Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: To Honor and To Protect\Cornered\Untraceable (2 page)

The diamond caught the waning sunlight and she wondered—again—which part of Craig's income had paid for it. Knowing wouldn't change how she felt about wearing it, but the aching, wounded part of her heart wanted the answer. She shut that down. There was no sense in being sentimental over a man who'd not only played her for a fool, but also traded lives for money with dangerous people. People who'd want to punish her for blowing up their system. People who were probably searching for her right now. Maybe it would be smart to sell the gaudy thing. She could invest the proceeds for Andy's college fund. That seemed like a fair enough solution.

“I miss him already,” Andy murmured from the backseat.

“I know.” Craig was the closest thing Andy had had to a father figure because his father had died before he was born. It made her cringe now, in light of his treacherous side business, but it would be another point of grief for her son when he learned that relationship was over. Forever.

Of all the challenges ahead of her, she dreaded navigating that particular tightrope. How could she ever adequately explain her choices to a seven-year-old who'd been so eager for a dad? In Andy's eyes, Craig had reached near-hero status. Now, thanks to her, in Craig's eyes she and her son were no more than risks to eliminate. That was more truth than Andy needed weighing on his young shoulders.

“Will the whole adventure be in this old car?”

“No.” She'd hesitated to tell him where they were going, fearful that someone would overhear his chatter during a stop. “Do you think you'd like SeaWorld?”

“Yes! They have whales and dolphins and sharks and turtles and you can swim with them.”

“That does sound like fun.”

“Please can we go, Mom?”

“I can't make promises, but if it's possible, yes, we'll go to SeaWorld.” Eventually.

“Cool! Jeff and Caleb will be jealous. We'll take lots of pictures, right?”

“Of course.” As long as those pictures wouldn't jeopardize their secrets.

“I want to pet a shark.”

You've already been too close,
she thought, checking her rearview mirror.
We just didn't see his teeth
. Yet.

“We'll see.”

“That means no.”

“Not in our house,” she said with more bite than she'd intended. “We've talked about that. I need to concentrate right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We'll stop for dinner in two hours.” She smiled, determined to regain her composure. “Can you set an alarm, please?”

“Sure!”

“Thank you.” She checked her mirrors and stared at the long ribbon of highway cluttered with traffic. Once she saw Andy was focused on his handheld game, she turned on the radio, hoping to catch some announcement of Craig's situation. She wouldn't feel safe until he was in custody, and she wouldn't come out of hiding until she was sure his connections had been found. But she heard no updates.

Hours later, when Addison and Andy stopped for dinner, she ducked into a post office for one last precaution. An insurance policy of sorts, in case Craig found a loophole. Letting Andy push the buttons on the automated kiosk machine in the lobby, she breathed a little better when he sent the envelope into the chute.

Whatever happened next, now she could be sure someone else knew the truth about Craig and his involvement in her life.

“Are you mad?” Andy asked, taking her hand as they returned to the car.

“Not with you.” She was definitely mad, but more than the anger, she felt a consuming, unfamiliar terror. All her life she'd known what to do and when to do it. There had been nerves and mistakes, sadness and joy along the way, but overall, she'd had a dream, created a plan and worked tirelessly to make it all a reality for her and her son.

“Then who're you mad at?”

She considered her answer as he boosted himself back up into the car. “Myself,” she replied honestly. “I made a big mistake.”

“Is that why we're on this summer adventure?”

Occasionally her son was too perceptive for her comfort. “Partly,” she said with a smile. “But summer is the perfect time for a big adventure.”

“We won't be in the car the whole time, will we?”

“Already asked and answered, young man,” she said with a laugh. “I promise the real adventure will begin soon.” She thought of the frogs and birds, the still, reflective black water and tall cypress trees where they were headed. He would love it all, so different from any camp or field trip he'd experienced. “You're going to have all kinds of fun.”

“Promise?”

“Have I ever let you down?”

He actually gave it some thought before he replied, “No.”

“Well, I don't plan to start now.”

