“So, tonight, how is this supposed to play out? You’re going to kiss your daughter goodnight, maybe give me a peck on the cheek, wait for us to fall asleep, and then just leave?”
The humming of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room.
“Something like that.”
“Anna doesn’t know me or Father Anthony. How could you do that to her on the day her mom died? You’re not that man.”
An angry, dark hardness edged into Adam’s features. “You don’t know me, Calista. You don’t know what I have done, what I’m capable of doing.”
She raised her arms and dropped them to her side. “Boy, do you have that right. The man who hung out at the diner wouldn’t be so damn callous to his own daughter.”
He took several angry steps away from her. “Good. Hate me. Loathe me. That will make my leaving easier for both of us.”
“Just make sure you are leaving for the right reasons.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Leaving Anna, going off to kill the dragon is a lot easier than staying here and dealing with your emotions about Rina and raising Anna on your own.”
“I’m not a coward.”
“I didn’t mean to imply…”
“I won’t walk away from punishing Ludis myself. I can’t involve my father or my brothers either.” He cupped her face. “I can’t, Calista.”
Something in him changed before her eyes. A resolve. His mind was made up. Any argument from her would fall on deaf ears.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll take her to my father. He will adore his granddaughter, and my brothers and sister will spoil her rotten. They all will love Anna, raise her as their own if I can’t come back.”
Adam reached over and ran a tender hand over the back of his daughter’s hair. “I’m not leaving her alone. She will be happy again. They are a great family.”
Calista nodded. She almost choked on her next thought―but it was up to her to say it out loud, or she would regret her cowardice forever.
“Take me with you. I can…”
“Calista, you can’t go with me. If anything happened to you, I would lose the last connection to humanity and become an animal―no better than Ludis Vasnev.”
As much as she wanted to give him a good smack, hard enough to make him see a logical reason that would appeal to him, the priest stood in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt. I assume you’ll need some sort of disguise for Anna and Calista?”
“Yes,” Adam said.
The priest nodded. “I’ll see what I have in the church.” He moved toward the door, then turned back. “She’s right, you know. I would listen to her if I were you, Adam.” He turned and left the room.
Six
Adam sprinted around the last curve on the bike trail. The old Buick he borrowed from the church lot was parked five blocks away on a busy residential street. Patchy cloud cover and the canopy of leafy trees made his approach almost invisible. The late spring breeze with a hint of woodsy, pine scent permeated the air. It usually had a calming effect on him, but not tonight.
He could have run the path blindfolded. It led to the home of a man Adam had risked his life for and trusted like no other man he had ever known.
He bounded over the fence into the yard. The moon bathed the grassy area. Keeping within the shadows of the large oak tree, he made his way onto the patio. A large dog rubbed up against his thigh. He reached down and stroked him behind the ears.
“Macy, you’re almost as big as a horse. What the hell do they feed you?”
Adam pulled a dog treat from his coat pocket and fed it to the dog. He gulped it down in one bite, then settled back on his blanket. Adam gave him one more rubdown before easing toward the back door.
Like the rectory lock, he opened this one in seconds and stepped into the cool, dark kitchen. He closed the curtain on the door and the window curtain above the sink. The kitchen smelled of home cooked meals, laughter, love, family. Everything he wanted for Anna.
The house was asleep. The thought of his daughter still sleeping soundly in the twin bed with Calista back at the rectory pierced a hole in his gut. He’d done exactly what Calista had flung in his face—waited until they both were asleep, then kissed Anna on the cheek and left. When they woke, Robert would help them with their disguises and escort them here. As much as he hated leaving their side, there was no way he could walk into the house with them.
Adam had no idea how much information Ludis had on his family. If his uncle sent his men to watch this home, one woman, a priest who was a dear family friend, and a little boy wouldn’t raise any questions.
He reached for the coffee maker on the counter next to the refrigerator and set it to brew. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms around his middle as his mind ran through the plan. The hardest part would be leaving Anna and Calista. When did she come to matter so much to him? Tonight, last week, the first time he set eyes on her?
He opened the cabinet, pulled out a mug, and reached for the carafe, pouring a cup full of the strong, aromatic liquid. In no time, the coffee would mix with the acid and burn like hell, but the caffeine would help him remain standing.
He was so engrossed in charging his system that the quiet footsteps on the stairs didn’t register. When the young woman entered the room, he jerked, spilling half the mug down his white dress shirt.
“Noah, it’s O-dark-thirty. What the hell are…?”
The words froze in her throat. She grabbed a knife from the stand on the counter before Adam could reach her and aimed it at his heart.
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?”
“Jennie, please don’t. It’ll really hurt.”
He eased away from the counter and raised his hands. If Jennie McNeil threw a knife at him, it would land where she aimed.
Jennie’s breathing came out in short, shallow breaths, and he could kick himself for doing this to her. “I’m a friend. Jared’s friend. Call him.”
“She already did, Adam.”
A tall, muscular man stood in the doorway behind his wife, brandishing his weapon. A low growl escaped his throat. “What the hell are you doing creeping around my kitchen, scaring my wife out of her skin?” He set the gun on the counter.
