“Exactly what kind of contracts do you get?”
“Guarding ambassadors, training security teams, executing top-secret missions.”
“You do all of those things, and you’ve been hired to protect me?” The truth tried to settle on her, but reality seemed too much like fiction right now. This couldn’t be happening.
He offered a clipped nod. “We have.”
“And what exactly do you do for Eyes?”
“I am Eyes. I started the organization four years ago. You’ll be safe at our headquarters. No one gets in or out without our knowledge. The whole place is protected with a twelve-foot fence and armed guards. The president of the United States could stay there and we wouldn’t have to beef up security.”
His words reminded her about the reality of the situation. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t even think straight.”
“It’s a lot to comprehend.”
“I’m…scared.”
Jack gave her a terse nod. “You should be.”
Rachel closed her eyes as life as she knew it crumbled around her.
Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.
Jack silently repeated his mantra as they pulled through the gates into the Eyes headquarters. Only, as he liked to say it, Pray for the best; prepare for the worst.
The best would be that the terrorists wouldn’t guess that his team had taken Rachel to Eyes; that the terrorist group Apaka would be thrown off Rachel’s trail and evidence from the park would lead to the group’s capture. The worst would be that Apaka knew where they’d gone, and the terrorists were on their way here to try and finish what they’d started.
Apaka was ruthless. They were based primarily out of the former Soviet state of Uzbekistan, but they’d grown to infiltrate much of the Middle East and even had some cells in the United States. Their goal was destroy life in the United States as its citizens knew it, using whatever means possible. Even more, they were fear-mongers. Whatever they could do to spread anxiety throughout the country—the world, for that matter—they would do.
As the vehicle pulled to a stop, Jack opened the bullet-pierced door and extended a hand to Rachel. The woman’s pale skin and dull eyes made her look dazed, frightened. His heart squeezed at the sight. To be ripped from a comfortable life and thrown into this situation would overwhelm anyone.
He squeezed her uninjured arm as she slipped out. “You’ll be safe here. I promise.”
He’d only broken one promise in his life, and he’d vowed to never do that again. He’d broken his promise to love his wife the way she deserved. He had to live every day with the fact that she’d gone running to another man’s arms as a result. An image of Jennifer flashed in his mind and his heart panged with sadness at his past mistakes.
Fat raindrops splashed from the sky as he walked with Rachel to the other side of the car and opened the door for her. Rachel reached for her sleeping son but winced in pain as she tried to lift him.
Jack stepped forward. “Let me.”
She hesitated and then stepped back, as if realizing she had no choice. Carefully, Jack took the sleeping preschooler from the vehicle and laid him against his shoulder. He felt Rachel watching his every move, as if she didn’t trust him. She had no reason to trust him yet. He was a stranger to her, though Jack knew her long before today.
Once Aidan rested snugly on his shoulder, Jack nodded for Rachel to follow as they raced through the rain and entered the main lodge. Inside awaited a huge lobby donned with two fireplaces and multiple couches and tables. They veered off down a hallway with plain white walls and simple, nondescript doors. One turn later they reached the sleeping quarters.
“This is where you’ll stay,” he told her.
The suite boasted a tiny living area with an industrial-looking couch, table and two chairs. Beyond that was a bedroom with two twin beds made up with plain navy-blue coverlets on each side and a tiny bathroom in the middle.
Rachel nodded, her face void of an opinion. “Why don’t you just put Aidan on the bed so he can finish his nap?”
Slowly, he laid the boy on a twin bed, listening for the easy breathing that ensured he still slept. When he was sure he hadn’t woken the boy, he stepped back, his heart lurching for some unknown reason at the sight of the child. Jack didn’t want the kid’s innocence to be ripped from him, but he was afraid that was just what would happen. The boy had already been through so much, losing his father and grandparents before he was even born. Jack would see to it that he didn’t lose his mother also.
“You’re pretty good at that. You must have lots of experience.”
Rachel’s voice jolted him. He glanced over and saw her examining him, an arm crossed over her chest. “Just a couple of nieces and nephews.” Who he rarely got to see because of how far away they lived. Still, he loved being with them whenever possible.
“I want to talk to my uncle.”
“He’s out of the country right now, but he’s going to call you tomorrow. He’s in the middle of a project right now and can’t get away.”
“I see.”
He stared at her another minute, trying to read her expression. Reading women never was his strength. Thankfully, the medic on duty came down the hall at that moment. Though Jack had bandaged her arm in the SUV, it had only been a temporary fix. Rachel needed some butterfly bandages to hold the wound together.
Jack watched as the medic bandaged Rachel’s arm. Until today he’d only seen Rachel from a distance. She looked even more beautiful up close. Thick, dark, glossy hair fell in waves around her face. Her dark, big eyes spoke volumes about her thoughts and intelligence. And the woman was definitely intelligent. She was the founder and director of the nonprofit Operation 26 Letters.
