Heavy Artillery Husband

by Debra Webb

  Though the dry evening air was cool against her skin, the chill she felt had nothing to do with weather. The vending machines were on the other side of the building, and even in this aging establishment it couldn’t possibly have taken so long for him to find one stocked with a soda.

  Just ahead, the bright light from the vending area spilled out over the concrete walkway. A large, lumpy shadow blotted out the light for a moment, then it retreated. Sophia caught the squeak of a rubber-soled shoe, a thud and a low grunt. She froze in place, two doors down from the vending machines that connected the parking lot side with the pool and courtyard side of the motel. Holding her breath, she caught the unmistakable swish and snap of a switchblade knife.

  “Thelma?” she called out at the top of her lungs. “Which room are we in?” With any luck, no one by that name would be in a nearby room. In the answering silence, she hurried around the corner and into the vending area and skidded to a stop.

  “One word and he’s done.” A younger man with sandy-brown hair and cold eyes held a knife to Frank’s throat.

  Sophia clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the scream and the pleas that wanted to pour forth. She could hardly believe her eyes. Not only had they been found, but Halloran’s oldest son had overpowered her husband with a knife. She shot Frank a bewildered look.

  He gave her a look that urged her to play it cool.

  “You’re coming with me,” the young man said. “Both of you.”

  Frank’s gaze told a different story. He was playing along until a better opportunity to escape arose.

  No point wasting time. “Mike Halloran,” she said in her best maternal command, planting her hands on her hips as she stared down the son of Hellfire’s leader. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Mrs. Leone.” He shuffled his feet much as he’d done as a lanky preteen caught in a silly prank. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s not as bad as it looks. This is just business.”

  Was it her imagination or had he eased the knife back? “What kind of business requires you to attack an old family friend?”

  “Dad wants to talk, that’s all. General Leone hasn’t been cooperating.”

  “Whether or not that’s true, your mother would be appalled by this behavior. How is she?”

  “Great.” Mike relaxed further, leaving more than an inch between that gleaming blade and the skin of Frank’s throat. “She spends most of her time in Saint Croix now.”

  Hopefully oblivious of her husband’s treachery. “That’s nice. She always loved the coast.” Sophia took another step forward. “You realize no one talks business or anything else with a knife at their throat. Put it down.”

  Mike seemed to be debating how to carry out his orders. “Will you come along quietly?”

  Of course not. “Certainly,” she said. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Back to my place until Dad can get here. He just wants to clear up this misunderstanding.”

  She bit back the sarcastic retort, refusing to look directly at Frank again as she nodded at Halloran’s son.

  “It coulda been just the general,” Mike said. “But now that you’ve seen me...”

  “I understand.” She smiled. “We’ll both come along. Put the knife away.”

  When Mike retracted the knife, Frank landed an elbow strike to his midriff, knocking the air from his lungs. The knife clattered to the tile and skittered toward Sophia. She scooped it up and pushed it deep into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Call the police!” Frank barked the order as he pushed Mike facedown.

  “My phone’s in the room.” She looked around for anything they could use to tie up the younger man. “What do you want to do?”

  Mike squirmed and Frank dropped to one knee, putting all his weight between the younger man’s shoulder blades. “I say let his dad deal with him.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “No,” Mike said on a creaky exhale. “No. Let me go and I won’t say anything. I’ll tell him I couldn’t find you.”

  Frank looked at her. “Do you believe him?”

  “Not a bit,” she replied. What she could see of Mike’s face twisted and she shouted a warning half a second too late.

  Frank, tossed off balance, fell backward and Mike, showing an aptitude for thug work, came at her.

  “Get out of here!” Frank said, diving for Mike’s legs.

  The younger man tripped, regaining his balance with an agility she envied. Being older, and female, she had different options and skills to call upon, not the least of which was experience.

  After Frank’s trial and Frankie’s recovery, she’d been brushing up on her self-defense skills. As a bonus, the increased activity had put her in prime shape for Frankie’s wedding day. Now she was all the more thankful Aidan had joined Leo Solutions. Her future son-in-law was proving to be an excellent coach, willing to create fitness programs for anyone at the company, no matter their level or job description.

  She let Mike close in, feinting and spinning out of his reach. Blocking his attack, she put a higher value on patience than her opponent did. She systematically moved the fight closer to the railing and the stairwell, places where her smaller size gave her a better advantage.

  Mike countered with fast moves meant to confuse and intimidate. She managed to avoid the worst of it, but an evasive move left her with her back open to an attack.

  She saw Frank’s eyes go wide, his face a mask of panic. He had no way to help her. With Frank calling her name, aiming threats at Mike, she dropped to her knees and the young man went hurtling over the railing into the night.

  A splash sounded as he hit the pool. Voices rose, cries of alarm and calls for help.

  She peeked over the side, hoping to see Mike swimming to the edge, only to have Frank drag her back. “Phone cameras,” he explained. “We have to go.”

  They ran for the motel room and gathered their belongings, making the rental car before anyone detained them.

