Secondary Targets (11 page)

She pivoted on her heel and strolled wistfully back into Cherilyn’s deserted and dimly lit living room and dropped to the couch facing the back door. The moonlight’s reflection cascading off the slider reminded her of another night when it glistened out over the ocean like a shimmering sea of liquid pearls.

Grace could almost hear the sound of water rolling lazily back and forth, and smell the sweet honeysuckle drifting through the night, overpowering the salty sea air. 

It was their third date, officially, and in the three weeks since they’d met, she’d been able to think of virtually nothing else. They’d dined at water’s edge in the high-end restaurant Lou LaBonte’s, and Eric had invited her for a stroll on the beach afterward.

“So, Eric Wayne...” Grace dangled her shoes in one hand and clung to Eric with the other as her feet crunched into the dampened sand with each step along the water’s edge. “What’s your story?”

“What’s my story?” He repeated her words as if somebody had slipped her a damaging note behind his back. “I don’t have a story.”

Grace stopped and studied his stark face. “Everybody has a story.”

“Okay.” His eyes hardened. “What’s your story?”

“My story...?” Grace hesitated, letting her grim amusement take hold. “Well, I’m just your average spoiled commander’s daughter.”

“Average...spoiled...commander’s daughter?” A glint of humor stimulated his words and he laughed as if genuinely amused.

“Okay. Your turn.”

“My turn...?” He uttered a surly grunt, and remained silent for the longest time. Finally, he looked back at her and a natural smile curved at the corners of his mouth. “What’s my story?” He posed the question with a soft tone, and traced his fingertips along the edge of her cheek. Tangling a strand of her wayward hair around his hand, he said, “I’m crazy about you.”

With a gentle tug of her captured hair, Eric pulled her to him. His lips touched hers and sent the pit of her stomach into a swirl. A latent giddiness showered over Grace, one she hadn’t felt since Jimmy France planted one on her back in the seventh grade.

A lingering shiver rippled through Grace and brought her back to the present. She scrutinized the darkness around her, the emptiness, the loneliness. The mystery surrounding her father and this thing with Eric brought her nothing but drudgery and constant hastening. She felt like she should always be moving, on the go, but she didn’t get why. Sitting still afforded her nothing but the opportunity to realize she was clueless—about her father’s mystery and Eric. The General? Not her fault. Eric? Totally to blame.

Eric had unleashed a hunger in her the night he took her virginity, one she thought she’d managed to subdue over the years.

No such luck. Simply walking back into his life had awakened the dormant hunger and now her body ached for his touch.

And that was a consequence she’d have to suffer. She’d made her choice, as wrong as it was, a long time ago. Eric Wayne was no longer an option. He’d made that clear. Grace was lucky he’d agreed to help her, and considering the virtual distance he was constantly trying to lay between them, she’d do well to remember that. She didn’t need to make him so uncomfortable that he’d decide to up and leave.

Grace needed Eric, depended upon him and his expertise. Even though it might not look so now, in the end, he’d figure out what was going on. Eric didn’t know how to quit or give up—which is why it’d been so damned hard for her to hide.   

CHAPTER 16

ERIC stumbled into Cherilyn’s dining room the next morning, after having been awake half the night. All things considered, getting up before 8 AM was a hassle. He shook his head and tried to dispel the fog clouding his mind.

So far, no luck.

Seeing Grace and Cherilyn sitting at the dinner table looking all perky and shit definitely didn’t help. On the other hand, Marcus with his weary eyes burdened by the weight of uncertainty, didn’t appear any better off than Eric.

Eric was swept away by a mood of discouragement, but, for Grace’s sake, he intended to give the impression of being steadfast. He went to her side and without thinking kissed the top of her head. Her hair was soft, like silk.

Thoughts seized his brain of the numerous times he’d tangled his hands in her hair when they used to make love—whoa! He snapped out of the memory. Where did that come from?

She tilted her head back and forced a demure smile, leaving Eric with a stranded, left-behind feeling. But that didn’t stop him from bending and brushing his lips against her forehead. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice broke miserably and she froze, as if suddenly becoming uncomfortable. A look of tired sadness passed over her features.

The awakening experience left Eric reeling and he settled into a nearby empty chair, disappointed. He couldn’t deny the evidence any longer. Grace Hendricks had moved on, and Eric would do well to follow suit.