Through her organization, Rachel brought comfort to so many members of the military by simply encouraging people to write letters to them. Operation 26 Letters had even been profiled on a national news program once. What had started as a simple operation with a handful of volunteers had turned into a huge undertaking that reached thousands.
Rachel worked with volunteers from across the country, not only recruiting them to write letters to military personnel overseas, but they’d also grown to put together care packages to send to the troops and to provide Thanksgiving and Christmas baskets for spouses and families at home. She’d turned her grief over losing her husband into a true ministry by letting those who served their country know that they truly weren’t ever forgotten, and Jack had always admired her for that.
Yes, Jack had known a lot more about Rachel even before today. He’d heard about her firsthand from the first person she’d ever written letters to, before Operation 26 Letters was even a dream.
There were things that Jack could never tell her about his past, about her past, about how they were connected. Or could he? Would Rachel understand if she knew he’d read the personal letters she used to write to her husband? Or would she despise him if she knew?
Jack put those thoughts aside as the medic finished bandaging her up and left. He drew in a deep breath. He dreaded this conversation, knowing it would rock her world. “We need to talk.”
Rachel glanced at Aidan’s sleeping figure and nodded toward the front room. “Let’s go in there so we don’t wake him up.”
She settled on the couch and Jack perched on a chair across from her. He locked his gaze on hers. “I’m sure you have lots of questions.”
“I hardly know what to ask.”
“Let me try to explain.” He glanced at his hands before locking in his gaze with hers again. “Recently, a Navy SEAL team captured a terrorist by the name of Abram Titov. He’s a part of the terrorist group Apaka. If you watch the news, you’ve heard of them. They’re not the largest or most powerful terrorist group, but they’re nothing to blink an eye at either. In Titov’s pocket, we found a list of names and addresses. We began investigating the people on the list, trying to figure out what their connection was with each other and with Titov.”
Rachel nodded. “Okay.”
“The links didn’t appear easily. In fact, they hardly appeared at all.” Jack shifted in his chair. “We did find one thing, though.”
Rachel’s face still looked painfully white. “Go on.”
“Rachel, everyone on the list is now dead. Murdered.” The lines around his eyes tightened. “Everyone except one person.”
Her eyes widened. “Me.” The word was so soft it was barely audible.
Jack nodded. “You. We’ve got to figure out why they’re trying to kill you before—”
“Before they succeed,” she finished.
Jack nodded and watched as Rachel’s face went into her hands. He knew the past three hours had rocked her world. He prayed he could ease her fears. But more than that, he prayed that he could keep her alive.
Apaka’s reach was deep, like an inky darkness that spread wherever it pleased, infiltrating the toughest forts through the smallest cracks. How long could he hold off the darkness before it slithered here to find her?
He prayed that the answer was “forever.”
THREE
This had to be a dream, a nightmare. Why would a terrorist be carrying around her name?
Somehow, Jack appeared on the couch beside her. His heavy, strong hand rested on her shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in. Are you okay?”
Rachel tried to nod, but couldn’t. Everyone on the list was dead but her? That’s what she’d thought Jack had said in the car, but she’d hoped she’d misunderstood. She’d convinced herself that’s what had happened.
Dead.
The word seemed to echo in her mind, its reverberations causing her trembles to intensify. Where did she start with the questions? “Dead…how?”
“Different means, none that would obviously connect the crimes. One in a carjacking. Another in a home invasion. One person was in a car accident—the brake lines were cut. Another was robbed and shot while in a gas station.”
“How many? How many were on the list?”
“Six, including you.”
“Tell me about them, the people on the list.” She needed more information so she could try to make sense of the news. Facts were the only comfort she had at the moment, her only hope of feeling somewhat grounded.
Jack’s hand slipped from her shoulder. “One was an entomologist in Montana. Another was a political science professor in Iowa. There was an industrial scientist in Texas, a Kansas wheat farmer and a molecular engineer in New Jersey.”
“And me.” She blinked rapidly. “Why would I be on that list? It just doesn’t make sense. Why would a terrorist target me? Why would they target any of those people?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We’re dedicated to keeping you safe until we have the answers we need.”
She looked around the room, at this new place, so foreign to her and Aidan. “Why here? Why you?”
“Your uncle charged me to personally keep guard over you.”
“No offense, but you’re not military or FBI or CIA. I’ve never even heard of you or this organization.”
“I’ve got a good track record for keeping people safe.”
Her son’s face flashed in her mind. She glanced into the next room at his sweet figure, so angelic as he slumbered. She’d do whatever it took to make sure he was safe. She turned back to Jack and studied his chiseled face, his stony expression offset by those blue eyes. Now that she got a better look at the man, she thought he might be slightly familiar. Where would she have met Jack Sergeant before, though?
“We’d like to go over some questions with you. Also, I’ll need your cell phone.”
She reached for her purse, that she still had only because it was in a messenger bag that had been slung over her chest. “Can’t I just turn it off?”
