In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) (20 page)

“And he never asked to see him?”

“Wade was stubborn. He’d made a decision, given us his word. He stuck by it.”

Abby believed her.

So, now the biggest question was, had Wade stuck by his oath to protect and defend his country?

Or was he exactly what Brooks accused him of being—a traitor?

Chapter 13

JP examined the scrap of paper he held in his hands. A gas station receipt. Blood, dried and darkened over the past year, covered one corner. He struggled to read the name of the station. An independent station close to Abby’s house. Dated the day he’d figured, from what Abby told him, that Wade had called her. JP turned the receipt over. Blood had seeped through, but he could see some of Wade’s carefully printed words.

Framed

That was the first. JP’s heart stuttered. Did that mean Wade knew he was being framed? That JP was being framed? Or that Wade had framed JP?

A dark blot of blood, probably thinned with rainwater that had penetrated the envelope, had soaked through and made the ink run. The only discernible letter was an O. It appeared in two of the three illegible words, which were followed by another clear word.

back

He thought about what it could mean. Wade had always said “got your back” before an operation. The words had reassured JP because when he’d first started working with Wade, the rumor was that his new partner had a death wish. But that hadn’t been true. Sure, Wade took remarkable chances, but they were always carefully calculated. He’d prepared for everything, and because of that, handled the unexpected like the pro he was. He’d been a great operative, a good friend. Which was why his betrayal had been such a shock.

JP tried to imagine a scenario that would have Wade sending a scribbled, bloodied note with “got your back” to a family no one knew existed. On a gamble that JP would find it? On the outside chance that curiosity would prompt the Picketts to open it and…what? What could these people possibly do?

Had Wade meant he had the Picketts’s back? That their son was safe?

Shit, Wade! What the hell were you thinking?

So he’d been framed, but if he was risking sending something through the mail, why not just spell it out? Name names? Were there names beneath the smudge? He flipped the receipt over again. Blood and water had made the ink run and fade. No way to read the missing words. Not without special equipment. Washing it at this point would just make the few words he could read run.

The dried blood made that corner of the receipt stiff. Wade had tried to wipe it off. He’d been hurt. He hadn’t had a way to contact JP once they split up in Jordan, just as JP’d had no way to contact him. That left Wade with the outside chance that JP would live and come looking for him. Thus the phone call to Abby so she’d know him on sight, and the phone call to Kyle in case he showed up in Ocean Springs. He’d left a message with Kyle—forget rule three. That was the one message he’d counted on JP getting, the one that would take him to his home with Abby.

To do what?
To find the hidden bag with info at the house in Ocean Springs? That was a dead end, if he’d already spoken to Kyle.

And what could he have hoped to gain by sending a cryptic, bloody note on the back of a receipt to the family he’d kept secret for so long?

JP rubbed his fingers over the worn receipt. This wasn’t something Wade had counted on. This was something he’d done just in case JP would somehow find the Picketts and be given this package. Maybe, by accusing someone of framing him, he hoped he would somehow be cleared. And his eldest son, if their relationship were ever revealed, would have this note to cling to.

But if Wade really had been framed, why the hell hadn’t he written the betrayer’s name, or at least more clues, on the receipt? Or, hell, left something somewhere that made it all clear? Surely he’d know that JP would have been framed, too, and in desperate need of that information, should he live.

This note didn’t tell JP a damn thing. Nothing. Until he could glean what was written under that blood, this was nothing but another dead end.

Right now, the only thing that made any sense at all was the message he’d gotten through Kyle.

He stared at Wade’s blood. What the hell was he going to tell Abby?

He put the paper back in the envelope and folded the stiff cardboard enough to get it into his jacket pocket. He had to go back to Wade’s house.

They were missing something. Something important.

He left the office and walked down the hall toward the living room. Before he got there, he heard voices. He listened long enough to understand what had happened all those years ago, until, from what he could hear, Abby was showing the Picketts a picture of Cole. After she’d just met Wade’s other son.

Damn
. She couldn’t be expected to bounce back from this easily. This wasn’t remotely the same as the Luke Abbott cover. This family was real flesh and blood. Wade’s flesh and blood.