  “I can’t believe Halloran had his son come after us,” Sophia said as Frank searched for a safer place to spend the night.

  “I’m not surprised,” Frank said. “He was banking on the idea that I wouldn’t hurt a kid the same age as my daughter.”

  “Unbelievable.” Sophia stared out at the glowing lights as Frank merged with traffic on the interstate, aiming north. “I guess we’re pushing the right buttons.”

  “I guess you are.”

  She reached out a hand to stop him. “We are.”

  “Right.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. With little traffic, Frank reached the airport in less than half an hour. Per his habit, he drove a circuit of the airport hotels before choosing one and parking under the awning.

  When they were settled into the new room, she tried again to make him understand he wasn’t alone. In this or anything else. “We’re in this together, Frank.”

  “Much as I wish we weren’t,” he muttered. “The kid nearly hurt you.”

  “And he didn’t you? He had a knife at your throat!” She reined in her temper. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “Sophia...” He sighed. “I’m trying to keep you out of danger.”

  “But that isn’t realistic. Either we take risks and gather enough material for CID to work with or we get creative and take even bigger risks.”

  He slumped into a chair and raked his hair off his face. “Agreed.”

  She walked over and started rubbing at the knots in his shoulders. Although it wasn’t the quiet fresh-air conversation she’d intended, it was still reminiscent of other pleasant moments they’d shared. “When Halloran and Hellfire are done, we should go home and get on with our lives.” Frank’s muscles tensed under her hands and she plowed on. “We had one cake tasting already. And Frankie plans to use Aunt Josie’s recipe for a groom’s
cake.”

  Frank muttered something she took as approval.

  She smiled to herself. “We’ll need to choose a caterer soon. I think Frankie wants me to go along for those appointments, to cast a deciding vote in case of any ties regarding the menu.” She kept working out the kinks in his shoulders and chattering about Frankie and Aidan, willing Frank to want to be a part of their future as a family.

  “Sophie, hush.”

  “It’s adrenaline,” she said in a lame attempt to defend herself.

  “It is,” he agreed. “Because I made a mess of things. I should’ve found a way to do this without you.”

  “You couldn’t have.”

  “I know.”

  The regret in his voice tore at her. “Tell me something.” She spoke to the top of his head, grateful he couldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. “Will you stay?” Her voice cracked on the query. Annoyed with the needs tangling in her chest, she tried again. “Will you stick around for Frankie? She’ll believe me if I tell her you survived, but she’d rather hear she was right all along directly from you.”

  Frank came out of the chair and caught her hands, bringing them to his lips for a brief kiss. “Dolcezza.” He kissed her hands again. “I promise to do what’s best for all of you. I can’t promise that will be staying around.”

  She opened her mouth to argue. To insist he come back into their lives. Knowing her too well, he tugged her close, silencing her with a claiming, searing kiss. She couldn’t muster any energy to resist. All these months without him, to have him back, she just wanted to wallow in the scent, taste and touch of him. Her hands came up to frame his face and the kiss, rife with need and desire, sizzled through her bloodstream, only more powerful for the memories and familiarity of their long past.

  She sighed, her breasts heavy and aching as she melted against his hard, muscled chest. Deep inside, she wanted to pretend this was just one more “normal” homecoming. Preferably the way the last homecoming should’ve been.

  Her hands yanked at his shirt, eagerly seeking his warm skin. She trailed her fingers over the terrain she knew so well.

  Holding her close, he turned her and lowered her to the bed, his body covering hers, gently pinning her to the soft mattress. Delicious. Her mind blanked out their troubles when he set his lips to her throat. His thigh wedged between hers, and his erection dug into her hip. She rocked her pelvis, needing him.

  The sense of belonging overpowered her. Frank was her everything, always had been. Except he wasn’t promising her a future anymore. If Halloran had his way, there wouldn’t be any future for the Leone family.

  She savored one more kiss, sipping from his lips as tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t leave herself open to a repeat of the crushing loss she’d suffered when she thought he’d died. One last time, her body pleaded, but one last time would leave her devastated.

  “Stop,” she whispered against his lips. “Stop,” she repeated when he raised his head to look into her eyes. She blinked quickly, unable to keep a tear from spilling over her lashes.

  Frank brushed that tear away. “Are you sure?”

  Her lips caught between her teeth, she bobbed her chin. At last she found her voice. “I can’t do this.” She felt awful, though she hadn’t meant to lead him on. As much as her body wanted him, her heart needed him.

  She simply couldn’t invite that much pain into her life again. Not without some assurance that he wanted to rediscover and reclaim the relationship they’d lost.

  Chapter Nine

  Thursday, April 21, 7:05 a.m.

  She’d rejected him. No amount of reviewing the facts changed that. On the motel room floor, Frank had tossed and turned all night wondering where he’d gone wrong.

  Sophia had leaped from that bed as though it were on fire, when he’d been burning up inside to be with her. After fighting off Halloran’s boy, Frank had needed to hold her, to assure himself she was okay—they were okay. He wanted to see and feel for certain the kid hadn’t managed to hurt her.