“Would you like some coffee?” Cherilyn stood, with her cup in hand and moved around the table.

Boy, would he ever. “Sounds great,” he said, scooting the chair back and preparing to stand.

“Just stay there,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it,” she added, right before disappearing into the kitchen.

Eric repositioned his chair and an anxious feeling followed his gaze around the table, passing quickly by Grace and stopping at Marcus.

“Any thoughts on what we should do now?” Marcus asked, his face terribly serious.

“It doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to find out what happened to my father.” Grace’s face held a haggard and defeated look. “Not unless we can get lucky enough to run across somebody that knew him as a member of Cherilyn’s mysterious organization.”

“Somebody out there knows what happened to the General.” Eric maintained his persistent mantra and turned to Grace. “I’m not about to give up.”

He’d jumped into the quest headfirst, and as hard as it seemed now, he wasn’t about to give up without the answers. Somebody had them and he intended to find out who.

How? He hadn’t a clue.

Grace wanted to believe Eric had the ability to pull the answers, and persons of unknown identities, out of thin air, but that was expecting a bit much. Quite illogical, actually.

Still, she had no doubt that Eric believed what he was saying, and that in itself coiled her optimism upward. As unrealistic as the prospect was, he had every intention of succeeding and his determination had to count for something. She was surprised to hear his fortitude echo in her own thoughts.

Cherilyn reappeared with two cups of coffee in hand and set one in front of Eric. She ambled around the table and slipped gracefully into her seat. “You’re father didn’t leave you any letters, or anything like that?” She sipped her coffee and targeted all her attention on Grace. “Anything that could maybe indicate what all the mystery is about?” 

Grace shook her head slowly. Despite Cherilyn’s surface cordiality, Grace felt like the woman was fishing. But for what? Maybe this was a spy’s way of uncovering facts?

“Okay, so this is what we do know.” Cherilyn planted her forearms firmly on the table and the grand gestures she made with her hands seemed to support her judgment. “Someone eradicated your father’s existence. Literally, stole his grave.” She cut her eyes at Grace in a peculiar, probing sort of way. “And that in itself is plenty reason to worry.”

Well, yeah
. Grace’s mind crawled away from reality and right back onto the set of that weird, sci-fi flick. Even though Cherilyn had shed some light on Marcus’s conspiracy theory, Grace still had trouble embracing the notion. 

“Whoever did this...?” Marcus’s voice rose a little on the last word of his courteous half-question, right before his words turned sour. “It’s only a matter of time before they figure out that Grace knows about it—” His voiced followed his finger around the table. “And now, so does Eric, me, and you.”

“When that happens, it doesn’t really matter
who
we’re dealing with.” Cherilyn’s voice was awfully calm considering the words spilling from her mouth. “We’re in trouble.”

“If that’s the case,” Eric was much more serious, “then we probably don’t want to be anywhere that they can find us.”

“You’re absolutely right.” An energetic tone came into Cherilyn’s voice. “We need to be on the move, and right away, too. If it’s my people,” she warned, “they’re probably only a step or two behind you.”

Grace felt like the last gullible participant in some thoughtless practical joke. “How, exactly, are we supposed to stay ahead of someone if we don’t know who they are?”

“Well,” Cherilyn said with all the mystery and confidence that any good spy would possess, “I might know a little something about how to do that.”

“What do you propose we do?” Marcus said, as if he wished the ground would splinter and swallow him up.

“We have two objectives.” Cherilyn straightened herself with dignity. “One...we want to know what happened to Grace’s father. And two...we need to stay at least one step ahead of whomever is responsible for his disappearance.”

Nobody, least of all Grace, was going to argue those points.

E
ric, Grace and Marcus willingly followed Cherilyn’s instructions and quickly gathered their things in preparation for leaving. Hitting the road in a timely manner was imperative if they hoped to stay ahead of
them
, while searching for clues to unravel the mystery.

The whole damned thing gnawed at Eric’s insides. He scrutinized Cherilyn as she entered the living room, full of confidence, and deposited a navy-blue backpack onto the coffee table.

What the hell was she up to?

“Grace, I want you to leave all your identification, credit cards—anything they can use to track our steps—leave it here.” Cherilyn knew how to take charge of a situation. When her eyes started darting between Eric and Marcus, he knew it was their turn. “You guys do the same.”

“What will we do for money?” A slight touch of sarcasm danced with Grace’s words.

