In the Dark (29 page)

Seated at the end of the high table, Luther watched Sebastian and Leila float with effortless ease about the dance floor. They looked perfect together, both of them dark and slender, intensely bound up in each other. He had the distinct impression they were in a world of their own.

With the feeling that he'd been knifed in the chest, Luther reached for his tumbler of scotch. He took a small sip. As the burning liquid curled down his throat, he set the tumbler down.

Drinking wasn't going to ease the heartache that kept him constant company. He had to believe that time would help eventually, but it hadn't yet. Over two months had passed since Hannah left Virginia Beach with her brother and Agent Crawford. He'd welcomed the dangerous missions that had cropped up since. The only thing that took the edge off his constant heartache was unmitigated fear.

Jesus, how long was he going to feel like this? "Excuse me," he muttered to Teddy and his date. Ignoring their obvious concern, he pushed his chair from the table and stepped off the dais, heading for the exit that led to the balcony.

A bitter wind hit him squarely in the face as he stalked to the cement railing and gazed out over the inhospitable ocean. It was here that he and his squad members had first discussed Jaguar's charges and what they could do to help him. It was here that Master Chief had told him that Hannah Geary was alive, that the FBI needed help to retrieve her. He'd had no idea how thoroughly she would invade his existence.

Cold, salty air pinched Luther's cheeks. He welcomed the discomfort
Hannah.
The surf seemed to say her name as it crashed onto shore on the other side of the dunes.
Hannah. Hannah. Hannah,

Why was it, if they were so incompatible, that be could close his eyes and feel her inside of him? The thought pushed tears into his eyes that the wind quickly dried.

The sound of approaching footsteps had him turning around alertly. With dismay, he recognized Veronica's silhouette. She'd come to Master Chief's retirement party as Ensign Peter's date.

"Hey," she said, sounding different with the waves crashing in the background. "I saw you step out. I wanted to tell you something."

"What's that?" What had ever drawn him to Veronica in the first place? he wondered. Her dark eyes and stubborn chin gave her an inscrutable look, so different from Hannah's clarity.

"I'm sorry for telling Eddie about that Hannah woman you were with. I didn't realize how much he had to hide."

Eddie? It took him a second to realize she was talking about Commander Lovitt, who'd skulked around Westy's house intending to shoot Hannah before she could jeopardized his reputation. "You should be sorry," he retorted, unforgiving. It occurred to him that Veronica had slept with Lovitt, too. She was probably more disgusted with herself than anything else, but he still wanted to wring her pretty little neck for nearly getting Hannah killed. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep him from doing just that.

Veronica shivered but she held her ground, apparently determined to speak to him despite his hostility. "I also wanted you to know that... you're a really good guy, Luther. I'm sorry that I didn't treat you right."

Surprise kept him mute for a minute. Well, well. He didn't feel like a good guy right now. He felt angry and hurt and dangerously unpredictable.

"I want you to have this back," she added, holding out a shiny object.

He realized it was the ring he'd given her, a ring that had cost him five grand. "Keep it," he said, not wanting to put his hands on it. It meant nothing to him, less than nothing. If she forced it on him now, he'd fling it into the ocean.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes." He was positive. At this rate, he wasn't ever going to get married. He'd never love another woman the way he loved Hannah.

"All right." With a frown of perplexity, Veronica turned around and walked away from him.

Luther watched her go. He wished he could walk away from himself so easily. Instead he was stuck with this god-awful feeling that he'd let the best thing in life get away from him.

Alexandria, Virginia
1 January ~ 1:53 p.m.

On this first day of the New Year the weather was typical for northern Virginia—just above freezing and inhospitably humid, so that the cold went straight to the bone.

Why, Hannah wondered, had she chosen to jog along the Potomac River, where a chill blew off the water? Her lungs ached, her nose was running, and despite the light sweat she'd worked up under her running suit, her extremities were turning numb.

With the end of the city block in sight, she slowed to a brisk walk and steadied her breathing. She had to be punishing herself. Not a single other soul was cruising the historic area today. They were probably sleeping off their hangovers, still curled up in bed with their lovers.