Admittedly, it could have been a whole lot worse. An accidental teenage pregnancy was not nearly as unforgivable as if Dorie had actually been Wade’s wife, or worse, still was. But Abby must be reeling from the shock, even so.

The receipt with its cryptic note was also real. And it was covered in Wade’s blood. But the message it bore was ambiguous. Not something that would ease Abby’s mind.

How could JP possibly add to her burden at a time like this? It would tear her heart out.

…

Abby put her wallet back in her bag. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought she would be showing a picture of her son to a woman who had one who looked so much like him.
Cole’s half brother
. One he’d never know. Abby wanted to cry.

JP came back, his expression unreadable.

Asa Pickett stood. “What— No, never mind,” he said. “I know you can’t tell me.”

“Was it really from Wade?” Dorie asked.

“You didn’t recognize the writing on the envelope?” JP asked.

“I thought it was his.” She looked at her husband. “I guess I hoped it wasn’t, so I wouldn’t know he’s dead.”

What if it wasn’t from Wade? Abby wanted to ask JP, but he might not say anything in front of the Picketts. Then again, he might not say anything to her, either, about whatever he’d just learned.

Because what made her think he had told her anything at all, so far? What made her think he ever would? Their obvious physical attraction? Despite the indications that his feelings for her went beyond simple attraction, that might all be just a ruse. Something to lull her into trusting him. He lived in a world filled with lies. That would be just one more.

Come to think of it, he’d never actually said it was anything more than plain sexual attraction. He’d said he wanted her.

He’d never said he loved her.

Wake up, Abby. Why on earth would he?

“Thanks for holding on to this for me,” JP told the Picketts.

“Not a problem,” Asa replied. “If nothing else, I always knew Wade Price was as good as his word.”

“He’s really dead this time, isn’t he?” Dorie asked brokenly, her eyes shadowed with regret.

JP nodded somberly. “Yes, he is.”

Dorie bowed her head and reached out to grip Abby’s hands, which were clutched in her lap. “I’m so sorry.”

Abby sat there, holding the hand of the woman Wade had loved all those years ago—the woman who’d born her husband’s first child.

Asa Pickett joined his wife on the couch and put his arm across her shoulders.

“I know Wade never wanted anyone to know about us, but I’m glad you came. I’m glad he had you and that beautiful child in his life. He deserved that.” She leaned toward her husband, who hugged her.

“Thanks again,” JP said, walking to the door. With his eyes, he signaled to Abby. She stood.

“It was good to meet you,” she said, her voice thick. The couple nodded.

JP opened the door for her and she nearly ran into Wade’s son. She wanted to grab this big, handsome young man, tell him to get out of the Army, tell him to do something safe instead.

“Something wrong, Dad?” David Pickett asked after excusing himself for nearly colliding with her.

“Everything’s fine, son,” Asa replied.

He looked back at JP and Abby. “Sir, ma’am,” he said, with a nod of his head.

“Have a good evening,” JP said, taking Abby’s hand and leading her down the steps to the car.

They’d driven nearly to the paved road by the time she felt confident that her voice wouldn’t crumble. “He looks like Wade.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Cole will probably look like him when he’s that age.”
Her baby
. Who would never know his brother existed. How many times in one day could a heart break in two? “Can I turn on the phone to see if Steve’s called?”

JP looked across the seat at her, his eyes kind. “Sure.”

Abby found the cell phone in her bag, beneath the gun JP had given her when they left his safe house, and turned it on. She put it on the seat between them, waiting for it to catch a tower.

“Was the package really from Wade?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What did he send you?”

He drove a few yards farther, then pulled up at a stop sign. He looked out across the pasture, his eyes on the horizon. “It’s a dead end,” he said finally.

“What was it?”

“A note that said ‘framed.’”

Her lips parted. “Then he was framed,” she said hopefully.

“He didn’t leave proof, Abby. Even if it’s true, it does us no good,” he said, turning to look at her.

“He was warning you.”

“Too late for that.” He still didn’t look convinced.

“He thought you’d get it right away. He was warning you. Who else could he have left that for?”

