by Karen Kirst
“Brady?”
When she didn’t get a response, she knew something was wrong. He wouldn’t have left her for no reason. She could hear employees talking in surprised voices. They weren’t frightened, like her. They weren’t aware of the danger.
She turned off the light. Her enemy had the capability to access sophisticated weaponry. If he was staging an attack, he might be equipped with night vision goggles. He’d see her, but she wouldn’t see him. He could stalk her, as a predatory animal would do.
Reaching out in the dark, she located the coupon and magazine stand and crouched behind it. Minutes dragged. Doors slammed. The clang and thud of what was likely aluminum cans reverberated through the aisles.
Alarm slid through her when Brady didn’t return. She debated whether or not to text him. The screen light would expose her hiding place.
Had Lance Corporal Pickens realized what was happening? Or was he oblivious to the potential threat?
A commotion in the opposite side of the store incited panic. Someone screamed. The sounds of a scuffle were undeniable. A would-be thief trying to take advantage of the situation? Or her adversary on the hunt?
Olivia fired off a text. She squeezed the phone in her tight grip, her eyes glued to the screen.
He didn’t respond.
She had to act. Had to investigate.
With her flashlight feature lighting the way, she used the stand to pull herself up and forced one foot in front of the other. The blood thundered in her ears. Her muscles were coiled like wire springs. She didn’t have a weapon, but her cast was hard enough to break someone’s nose.
Olivia continued along the back of the store where the meat was stocked. This area had gone as silent as a tomb.
The flashlight beam bounced off white flecked tiles. At each aisle’s endcap, she stopped and peeked along the row. A mother and son were seated beside the cereal display. When her light fell on them, they huddled closer together. Maybe they’d sensed this wasn’t an ordinary power outage. There were no storms in the area, after all, and they had to have heard the same scuffle she had.
Her mouth sandpaper dry, she tiptoed forward. The next two aisles were empty. Then she saw something that made her stomach swoop to her toes. Blood. Bright red beads, one after another.
She followed the grisly trail, past the cheese and yogurt selections and the refrigerated dairy cases. The beads had become smears and partial footprints. Hardly able to breathe, she rounded the cases and spied a silver door. Her gaze locked on a bloody handprint.
Olivia’s instincts told her not to go through the door. But Brady could be on the other side, in desperate need of help.
She inched forward and pushed the swinging door inward. The hinges whined. Clay red tiles hindered her ability to see blood spatters. There were prep tables and rows of razor-sharp knives of increasing size hanging on the wall above deep sinks.
The silence was thick and cloying. Was her enemy biding his time, waiting for the right moment to shoot her? Tackle her? Strangle her?
In the next instant, she sensed someone behind her. Before she could defend herself, a hand clapped over her mouth and an arm imprisoned her waist.
Olivia was being hauled into the cooler, and her struggles proved futile.
* * *
“Shh.” Brady pressed his lips to her ear. “It’s me.”
Olivia’s thrashing didn’t immediately subside. Her back tucked against his chest; he held fast. “Liv, stop.”
Inhaling sharply, she spun out of his hold. “Brady? Are you okay? I saw blood—” Her light scanned his length, from his feet up, stopping on his face. “You’re injured!”
“I’m fine. He got me with a knife, but it’s not serious.” The wound on the side of his neck burned like a scorpion sting. “I’ll deal with it later.”
“It looks deep. There was a lot of blood. Was he injured, too?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Putting himself between her and the door, he said, “He ambushed me. I fought him off and pursued him back here but lost sight of him. He could still be in the building.”
“He won’t stick around and risk being caught. He’ll return to the shadows and regroup. Once again, he managed to slip in and out without leaving a clue to his identity.”
“On that point, you’re wrong.” Fishing the object from his pocket, he lifted it for her to see. “He left us a souvenir.”
“The knife he used on you.” She grimaced, her gaze going again to his wound. “You’re not feeling light-headed, are you?”
“Not at all.”
At the sound of approaching footsteps, he lifted the knife. A blinding beam swept into the cooler.
“Captain Johnson?”
“You’re late to the party, Pickens.” He lowered the knife as the lance corporal entered the cooler. “You didn’t happen to see anyone suspicious lurking around outside, did you?”
“No, sir.” His apprehension apparent, Pickens examined them both. “Are you the only one wounded, sir?”
“Did you encounter anyone else bleeding in the aisles?”
Pickens shook his head.
“Then I assume I’m the only one.”
The power surged on, and it took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust. Olivia seized his hand and, tugging him out of the cooler, moved to get a closer look at his neck.
“Call a medic,” she told Pickens.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Olivia turned a complete circle, her gaze snagging on the paper towel dispenser. She used them to try to stem the bleeding. Her brow was knitted, her dark brows tucked together and her lower lip snagged between her teeth.
He reached up and gently tucked the sparkly hairpin back into place. Her eyes shifted to his, and the intensity of her worry for his well-being knocked the breath from his lungs.