Eric tended to agree with her. Just how far did Cherilyn think they’d get on nothing?

Cherilyn patted the backpack assertively. “Well, I’ve got twenty-five grand in cash. If we use it wisely, it’ll last us a while.” She paused with a dismissive shrug. “At least until we can maybe find out what’s going on.”

Grace’s mouth fell open, but Eric kept his zipped tight.

Why would she do that? Skepticism nearly shoved his thoughts outside the safe confines of his mind. Who did that kind of thing for strangers, or ex-husbands?

Somebody that was up to something, that’s who. Looks like Cherilyn might still have a thing for Marcus.

“Well, as much as I like you and your girl...” Cherilyn gave a little chuckle, as if she knew Eric’s thoughts. “I’m doing this for Marcus. He’s involved now, and I won’t allow anything to happen to him.”

Wow. She was willing to turn her world upside-down and contribute twenty-five grand to the cause. Amazing. What some people would do for love.

Eric didn’t particularly care about her motivation, he was glad she was there. They needed all the help they could get if they were going to stand a chance at remaining a step or two ahead of any pursuers.

If there was any validity to the claims Cherilyn was making, then Eric had to consider the convenience by which that was happening. They’d maintained a lead without knowing how, why, or who might be following them. For Eric, that was happening a little too easily.

He’d like to believe he was smarter than these people and their organization, which incidentally was apparently empowered, yet denied, by the United States Government. Eric was not that naïve. But he was determined. He’d wrapped his personal dignity up in his bid for success.

But, if there was a bunch of bad guys from some secret organization after them, then how, pray tell, was he supposed to protect Grace when he had no clue who he was up against?

C
herilyn Johnson was a take-charge sort of person. She hadn’t always been like that, but after a hard lesson learned from a cruel, callous world filled with hatred and prejudices, she’d learned to adapt. She had tailored herself effectively, and she’d done it fast.

The way she saw it, she knew more about how to handle the situation than her guests. She felt confident that she’d get no argument from Marcus, but she wasn’t so sure about Eric.

Lord, that man was so apprehensive about whether or not he could protect his girl. Well, Cherilyn would have to use her persuasive devices, and they weren’t always charming. But, in this case,
the honey approach
was the way to go. She’d found, over the years, that friendly influences carried far more weight than intimidation and scare tactics. For obvious reasons, she’d have no use for the latter.

Of course, convincing Eric that traveling in his car was no longer a viable option—not if they wanted to maintain their edge—was not as much of a slam-dunk as she’d hoped. He wanted reasons, real ones that he could sink his teeth into.

“Well...” She enlisted a charming tone and a sweet disposition. “If you’re not already being followed, it’s only a matter of time until that happens.”

If she was right—and Cherilyn always trusted her gut—it would happen. And when it did, the last thing any of them wanted, whether they realized it or not, was to leave a trail leading right to their doorstep.

She was in charge now. The men were going to have to accept it.

“So what do you suggest?” Eric said with a subtle mocking nuance in his voice.

Cherilyn ignored his vexing cheekiness. His challenge was commendable.

“Rental car,” she said with an air of eloquence.

She’d learned a long time ago that renting various automobiles, doing it quite often and using various identities when you did it, was the only way to survive the game. If they could find you, then somewhere along the way you’d lost your place as the prey and fell into the much more precarious position as the hunted.

Marcus nodded his head, as if he knew the direction her conversation was headed. “I’ll take you to get the car.”

He had one thing right. She was going, but he wasn’t. “Not a good idea,” she said, hating to bust his bubble.

“Why not?” Marcus countered.

“We’re trying
not
to draw attention to ourselves.”

“As much as I hate to say it—” Grace’s voice was calm and contrite. “Times haven’t changed that much. A black man and a white woman will probably draw attention.” She looked acutely embarrassed and glanced at Marcus, shooting him an apologetic look.

“They’re right, you know. An interracial couple will likely be noticed.” Eric gave Marcus one of those looks that said,
you’re outnumbered dude
. “But more importantly, you’ll be remembered.”

Eric Wayne thought with his head. Cherilyn had to admire that. Kudos to him and the honey approach. Together, they convinced Marcus that Cherilyn was right.

She understood what so many others didn’t. Just because someone is after you, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the hunted—not in the traditional sense—nor does it mean that your pursuers are in charge.