In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) (9 page)

Wade had chosen well.

The house itself was small—wood-framed, two-story, built on pilings. The first level provided a parking space, with storage or a laundry room in the middle. The second floor’s wrap-around veranda presented a three-sixty observation post. A couple of ferns hung in pots and a rope was wound around a beam. The usual things found at a coastal home. Nothing to draw attention to the fact that the owner wasn’t there.

It still struck JP as unbelievable.

Wade. Dead.

The man who’d befriended him, who’d taught him how to survive by insisting on three simple rules—and who’d saved his life at least twice.

Probably because JP’s father had died when he was ten, Wade had been one of the most powerful male influences in his life. They’d met at Fort Bragg, when JP was just short of making a decision on whether or not to reenlist. He loved what he did, but Wade, nearly seventeen years his senior, said he could do the same type of work outside the service and have more freedom to make his own spur of the moment decisions during an operation. Between Wade’s Ranger training and JP’s Delta experience, they had bonded instantly.

JP was now feeling even less certain that Wade would betray him and set him up. It made no sense. It never really had. Their assignment had been simple, nothing that unusual. JP was to take out a terrorist so that Wade could rescue a high-ranking Egyptian official from the bastard’s Jordanian hideout. But, as both he and Wade had agreed, it didn’t feel right from the moment they’d started the mission. When JP had positioned himself to take out the badass, Wade had gone behind the single story house they’d been watching, and that’s when things had gone to hell. The Egyptian official was dead, shot through a window by an unknown sniper who was either one lucky son of a bitch or an expert marksman, given the shot he’d taken. The terrorist had gotten away.

JP and Wade had split up right after contacting Brooks, who’d ordered them back home. Wade caught his flight back to DC, but JP had gotten stuck in traffic and, by the time he’d gotten to the airport, it was too late to catch his. He’d booked a later flight and left to get a decent lunch. On his way to a little restaurant he frequented, a lucky move had saved him from a high caliber bullet.

He’d immediately called Brooks, who told him, again, to come in. Again, someone took another shot at him. He’d tried to contact Wade, but knew it was fruitless. Wade was en route home. Unreachable.

So JP had run for cover. Wade had taught him how to do that. But it got harder and harder to stay alive as time passed, and when all his usual hiding places became kill zones, his suspicions grew. No one he knew could have taken that shot through the window except himself, or Wade. And no one else had known all his bolt holes except Wade. The evidence had been convincing.

Until now. Abby had planted a seed of doubt, and it had only grown bigger over the past two days.

But if Wade didn’t set him up, then who?

When they assisted in rescue ops, they normally accompanied a military unit, usually Delta. But they’d been told by the CIA Chief of Station at the Jordanian embassy that on this one they’d be working solo. JP and Wade had figured they were alone because of the need for high deniability—no way to tie the dead terrorist to the US government.

Brooks was the one who’d always given them their orders, the one who moved them around like so many chess pieces on an intricate board. JP and Wade had done as they were told, but always knew that what they did was a smaller piece of a much larger puzzle. They had a certain amount of freedom, license to do what was needed. And they had. Countless times. Times when they were alone, cold, wounded. When the only person they could trust was each other.

They didn’t even trust Brooks completely, using their training to maintain a distance between their work and their own lives. Wade’s Rule Number Three: Keep work away from home; keep it all separate, nothing at one place that could lead to the other. So no one in their personal lives would know what they really did.

Like Abby.

That’s what this house was to Wade—a hideaway. Something Brooks and even JP didn’t know about. Something beautiful Abby—
Wade’s widow
, he mentally corrected—didn’t know about. Wade had told her to tell JP “the Springs.” In order to get him to come here, to find his place. But had Wade expected him to show up
before
he ended up dead? Had Wade thought he could somehow save him?

Or was it all a trap, one Wade had intended to end by drawing JP in, then killing him…?

Only to be killed himself instead.