The thought sent a pang of envy through her heart.
Oh, Luther,
she sighed.

And this is just the beginning,
taunted a voice inside her head. She'd received word of her first assignment shortly after Christmas. She was headed to Greece for two years with a cover job as a secretary in the American embassy. It was a fantasy assignment if ever there was one—Greece! Who didn't want to go to sunny Greece, the birthplace of human civilization?

She reminded herself how lucky she was. Most rookie case officers got the gritty jobs like Kyrgyzstan or Nigeria. Someone in the agency—probably Westmoreland himself—was looking out for her.

So why the reluctance weighting her down? She stepped off sidewalk and crossed a cobblestone street, vapor trailing out of her mouth. The warm climate of the Mediterranean would be a welcome change.

Only, she didn't want to go.

She told herself that she was worried for her brother. Kevin had finished his dissertation and graduated with honors, but now he worked such long hours in the Johns Hopkins laboratory that he needed regular reminders to go home and sleep.

Only it wasn't Kevin's welfare that kept her from wanting to leave. If she'd be honest with herself, she'd admit it was the dreams: dreams of herself and Luther. There wasn't a night that she didn't dream that she'd agreed to stay with him, and she was back in his arms— safe and utterly content. Sometimes there were children with them, little boys with dark hair and deep blue eyes.

She'd mentioned the dreams to her counselor. Dr. Andre Guhl had lost his entire family in a car wreck while he'd been driving. He'd helped her cope with her parents' deaths and with Uncle Caleb's betrayal. But when she mentioned her dreams of Luther, he'd just looked at her. "Are you sure you want to leave the country?" he'd finally asked.

"Of course. It's what I've always dreamed of."

"Until lately," he pointed out. "Why not forge your own path instead of following your father's?"

The suggestion had made her think of something Westy said.
Sounds to me like you're running. Or maybe chasing someone.

She'd been chasing her father's memory all this time, as if it would bring him back. "Just think about it," her counselor had urged.

Hannah blew warm air on her stinging fingers. She came to a dead stop at the corner of Second Street and North Royal. She'd done nothing lately
but
think about it. This morning, on the first day of the new year, she was making up her mind.

She wasn't going to Greece. She wasn't going anywhere but back into Luther's arms, where she belonged.

She started running again. Relief made her feet sprout wings. She sprinted down Royal Street, thoughts racing ahead of her. The first thing she needed to do was to contact Luther. But what if he'd moved on already, in search of his ideal mate? No, he couldn't have. Their bond wasn't so easily broken.

Hannah flew along the brick-lined sidewalk. Rounding the corner of Bellvue, she blinked in disbelief. There was Luther shutting the door of his truck, starting to pull away. "Luther!" She shouted his name but he didn't hear. He pulled out into the street.

Hannah gave chase, flailing her arms.

To her relief, he caught sight of her and backed up. She reached his driver's side door just as he stepped out. The instinct to throw herself into his arms battled with dignity and the awkwardness that came from time apart.

He looked good. He wore a navy blue, button-down dress shirt under a black, wool coat and black jeans. His hair was slightly longer, his cheeks wind-chapped as if he'd spent a lot of time outdoors. He'd obviously forgotten to shave that morning, and an appealing five o'clock shadow darkened his chin.

"I almost missed you," he commented as the silence stretched between them.

"I was out running. You want to come in?"

He dropped his truck keys into the pocket of his coat. "Sure."

She led the way to the front step, pausing to fish her hidden key out from under the flower pot. Her fingers shook as she released the lock. "The house is a mess," she apologized, stepping in. "Sorry. I was planning to clean it today before Kevin came over."

"He's on his way?" He looked around.

"No, tonight. Free food. It's the only thing that'll lure him away from his work. Have a seat," she offered, taking off her sweat jacket. She wore an FBI T-shirt underneath. "Can I get you something to drink?"

His gaze was fixed on her T-shirt.

"Valentino gave it to me for Christmas," she said, tugging at it self-consciously.

