International Guy: Volume 4

by Carlan, Audrey

  “Second, Wendy and Paul are on the hunt. Wendy will forward the text information to the police so they have everything.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

  “Third, they were able to locate the instructor at the CIA whose work has almost the exact same signature as the bomb that was used at my apartment. He agreed to take a look at what we have and see if he can give us anything to go on.”

  A thrill of excitement rushes through me, easing the fright that was clawing at my insides.

  He runs his hands down my shoulders and arms to my hands, which he clasps with his own. “The instructor is actually retired, living in Florida of all places. Paul’s team is sending the information down to him as we speak. We should have more very soon.”

  “This is awesome news, honey.”

  Parker leans forward and takes my lips in a soft, meaningful kiss. It’s all too brief when he pulls away and touches his phone.

  He scans the information and frowns. “The instructor’s name is Trevor Wilson. Retired five years ago. He and his wife—”

  “Laura . . . ,” I say in a choked gasp.

  Everything in the room starts to fade to black at hearing that name, my vision narrowing on Parker’s blue eyes. Stars flicker in my peripheral vision, and my heart pounds so hard and fast I can’t catch my breath.

  Parker’s gaze narrows, and he cups my cheek. “Breathe, Skyler. Inhale fully. Look at me. Look into my eyes.” I can hear his clipped request, but it’s muffled, as if he’s speaking through a pillow over his mouth.

  I can’t breathe! I’m drowning, and I’m not in water.

  The blackness wobbles in and out, and I blink several times, my body feeling weighed down, heavy, as though a ton of bricks is sitting on my chest.

  “Skyler, look at me. Breathe!” His mouth is moving, and I hear it far away as an intense dizziness comes over me.

  “Breathe, dammit!” His voice is getting louder, one hand rubbing at my chest, the other holding me upright.

  “Come on, baby, come on back to me!”

  The blanketed dark edges of the room slowly recede, and I can see more of the space clearly.

  I gasp, sucking in air, and grip Parker’s shoulders with both hands, digging my fingernails in for purchase.

  “That’s it . . . there’s my girl,” he coos, one of his hands holding my cheek in place. “Breathe, Sky. Nice and easy. Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”

  With my eyes on nothing but him, I do as he says, letting precious air flow in and out of my lungs until the dizziness subsides and my heart rate slows to a more normal pace.

  “I’m sorry . . .” I gulp as tears make it hard to see. They fall down my cheeks as he lugs me into his arms, tugging me until I’m straddling his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, ass on his thighs.

  “Jesus, Sky, you scared the fuck out of me.” He rubs his hands up and down my back and buries his face against my neck, kissing me there several times. “You had a panic attack, baby, but fuck all if I know why.”

  I lick my lips and center my breathing like I’ve been taught in my yoga classes. I need to pick yoga back up. It will help me deal with this crazy crap going on in my life.

  “Sky, baby, you need to tell me why you freaked out.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then can you tell me how you knew the name of Trevor Wilson’s wife?” he asks low against my ear, our faces pressed cheek to cheek as I hold him tight.

  “Honey, Trevor and Laura Wilson are Tracey’s parents.”

  He pulls his chest back a bit so he can look me in the eyes. “Say what?”

  “Those are her parents’ names. Her dad was military a long, long time ago, and I knew he took a job for the government, but no one ever said he worked for the Central Intelligence Agency. I just knew whatever he did, he made good money, and Tracey’s mom didn’t have to work.”

  Parker just stares at me, his mouth opening and closing dumbly, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Honey, what if . . . what if whoever is doing this to us, is doing it to hurt Tracey! Oh my God!” I put my hand over my mouth and choke back a sob. “I told her I didn’t need her in my life. We had a huge fight before we left for Spain, and then she came to the hospital and I was mean to her, honey . . . so mean. And now she could be a target! Because of me.”

  Parker grabs the back of my head, pulls me against his chest, and holds me while I mull over the ramifications of this situation.