  She’d apparently needed and wanted something else. How had he misread the situation so completely?

  He hadn’t actually misread her, he decided as he reviewed last night once more. She’d been right there with him from that kiss up to the point he’d jerked his shirt over his head and fallen on her like a man starved for affection. Which he was.

  After faking the suicide, he’d hidden for a while, courtesy of Torres. When the smoke had cleared, he’d poked at the fringes of Hellfire, piecing details together as best he could. He’d stayed far away from the temptation of Sophia in Seattle and Frankie in Savannah. Knowing he was to blame for his wife and daughter drifting apart motivated him to dismantle Hellfire sooner rather than later. Being aggressive had already gotten Torres killed. He couldn’t allow his impatience to kill Sophia or Frankie.

  The hardest months of his life had been pretending he didn’t exist. Harder than infantry school in the summer. Tougher than winter training exercises in Korea. Too much solitude was bad for the soul, he’d decided early on. Yet the only person with whom he could maintain contact was dead now. Because of Frank’s mistakes.

  He prepped a second cup of the bitter in-room coffee, needing the caffeine jolt after another sleepless night. He’d been running on fumes since Torres’s murder. What he wouldn’t give for a restful night with his wife in his arms, her body soft and pliant, his every breath scented with the fragrance of her hair.

  She’d always welcomed him home with a kiss, refreshing his soul. Just the way she’d done last night. Why had she pulled away from the connection both of them clearly wanted?

  Had it been the visit with Paul Sterling? He hadn’t said anything, but he could hardly begrudge her for moving on. She’d thought he was dead. He knew the moment the treason charge had been aimed at him that she would have to distance herself or go down with him.

  His biggest regret was the timing. He’d been incarcerated when their daughter needed him most. Hearing about her injuries secondhand had been awful. He’d almost told Torres to go to hell with the undercover plan, that he’d take his chances and expose Hellfire before the evidence had been gathered.

  A lot of good that had done. Frankie had healed, but he was still far from restoring his life or ensuring the ongoing safety of his family.

  Halloran would definitely up the ante. It was only a matter of when and how. A man who would use his own son was capable of anything. Frank debated the wisdom of walking into the nearest federal authority and laying out the whole story. Except they believed he was the bad guy and he didn’t have anything conclusive to prove otherwise. Yet.

  He knew Sophia was sending tidbits of information to the reporter, to Eddie and probably to Leo Solutions as well, dribbling out details that would keep Halloran on edge. They needed to think bigger.

  He glanced to the closed bathroom door blocking his view of his wife. She’d been eager to dangle herself like bait when they were in Alexandria. He could see that it might take something that tempting to draw Halloran into the open. Would Frank have the courage to let her do it if and when they needed that kind of ploy?

  When she emerged, a silk tank tucked into faded jeans that hugged her gorgeous legs, he scalded his tongue on a gulp of the bitter coffee. He ignored the sting, eager to get busy and stay that way until the case was over. Today they would see if they could find anything incriminating in or around Fort Huachuca, Farrell’s last duty station. When she bent to retrieve her bag, his attention zeroed in on her backside. He was definitely glad they were getting out of this room. The sooner the better.

  Once they were on the interstate, Sophia said, “I asked my assistant to pull anything on his banking records or credit card activity. Paul said Farrell didn’t care about money, only power and respect. That’s harder to track.”

  “I’v
e never seen Farrell accept a delivery. If he’s been riding a desk in an office, I would’ve missed him easily.”

  “With today’s technology, he can probably do desk work anywhere in the world,” Sophia said. “But we’ll figure it out.”

  There was a piece he was missing. Frank’s mind wandered, lulled by the sound of the tires on the asphalt. His brain sifted through memories and wound them up with daydreams. Why the hell had he thrown it all away?

  He remembered how Frankie had come down the stairs, all dressed up and ready for her kindergarten graduation ceremony. He and Sophia had been near bursting with pride. His daughter had leaped from the next to last riser into his arms and giggled as he spun her in a big circle.

  “Frank.” A familiar touch gave his shoulder a shake. “Frank?”

  “Huh?” He blinked away the haze of the memory, focusing first on the road and then on the worried face of the woman who wouldn’t have him anymore. Damn it all. “What is it?”

  “Trouble.” The single word was loaded with urgency.

  Adrenaline shot through his blood, clearing the last of the cobwebs. He checked his mirrors and came up empty. “Where?”

  “Here.” She turned up the volume and held her cell phone so he could hear the video report on her phone.

  A breaking news story named Frank as the prime suspect in the murder of Army CID Special Agent J.D. Torres. “Ruthless,” he said with grudging admiration. The report didn’t hold anything back, including a reward for any information that led to his arrest. “They’ll name you as an accomplice soon.”

  “Probably by the end of the day.” She pushed her phone into her purse as if it were infected with a vile disease. “At least we know we’ve become more than an irritation.” She swore quietly. “I wanted to drive through the post and get a feel for the area, but it’s too risky now.”