CHAPTER NINE
PERFECT. Not only had Signe lost her mind, she couldn’t even escape this stupid town. Round and round she went, driving through narrow side roads, past graffitied buildings, vacant lots, and the occasional palm tree, looking for the highway.
If only she’d paid just a little attention to the route she’d taken following Orion instead of the way Ham had his arm hooked around her waist. The feel of his legs against hers.
The sense that she could have this—all of it—if she played it right.
Or not. Because her brains, instead of her heart, kept reminding her that the second after she gave Ham the real drive, she had nothing. No leverage to prove she was telling the truth.
Convince the CIA Good Guys that she wasn’t a terrorist wheedling her way back into her country.
Hello, black site holding facility.
And while her heart said she could trust the one man who hadn’t given up on her, her head said that the CIA Bad Guys still wanted their hands on the drive. On her.
Worse, Aggie was caught in the middle.
Nope.
She needed to get away. Regroup.
Figure out how to get Aggie back and to safety.
She might have panicked a little bit when Ham’s words bounced down the hallway toward her last night at the school. She’d been minding her own business, taking care of survivors, and out of the darkness heard . . .
“You need to get that list from her. That’s the mission.”
“I know.”
“Before she runs.”
“I know.”
His words were a searing red poker to the heart.
Ham might have at least tried a smidgen to hide the fact that he knew she’d betray him.
Okay, maybe she deserved that. Because here she was, doing exactly that.
Although, admittedly, not well.
She bit back a word as she turned down yet another narrow, nameless street. Past ochre-colored stucco two-story homes with pink bougainvillea spilling off the balconies. Past gated gardens, their walls blanketed with ivy. Past boys kicking a soccer ball in a vacant lot and a fenced olive grove.
The place felt so untouched by the chaos forty miles to the north, it almost felt surreal.
As if she were trapped in suburbia.
And worse, her heart kept shouting at her. Go back.
Nope.
Because the second she gave the drive to Ham, he’d pass it off to Isaac White. She’d even asked him—twice.
And then . . . well, everything she’d sacrificed for the past decade would be for nothing.
Stupid Ham. He’d almost talked her into a happy ending. Made her believe, for a split second, they might go home and live as a family.
The highway rose ahead when she turned onto another street.
Hooyah.
She gunned the engine, turned—
The road dead ended at a parking garage, a stone wall between her and the highway.
Yeah, that felt right.
She turned the Vespa around.
This was the plotline of her life. Flee, run into a dead end, get trapped . . .
Hide.
Hide and forget and—
She sped down the way she came, but just as she turned the corner, the Vespa sputtered, jerked her forward.
She gunned it, and it sputtered again.
Oh no . . . no . . .
And of course, it died, right there next to a couple of old, rusted Fiats.
Her brain might have also reminded her not to test fate when she was up against Ham. She knew what side she landed on.
Maybe she should start looking over her shoulder for a hurricane. Hail. An epic blizzard.
Or maybe Martin and his thugs, having survived the apocalypse, could suddenly show up to give her a lift.
Signe got off the Vespa and refrained from kicking it. Clearly she shouldn’t have been so flippant about having enough gas.
Now what? She scrubbed her hands down her grimy face. Think, Sig!
She thought she remembered seeing a gas station down one of the side streets, maybe.
Or she could boost one of these beaters . . .
She peered into the grimy window of a Volkswagen. Too late—wires hung from under the steering column.
Stay calm. Think.
Except, all she could hear were Ham’s words—“We can’t live in the what-ifs, Sig. We have to live in the now. The fact that we have a second chance.”
Sorry. She didn’t live in the same “it’ll all work out” world Ham inhabited. In her world, people didn’t shake off their sins, didn’t get do-overs. Didn’t return home to build successful, multimillion-dollar businesses.
They fought. Hated. Died.
And if they didn’t, they lived with the dark scars.
The rumble of a car’s engine made her look up. A tiny red Fiat covered in dust, the fender dented. She climbed to her feet and raised her hand. Maybe the driver could point her to a gas station and . . . oh goody.
She had nowhere to run as the car stopped and Ham stepped out of the driver’s side.
He shut the door. Looked at the Vespa.
“I ran out of gas.”
His mouth made a tight line as he nodded, as if it might be expected.
Then he pulled out the jump drive, held it on his palm. “Did you swipe this from the school?”
“I found it in one of the teacher classrooms.”
He looked away from her, and it looked as if his eyes glistened.
“How did you find me?”
“Really? That’s the big question here?”
She lifted a shoulder.
“Fine.” He advanced toward her and she stiffened, backed up.
His eyes widened. “Seriously. You think I would hurt you?”
His tone burned through her, but, “I don’t know. Would you?”
“Check your leg pocket.”
What? She slid her hand down to her other zippered leg pocket.
His cell phone. The one she used last night for a flashlight. She hadn’t returned it.
