by Vicki Hinze
When it had happened, she didn’t know, not exactly. And she resented it with every atom in her body because she’d made an agreement, and she’d broken it. It didn’t matter that only she knew it. Honor was honor, disclosed or not. How could she be so stupid? So foolish? How could she let herself fall in love with him? They had no future.
Still, she prayed. Please. Please, don’t make me lose him, too. Please!
At the traffic light, she waited for the signal to turn green. On proceeding through the intersection, she turned off her headlights, approached the base entrance, and then waited for the armed guard to salute the officer’s sticker on the car window and wave her through the gate.
Regret washed through her, and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. It dripped off her chin onto her beige silk blouse, leaving a wet spot. Good grief, why couldn’t she ever get this love business right? Just one time in her life, she should be able to get it right. But she hadn’t. Not with the men she’d dated, and certainly not with Jake.
She loved her husband as a wife should love her husband. But he could never know it because she’d sworn never to take the chance of loving him. Sworn it to herself, and to him. And now this.
Now . . . this.
Inside headquarters, an armed escort led Laura upstairs, and then to the third in a long row of gray doors. A blue sign with white lettering on the wall read, Briefing Room.
She nodded her thanks, trembling, fearing once she entered this room, her life would never again be the same. The urge to run away slammed through her. She fought it. There was no place to run, not from the truth. Nothing stays hidden. Sooner or later, the truth always finds the light.
Hadn’t her father told her that a million times? Hadn’t she seen it proven true time and again?
Summoning the courage and strength to face whatever came, she cracked open the door. The smell of lemon oil poured out. Though she hated the tart and bitter scent—had hated anything resembling lemon since, as a child, her mother had made her suck a dozen of them for cursing—Laura stepped inside.
Her knees went weak. At the end of the long conference table, to Connor’s right, sat Jake. He looked tired and drained, and he pounded out negative vibes powerful enough to screw up any signal on any frequency, but he was alive and in one piece. Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you so much . . .
Connor cleared his throat. “Come in, Mrs. Logan.”
She walked over to the table. “Jake?”
He didn’t look at her. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Maybe he wasn’t okay.
The little hairs on her neck stood up.
“Please, Mrs. Logan.” General Connor smiled, but there was no warmth in it, only tons of suspicion. “Sit down.”
Following the general’s hand signal, Laura stumbled onto a chair across the table from Jake. He lifted his gaze to her, and she wished he hadn’t. Doubt clouded his eyes. Doubt such as she’d never seen in him before. She hated it. “What’s wrong?” He was peaked. His hair was damp, and she smelled soap. He’d just showered. “Jake, you’re scaring me. Are you all right?”
He frowned at her. “It depends, Laura.”
Odd answer. “On what?”
“On what you know about ROFF.”
ROFF? She frowned her puzzlement. “Excuse me?” Why were both men looking at her as if she’d done something terribly wrong?
“Speak openly,” Connor told her, then rocked back in his chair. It creaked softly. “We all have clearance here.”
Confused and unable to shoulder the censure in Jake’s eyes—it hurt more than she thought she could hurt—Laura frowned at Connor. “If I understood what you’re asking, I would speak openly. But I don’t.”
Jake rounded on her, his words stiff and sharp. “I’m asking what you know about ROFF. What part of that don’t you understand?” His scowl deepened; the muscle under his right eye ticked. “Just answer the damn question, Laura.”
Jake was livid and not bothering to hide it. He rarely got this upset, and that he was now rattled her. Fortunately, her own temper threatened to rear its ugly head. Ordinarily, she would object, but right now she’d take strength wherever she could find it—even in anger.
“Answer the major, Captain,” Connor instructed. “What do you know about ROFF?”
Captain? The major? She was a civilian now, not active duty Air Force, and he was her husband, for God’s sake. What in the name of heaven was going on here? “It’s a religious organization headquartered down in the Florida Everglades. Three CIA operatives infiltrated and were having communications trouble.” This disclosure would hurl Jake from livid to outraged, though there was no getting around it. Nothing stays hidden. “The design isn’t one of mine, but I was consulted.”
“You were consulted, Captain.” Jake clenched his right hand in a fist. His knuckles raised up like knobs. “Is that it?”
Oh, how she wished she could deny it. His reaction removed any doubt about his feelings on the matter. The admission would cost her dearly. “Not as an Ops Officer, no. I haven’t been recalled to active duty. But as a communications consultant to Intel, yes, I was consulted. So, please, don’t call me captain.” He knew how much she hated titles. Was he deliberately baiting her? “And what I’ve told you is all I know about ROFF, except that the mission was tagged Operation Shadowpoint, and it was aborted.”
“Anything else, Laura?”
The accusation in Jake’s tone hung in the air between them, and the truth hit her hard. He thought she was withholding information from him. “No, not really.” Okay, so she hadn’t told him about the Intel consultation, and he had clearance, so she could have—and she would have, if Madeline hadn’t interrupted, pulling that stunt with the car. But Jake had no way of knowing that, and her not telling him had stung his pride. Still, he knew her, damn it. Of all people, he shouldn’t question her integrity. Yet he was, and that battered her pride. And it infuriated her.