  “We’ll figure this out too. Don’t worry about Tracey. We’ll get with her, especially after we talk to her dad. In the meantime, we’ll touch base with her. Let her know what’s going on so she can take precautions.”

  I nod against his neck, lift my head, and wipe my nose with my shirtsleeve.

  “Baby . . .”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, worried like crazy that whoever is after me and Parker is after my best friend too.

  “That’s my dress shirt you’re wiping your snotty nose and tears on.” He grins and raises his eyebrows until I laugh out loud, releasing some of the stress racking my body emotionally and physically.

  “Ah, there’s my beautiful girl. You’re pretty all the time, Sky, but you light up the world when you smile.”

  “I’m scared for Tracey, honey,” I admit on a shaky breath.

  He hugs me again and kisses my lips. “Don’t be. I’ll contact Wendy and Paul with this new intel. Wendy will reach out to Tracey.”

  I frown. “Shouldn’t I?”

  He sucks in air through his teeth, making a whistling noise. “Actually, we’re targets. I’m not sure it’s a good idea that we make her one too by staying in close contact. We’ll get Wendy to reach out, warn her. Then when we know it’s safe, we’ll contact Tracey directly.”

  Instantly it feels like the weight of the world is upon me. “Okay. Please tell me the moment I can reach out.”

  “Just whatever you do . . . don’t tell her where you are. The less she knows, the safer she is.”

  I nod. “Okay, baby. Call Wendy and Paul. I’m going to take a shower. Can I come with you to the offices today? I don’t want to be alone.” I attempt to stand up, but Parker holds me tight.

  “You’re never alone, Skyler. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

  8

  PARKER

  The shower is running, and I can hear the shower door open and close. I press my fingers to the phone and call Wendy.

  “You got the info, Bossman?” she asks instantly.

  “The instructor is Tracey Wilson’s father.”

  There’s no sound on the other end of the line.

  “Wendy?”

  “Uh, yeah, just processing. That’s some heavy shit you just laid on me, Bossman. You’d think you could have warned a girl. I mean, damn . . . her best friend’s dad? Do you think he’s the one who created the bomb?”

  I clench my teeth. “Do your checks; find out if he’s been in Florida the last few months. I want to know every time he left his city. Check his phone calls, credit cards. The whole shebang.”

  “On it.”

  “And do the same for Tracey. I want to know everything. She told Skyler via text that she’s gone back to New York. Follow up on that too. However, I need you to call the woman and tell her that the person after Sky and me used her father’s signature to make the bomb. Gauge what she has to say about that, but also record it. I want to listen to it.”

  “Parker, the way you’re saying this and what you’re asking . . . Do you think Tracey has something to do with all of this? Those texts. The fire. The bomb?”

  A vision of Tracey’s smug expression the last time we saw her before we went to Spain flutters through my mind.

  “Honestly, at this point, anything’s possible. All I know is she had access to Skyler’s penthouse and phone number, even when it was changed, and her father’s signature is on that bomb.”

  “Yeah, but to play devil’s advocate, Wilson taught a lot of CIA operatives who might
still use his techniques. The bomb could have been built by anyone.”

  “Maybe she hired someone to do it for her?” I spit out angrily, and realize how loud I’m speaking. I glance at the bathroom to make sure that Skyler didn’t hear. The shower is still going, and steam is billowing out of the open bedroom doorway.

  Wendy makes a humming sound. “This is true. I guess she could have. The real question is: Why would she?”

  That’s the problem. They’re best friends. Tracey has no reason to want to hurt me or Skyler. She’s constantly telling her how much she cares about her . . . loves her.

  “I’m working through the motive. Something doesn’t add up. I need to think about it after hearing about this new connection. In the meantime, warn her. Do your funky poaching on Tracey and her father, Trevor. Let me know what you find. I’ll update Paul when he gets here.”

  “You got it, Bossman.”

  “Hey, have you uh, talked to Annie?”