“I called my communications officer and she was able to ping my GPS.”
She opened the pocket and felt like an idiot as she handed him back the phone.
He took it, rubbing his thumb over the case. “So, were you playing me the entire time, or just for the past twelve hours?”
She folded her arms. “I tried the truth. You didn’t listen.”
“Try me again. I’m all ears. You can even use the big words if you want.”
“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Everything is black and white. You show up and I’m supposed to fall into your arms like you’re my savior—”
“Husband.”
“Ex-husband.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I don’t need you.”
He took a breath.
“I don’t. I survived on my own for ten years, with my daughter—”
“Our daughter.”
“You’re not hearing me. If I give this information to the wrong people, I have nothing to prove I’m not lying.”
He folded his arms.
“Nothing to protect Aggie. Or you.”
“I don’t—”
“Nothing to prove that I haven’t wasted my entire life!”
Shoot. That wasn’t supposed to come out. But Ham had this way of loosening the dark secrets from her soul. Even now, he just stared at her, unmoving, and she ached to pour out everything.
The years of abuse, of fear, of longing, of regrets.
The fact that she longed to go home almost as much as she feared it.
How could this man possibly want her after all she’d done?
Sometimes she hated how calm he could be when her entire life was splitting at the seams. “Say something!”
“What do you want me to say? Yes, you wasted your life?”
He could have slapped her with less effect.
“You’re a jerk.”
“And
you stole ten years of my daughter’s life from me and gave it to a terrorist.” His jaw tightened. “Sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t say that.”
But she had backed away, her hand up. “I knew it. You were all, ‘I’ll forgive her’ and ‘We’re together now,’ but I was right, Ham. There’s not a hope we can put this back together. Because deep down, you hate me.”
He swallowed, shook his head, but she held up her hand.
“Yes, you do. That’s why you came to Italy, isn’t it? So you could face me and tell me that I hurt you. That I was wrong. What do you want to hear, Ham, that I regret my life?”
“Okay, yes. How about this—how about that you regret leaving me. You regret taking my daughter. You regret breaking every single promise you made to me.”
His tone had turned lethal.
She knew he had it in him.
“Nice. See, that’s the real truth between us, Ham.” She shook her head, started to walk past him. “We haven’t a hope of fixing this.”
He put his hand on her arm. “Sig—”
She yanked out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”
He held up his hands. “Fine. Give me the jump drive and I’ll leave you alone.”
“No.”
“Signe! I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you, or Aggie, or—”
“You’re so obtuse! You don’t get it—”
“Help me get it!” And now, finally, Ham was shouting. His eyes shone, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling.
“Fine. You’re in bed with a traitor.”
He recoiled. “I—what?”
“Isaac White.”
He stared at her, as if trying to wrap his mind around her words. “What?”
“Isaac White, and more specifically, his running mate, Senator Jackson, are traitors.”
“You’re—”
“Crazy. Yeah, or a terrorist, according to your friend Orion, but I know what I know.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you know?” He folded his arms, stepped back.
“Jackson is the one who came to Tsarnaev’s camp. She’s the traitor.”
A beat. Ham blew out a breath. “And you’re sure it was her?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. And, brace yourself—that’s how Tsarnaev got the NOC list.”
Ham sat down on the stone wall. “You think a US senator gave away national secrets?”
“Sold them.”
He ran a hand over his forehead.
“I’m telling the truth—”
“I believe you.”
The words ripped her breath from her chest. “What?”
“I believe you.”
Stupid, forbidden tears burned her eyes. No, no— “You do?”
“Of course I do. Sig— I know you, or I did. You might hide the truth. Even run from the truth. Even betray me without looking back. But you’re not lying.”
“You knew I wasn’t coming back with you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to believe that, but yes.” He met her eyes.
And it nearly felled her, the look of hurt in his gaze.
“Sit down. Tell me what you think is going on.” He didn’t reach out to her, though. Just folded his arms, his face grim.
She sat down next to him. “I did some research—”
“Of course you did.”
“Jackson was on the Senate Armed Services Committee, so she probably had oversight of anti-terrorism activities. It probably wouldn’t have been impossible for her to get a copy of the list.”
“But why give it to Tsarnaev?” Ham asked.
“I don’t know. Like I said—maybe to secure his services.”
“Like the destabilization of Russia? But why?”
She ran her palms on her pants. “I think some of her humanitarian aid organizations are cover for arms dealing.”
He just looked at her. “Senator Jackson is a weapons trafficker?”
“I know it sounds crazy! It’s just a theory. Or, maybe she’s after the presidency. Or maybe . . .”
“White is in on it.”
She nodded.
“Oh Sig. That’s—”
“Treason. And now you know why I can’t go home. Because if White is in on it, then if he becomes president, my accusation is treasonous.”
“White can be trusted, Sig. I served with the man. I know him. He’s a patriot.”