“It’s nothing more than a scratch, you know.”
“If that were the case, there wouldn’t be the need for a major cleanup in the dairy section.”
“Look on the bright side,” he quipped. “My guess is the manager will give us a discount for our trouble. More ice cream for us. He may even throw in some whipped cream and chocolate syrup for free.”
An amused breath blew through her pursed lips. “This is a new side of you, Captain.”
“You mean I’m not the humorless robot you pegged me for?”
The pressure she’d been applying to his neck went slack. Guilt slid through her eyes. Not the reaction he was going for. Before he could think of something to say, the manager bustled in. More MPs arrived, along with EMTs. They wanted to transport him to the naval hospital on Camp Lejeune, but he insisted on being treated at the scene. After his wound was cleaned and antibiotics applied, they used butterfly bandages instead of stitches.
He and Olivia gave a joint statement to the military police. When they were free to go, Pickens was on hand to follow them to base housing.
Olivia climbed into his truck but put her hand out to prevent him from closing the door. “I don’t want to stay on base,” she said, her gaze scanning the woods behind the commissary. “I know he’s probably gone, but I won’t sleep a wink in that house.”
“We’ll go to mine.”
“You shouldn’t be around me, Brady.”
“Yes, I should. Now more than ever.”
He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. Before getting in, he tapped on Pickens’s window. “We’re going to my place. You can return to headquarters.”
The lance corporal opened his mouth to argue, caught Brady’s expression and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
In his spot behind the wheel, Brady started the engine and pulled out of the lot.
“Take me to a hotel.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t have to be in the city,” she reasoned. “The one on Camp Lejeune
probably has vacancies.”
His hands tight on the wheel, Brady glanced over at her. “I am not leaving you, Olivia. Not now, not ever.”
Her lips parted in surprise. He’d meant until this guy was no longer a threat, but he couldn’t form the words. The ride to his neighborhood was completed in silence. They both kept watch for anyone tailing them. At his house, he quickly closed the garage door, reset the alarm and retrieved his gun from the safe. Returning from his bedroom, he found Olivia standing in the middle of the living room, her arms crisscrossed over her middle.
Her beauty had a bedraggled quality. The hairpin had come loose again. Her smoky eyeliner was smudged, and there was dried blood on her hands and a streak of it on her cheek. At his footfall, she turned and tried valiantly to offer him a smile. Her courage, her perseverance in the face of adversity, astounded him. Here she was, smack in the middle of a nightmare, and she was trying to make him feel better. To convince him with a smile that she was okay so he wouldn’t worry.
Brady set the gun on the dining table and crossed the room to her.
“This hairpin does not want to stay in,” he murmured, carefully slipping the strands free of the sparkly adornment. He watched the silken waves tumble past her ear. “Here you are.”
He placed the pin into her palm. Head bowed, she curled her fingers around it. Unable to resist, he threaded his fingers through the waves and smoothed the mass behind her shoulder.
Brady shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and settled it over her. He didn’t let go of the lapels, though. The fabric securely in his grip, he slowly tugged her closer. He expected her to resist. To question what he was doing. Her eyes were locked onto his, and they were brimming with longing and wonder.
His heart hummed and soared in expectation.
How could this be? Olivia.
He didn’t realize he’d said her name aloud until she responded.
“Yes?” Her face was angled upward, her lips a beacon in the night.
Brady touched his fingertips to the soft flesh. He skimmed her chin, her jaw, her uninjured cheek.
Her lids fluttered closed, and she leaned into him. “Brady.”
His name was a reverent, awe-filled whisper. His chest swelled with gratitude. She liked him. She cared for him, something he hadn’t thought possible.
Cupping her nape, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Silent accusation ripped through him. You can’t do this. Not with the secrets between you.
Her lips clung to his like a quivering butterfly’s wing, her entire being still, anticipating his next move.
Crushing his selfish instincts took almost more strength than he possessed. Olivia was a precious gift...someone he could depend on, someone he could trust. He didn’t have to hide any part of himself from her. That’s why he couldn’t hurt her like this. Couldn’t deceive her.
He broke the connection and released the lapels. She swayed, her eyes popping open, confusion glazing the brown depths.
“Brady?”
“I am so sorry.”
“Sorry? Why?”
He trudged to the kitchen island and braced himself against the counter to stay upright. “Forgive me. I’m not certain how to explain.”
She didn’t speak for long, excruciating moments. “It’s all right. I get it.” Her half-hearted laugh had a mocking edge. “You’re exhausted. Mentally and physically taxed. You wouldn’t have kissed me if these had been normal circumstances. Not that we can label that a kiss. The start of one, maybe...”
Anguish crept into her voice, and he shifted around to face her.
Her fingers worked in her skirt, pleating and crushing the gossamer material. “I mean, you didn’t approve of me before I became a target. This danger we’ve been in, the trials we’ve faced together, skewed your opinion. As soon as it’s over, you’ll want to go your own way. Revert to how things used to be.”