  A groan-like sigh pierces through the phone. “I tried. Kendra tried. Bo went to her apartment. Did you know she lives in a shitty little apartment in a not-so-good side of town?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, he did, and she wouldn’t talk to him. And apparently most of her earnings go toward her stepmother’s convalescent home. According to the woman’s medical files, which I hacked, she’s cantankerous and mean as hell. Throws things at orderlies and nurses. Spits on people. And Annie dutifully pays the half that the woman’s retirement doesn’t cover and visits every week.”

  “Jesus.”

  “It’s so sad. The woman treated her like garbage, physically and mentally, throughout most of her entire life, and she takes care of her as though it’s her job. Ugh. I guess some family is better than no family, but man, for me, family is what you make it. You gotta get good to give good.”

  I sigh and run my fingers through my hair just as the bell to our suite rings. “You are not lying. I gotta go. Paul’s here.”

  “I’ll hit you back when I know more about Tracey and her father.”

  “Perfect. Also, keep me posted on any progress you make with Annie.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking the only person who’s going to make progress on that front is Skyler. Annie’s embarrassed and hurt. And when a shy little thing like that loses the one person who made her feel like a somebody, it’s not easy to brush that under the carpet and go back to the way things were.”

  The bell goes off again, so I head toward it, shutting the door to the bedroom so Sky can get ready in private.

  “I understand. Just keep trying. I’ll send a text and have Sky send one too saying we want to meet with her in the coming weeks when we’re back in town.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, boss. Be safe, take care of our girl—and yourself while you’re at it.” She chuckles.

  “Bye, minxy.” I end the call while opening the door to our room.

  Paul’s larger-than-life body is poised at the door, and his expression is as craggy as a jagged cliff over deep water.

  “Hey,” I say, and hold the door open.

  Paul just tips his chin and enters stiffly.

  “I got some news I need to share with you about the instructor. The plot thickens, brother.”

  And for the next ten minutes I go over what Skyler told me and the state of her relationship with Tracey right now.

  “You think she’s good for it?” Paul asks, his voice a muted rumble.

  I glance at the bedroom door to make sure it’s still securely closed. “Maybe. She has the access to our phones, Sky’s penthouse, her schedule. Hell, she can probably track the jet we took.”

  Admitting that out loud has an electric sizzle burning at the base of my neck. I curl my hands into fists and breathe through the anger and fear for my woman’s safety. She’s here; Tracey’s there.

  “There was something off about that woman when she came to the hospital after you were hurt. A remark she made that didn’t make sense then but makes a little sense now, given this information.”

  “Yeah? What did she say? And how the hell did she know we were there, anyway? Skyler said Tracey had been waiting hours and texting her, but Sky ignored them. How did she know what happened or what hospital we were at in the first place?”

  “Unless she was watching her handiwork go down in person?” he offers.

  “Maybe. Now what did she say to you?”

  “When I was keeping her back from touching Skyler—and brother, I’ve seen women who are close—this woman acts like Skyler is her child or mate, not just her best friend.”

  “Well, they’re close. She’s all Skyler had for a long time. She’s also one of the only constants Sky’s had in her life, especially when Skyler’s parents died three years—”

  “Sky’s parents are dead?” Paul interrupts.

  I tip my head. “Yeah, why?”

  “How did they die?”

  For a split second, I can’t breathe. I can’t even form the words as the disconnected pieces start locking together, creating a prospective picture that’s incomprehensible.

  I lick my lips and mutter, “Boat explosion.”

  Paul’s jaw goes hard, and a muscle flexes in his cheek. “Park . . .”

  “Fuck!” I rake my fingers through my hair and start to pace the length of the living space and back to Paul. “A fucking explosion. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “What did the police report say?”

  “I don’t know exactly, only what Skyler told me. They didn’t have a definitive answer. They blamed it on a possible combination of leaking fuel and other chemicals mixing and reacting in an explosive manner. The yacht was small, got out into deep water before the thing blew, taking both of her parents, the crew, and the captain in one go.”

