love you.” The words burned like raw alcohol in his gut. “You don’t seem to get it. You broke my heart. Not some flowery, romantic sob story. It’s messy and painful. Let me say it again, clearer. You broke my fucking heart.”

“Oh God, Jose, I’m sorry.” Her face softened and she swayed toward him. “You know that I love you too.”

“Fine.” Like that made a bit of difference.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you.” His laughter hurt. Hell, even his toenails hurt. “I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. My world made sense for the first time, and it felt good, so damn good to think past one day at a time. To think beyond just making it to the end of the day without taking a drink.”

Sighing, she clapped a hand over her face. “Jose, haven’t we torn each other up enough already?”

“Apparently not.”

She scrubbed her wrist over her eyes. “You know what I think?”

“It sure would be nice for you to tell me for a change, instead of making me guess.” Frustration chewed a fresh hole in his gut.

“Nice, love the sarcasm,” she said tightly. “Really helps maintain constructive lines of communication.”

“Constructive lines of communication?” His frustration reached the breaking point. “Could you just speak English?”

She sagged back against the wall next to a corny stock painting of an elephant. “I think you keep pushing me away because for some sad reason you seem to have decided no family is better than losing one again.”

Her words struck deep and true, but then that’s what happened with people who knew each other too well. “You’re one to talk with your expectations of a perfect family that doesn’t exist.”

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth, knowing they would cause her even more pain on a day that had already handed out too much. But he still believed every bit of it.

“You’re wrong,” she answered defiantly, snatching the kanga from the chair. “What about your friends from work and their wives? They’re happy and building great lives together.”

He didn’t even have to think. He already knew. “Give them time.”

Stella clutched the blue-and-green kanga to her chest and stared back at him with finality.

And pity.

“Jose, I really wish I’d had the chance to prove you wrong.” Turning her back on him, she wrapped the cloth around her, over her gun and vest.

The finality of her tone and the brace of her shoulders went beyond anger, beyond a regular fight. This was really it for her, and he knew it. They were over, no going back, no more making love or pretending they could keep living in limbo. There was nothing left for him but to keep her alive so she could go home and build that fantasy life with some other man.

***

One look at Annie, and Samir Al-Shennawi had a pretty good idea how the meeting with Stella went. He closed the door behind him, sealing him in the small interrogation room with Annie. He’d spent the past year reading every nuance of her face, both as her protector and as the man who loved her.

And today? He would have to continue as the man who protected her, here in a stark cubicle of a room at the airport. The agent in charge—Smith—wanted her tucked away until they had completed damage assessment. Meanwhile, Smith would keep things secure at the big shindig political dinner downtown.

He had his job keeping Annie safe here while the powers that be figured out where to relocate her.

Sam stopped alongside her. “Would you like to take a walk?”

Her wariness changed to surprise. “I thought I was under house arrest.”

“You are,” he confirmed, too aware of how she’d been keeping her distance. She may have told him everything, but she had still closed herself off from him. “But they need this space for questioning, and I found an unused office with an incredible view. I had food sent up for you. There is even a sofa if you need to rest.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “As if I have any choices these days.”

Neither of them did. He opened the door and gestured her through into the sparsely populated corridor. His hand rested over his weapon, his eyes tracking the length of the hallway. Transfers were always the most dangerous, even in a locked-down-tight facility. Four doors down, her room waited. Uniformed and armed military guards were stationed at every corner.

Those few steps seemed like miles as he escorted her past framed posters about touring historic Mogadishu. Her steps against tile seemed so dainty, so vulnerable. He understood she had training and could protect herself. During past missions, he had trusted female agents. But Annie wasn’t just any agent. After listening to her talk about her capture and what she’d endured, hearing her voice give life to facts he’d read…

He couldn’t let her out of his sight now. Maybe ever. Which made that emotional wall she had put up between them cursedly inconvenient.

A dozen steps later, he finally had her in the new room, one he’d chosen just for her to make this lockdown more bearable. During the past year, he’d made it his mission to learn everything about this fascinating woman. He knew she liked wide open spaces. Even at the school, she taught outdoors whenever possible.