“No, Liv.” He took a single step toward her, a terrible ache building inside him.
“No.” She lifted her arms to keep him at bay. “It’s okay. I don’t want this. I was reckless before, with Derek. I promised myself I wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes.” Pushing her hair off her forehead, she said, “For years, I immersed myself in my studies. While my classmates had active social lives, I kept my nose buried in books. My parents sacrificed to pay for my education, and I was determined to make them proud. I didn’t go on a single date in all that time. After graduation, I switched my focus to building a career. But then Derek bumped into me, and literally knocked my world off-kilter.”
Brady knew the story by heart. She’d been shopping in downtown Wilmington, located about an hour south of Jacksonville, when Derek had accidentally collided with her. He’d caused her to drop her bags. A birthday gift for her mother had been damaged, and he’d insisted on purchasing a replacement. Afterward, he’d convinced her to get coffee with him. They’d been inseparable after that.
“He embarked on a quest to charm and dazzle me, and he succeeded. I fell hard and fast. How could I not? Here was this handsome, accomplished, brave marine, and for whatever reason, he thought I was special.”
“You are special.”
“That’s not the point. The thing is, Brady, I didn’t enter our marriage with a clear idea of who he was.”
His heartbeat slowed. “What are you saying?”
“Not long after the wedding, I began to sense he was holding something back. He avoided serious topics, dodged most questions. I can’t prove it, obviously, but I think he had secrets.”
Brady closed his eyes and prayed for wisdom. When he’d promised his best friend that Olivia wouldn’t learn of his past from him, he hadn’t foreseen this scenario—a future without Derek, and Olivia with a price on her head.
He pushed off the island, his thoughts a tangled jumble. Price on her head?
“Maybe he knew there was something wrong with him,” she mused. “Maybe that’s why he was committed to leaching as much fun from each day as possible.”
Brady began to pace. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
“Think of what?”
“These attempts on your life. I’ve made them out to be personal. A coworker with a grudge. Dr. Ledford and his unrequited crush. What if it’s not personal at all?”
Olivia watched him with wary eyes. “You have a new theory?”
He stopped short, dreading what he had to do. He wished it hadn’t come to this. Derek should’ve been the one to tell her, not him. But she might possess some seemingly inconsequential piece of information that could help them avoid future attacks.
Brady took her hands in his. “Olivia, there’s something I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”
She tensed. “You have an odd expression on your face, like you’re about to deliver devastating news.”
“Life-altering news,” he said. “It’s not mine to share, exactly, but the time has come.”
“You’re scaring me, Brady. Just spit it out.”
He sucked in a ragged breath. “Your husband was not who he claimed to be. Derek Waters didn’t exist. His actual name was Matteo Giordano, and he was the heir to a mafia empire.”
FIFTEEN
Olivia jerked her hands free. “What are you saying?”
“In order to escape a life of crime, he had to fake his own death and create a new persona.”
Brady’s somber countenance, coupled with the regret in his stormy eyes, sliced her protests to ribbons. He wouldn’t joke about this.
But Derek would. “Oh, Brady, don’t you see? You’ve been duped. This is one of Derek’s pranks. Clearly, he took it too far. He should’ve told you right away.”
Her words didn’t have the desired effect. “No, Liv. He had proof. I’ll show it to you.”
She followed him to the spare bedroom he’d conv
erted to an office. She waited just inside the door, convinced it was an elaborate hoax. Derek had often played practical jokes on his buddies. This one wasn’t well thought-out. In fact, it was cruel, and that was something her late husband hadn’t been.
Brady removed a manila file from his filing cabinet. His jaw was tight, his countenance grave. He hadn’t changed from his tuxedo, and dark russet stains marred his white dress shirt. Above his collar, bandages didn’t completely hide his torn, bruised skin. She wasn’t immune to him, despite the rawness of his rejection. Even now, she would give anything to be in his arms, to be welcomed and loved—
“Olivia?”
His voice jarred her from her musings. That she could be distracted by him in this moment told her how deep she’d gotten.
She took the file and flipped it open.
“These are newspaper articles relating to his death,” he said. “The one he staged.”
Olivia lowered herself into the desk chair and spread out the clippings, singling out one with a photo of a much younger Derek. She splayed her fingers over the likeness, shock and denial spiraling through her. “This can’t be.”
“I didn’t believe it, either, at first,” he said quietly. “When he went missing, his family offered reward money for information leading to his whereabouts. They located his car later, submerged in a local waterway. It bothered him that there was no body. He said his father wouldn’t consider the case closed without concrete evidence. That’s why social media made Derek nervous.”
The words blurred on the page. “How did he pull it off?”
“He paid a trusted mafia contact to orchestrate the accident and provide him with the trappings of a new identity.”
Her mind reeled. “He would’ve had to have a different social security number in order to enlist, right? A birth certificate and driver’s license.” Her husband had committed bribery and fraud. What other crimes didn’t she know about?
“There are plenty of career criminals willing to provide illegal services for a price.”