“Jared. Don’t. The moron broke into our home. If you don’t pound on him, I will.”
Adam grinned from somewhere deep within his bruised heart. Jennie McKenzie McNeil was fierce, with a protective streak miles long, and just damn lovely.
“That message thing between you and Jennie is very impressive. You told me about how you guys feel each other’s emotions, but this is the first time I actually witnessed it.”
Maybe telepathy was an unknown family trait. He was dying to ask if they had to deal with the mind-blowing headaches, but the question sounded so ridiculous in his own head that he didn’t dare.
Jared came up behind Jennie and covered the hand holding the knife. He eased the handle out of her grip and replaced it in the stand. Drawing her back against him, he said, “This is Adam. You don’t want to kill him, babe.”
“Yeah, I think I do.” She glanced at her husband. “This guy breaks into our home and you’re okay with that?”
Adam chuckled deeply and relaxed against the counter, taking another large gulp of coffee.
Jennie eyed Adam from head to toe. “I don’t know, Jared. He’s drinking my coffee at,” she glanced at the clock over the stove, “five-thirty in the morning.”
Adam raised his mug. “I’m really sorry if I woke you. I was hoping to get some shut-eye before you guys woke up.”
“Then go home.” Jennie grabbed the cup from his hand and set it next to Jared’s gun.
Jared brought his mouth next to his wife’s ear. “This is the man who not only planned my escape during that case in Mexico, but also carried me out on his back. Give him back his coffee.”
Jennie hit the switch, flooding the kitchen with bright light strong en
ough to make Adam blink twice. She stepped close to him, her intense scrutiny making him want to stand straighter and right his collar.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low.
“Adam Blake.”
“No. Who are you?”
Adam shrugged and tried not to squirm. There was a family resemblance. Five out of the six McNeil men, including his father, had the same dark, cobalt-blue eye color. Until recently, his facial features were partially hidden by a thick beard. He also kept his dark brown hair long, unkempt, making that feature less noticeable.
Jared handed Adam his coffee and placed an arm around Jennie. “I like this business causal look. Why the change?”
“Got tired of sharing my face with the fleas. And then I opened the security firm in downtown D.C. It’s a fancy office building, and I had to look trustworthy.”
Jennie stepped directly in front of him. “Did you really save Jared from Mendoza’s hellhole?”
“I got there as quickly as…”
Her thin frame slammed into his, her arms circling his neck as she hugged the life out of him.
“Thank you, God, thank you.” Jennie lifted on her toes and kissed his cheeks, twice on each side, ending with a peck on his lips. She dropped her arms and stepped back, her eyes clouded with tears.
“Okay, so whoever you are, you’re family for life.” Her eyes darted around the room. “What can I get you? Are you hungry? We have everything today.” She opened the refrigerator, then called back over her shoulder, “You can have almost any breakfast food your heart desires. What can I fix you?”
Jared reached for his wife and moved her out of the doorway of the refrigerator, closing it.
“I think what Adam needs more than anything is a couple hours of sleep.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Jennie’s eyes widened at the blood on his cuff, following it up his sleeve. “Are you hurt, bleeding?”
Shit.
“No. It’s not mine.”
“Whose blood is it?” Jared eyed his jacket and shirtsleeve. The blood blended well into the wool of his black suit.
He sighed heavily. “I… this is going to be hard to explain,” he said, raising the cuff of his right hand. “I didn’t start this fight. I just didn’t get there in time to do much good.”
“Are you hurt?” Jared took a step toward him.
“No.”
“Is anyone looking for you?”
“Define anyone.”
“The cops, FBI, Homeland Security.”
Adam raised both hands. Some explanation was needed, but he didn’t have the energy to answer Jared. “Do we have to do this now?”
“Yes.” Jared stiffened, his jaw muscles tense.
“No, we don’t. You just said the man needs his sleep.”
Jared glanced at Jennie and smiled. “This from a woman who, just a couple minutes ago, wanted to impale him with our best kitchen knife.”
“That was before. He’s family now and whatever brought him here tonight can wait at least until the sun comes up.”
Jared turned to Adam. “Can this wait?”
He shrugged. How in the hell did he explain why he was here?
“I need a huge favor.” He gestured to his cuff. “I’ll explain this in the process.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s going to involve your whole family. I need all of you to agree―”
“Man, what the hell is going on? I’ve never seen you this…”
“Freaked out?” Adam slammed his fist into his pockets. “Jared, it’s been a rough night. If there was any other way but to come to you, I would have taken it.”
“You’re always welcome here. Whatever you need, just ask.”
A little of Adam’s tension eased from his shoulders and the base of his spine. He trusted the man in front of him with his life, with his daughter’s life. But when Jared heard what Adam had to say, Jared would want to eat those last words.
Understandable. The crap Adam was about to unleash on the McNeil family would wipe clean any debt they felt toward him.
“You may want to hold that thought.” Adam grimaced.
“Just let me know if I need to call anyone about that,” Jared replied, staring at the blood on Adam’s sleeve.