JP shook off the questions bombarding him and peered out at the house. It was empty, that much he could tell. Cared for, but empty.

It was too light out to go in now. He’d wait until dark, then check it out carefully for any traps before breaking in.

He drove away. And wondered what the hell he’d find when he returned.

…

“I can’t, Rachel,” Abby said into the phone as she sat on her living room couch an hour after JP had vanished. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up.” She paused, listening to her friend, trying to figure out what else to say. How to lie. God, she’d thought of Wade and JP as liars, and here she was, doing the same thing. To protect her friend’s feelings, but still. Did that make it any less wrong? “Cole has a cold. I thought I’d drive up there. Not to stay with them, but to be close by.”

She listened again as Rachel tried to convince her to join her and Angel, another college friend, as planned, for their mini vacation.

“We’ll help you find a man—”

“I know.” Abby laughed at the absurdity. She’d found a man, only not for the purposes Rachel intended. “I’m not ready, Rache.” That much was the truth. She felt her throat tighten. “Yet. I’ll get there, but not this weekend. You all have a good time. I would just be a spoilsport.”

Rachel must have heard the tears that went unshed, because a few minutes after telling her to join them if she changed her mind, she hung up.

Abby had packed her bag the day before, afraid she would wait so long she’d back out. She didn’t need half the stuff in there. Like a bathing suit and a fancy new dress. Things Rachel and Angel said she needed in order to meet a man and move on with her life. She hadn’t had a party dress in years. She and Wade had lived simply.

Well, she had. God only knew what Wade had done.

And that was the whole point—what she’d intended this break to be. A demarcation line between the past and the future. Leaving the past behind and forging ahead into a future without all the baggage she’d gathered over the past year.

But JP Blackmon’s appearance had changed that, had changed so much. Instead of wanting to forget the past, she now felt an even greater pull to understand more than just what had happened to Wade. So she’d know what to say to Cole when he asked, but also for her own peace of mind. It was all so much more complicated than she’d ever imagined, calling into question everything she’d always believed about Wade. And about herself.

She wanted to understand the enigma of her husband, and now, of JP and their relationship.

Nothing JP had said had helped with any of that, but she had picked up on a few things. No, she had not intended to go haring off to find answers. But answers were what she needed, and she was determined to get them. Both for herself and for her son.

The first step she would take began to take shape. JP had asked if Wade had an apartment in Washington. He must have had a reason for asking. So that’s where she’d start.

She’d figure out what to do once she got there.

She took her bag out to her car, then went back inside to check the house one last time, making sure all the windows were locked.

“Abby!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. The yell had come from the front foyer.

“You here?”

She recognized the voice. Ron Hodges.

“Your door’s wide open!”

“I’m coming,” she called back, hurrying down the hall to the living room.

Ron stood just inside the entry, a looming shadow against the bright sunlight. “I thought you left earlier.”

“I was going to, but Steve and Cole were delayed, so I stayed later than I’d planned.”

“Waited for that federal bunch who came looking for their man?”

Surprise rendered Abby silent. So Ron knew?

“Don’t be surprised, Abby. They’re the ones who wanted us to search the creek for a body.” He gave her a strange look.

As if… She wasn’t sure what.

“I’m on my way out now,” she said, grabbing her purse from the lamp table next to the couch.

“They think this man had something to do with Wade.”

It took a second for her to understand what he’d said. “Wade?”

“I knew what he did, Abby.”

Surprised, she stepped back instinctively. Ron? How could
he
know?

“I knew he was a spook.”

“Spook?” Abby echoed, dumbfounded. Not by the information, but the source.

“A spy. He told me a couple of years ago.”

Why on earth would he have told Ron, of all people? They’d been fishing buddies, nothing more. The man wasn’t even in law enforcement. Just a volunteer with Search and Rescue. “I honestly don’t know what you’re—”

“Abby!” A different voice called from outside. Footsteps sounded on the porch, and she saw Pete Avery, Sam’s new vet. He stopped when he saw Ron. “Oh, hey, sorry. Thought you were alone. Didn’t see another car.”

