Secondary Targets (21 page)

CHAPTER 35

New York City, Queens

UNDER the cover of night, Cherilyn guided the automobile into the garage. Eric looked at Grace, leaning against him sleeping. The nightmare was almost over, and that left him with a bittersweet hangover.

Cherilyn exited the car and stopped at the door only long enough to tap a sequence of numbers on the alarm system on the wall. The door to the house opened and the garage door closed, sealing out the night and any threats looming in the darkness.

Eric climbed out of the backseat and coaxed Grace into his arms. She began to stir as he carried her through the house, following Cherilyn and Marcus until they stalled in a dimly lit hallway.

“You guys’ll be comfortable in here.” Cherilyn swung the door open and took off down the hallway.

Grace wriggled out of Eric’s arms before he could carry her over the threshold. No point in getting her hopes up about that sort of thing anymore. He knew her flaw, and he wasn’t accepting.

“Where are we?” She scanned the bedroom and headed for the French doors on the opposite side.

“We’re in New York. Queens, I think.” His voice followed close behind. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

She ignored him, opening the doors. “Do you think we’re close to the end?” she asked, moving outside onto the balcony. “Is it almost over?”  

“I don’t know,” he said and leaned against the railing. “It could be the end, or it could simply be another clue, leading us to yet another location.” His tone showed the distaste the thought brought him.

Eric couldn’t wait to be rid of her, and that hurt. “What if it is the end of the trail?” She made small talk to shield her wounded ego.

“Well...” He folded his arms over his chest. “I think it all depends on what’s at the end of the trail and how safe we’ll be once we get there.”

“What if we’re not safe?”

“You know I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe,” he said, as if it was nothing more than an assignment. An obligation.

When this was over, she half-expected to receive a bill for services rendered. “And what if we are safe?” She should’ve let it go, but like so many times in the past she made the wrong choice.

“Then it’ll be time for me to go back to what I know best.”

“And what’s that?”

“Solitude.”

“I know you probably don’t believe this, but...” Grace hesitated, fighting the mocking laughter trying to escape. The truth was a ridiculous notion, and wasn’t worthy of anybody’s attention. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, blame him if he laughed in her face. Still, she voiced her feelings. “A day hasn’t gone by that I don’t regret my error in judgment.” Her hand moved toward his face as if it had a mind of its own. She went for his cheek and felt the muscles harden. “I have never, not once, stopped loving you.”

“Grace.” He drew a breath and latched onto her wrist, moving her hand away. “I wish I could believe you when you say that, but more than that, I wish it’d make a difference.” He led her arm to her side and kept his hand clamped loosely around her wrist. “I do love you. Always have. Always will.” Eric’s bittersweet smile filled her with regret.

She knew what was coming next. “But...”

“But it’s too late.”

Too late. Those words hit her worse than any drug-crash ever had. But that Grace was gone. Long gone. She was a different person now. Her instincts urged her to salvage what she could. “If you’ll just tell me what I need to do to make this uncertainty you’re feeling, go away...just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Believe me, Gracie.” He gave her a half-hearted smile. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

Okay. So there’s nothing worse than begging. And she didn’t want his pity. If he wanted to end this thing so he could be rid of her, then so be it.
Let’s get this show on the road
. “I want to go with you when you go to Grand Central Station.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because I made a promise to keep you safe.” The cold look in his eyes said he wasn’t thrilled about any of this. That hurt. “And this could be a trap.”

Yeah, any move they made could be a trap. The trap could’ve already been set. This was just a divertive tactic on Eric’s part, but she wasn’t biting. “But I want to go with you.” She layered her voice in persuasion since a simple request hadn’t worked.

Grace figured that since he wanted to be rid of her so badly, he’d give in sooner or later.

“No,” he said, hardheaded as ever. “Marcus and I will handle it. You are going to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“It’s safe here?” she threw at him. “And you know that how?” Grace would use every opportunity within her arsenal to convince Eric. She couldn’t explain it but she didn’t want to be separated from him. She had no valid reason for her way of thinking, she just didn’t like the idea.

“You made a promise, too,” he reminded her with a smirking smile. “You said you’d do whatever I say, whenever I say.”

Oh, sure. Eric picked a fine time to use her own words against her. Damn. Grace stalked back inside the bedroom and slumped down onto the settee in the far corner.