“The authorities have already responded, the murdered victim at White’s Securities in DuPont Circle was my partner, and the home explosion in Chevy Chase…”
“Shit, Adam. What the hell.” Jared sucked in a loud breath. “What part did you play in that? A mom and her young daughter supposedly died in that fire.”
“Only the mom. They won’t find the body of the little girl.”
Jared’s head jerked back-and-forth and he began to speak, but Adam interrupted.
“The little girl is my daughter, Anna. I got her out but wasn’t there in time to save her mother.”
“And the explosion?” Jennie whispered.
“Not me. The person responsible for setting the C4 wanted to erase evidence of his fucking, sadistic torture of my daughter’s mother. Rina was my old CIA partner and knew where to find me. She wouldn’t give the bastard what he wanted fast enough. I left the scene because it’s better he thinks Anna and I died in the explosion.”
“Good God.” Jennie covered her mouth and leaned against her husband. “Where’s your daughter, Adam?”
“She’s with a good friend. You know him, Robert Anthony.”
“Father Anthony from St. Luke’s?” Jennie and Jared asked together.
“That title always makes me cringe. My bad ass CO, a priest. It’s hard to believe even after all these years. He’s bringing her with him when he comes for brunch.”
Jennie and Jared eyed each other. “And your favor?” Jared asked.
“I’m going after the bastards.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “I need you to take care of Anna,” Adam sighed. The rest, God, he didn’t want to say it out loud.
“Adam?”
Patience wasn’t something the McNeil family had in abundance. “And raise her if I don’t come back. She is a couple years younger than Emma’s boys and the sweetest little girl you will ever meet.”
The room grew silent, the hum of the refrigerator filling the void. Jennie was the first to find her voice.
“Of course. Like I said, you’re family. But right now, you need a bed. I’m going to make up the guest room. It’ll only take a couple minutes.”
As she walked away, Adam reached for her arm. “The sofa is fine. Don’t fuss.”
“It’s no bother, really.” She smiled, but her eyes filled with unreleased tears.
Jared placed his arm around his wife’s waist. “Adam can sleep on anything, anywhere. The sofa will be fine.” He reached out to Adam, pulling him into a hug. “Get a couple hours sleep and we’ll figure the rest out.”
Adam could only nod. There was no figuring out anything except his plans for Anna. He rinsed out his mug in the sink. Jared flipped off the light and they left the kitchen.
At the stairwell, Jennie and Jared headed up, while Adam entered the spacious living room. The large, L-shaped sectional looked like heaven. He draped his jacket over the back of the sofa, sat and began to remove his shoes.
Jennie jogged down the stairs carrying a pillow, sheets, a blanket, and one of Jared’s clean dress shirts.
“I thought you could use these.” She pointed with her head toward the hallway. “The second door is a full bath. Towels and an extra toothbrush can be found in the cabinet. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Jennie.” He raised the bundle. “This is very kind of you.”
They stood there staring at each other. From her expression, it wasn’t hard to figure out what she was thinking.
She knows.
“Jennie, this is your home. Ask.”
“How old are you, Adam?”
Her voice was so soft, he almost didn’t hear her. “Thirty-seven next April.” The answer seemed to ease the
strain around her eyes.
“Thomas McNeil is a good man. He would never―”
“I know, Jennie.”
Adam was four years older than Jared and his twin, Noah. As much as he wanted to tell her what she needed to hear, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He hadn’t the energy to rinse and repeat his damn life.
“Okay,” she said, taking in a deep breath. “So, you are Thomas’s son?”
“Yes.”
He could handle a yes. How he wished that one yes were enough to lift the elephant off his chest. In about three hours, he was going to have to find the nerve to tell his father who he was.
A whispered shit escaped Jennie’s lips. “And your mom?”
“She’s dead. Murdered.”
“I’m sorry. I know how that feels. You never get over it.”
“No, you don’t. Any other questions?”
Her expression hardened, but the hand she laid on his shoulder, gentle. He didn’t deserve gentle. “It didn’t have to be this way, Adam.”
He glanced down at his feet and then back at Jennie. “Can you keep this from Jared for a couple hours?”
She shook her head. “Jared is the one person on this earth I never keep secrets from. He’s my husband.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Adam Blake, welcome to the family. You’re not alone any longer. Sleep on that.”
Seven
Ludis sprawled in a high-back lounge chair and glared at a loathsome oil painting that covered the entire wall of his hotel suite. The comforter, end table, and floor were littered with blood-soaked gauze. When he couldn’t stand the sight of the painting another second, he lowered his eyes and studied the doctor’s handiwork. Not a sound escaped his lips as the sharp tip of the tapered needle dug into his tissue repeatedly, knotting the ragged sides of the wound together.
“Take another drink, Mr. Vasnev. This is going to hurt.”
Ludis reached for the glass of vodka on the end table and gulped down a hefty portion of its contents. The cheap hotel bar version was bitter and burned the back of his throat, but the buzz dealt with the pain.
In the Shadow of Malice Book 3 Page 6