“I want to agree with you. But even if he’s not mixed up in this, Jackson is. And she knows me and what I’ve done.”
He looked at her.
“She’s the one who gave me the mission to track Tsarnaev.”
“What?”
“She’s the reason I embedded with him. And when Jackson arrived at the camp . . . I thought it was to see me. But she didn’t even talk to me. And Pavel didn’t let me out of my room and . . . I started to wonder if maybe she’d been using me all this time to get in with him. She’d given him a CIA operative and earned his trust.”
“You think Tsarnaev knew you were an operative?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he didn’t kill me when he got the list. My name was on it, and I feared he’d see it—but maybe he already knew.”
“You think maybe he was using you too? Giving you false information?”
“Or maybe the right information to the wrong people—I don’t know. I just know that Jackson is up to something, and White chose her for his running mate.”
Ham took a breath. “Research.”
“I’m a chronic insomniac.”
He uncrossed his arms, and for a moment, she thought he might take her hand.
Stupidly wished it, really, her heart peeking out to take over her brains.
Nope.
He got up, turned to look at her. “Okay, listen. I can’t make you trust me, but I promise you, we’re going to figure this out.”
“Ham. Think. The CIA is going to meet me at the airport and that’s it. I’m chained to a wall eating soft foods in a black site until the end of my days.”
“I’d find you.” He said it without a smile, his tone cold.
Oh. Okay. And there went her heart again, leaping up to say Listen, you idiot.
He held out his hand. “Signe, give me the jump drive.”
“I’ll give it to you when we land in America.”
He studied her. “Okay.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“If we’re going to be married, then we need to start trusting each other. I’ll go first.”
“We’re not married, Ham.”
“Stop overthinking things, Sig. I don’t have a hidden agenda. Whenever you just can’t see a way out, you panic. Then you run and hide and I have to climb up into the tree fort and talk you down. Or keep you from packing up the dog and taking off down the Mississippi in a stolen dinghy.”
“You knew I was running away?”
“Best friend.”
And she couldn’t contradict him.
“Why do you keep showing up?” she asked softly.
“That’s how I’m built.”
Yes, he was.
“Fine. What now?”
“We go to the base, talk to the commanding officer, and get a lift home.”
Oh boy.
“And then we see our daughter.”
The man was a sniper with his words. And there she was, nearly crying again. Sheesh.
“Aw, Shorty. I told you that you weren’t alone anymore.”
That’s what she was afraid of.
Then Ham reached out and pulled her to himself, wrapping his arms around her.
She closed her eyes, wanting to resist.
But shoot, the man had powers beyond hers. She sank into him.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and she stepped away as he answered it. “Ham here.”
His intake of breath stopped her heart in her chest. Especially when his eyes met hers, widening.
But his voice was steely cool. “We’ll be right there.”
He hung
up.
“What is it?”
She’d seen him snap into warrior mode before—but now he wore something akin to fury on his face.
“Orion’s in trouble. Apparently, your friends from Germany are waiting for you. And they’re going to kill Orion, Jenny, and our Italian friends if we don’t bring them the list.”
See? The cosmos hated her. “What are we going to do?”
His phone vibrated again. He looked at it and smiled. Looked back at her. “Do you trust me, Sig?”
She cocked her head.
“It’s now or never. Give me the list.”
She drew in a breath. Then she reached into her pocket and handed over her life into his palm. “Don’t get me killed.”
Jenny saw the look on Orion’s face and knew . . . they were going to die.
They would die and Orion would never know the reason why she told him no. Told him no and broke his heart. Told him no and nearly lost him to a tsunami because they weren’t together.
And now she was going to lose him to the thugs who’d broken into Gio’s mother’s apartment.
Mostly because Orion didn’t go down easily.
Two big men simply broke down Luna’s door—the metal one probably left open after Ham tore out of here. And in that moment, Orion had changed from the rescuer she knew to the warrior he’d trained to be.
And to think, for a whole minute she thought everything was going to be okay. At least for them. For Ham . . . oh, poor Ham.
He’d paced the small house as he got ahold of Scarlett, who in turn contacted a hacker friend, and together they pinpointed Ham’s GPS.
Jenny had never seen him quite so undone, and Ham didn’t unravel easily.
Luna gave him her car keys, then set on a kettle to boil.
Apparently, they were having tea.
Orion got back on the phone with Scarlett then, and Jenny heard him talking about their friend Jake, and arranging a ride home, and then she was listening to Gio tell his mother about the earthquake, tsunami, and his big adventures. She made out a few of the Italian words, including nonno—grandfather.
They needed to get to the base and send help to the school.
Right about then, the men came through the door.
They were tall and nondescript and when they shouted at her and Orion, she thought it might be in Russian, but it could be Ukrainian, or even Polish. Maybe Chechen?
She got the gist of their words, however.
Hands up.
She obeyed.
Not Orion, of course.
The Price of Valor Page 18