“He couldn’t really believe I’d ever find the Picketts,” he countered. “Not in time to do me any good, anyway.”

“He wouldn’t have risked them—risked
his son
—if he didn’t think so,” she insisted.

“Honestly, I don’t know what he meant by the note,” he said, his eyes on her. “I told you when we started that we may never know what happened.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. She was once again absolutely sure of it. Despite what she’d learned tonight—maybe in a twisted way because of it—she knew Wade was no traitor. No, she was more convinced than ever that Wade would never compromise his integrity.

JP looked at her for a second longer, then turned onto the paved road. Without another word.

…

JP had to give the woman credit for loyalty. Abby was willing to accept that Wade had been less than honorable with her, that he’d kept the secret of a child from her. But she wasn’t willing to accept that he was a traitor.

It almost put him to shame. Except for the past year of hell.

He kept his gaze on the road and ticked through the timeline of events as he knew them. If Wade was already bleeding by the time he wrote this note, then chances were good that he’d called Kyle at about the same time. Kyle had said Wade sounded rushed. Maybe he wasn’t rushed. Maybe he’d been out of breath because he was badly wounded, desperate, and unable to contact JP. Who knew how clearly he’d been thinking?

So Wade had left two messages. Hurt, bloodied, he’d mailed one to the only address he had on his mind. The Picketts. He’d called another message in to Kyle, knowing JP might go there after going to Abby’s, either by the clue he’d left with her, in the hidden zipper bag, or by his own ingenuity.

Forget rule three
.

Abby’s house
.

JP scoured his mind for something he could have missed. He thought about Wade’s last phone call to Abby, when he’d given her the “Springs” clue.

Then he remembered something else. Wade had told her to go to her brother’s place until she heard from him.

Why had he told her to leave the house?

Because he wouldn’t endanger her or Cole. He’d know his killers were searching for any evidence he’d left against them.

But what if he’d told Abby to leave so he could
retrieve
something already hidden at their house? Then the message to Kyle made more sense. And even if JP didn’t understand the clue, he still might find the papers that led to the Picketts. And the bloodied note.

“Where to now?” Abby asked.

The sun would set in an hour. He had time to contact Ethridge again. The man might turn him in, but he was ethical and by-the-book. He’d protect Abby. That was all that mattered.

“I’m taking you to a safe place.”

“What about the men who tried to kill us in Ocean Springs?”

“I’ll get you protection, Abby. Protection I can trust.”

She said nothing for a moment, then, “What about you?”

He had to search Abby’s house. Had to get inside and figure out if Wade had left something there, something neither she nor Brooks had found.

The phone between them beeped, saving him from answering her.

“There’s a message,” she said.

“Turn off your phone. Use the disposable to call your voice mail.”

She grabbed the other phone and powered it on.

He concentrated on the road, letting her get the reassurances she needed from her brother.

She punched a few buttons and then listened. The first indication there was a problem came when her left hand clutched the seat. Hard. She let out a little breath, a gasp, and stared down at the phone.

“What is it?”

“Pull over and listen to this,” she said, her voice tight.

He came to a hurried, jarring stop on the shoulder of the road and took the phone from her trembling hand.

“Punch two, so you can hear it again.”

He did, and listened.

“JP,” a male voice said. “I have Cole and Steve. You want ’em alive, call me.” There was shuffling on the line, as if whoever had spoken was handing the phone to someone else. The man didn’t have the phone to his mouth when he said, “Go ahead, boy, say hi to your mother.” There was a pause, followed by a muffled, “Steve, bring him over here.”

Then the clear sounds of a little boy. “Mommy, Mr. Ron says Unca Steve and me are playing a game, so we have to leave the cabin.” The connection was broken before he could hear Cole’s next words.

Abby was staring at him, fear and confusion clouding her horrified face. “Oh, God. Why did I go off on this fool’s errand? Why did I let him go anywhere without me?”

JP turned in the seat, grabbed her shoulders firmly. “It’s not your fault.” This was
his
fault, his alone. If only he hadn’t— But no, second-guessing, dwelling on what-ifs, was pointless. “Whoever has them knows both your brother—and me.”