The sting to her ego hadn’t come so much from the truth in his words as it had from that smile of his. He probably wasn’t aware of its power over her, and for that she thanked God.

Even though her thoughts kept wandering back to Eric, she had trouble ridding herself of the impending feeling of doom that insisted on hanging around. 

Eric parked himself on the bed beside her. The look she’d been dodging turned his expression into one of pitiful misfortune. “Gracie, please...” His words came softly and his tone flowed with a pleading quality. “You need to stay here. Where it’s safe.”

Tears dampened the corners of her eyes. “Okay,” she mumbled and affirmed it with a slight nod. She tried to stifle the imminent flood, but failure was destined to follow.

Eric leaned toward her and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’ll be back.” His declaration came so persuasively that she could almost talk herself into believing it. Almost.

He pushed himself off the bed and gave her a wink born from sparkling green eyes that bathed her in a gratifying gaze.

She leapt to her feet. “Hurry back, okay?”

The amount of strength it took to turn and walk away from Grace crowded Eric with regret and reproach. Whatever happened to self-motivation? The
see it and be it
approach? See yourself indifferent, be indifferent. So much for psychobabble.  

Eric blazed a trail downstairs and followed Marcus through the kitchen toward the back door. A piece of junk mail lying on the counter caught his eye. Addressed to Madelyn Givens, obviously one of Cherilyn’s alter-egos, he made a mental note of the name. It might come in handy somewhere down the road.

Damn, I’m getting good at this
. Puffed up with his own pride, Eric followed Marcus into the garage. “I’ll drive,” he said, and didn’t give Marcus much choice when he headed straight for the driver’s side.

“Fine with me.” Marcus went for his usual place in the car without argument.

Eric contained his surprise to just a thought. Marcus was a leader, not a follower. Until now. Maybe it was Cherilyn. She had that effect on people.

G
race stared at the empty doorway where Eric had disappeared moments before and choked on the lump clogging her throat. She rose slowly and went in search of Cherilyn. Maybe she’d find solace in like company. She and Cherilyn certainly had something in common, love and respect for the objects of their affection.

Finding Marcus’s ex in the dining room, Grace slipped into a chair at the table. “They’re gone?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Yeah.” Cherilyn’s quiet nod rivaled the gentleness of her tone.

“Why is it that I feel like I’ll never see him again?” The notion had lingered on her mind since he’d left, but speaking the words out loud was like finally realizing their value. A price she couldn’t afford, on so many levels.

“Well, maybe it’s because of your history.” Cherilyn said, sounding simplistic. But Grace knew it was an act. She just wanted to change the subject. “You do realize—” she said, glancing at Grace with one of those lofty looks that said she was all-knowing. Ah, here it comes. “That you’ve been bitten by the love bug again, don’t you?”

Grace snorted a laugh. There was nothing superior about her knowledge over Grace’s. “Well, now...that’s a thing you know a little something about, huh?”

Grace’s laughter encouraged the smile curling on Cherilyn’s lips. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, her tone cooling. “I do find, so often, that a cup of hot tea is rather comforting in situations such as this.” In refined eloquence, Cherilyn stood and waited for Grace’s response. “And, yes, I do know a little something about that.”

“That’s true.” Grace gave an agreeable nod. “You certainly do.”

“Yes,” Cherilyn said, moving toward the kitchen. “Some hot tea is just the thing we need.”

“You want some help?” Grace called after her, secretly hoping she didn’t.

Two women in the same kitchen could be dangerous, but Grace was all about politeness. She took her chances offering her services, yet all the while praying for Cherilyn’s declination.

“No.” Cherilyn stopped at the door. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a jiff,” she added and disappeared into the kitchen.

Grace waited patiently, silently contemplating the situation. Thoughts of Eric perpetuated in her head. She tried to shake the feeling that she might never see him again, but no matter what she told herself, it wouldn’t go away.

Shortly, Cherilyn returned with a tea service made of fine china that must have cost a fortune. As Cherilyn poured the tea, Grace gave her a mental salute. If she owned such a tea set she’d never use it for fear of breaking it. The woman had guts.

Cherilyn handed her a cup and flashed a friendly smile. “Go ahead,” she urged, “drink up.” She gave her a coaxing nod. “I promise, you’ll see things from a new perspective.”

“How long’s it been since you saw Marcus last?” Grace made small talk and then sipped her tea.
Ummm...hot
.
But good
. Cherilyn was right. It was soothing.