So he’d picked this office with care. A wall of windows—bulletproof and tinted—overlooked the runway, but more importantly a distant view of the Indian Ocean.

She raced across the room and pressed her palms to the glass. Airport lights created a bubble of light in the dark night. Fireworks split the sky, just a few, more like amateur stuff before the big show at the end of the ceremonies later.

Her back rose and fell with deep breaths. “Thank you for bringing me here. I was about to scream from being stuck in that claustrophobic room.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But I’m guessing you knew that.”

He wanted to know more about her, everything and anything he needed to keep her safe. “I take it things did not go well with your daughter.”

“Not as I would have hoped, but as I predicted,” she said with a deep sadness in her eyes. “She forgives me but she’s upset, hurt, distrusting, and that’s completely her right. I didn’t expect hugs and tears.”

Pain, loss, and regret all radiated off her in waves. He walked past the covered meal to stand beside her, crossing his arms behind his back as he stared out at planes taxiing. “Seems to me since she is also an agent she might have a little understanding for the difficult decision you had to make. You sacrificed a lot to keep her safe.”

“Don’t make excuses for me.” She pressed a hand to her throat. “You don’t have to pretend to be nice anymore.”

“You think I was pretending?”

“It was your job to get close to me, to do whatever it took, to be whomever you needed to be to get under my skin so you could watch me. I get it. Now the need to playact is over.”

Playact? She thought he was pretending to care about her? He couldn’t let her go on believing that, but he wasn’t sure how much she was ready to hear.

So he just touched her arm lightly, but even that brought back memories of their kiss and how much more he wanted from her. “Not everything is an act. You should also know the best covers for agents are the ones that blend the truth in with the fiction. That makes it easier not to trip up.”

Her chin tipped proudly, but he could have sworn her eyes held a tentative hope that fired him to clasp both her hands and continue.

“If I had just wanted to get close to you, the simplest way would have been to pretend I was in love with someone else, perhaps a heartbroken widower who could never love again.” He’d played that role before on a prior mission in Cairo. “I would have created a backstory to keep you at arm’s length romantically while still staying close to you.”

“Instead, you chose to be my friend for a whole year?” She glanced down at his hands holding her. “Friends don’t kiss.”

Why was she making this difficult? Perhaps because she did not want the same thing? Or he had missed his chance by being too cautious? Too honorable? Frustration chewed at his already overtaxed self-control. “That’s because I do not want to be your friend, damn it, and this may not be the best time to tell you, given all you have been through today.” His hands slid up her arms to hold her shoulders. Finally, he allowed himself to vocalize his deepest wish since he’d first seen her. “But I want to be with you, romantically. I always have.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows shot upward as quickly as the plane outside climbed into the night sky.

“Oh? That is all you have to say?” He had bared his pride to her, and she could only say… “Oh?”

“It’s the always part that I’m stuck on.” More light powered on outside, casting beams across her incredulity. “Always?”

The power of that first meeting with her surged over him again, the sense that he had been waiting for her his whole life. “From the moment I met you. You were sitting in your classroom putting together some kind of project for a bulletin board. You had the saddest look on your face. All I wanted in that moment was to make you smile.”

He still did.

“I remember the day you arrived, that moment you introduced yourself.” She angled her head to the side, her beautiful face so dear to him, every freckle imprinted on his memory. “I was thinking about my daughter and how we used to make art projects together when I came home—things to hang on the wall or even use as a doorstop. I needed to know that I’d left a part of myself with her whenever I left.”

Guilt creased deep grooves into her face, weighting down her words. More of that pain swelled from her and he realized
that
was the wall between them. She couldn’t allow herself to be happy. “Annie, I know you and I am certain you tried your best.”

Tears welled in her dark green eyes. “All of that doesn’t matter. The reality is, I let her down. I let my boys down… my husband too.” She looked at him with those sad eyes again, just like she had the first day he met her. She blinked and two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I failed again.”

“Annie…” His voice came out strangled and hoarse. He gathered her against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of the hand lotion. So many times he’d walked by that bottle she kept on her desk and resisted the urge to lift it to his nose. “I meant what I said. My feelings for you have never been an act.”