His grin, full of eagerness and love, was too reminiscent of his father. It had her heart aching for what might have been as they got back on the road. Since losing Drew before Andy's birth, she'd made a practice of focusing on the present. Of course she'd told her son bits and pieces about his real dad as he'd been able to understand them, but with no living relatives in the Bryant family, it seemed best for both of them not to dwell on what couldn't be changed.

Long after the dinner stop, as she crossed the state line into Louisiana, the news hit the radio. Federal authorities had arrested Craig at his posh home in San Francisco. Addison didn't breathe easy until the reporter finished the explanation with no mention of her name.

Understanding what he'd done, the scope of his crimes and that the FBI probably already knew she'd turned him in, she knew her anonymity wouldn't last long, but she intended to make the most of her temporary advantage.

Chapter Two

Washington,
DC
Wednesday, July 2, 9:15 a.m.

Andrew “Drew” Bryant remained in his seat, his back straight, palms relaxed on his thighs, gaze straight ahead. Maintaining a calm facade in all circumstances had been emphasized during his time with the Special Forces, but he'd mastered the skill as a prisoner of war. He'd memorized and evaluated every detail of his surroundings. The sleek, understated decor of the lobby, the expensive black leather seating and the polished chrome and glass accents might be found in any number of office buildings around the world, but the distinct lack of nameplates and office logos on the doors told him more than anyone behind those doors wanted him to know. At one time in his life he might've paced the marble-floored lobby impatiently, but not anymore. These days, he let the world come to him.

He was more than a little relieved the men in dark suits who'd picked him up twelve hours ago hadn't put a bag over his head. It could still happen, and if it did, it would test his fitful control. He took a deep breath. Calm was key. In every situation. No sense proving the army docs right about his uncertain mental state.

They'd left him alone and unrestrained, but he'd seen the escort lock the elevator. If they wanted him to sit here, here was where he'd sit. He was in a high-rent office building, but the view from the window wasn't helpful, with no visible skyline beyond tall trees. The artwork on the walls and in the elevator was most likely original. In his assessment, that meant this place didn't get a lot of foot traffic.

Drew felt his heart rate tick up as another minute passed. He couldn't help recalling the last time he'd been snatched away from a normal day. Except that day hadn't been normal at all. It had been his wedding day.

On that occasion he'd been ordered to duty in the middle of the night and it had required half a pot of coffee to burn away the fuzzy aftertaste of his bachelor party. He'd left a note—unauthorized but nonnegotiable—for his bride. The woman who'd eventually given up on him. Not that he blamed her.

He kept his eyes forward, even as the sound of feminine high heels clicked across the marble floor on the other side of the door. Closer, closer, then fading away.

Had his bride chosen heels or flats? He recalled overhearing the debate with her maid of honor, but he'd never known the final decision.

The last time he'd been uprooted on the precipice of a major life event his commanding officer had insisted there'd been no time for even a cursory marriage ceremony. This time, someone with serious money and authority had pulled him away from a major basketball game between the top two teams in the Detroit recreational league. The score tied, less than five minutes left, he'd been forced away. Unable to stem the curiosity, Drew gave in and glanced at his watch. The game had ended hours ago and without his phone, he still didn't know who won.

It pissed him off. Bragging rights were riding on that game, and these days that was all the stress he wanted, but life rarely cooperated with his wants.

Drew snorted as another minute clicked by on the wall clock. The kids he worked with in Detroit kept him from wallowing in self-pity after the army had shown him the door with an early retirement for medical reasons. Retired at thirty-six years old. Unbelievable. That hadn't been part of the plan. He rarely let it bother him, but today when something from his past was clearly interrupting his present, he couldn't shake off the irritation.

He knew this drill, knew someone from the alphabet soup of government agencies had pulled strings to drag him out of Detroit last night. But if it was so important it couldn't wait until the end of the game, why was he parked in limbo here?

The high heels approached once more and Drew shifted his face, his entire body into neutral. The heels stopped and the glass door opened with an understated
whoosh
.

“Mr. Bryant?”