Jack shook his head. “We’re dealing with some sophisticated terrorists. These aren’t men in caves who are cut off from the world. These are men who’ve got an endless supply of money, resources and connections.”
She handed the phone to him. Aidan would miss it more than she would. He’d taken to playing the various games she had on the phone whenever he needed something to occupy himself.
“We’ll get you a new cell phone so you can have it on hand at all times, in case you need it. I’d advise against calling anyone you know, though. Your friends’ lines could be monitored as well.”
Other than her Uncle Arnold, who would she call? Her best friend, Kelly, who was also the assistant director of Operation 26 Letters, was out of the country on a month-long mission in Mexico. She supposed she should call the president of the Board of Directors for her nonprofit. Someone would need to take over operations there for a few days until this mess was taken care of. And she’d need to call Aidan’s preschool.
She had no family left to call. She was an only child and her parents were dead. Her husband’s, Andrew’s, family had never really been interested in either their son or grandson, for that matter. She wished she did have family to call. She wished her husband was still alive to take care of her and Aidan, to protect them. Life hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned or hoped. She hadn’t gotten her happily-ever-after. She’d accepted that. But now this curveball happened.
Jack motioned to a guard outside the door and instructed him to bring him a few items from his office. Rachel leaned back against the couch and studied Jack as the guard retreated. He seemed the perfect mix of soldier and CEO, with his muscular, strapping build and his upright, serious demeanor.
“You really are the big man around here, aren’t you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “If we succeed or we fail, it falls on my shoulders. As the old saying goes, the buck stops here.”
“I usually prefer to think that if I succeed or fail, it’s all a part of God’s plan. I do my best and I let Him do the rest. Helps me to sleep better at night.”
“I can’t argue with that. Trusting God gets me through my days.”
Rachel nodded. Knowing that the man who was charged with guarding her life and the life of her son trusted in God comforted her and made her feel a sense of confidence in him.
Jack leaned toward her, his elbows propped on his knees. “Rachel, I’m going to have to ask you some hard questions.”
“I understand. I have nothing to hide. I just want this to be over with.”
He nodded. “Good. Let me start with this. Do you have any idea why someone would want you dead?”
She’d been asking herself the same question for the past three hours. The only possible connection she could establish was her husband. He’d been a Navy SEAL. They were known for doing some top-secret operations, operations that sometimes had worldwide effects, operations where they were faceless, where they never got the credit. But they’d been the ones on the frontlines, the ones changing history.
But her husband had been dead for four years and she knew relatively nothing of his work. And if her husband’s work was the connection, what about the other names on the list? Did everyone have some connection with the SEALs? Certainly Jack and his men would have put that together by now if it were there.
“My husband’s career perhaps?”
“Your husband was our first thought also. The problem is that none of the other people had any connection with the Navy SEALs.”
The guard came back into the room at that moment and handed Jack a briefcase. Jack reached into it and pulled out a folder. “I’m going to show you a copy of the list and see if any of the names are familiar to you.”
He placed in front of her a copy of a stained paper with hastily written names scribbled across it. Just seeing her name jotted there made her heart pulse erratically. The realism of the situation hit her even harder, feeling like a punch in the gut.
She looked the names over, searching her brain for something—anything—that would trigger a connection. “No, none of the names are familiar. Can you tell me about them? Who are these people? Maybe that will spark something.”
&nbs
p; He reviewed the names, but it was just like he had told her earlier. They were all from different parts of the United States with different ages, different incomes and different careers. The names appeared to be random, but Rachel knew there had to be some connection.
Jack leaned toward her, his eyes serious and dazzling blue. Every time she looked at them, she seemed to get drawn in. She looked away, concentrated on his mouth instead.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I wish I could help…”
He leaned back in his seat, and Rachel could tell he was disappointed. So was she. She wished more than anything that she did have some answers, that just seeing the list had made a light bulb turn on and given them a solution that would end this nightmare.
For the next hour they reviewed where she’d been raised, her family, her education, seemingly mundane details of her life. When they finished, she let her head fall back against the couch. She just needed something to make sense. Maybe then she’d have some hope for a happy ending.
“I can tell you’re exhausted, Rachel. We can finish this in the morning.” The soft, compassionate look had returned to Jack’s eyes.
She appreciated his courtesy, but now wasn’t the time. She didn’t move. Sure, she was tired and she’d love nothing more than to get some rest—in her own bed, in her own home. But there wouldn’t be such thing as true “rest” until she felt safe again. They had to keep going.
Rachel pinched the skin between her eyes. She had to stay calm, to ward away the anxiety that tried desperately to grip her. Finally, she dropped her hand and opened her eyes with what she hoped conveyed renewed energy. “Let’s keep going.”
Jack laced his fingers in front of him as if trying to look casual. It didn’t work. “Tell me about your nonprofit, Rachel.”
“My nonprofit?” What could it have to do with any of this? “I just encourage people to write letters to the military stationed overseas. It’s hardly anything controversial.”
The Last Target (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 2