The two men introduced themselves when Ron stepped back out onto the porch.

Abby followed, pulling the door closed behind her, her mind filling with suspicion. “Where’s your truck, Ron?”

“Up the road a piece. Thought I saw footprints. Thought they might belong to the man the feds are looking for.”

“Do they?” She deliberately widened her eyes.

“Probably not,” Ron replied. “Just thought I’d check,” he added with a shrug. “You off now?”

“Yes.”

“Can you wait a few minutes?” Pete asked. “I could use some help.”

“With what?” she asked.

“Amos is coming over for Petunia now.”

She nodded. “I’ll lock up and be over in a few minutes.”

“Thanks! Want a ride to your truck, Ron?” Pete asked as he climbed back into his pickup to make the short drive over to the barn and corral.

“I’ll walk. Need the exercise. Have a good trip, Abby.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

He put his hat back on and walked down the dirt road in the opposite direction from the pastures.

She made sure that both front and back doors were locked, then drove over to the barn to help Pete with Petunia. All the while wondering why Wade had told Ron something he’d never told her.

And why Brooks had told her so much more today than he had last year.

And most of all, where JP had disappeared to.

Something was going on, and it all had to do with Wade and the life he’d led.

And she intended to find out what. Come hell or high water.

…

It took much longer than usual to get Petunia into Amos’s trailer—maybe because he wasn’t used to having Pete around and the young vet had been the one to remove the bull’s stitches. Finally, she and Amos asked Pete to go to the barn and stay out of the way. When the bull was finally loaded, the vet followed Amos back to his place and Abby was alone again.

Alone with her questions. Prepared to drive to the airport, she started thinking more rationally. What did she think she was doing? She didn’t even know where to start searching for anything in a big city like Washington.

But she
did
know where to start here.

Brooks had torn the house apart. There was nothing there. But she instinctively knew if Wade had something to hide, he wouldn’t hide it at home. That would be too obvious. And what if she’d accidentally found it? Or worse, Cole? Wade would never risk that.

So, if not at the house, where?

When Wade was home, he was either at the house with her and Cole, or he was in his workshop down by the barn. When he left the house for something other than work, it was to fish or to ride Buck. If there were anything to find, it would be in his shop or in the barn. They were the only possible places she could think Wade would hide something. Whatever that something was that JP and Brooks wanted. Clearly not something that stood out, or was easy to find. Otherwise, Brooks would not still be hounding her.

Even knowing it was probably fruitless after professionals had turned everything upside down, she spent an hour searching the workshop. She flipped through each book, looked through countless plastic containers full of things Wade had used to tie flies. There were boxes of fishing line, long tubes with rods inside. She even felt around some of his woodworking tools.

Nothing.

After Brooks and his men had searched through everything last year, she’d asked Steve to restore some sort of order to the mess they’d made. But neither of them had touched the worktable. It still held the few things Wade had left there. He’d always believed in order, so there hadn’t been much for Brooks and his men to move around. She picked up a small wooden box Wade had been working on before he’d left on his last trip. Sliding the top open, she hoped against all odds to find a clue inside. There was nothing, of course. Brooks would have taken it if ever there had been. She closed the box, looked at the other things on the table—tools such as a hammer and a pry bar sat in neat order. She gave up. Nothing to be found here.

Where else could she look?

God, what was she doing? This was useless. She should leave well enough alone. Forget the past. She could still catch up to Rachel and Angel. But she just couldn’t.

Buck whinnied from the pasture. And that gave her an idea.

Minutes later she ran her hands along the sides of Buck’s stall, careful not to jam splinters into her flesh. Methodically, she rounded the inside of the stall, checking each board, pulling and tugging to see if anything was loose. Her fingertips burned, her sore shoulder ached from the effort. Still nothing. She checked behind the trough. Pushed it aside, despite her weakened shoulder, and checked beneath.