“Yes.” He stood, facing the woman who remained in the doorway. She was slender, her sleek navy blue dress making a professional and feminine statement. Noting the long legs and high heels, he pegged her as a dancer by training. Watching her approach, he knew she was an expert in martial arts, as well. If a woman like this was merely a receptionist in this place, he might be in more trouble than he could handle.

“Our apologies for the delay,” she said with a polite smile. “I've been told you might appreciate this video while you wait. It shouldn't be much longer.” She handed him a tablet and returned to her side of the glass doors.

He looked at the screen, baffled as he recognized the basketball court and uniforms of the players. It couldn't be... He sank back into his chair and, touching the icon, put the video into motion. “I'll be damned,” he muttered, watching the last minutes of the basketball game.

Immersed in the video action, he forgot where he was, forgot to wonder why, and just enjoyed watching his team take the win in a nail-biting last-second shot. “Yes!” He pumped his fist and watched as one of the more headstrong kids from the neighborhood enjoyed a hero's celebration.

Drew took a deep breath, relieved and relaxed that his kids were making progress within the community. Something was finally going right. That neighborhood, those kids were coming together as a team and as a family of sorts. Knowing his small part in the overall puzzle made a difference was enough to keep him moving forward instead of stalling out.

A big accomplishment for a man who'd nearly lost his mind when the life he'd dreamed of slipped out of his grasp.
Stolen
was a more accurate term, but according to the army shrinks, that word held negative connotations. They wanted him to reframe, rephrase, re-everything when all he wanted was to rewind and make a different choice in the early hours of his wedding day.

“They're ready for you now, Mr. Bryant.”

She was back and he hadn't even heard her approach. He knew better, knew he had to keep his mind off the past or it would swallow him up. Drew stood and smiled. “Thanks for this.” He extended the tablet.

“You're welcome.” She accepted the device with another courteous smile. “This way.”

He followed the slender woman, the only sound the click of her heels, but even that went quiet when she turned down a carpeted hallway. They passed a bank of blacked-out windows of what was probably a conference room. When they passed another small reception area and one nearly closed office door, Drew's stomach dropped.

They were headed for the corner office, a destination that in his experience didn't ever add up to anything good. The woman stopped at the open door, announced him, then stepped back. Going forward was the only option. She closed the door behind him as he entered.

He felt underdressed in his gym clothes compared to the man in the dark suit and expensive tie. The man rose from his elegant chair and came around the desk quickly, hand extended. “I'm Director Thomas Casey.” The grip was firm and brief as they shook hands. “Come have a seat, Mr. Bryant.”

Drew couldn't hide his surprise. Thomas Casey was one of those names whispered in dark corners by people with the highest clearances. Among the microcommunity of black ops and special operations, the man who supposedly coordinated a crack team of “Specialists” was nearly urban legend. “I thought you were a myth,” Drew admitted as Thomas returned to his big chair behind the desk.

“That's the way I like it.” The smile was as firm and as brief as the handshake. “I appreciate your cooperation on such short notice.”

“Didn't feel like there was much choice, sir.”

“Call me Thomas.”

Another surprise. “Sure.”

“You saw the end of the game, I trust.”

“Yes, thank you.” He wondered if Thomas arranged for the game to be recorded, or if one of his Specialists had pulled it off YouTube.

“It came down to the wire.”

Drew nodded. “Always better for both teams that way.”

“Probably so.” Thomas studied Drew another moment. “Solid effort and a close call incite more determination to win the next game. We understand that here,” he said. “I've looked into your background as well as your present situation. What you're doing in Detroit is good work.”

“I like it,” Drew said, hiding his surprise at the compliment. “And I'd like to get back to it.”

“I'm sure. Let's talk about that. It's not my practice to pull people away from good work, but I find myself in a tight spot. I believe your skills and knowledge would be helpful.”

Drew waited in silence, curious. He no longer had the security clearance to even sit in this room. Thomas, having poked through his background, knew that. None of Drew's kids were into anything that would be of interest to the director. He couldn't think of a single way he could be helpful, but he'd listen. It would be rude not to after he'd been hauled out here.

“You aren't curious?” Thomas asked.

“I am.” But he wasn't going to reveal anything to this master spook by asking questions.