“Pretty close to twenty years now,” Cherilyn said and put on a sad sort of smile.

“Was it tea that helped you through it?” Grace asked. “I mean...being away from him and all?”

“Among other things.” She grabbed her teacup and rolled her eyes before taking a sip.

Her stiffening disposition said she didn’t like the subject. But whether it was fueled by the breakup or the time she’d spent separated from Marcus was another matter. Either way, Cherilyn looked on the verge of anger. And right now, nothing good could come from anger. 

CHAPTER 36

ERIC hadn’t a clue about what he expected to find or to happen once he and Marcus arrived at Grand Central Station and opened locker thirty-six, but if there was going to be trouble he didn’t want Grace anywhere near it. He’d spent so much time fixating on her, he was no longer sure if his fascination was born from the need to protect her or just get away from her. She’d already ruined his life once, better to not let it happen twice.

The soldier in him paroled the outskirts of his mind and the perimeter of his vision, waiting, watching, expecting—but nothing happened. He and Marcus walked inside one of the nation’s busiest landmarks and right up locker thirty-six without any hoopla or fanfare.

A sensation of impending doom escorted him to the lockers and stood guard while he retrieved the key from his wallet. He scanned the vicinity, half-expecting a slew of the General’s associates to ensnare them and lay siege to the locker’s contents.

Maybe they were waiting for them to open the locker?

He slid the key into the slot and it turned easily. One more quick scan before he popped open the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. No adversaries. No threat. No worries.

Eric removed the locker’s contents—two briefcases—and nothing or no one interfered. They may not have had company, however unwanted, but there was plenty of anxiety to go around as he handed one of the attaché cases to Marcus.  

The trepidation stayed with Eric and accompanied him outside, where he and Marcus strolled to the parking garage across the street. Although dressed in a casual manner, anyone taking notice of either of them would have assumed they were simply two entrepreneurial businessmen returning from or arriving on a business trip.

“This was too easy,” Eric said, slipping into the parking garage’s elevator.

“I know what you mean.” Marcus gave the parking interior one last sweep before stepping into the elevator with Eric.  

Eric hit button number three and the doors closed. The compartment began its ascension and his heart pounded with a terrible foreboding that things were somehow going to get worse.

The elevator opened at level three, and a comforting feeling bundled around Eric when he laid eyes on the rental car just a few paces away. He paused at the driver’s door long enough for a quick sweeping analysis of the garage before he got into the car.

“This is really unbelievable.” Baffled confusion shook Eric. Had they really walked into Grand Central Station and confiscated the briefcases with absolutely no resistance at all? Finally, hopefully, at least, the mystery would be solved.

“I expected an army of opposition to be waiting for us here,” Marcus said, and Eric felt better knowing they were on the same page.

“So did I.” Eric started the engine and shifted the car into gear. “That’s why I didn’t want Grace tagging along,” he added, backing out of the parking space.

“She’s safe with Cher.” There was certainty in Marcus’s voice. He believed his words, and that offered Eric a measure of encouragement.

He wasn’t sure about much of anything else, but he was confident the General’s briefcases would tell the tale. In fact, he was counting on it. Eric cruised to the exit.

“What’s in the briefcases?” he asked, merging into the traffic on 42nd Street.

Marcus opened one of the attaché’s and it was filled with stacks of money and a cluster of passports. Eric spotted the goods in his peripheral vision. He stole a quick look for confirmation.

Yep. The case contained a ton of cash and several travel permits.

Eric snatched up one of the passports and expertly maneuvered the steering wheel and inspected the pamphlet at the same time. It contained a much younger photo of Eric, but with a new name.

He tossed the passport back into the case and grabbed a couple more. Another of him, the photograph just as old as the other, but with a different name. He tossed it aside and inspected another. This time, one of Grace and just as Eric expected, she too had a different name.

“What the hell...?” Eric’s confusion mounted as Marcus riffled through the briefcase, finding several birth certificates and numerous drivers licenses from various states for both Eric and Grace—all with a variety of names.

The items fell from Marcus’s hands as he looked at Eric. If he was trying to hide his bewilderment, he’d done a poor job of it. “There are identities here for you and Grace. Lots of them.” Confusion creased his brow and lit his face with uncertainty. “There’s a ton of cash. Swiss bank account numbers. You name it, it’s here.”

The briefcase drew Marcus back and he came out with an envelope addressed to
Grace and Eric
.