She frowned at him, determined to keep her temper controlled, though his doubt had turned her anger from an asset into a challenge. “I intended telling you, Jake. But . . . things happened.”
A snap decision—not her favorite kind of decision to make—but she would not disclose Madeline’s antics in front of the general and further humiliate Jake. He might have no qualms about shaming her, but she wouldn’t shame him. “Look, I’ve been patient here. Now I want to know what this is all about. I’m not active duty military any more, I’m a civilian—just a temporarily-activated communications consultant for Intel. That’s all. I don’t have to put up with this.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you do.” Jake’s eyes flashed black anger. “And we’ll ask the questions. You just answer them.”
General Connor cleared his throat. “The major is right,” he said to Laura, looking uneasy and as if this disclosure to her about her professional status wasn’t unfolding as he’d planned. “As soon as Jake reported the photograph, you were recalled to military active duty and permanently reactivated in Intel as an expert communications operative. You’ll remain active in both until further notice, and you’re assigned to me.”
Laura sat there, too stunned to do more than clench her hands in her lap. What photograph had Jake reported? Why would Connor personally reactivate her? Recall her to active duty? Place her under his direct command?
The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. So if she proved to be involved with ROFF, he could try her in a military court—court-martial her—and keep the civilian sector out of it.
On the surface, being manipulated like this infuriated her. A slick move, to be sure, but would it prove to be a curse or a blessing to her? That, she didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Not yet. So she kept her objections to herself and held her silence.
“Are you ready to answer the questions now, Captain?” Jake asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
If
he got any madder, odds favored it’d kill him. The veins in his neck stood out like thumbs, and his throat and face were blood red. What had happened? He didn’t lose control like this. Not even when Madeline had lost Timmy, or when Laura had been told erroneously Jake was dead, had he lost control like this. And he seemed bent on deliberately pushing her hot buttons. Jake never had done that. “Fire away, Major,” she replied, her tone biting.
“Me first, if you don’t mind.” The general tapped a gold pen against a yellow legal pad, then let it fall against the table. When the noise stilled and the room grew quiet, he leveled on her his uncompromising gaze. “Captain Logan, have you committed any act to compromise the security of the United States?”
Nine
“What?” Outraged, Laura jumped to her feet.
“Sit down, Laura.” Jake stared up at her, his eyes as cold and distant as his voice. He looked at her as if he wasn’t sure he even knew her. “And answer the general.”
At a total loss, aching and furious that she’d worried herself sick over his safety and yet Jake treated her like this, she glared at him, deliberately letting him see her devastation and anger. Compromise security—her? “I have not.”
The general eyed her every bit as warily as Jake, and with equal suspicion. “The three CIA operatives who infiltrated ROFF have been killed.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused, and let that information sink in and disseminate: Was that it, then? Was Jake upset about the deaths? He’d worked before with the CIA. Perhaps he’d known the operatives. “But what do they have to do with me?”
Jake looked at the general, who nodded, then pivoted his gaze back to Laura. “One of the operatives had a photograph in his hand.”
“Yes?” What the hell did that mean?
“A photograph of you, Laura.”
“Of me?” Surprise streaked up her spine, set the roof of her mouth to tingling, and the lemon smell overwhelmed her, made her nauseous. “Whatever for?”
“That’s what we’re attempting to determine.” Jake calmed down visibly, softened his voice, and his color returned more to normal. “From the outside looking in, we’ve deduced a couple of theories. We’re working them all, which is why we’re talking with you about this.”
Interrogating her was more like it. She folded her arms over her chest. “And what have you deduced, Jake?”
“That we’re being sent a message!”
“What kind of message?”
“That’s where it gets blurry.”
She grunted. “This is absurd.” But the rationale for questioning her loyalty suddenly became clear. She hated it, took serious offense to it professionally and even more so personally, but she couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t understand it. Or that, if the situation were reversed, she wouldn’t have felt angry and asked the same questions of Jake, because she knew damn well she would have. The implications still hit her hard, like rocks slammed against the back of her skull: totally unexpected and very painful. “Oh, Lord. You think I had something to do with the operatives being terminated!”
Jake’s gaze slid back down to the table and his hand again curled into a fist, proving the accuracy of her suspicions.
He doubted her. Sincerely and deeply doubted her. Knowing it, hurt her every bit as much as Madeline’s saying Jake would never love her as he’d loved his ex-wife. Laura screamed silently. My damn blouse is still wet with tears I cried for you, and you doubt me? She masked her hurt under a husky rasp. “Am I being accused of a crime?”
“Have you committed one?” Jake asked.
She glared at him. “Not yet.”
General Connor blew out a sigh that rippled the loose pages on the yellow pad in front of him. “Let’s calm down,” he said, turning a warning look on Jake, then rounding his gaze back to her. “No, you aren’t being accused of a crime. At least, not at this time.”