  Paul pulls out his phone and taps the screen while looking at me. “I need to see that report,” he growls, and points at me before he places the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, it’s Ellis. Need you to look up a police report.” He looks at me. “When did it happen?”

  “Uh, three and a half years ago, close to four now. Parents’ names are Jill and Steven Lumpkin.”

  Paul repeats the names and time frame into the phone. “Get everything you can on their deaths. I want it all, man. No stone unturned.”

  The second he ends the call, I stop pacing and lean against the back of the couch, bracing myself or holding myself up, I’m not sure. All I know is, if what we’re thinking is true, my woman is going to be a fucking mess. “You gotta promise to keep this under wraps.”

  Paul frowns. “Which part?”

  “Everything. Until your guy interviews Wilson Senior and you’re able to analyze that report, I don’t want Sky in on this.”

  Paul narrows his gaze, and his voice drops with a tone of warning. “P-Drive . . . it’s not a good idea to keep things from your woman. I may have a man in my life, but it’s the same damn thing, and it never works out in our favor, bro.”

  “She had a full panic attack this morning when she thought that Tracey could be in trouble.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck and sucks a breath through his teeth. “That can’t be good.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m not going to add weight to her worry if we’re thinking the worst of her best friend. If Tracey is in on this in any way, shape, or form, we’ll take her down. That alone is going to crush Skyler. If the woman called a hit on me, has been sending those texts, and had anything to do with her parents’ deaths . . . brother, Skyler is going to lose it. I want her home, back where we have all of our friends’ and families’ support and love at her back. She’s going to need Wendy, Ma, and the rest of the team to help her come to terms with something of that magnitude. You feel me?”

  “Yeah, man, I feel ya. I don’t like it . . .”

  “I don’t like that we fuckin’ suspect her best friend of trying to kill me and possibly be responsible for killing her goddamned parents! We need more intel. We need fuckin’ proof before a wo
rd of this is breathed to Sky. Believe me, I know my woman. I know what she can and cannot handle. This will tear her up. We have to be a hundred percent.”

  Paul nods, and a river of relief settles in my chest. “All right,” he says. “We’ll take it day by day until we know exactly who the perpetrator is.”

  “Deal.” I hold out my hand, and Paul shakes it.

  Right then, Skyler walks in, wearing a smart-fitting pencil skirt, a sleeveless blouse, and a pair of stiletto sandals. She looks good enough to eat.

  The beast takes notice, and I have to bite my cheek not to get hard at the sight of my woman in her version of professional work attire.

  “Hiya, Paul!” she says happily, then shimmies her tight ass over to my brother and flings her chest against his to give him a warm greeting.

  Paul grins over his shoulder at me and blatantly kisses my woman’s cheek. “Hey, sis, how you doin’ today?”

  She pulls back and makes a face, her lips moving into a crooked snarl. “Crummy. As Park probably told you, now my best friend could be in trouble. The stakes are getting higher, and it’s freakin’ me out,” she confides, as though she’s been telling him her secrets for years. My brother has that effect on people. They just want to spill their guts about all of their woes. I think it’s part of what makes him so good at reading people. Half the time they give it all up after only a few meetings with him.

  “Aw, sweetheart, she’ll be fine. We’ll make it so. Don’t worry your pretty head, yeah?”

  “Why is it that you both say that? If I were a different woman, telling me not to worry my pretty head would piss me off. Since I know both of you are alpha possessive badasses who don’t mean it in a bad way, I’ll let you off the hook. Though you should be careful. A lot of women could take that kind of thing poorly and rip your pretty little heads off!”

  Paul looks at me, grins, tips his head back, and laughs hard. “Damn, sis, you are too much. You’ve got a live one with this woman, brother. All kinds of trouble.”

  I grin, take my woman’s hand, and pull her against my chest. “And all kinds of possibilities. I’m a very happy man.”

  Skyler slides her hand down my chest in a petting gesture. “Well, now that my personal soldier is here—thank you very much, Paulie—I think we better head out. Royce and Dennis have to be waiting for us.”