The mystery clouding Eric’s mind thickened instead of clearing. “What’s that?”

“I think it’s from the General,” Marcus said. “Maybe it’s an explanation.”

“And maybe it’s just a plea for Grace’s forgiveness,” Eric countered. The General loved his daughter. Her forgiveness would be of the utmost importance to him—right next to her safety.

“So, you want to wait and let her open it?” Marcus asked.

Yes, Eric nodded.

Marcus only had the opportunity to go through the one case by the time they’d arrived back at the safe house, and by now Eric was consumed with anxiety. He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew—something was wrong. If only he knew what.

He guided the car into the garage and a storm of chaos campaigned effortlessly inside his head.

“Let’s bring the cases into the house.” Eric had barely shifted into park before he blew out of the car, briefcase in hand, and rushed toward the door leading into the house.

That sinking feeling intensified. He entered the house through the kitchen, calling her name. “Grace...?”

Nothing.

He heard nothing but the sound of Marcus’s footsteps following close behind.

His heart clamored against his chest as he passed through the kitchen and they laid the briefcases onto the counter before moving into the living room. The turmoil squatting in his thoughts finally gave credence to the tension invading his soul from the moment he’d left Grace earlier.

It looked like a cyclone had hit the house. Furniture lay askew, ripped apart. Tables were overturned. Drawers had been rummaged through. Lamps broken. Eric’s heart slammed to the floor at the thought of the struggle that had undoubtedly taken place.

They set about canvassing the place, hoping against hope that they’d find Grace and Cherilyn hiding in some corner, scared out of their wits.

Eric’s fear manifested from the depths of his soul and consumed him.
Just please, God, don’t let her be dead
.

Room by room, floor by floor, they found the house was empty. Anger and a bit of self-condemnation were Eric’s invading emotions as he slowly began to accept that Grace was no longer in the house.

“I am such a freaking idiot!” Eric’s frustration escaped. “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

His raked his hand over his Marine Corps buzz haircut. He trotted down the stairs and stilled in the living room briefly before he began pacing the length of the overturned couch.

Marcus stopped near the stairs and propped his hands on his hips.

“You looked in all the closets?” Eric asked. “I mean, they could be hiding,” he added, more hopeful than anything.

Marcus shook his head. Cherilyn would never be found cowering in some corner. Only one of three scenarios was plausible in this case. She’d either, one, killed them, which wasn’t likely since neither she nor Grace was there. Two, she and Grace had been killed. Or three, at best, she and Grace had been taken hostage.

If Cherilyn was still alive, there was a good chance he could save her. Marcus had to hold onto that notion.

“Look, we can’t lose our cool now,” Marcus said, secretly hoping he could follow his own advice. “We have to remain calm so we can figure out where they’ve taken them.”

Finding Cherilyn and Grace was their one and only option.

The telephone rang. Eric and Marcus looked at each other.

“Answer it,” he said to Eric. The feeling of dread washed over Marcus. This couldn’t be good.

Eric picked up the phone. “Yes...” Nerves cracked his voice.

“Bring the General’s things to the Bremerson and Tichner warehouse.” A technically altered and unidentifiable voice ordered. “It’s on the docks along the East River, near the Brooklyn Bridge. Bremerson and Tichner’s warehouse. And no funny business, Wayne. You’ve got an hour or the little lady gets it.”

The line went dead.

“We have an hour to get to Bremerson and Tichner’s warehouse.” Eric repeated the gist of the instructions to Marcus. He paused, catching his breath and then said, “Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for Marcus’s response, just headed for the door.

Eric charged through the kitchen and nabbed a briefcase on his way out into the garage. Marcus followed, hot on his trail with the second case.

Car doors slammed, seatbelts buckled, and Eric started the engine. Fuel, thick smoke, and the smell of burning rubber filled the garage as Eric threw the car in reverse and stomped on the gas, barreling out into the driveway.

Eric didn’t have the slightest clue as to where he was going. He was about as familiar with New York as the Middle East was with democracy. But he wasn’t going to let a little thing like that keep him down. He just needed to figure out which he wanted Marcus to do first—open the envelope or figure out where the warehouse was located.

If he was going to stand the slightest chance of saving Grace, he had to know what was in that envelope. He glanced at Marcus. “Read me that letter.”

Eric guided his attention back to the street.
Sorry, Gracie
.