So she could be accused later? Her stomach fell, clenched into knots. Of treason? God help her, that’s what they were talking about here. Treason.
Connor leaned forward and propped his elbow on the table. “At this point, we’re merely trying to determine intent. Clearly we were meant to find the photo, and we need to know why.”
“Intent,” she repeated him, her bitterness seeping into her tone. “And what have you decided, General?”
“I haven’t.” He hiked a shoulder. “It depends on who put the picture in the dead man’s hand. If ROFF, then I’d surmise that their organization has identified you as a target and they want us to know it. Which raises another question. Why? Are you targeted because you’re Jake’s wife, or because you’ve been a communications consultant on Shadowpoint?” His gaze hardened and bored into her. “Any hypotheses?”
“No.” Speaking more sharply than she intended, she softened her voice. “How could I know why? Only ROFF can answer that question.”
“Or,” the general went on in a calm tone, as if she hadn’t cut loose with an outburst, “perhaps the CIA operative was warning us that ROFF’s marked you as a target.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Laura held her silence.
Jake lifted his gaze to stare at her. “Or the operative could have been warning us that you’re the head of ROFF.”
Her jaw fell open. “Don’t be ridiculous. I live in California, for God’s sake. Why would I head a religious organization based in Florida?”
He held her pinned with his gaze. “Obviously, that’s another of the things we’re attempting to determine.”
Palms flat on the table, she leaned forward, nose to nose with Jake. “Well, then. Let me give you all the help I can. I don’t have the first damn clue. I don’t know why the photo was there, who put it there, or what it means. I’m afraid that’s all the answer I can give you, because that’s all the answer I have. I don’t know, Jake.”
He dropped his voice to just above a whisper—a signal between them that she’d raised her voice. “Maybe you can help us figure this out.” Sounding deceptively calm—so calm it raised chills on Laura’s skin—he leaned toward her. “Why would a publicity officer be in the need-to-know loop on Operation Shadowpoint?”
He knew she’d deceived him, and the costs would be even higher than she’d imagined. Laura slumped down in her chair and let her gaze drop to her hands, folded in her lap. “I’ve already admitted I was consulted on the mission’s communications.”
“Why?” He shrugged. “It’s not your design. You said it wasn’t your design. Didn’t you say it wasn’t your design?”
She cast a frantic glance at General Connor. His brow had furrowed. Now, he too knew she’d deceived Jake. She swallowed hard, knowing she should have told him. She could have told him, but initially she hadn’t wanted to increase the risk to him. Since her consultations were a rare thing, she’d thought only to spare him. And when she’d decided the consults warranted telling him, Madeline had preempted her by nearly ramming her car through their house, and then they’d been comforting Timmy, and while that was still going on, Jake had been called out on a mission. But Laura really didn’t want to disclose all that in front of the general. Madeline was an embarrassment. She had caused them all enough humiliation already, and this kind of nonsense could negatively impact his career.
“Yes, I did say it wasn’t my design, but I was consulted.” Laura forced herself to look at him. “To be certain, you’d have to ask those in charge why they selected me, but I suspect their reasons were simple ones. I’m a communications expert. I know the system, and I was on-site.”
“You are an expert.” Jake stared at her as if seeing her for the first time in his life. “The question I’m asking myself is, at what?”
Embarrassed, hurt, and so bitter she thought she might die choking on it, Laura stared at him—and said nothing.
Sometimes there just weren’t words to adequately ex
press or justify your rationale and reasons, much less your feelings. Unfortunately for her, this was one of them. Regardless of what she said, she’d only make the matter worse.
“Until today, Laura Logan,” General Connor said softly, “has officially been a civilian publicity officer, Jake. But she also has had other, additional duties.”
Jake swung his focus back to her and narrowed his eyes. His tone chilled, cold and unwavering. “You’re still in Intel.”
No one ever retired from Intel, and he knew it. They might go inactive, as she had, but they didn’t retire. That she’d been temporarily reactivated by Intel as a consultant and hadn’t told Jake hurt him. And now he was striking out, rebelling by hurting her. “I’m an expert,” she said, staring at a framed sketch of a Stealth bomber on the wall behind Jake’s head. “On the rare occasion my expertise is needed. Like you, when called, I serve as best I’m able.”
She swiveled her gaze, lifting it from his chest to his face. Betrayed might as well have been stamped in black ink across his forehead. He radiated it like a broadcasting tower beams signals. Her insides twisted. Her mouth went dry, and she licked at her lips. “Jake, I can explain—”
“No,” he interrupted, lifting a hand to stop her. “No, you can’t explain this.”
“But—”
“No, Laura.” He slammed a hand down on the tabletop. “I have Top Secret security clearance. There’s no reason in the world you couldn’t have told me. You chose not to do it. And there’s only one reason you made that choice.” Disappointment joined the anger burning in his eyes, and the edge in his voice grew sharper still. “We’re friends—married, for God’s sake—but you still don’t trust me.” He swallowed hard. “No, you can’t explain.”