"He gave me one too” Luther admitted, with a twitch of his lips.

"Mine came with a job offer," Hannah blurted. Yeah, and now that she thought about it, she'd worn the damn thing a half-dozen times without realizing why she was so attached to it.

Luther looked at her sharply.

"I'm going to take him up on it." The- certainty that flooded her made her feel especially good.

She'd rendered him completely speechless.

"So what do you think?" she asked, breathlessly.

"You're going to work for the FBI," he repeated.

"Yes " she said with a wondrous smile.

His expression darkened. "I thought you couldn't wait to go back to the Agency," he said on an accusing note.

"I couldn't. I did. I even got my first assignment Greece," she added, watching his anger morph into puzzlement. "But now I don't want to go."

He ran a look up and down the length of her, as if trying to determine whether she was really Hannah Geary or her evil twin. "Do you want to sit down?" she asked again.

She moved into the living area and sat in a high-backed chair, forcing him to do the same. Obviously getting him a drink wasn't in the script. "I guess we have some catching up to do " she began.

"I guess so." He lowered himself onto her love seat. The antique legs creaked in protest.

"I've thought about you a lot," she said, watching his reaction.

"Me too," he said, his expression unreadable. "I read that Caleb Newman got twenty-five years. Made me wonder what you thought."

Hannah heaved a deep sigh. "I think he'd be better off in a psychological ward," she answered. "There's something totally creepy about thinking you have the right to control other people's destinies." She shook her head. "I still can't believe he killed my parents."

Luther sent her a compassionate grimace.

"So, how've you been?" she asked, hungering for news. "How's everyone—Westy and Jaguar?'

"Westy's in Malaysia," he replied, skipping over himself. "He's been gone since late October. I haven't heard a word from him. Jaguar's back on active duty. He's the new XO, now. Oh, and Master Chief got married right after his retirement. He's going crazy building an addition on his house because he and Leila are having twins. They're due in May."

"Twins!" she marveled.

"Sebastian has ultrasound pictures. All you can see are two little blobs."

A vaguely envious feeling touched her heart. "Master Chief must be happy."

"He's ecstatic."

"What about you?" Hannah prompted.

"Same old thing," he said shortly. "Lots of missions. Short. Cold. Brutal,"

His terseness kept her quiet. She sensed there was more he wanted to say. But then he started to stand. "I guess I should be going."

"No!" She slid to the edge of her chair, prepared to tackle him, if need be. "Please, don't go yet."

He sat back down with a sigh. "I've tried to forget you " he blurted, "like you wanted me to." The muscles in his jaw jumped.

"I never wanted you to forget me," she protested, her throat suddenly tight.

"You know what I mean. Let you live your life. Not bother you."

"Oh, Luther, you could never bother me." That he could even think so brought tears to her eyes. She reached for a box of tissues and snatched one out. "Sorry," she apologized. "I've been doing this a lot lately. It's supposedly good for me."

Luther's look of astonishment was almost comical. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to upset you."

"No, please." She waved him down. "I know I've surprised you by changing my plans but, believe me, no one's more surprised than I am."

He stood up. Now she'd done it. He was leaving.

But he wasn't. "Come here," he said, holding his hands out to her.

She placed her hands in his, loving the tender strength in them as he pulled her to her feet. And then, to her very great relief, he wrapped his big, beautiful arms around her.

In the warm, safe haven of Luther's embrace, Hannah sighed. God, if she could stay
right
here for the rest of her life, she'd be a happy woman. Why hadn't she realized that before?

Fortunately he seemed in no hurry to let go. "This always seemed to help," he said. He smelled of sportsman's soap and ironing starch, a dearly familiar combination.

"I've missed you," she confessed, her tears dampening his shirt pocket.

Under her ear, his heart seemed to beat faster. "I've missed you too " he said roughly. "I've been pretty freaking miserable, actually," he added, "putting myself in danger over and over again. It finally occurred to me that I don't like my life without you in it."

She pulled back to regard his stormy eyes. "You shouldn't have let me go," she chastised him.