“All right.” Thomas gave a wry chuckle when Drew didn't elaborate. “Federal authorities made an arrest based on an almost anonymous tip.”

Almost anonymous?
Drew hadn't heard that phrase before.

“The person who shared the information requested that she be left out of it and we're doing our best to honor that from an investigative standpoint.”

Drew wanted to stop Thomas right there, to point out that he wasn't in the market for a bodyguard gig, didn't have the head for it anymore, but he kept his mouth shut and his ears open.

“You've been through some hard times, Mr. Bryant.”

“Drew is fine,” he replied, wondering why the subject had changed. If this had something to do with the bastards who'd held him as a POW for six years in a cave in Afghanistan, he might opt in to whatever the director had in mind. A little revenge could go a long way toward healing. It was a dangerous line of thought, but Drew let it play out. Thinking about something and acting on it were two different animals. He'd learned that quickly as a prisoner and in the agonizing months of recovery that followed his escape and rescue.

“Do you feel you're fit for service?”

Drew met Thomas's assessing gaze. “Depends on the type of service, I suppose. The army found me to be more hindrance than help.”

“Are you?”

“Didn't have the chance to find out,” Drew blurted before thinking through a better reply.

“Tell me about your recovery.”

Drew could see no way of avoiding the topic. Not in this room. Better to lay it out there than allow Thomas to continue to entertain his delusions. If the man managed to maintain myth status in a place like Washington, Drew could safely assume his personal secrets wouldn't leave the room.

Still, he played it close. “Long. Physically, I'd lost muscle mass to the malnutrition and poor conditions. That came back quick enough after a few weeks in the hospital with proper nutrition and a few months of physical therapy. They had to reset an arm and do a little work on my back.”

He still felt guilty and selfish when he thought of those endless days with no contact beyond hospital staff and the occasional visit from a chaplain or army officials. He should have been full of gratitude, but instead he'd battled a terrible sense of loss and isolation no matter how they praised him for surviving.

“I heard your father died while you were a prisoner.”

“Yes.” His superiors had explained valid reasons for not publicizing his return to anyone, not even family. “They showed me the obituary, told me he was buried next to my mom.”

“No one from your past knows you're alive. There's no reason to keep your survival a secret now.”

“There's no reason to throw a parade, either,” Drew countered. “A few people from my old neighborhood recognized me when I came back.”

“I'm sure they were happy to see you.”

“Pretty much.” Almost a year later, he was okay with his neighbors, too. With his father dead, the only other person Drew had wanted to see was the bride he'd left waiting at the altar. She was the final piece of his recovery, and everyone who'd had a hand in it knew he needed to reach out to her. Too bad no one had warned him what he'd find.

Despite the years, having heard about his wedding plans from his father, the neighbors were eager to meet the woman they'd only seen in wedding announcement photos. When he'd felt strong enough, he'd gone looking for her and returned alone. After about six months his neighbors stopped asking about her.

“Took a while to get past all the sympathy,” Drew said. It was all the explanation he felt Thomas needed on his personal life.

“That's reasonable.”

It sure hadn't felt that way at the time, but it was done now and he had carved out a new place for himself. He might spend his nights alone, but based on the persistent nightmares, that was for the best.

The back of his neck prickling, Drew wanted to shift the topic back to Thomas's invasion of his new life, but again he waited quietly for the director to make the move.

“Addison Collins.” Thomas tossed out the name, like a bomb in the middle of his desk, and leaned back to watch Drew's reaction.

His body went cold at the sound of her name. Suddenly he wanted to talk about the POW camp. The injuries. The nightmares. The dirt cell and lousy food. Anything but
her
.

“Have you had any contact with your fiancée lately?”

“Former fiancée,” Drew corrected. “And no.” He didn't even let himself think of her. Not after he'd seen her playing freeze tag with another man and a little boy in San Francisco last fall. He'd been close enough to see the smile on her face, to hear her carefree, happy laughter. Close enough to see the ring on her finger sporting a diamond easily twice the size of the one he'd given her years ago. She'd been so obviously settled and content with her family that he'd walked away rather than ruin her day and twist up her life.