Jack told himself his father meant well, but it hurt to hear either way.
“Dad, you know I value your counsel. Your opinion has always been important to me, but in this case, you need to butt the hell out,” he told him, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ve made mistakes, certainly, but I’m taking accountability, and now I’m doing what’s right for me, and Samantha is right for me. I need you to get behind me, or this will drive a wedge between us, and I don’t want that.”
“She’s not right for you.”
“You’ve made your feelings on the matter abundantly clear.”
A tense silence hung between them. Jack couldn’t begin to explain how empty and hollow he’d felt without her—like he’d been falling down a bottomless ravine. He couldn’t elucidate the burst of happiness and peace he’d found holding her in his arms again. For some inexplicable reason, Samantha was the person—his person. She was the woman who set him free. Now that he knew her, Jack realized she’d unleashed some pent-up desire that was bigger than his instinct for self-preservation. Seeing her again, holding her—this was emotional yearning. What his father didn’t get was that the fundamental shift had already occurred. It was done the first time Jack knew he loved her.
“Dad, I called you to let you know where I am and what’s happening, but there’s something important I have to ask of you. Something you won’t like.”
“There isn’t anything about this that I like,” Sandro replied gruffly.
Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need you to tell me what you know about Samantha’s father.”
“I already told you—”
“Was he an asset of some kind?” Jack interrupted, looking up at the darkening sky. “Did he work for the government? Was he CIA?”
His father remained quiet.
“The file you gave me had some information about his death. Intelligence gathered that. There’s evidence of foul play, though it was never pursued beyond that,” Jack continued.
“Robert Wyatt was one of the most influential men in Washington before he died,” his father answered slowly. “There were several deals he was involved in that were questionable. Not to mention his conflicts with the EPA.”
“Then why wasn’t it the FBI that was looking into him? Why the CIA?” Jack pointed out. “Stop giving me evasive, political bullshit answers, Dad. What’s going on?”
“Gianni, this isn’t a matter you should be probing into.”
Something about the latent hesitancy in his father’s voice struck a dissonant chord. Jack frowned. He and his father had always been close. He knew when his father was holding out; his father knew something now—something important.
“Samantha won’t let this go,” Jack told him, turning away from the house. “She has photographs, Dad. She’s gathering evidence. I’ve sworn to help her. I need you to be honest with me now.”
“You’re asking more than I can give. I’ve done what I can to help her. I’ve done everything in my power to keep her alive, even when you were no longer together.”
“You’re the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee. It’s not that you can’t help. It’s that you won’t,” Jack responded cuttingly. He knew what his father was doing. Playing the last ace that he had. If Sandro didn’t provide Jack with the information he’d promised to Samantha, he assumed the wedge it would drive between them would be too insurmountable. Jack couldn’t force his father to come to the table with something meaningful. Sandro knew it and Jack knew it. And Samantha wouldn’t achieve closure, and the not knowing would forever be a splinter in her mind.
“Please leave her, Gianni. It’s not safe for you there,” his father said quietly, beseechingly. “Andarci con i piedi di piombo.”25
“I choose her, Dad. Whatever that brings; whatever it means—I choose her.”
Jack hung up. He stood in the garden surrounded by Hannah’s prized roses, the scent seducing as nightfall spread across Wyatt Ranch like a deep lavender canopy. He could see the dusting of stars just above the horizon, a slice of the moon hanging in the sky.
He called Jaime.
“So that didn’t go well,” his brother said as soon as he picked up.
Jack sighed. “How did you know?”
“Mom and I were talking about what to do with Maddie this summer. She said Dad was doing shots of grappa after you got off the phone.”
“He thinks I’m throwing my life away.”
“So he’s prone to the dramatic,” Jaime replied lightly. “You two are the same that way.”
“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or being supportive,” Jack drawled.
“It’s both, Jack—it’s usually both,” Jaime joked before turning serious. “How is she?”
“Too thin from stress and worry. But God, it’s good to see her again.”
“What do you need from me? How can I help?”
“She thinks her father was involved with the CIA.”
Jaime sucked in a tight breath. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So… you asked Dad to confirm or deny that?” Jaime guessed.
“He would do neither. He’s trying the ‘withholding until I come to my senses’ route, hoping it’ll drive a wedge between me and Samantha.”
“Mannaggia. Well, if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed… Guess we’ll have to go back into the mountain.”
“Yeah, that’s not how the saying goes,” Jack smiled in spite of himself. “How is it that you’re supportive of this? I thought you wanted me to stay away from Samantha too.”
“I do. I did.” Jaime sighed. “Look, I’m not an idiot. You love this woman the way I loved my wife. I would have done anything for her—anything. So I get it. And besides, I like Sam. I think she’s good for you. Dad just doesn’t see that. But he will. Just give it time.”
“A luxury I don’t have,” Jack muttered.
“Jack, you’ve got to look at this from his point of view for just a moment. When he was our age, he already had two sons, was the district attorney, and had a house in the suburbs. Until Sam, Mom was the most dangerous woman he knew. Dad just doesn’t understand what you’re dealing with—there’s no frame of reference. He always thought you’d grow out of the playboy billionaire stuff. He was expecting you to sow your oats, then settle down with an Italian, not try to marry la femme Nikita, get held hostage, and then have to go to rehab for Oxy. You’re blowing his goddamn mind, dude.”
“There has to be some other way.”
“Let me work on Mom when she’s in Chicago this weekend,” Jaime offered. “If she’s on board, Dad won’t have a choice.”
“Thanks, fratu.”
“Give Sam a hug for me.”
“I’ll tell her you called her Nikita.”
Jaime laughed. “You do that. She’ll like it.”
Jack hung up, moving toward the main house. He’d met Hannah earlier that afternoon. She’d been lovely and warm, welcoming him with kind blue eyes and iced tea sweet enough to send him into a diabetic coma. Jack figured he’d further ingratiate himself by helping her make dinner. He’d dazzle her with his knife skills, and if he was very lucky, she might tell him more about how Samantha was really doing.
Chapter 15
April—Early Evening
Wyatt Ranch, Texas
S A M A N T H A
Sam hung up the speaker phone, sitting back slowly as she and Alejandro looked at one another. They’d just gotten the update from Rox about Lightner’s upcoming meeting with an arms dealer.
“That asshole’s trying to get heavy artillery?” Alejo released a frustrated groan. “Are you kidding me?” He scrubbed his hands down his face.
“Arms dealing as a second career makes sense, in a way,” she reasoned, trying to suppress the fear spreading through her with calm logic. “Lightner’s the only man to successfully take out a city block in London since World War II, so he’s got an established reputation now as a crazy and talented sonofabitch in the underwo
rld. That’ll be an automatic calling card.”
“I can’t defend you against military-grade weaponry if he comes at us with a full arsenal,” Alejandro pointed out roughly. “I’m prepared for ground attacks by small strike teams—what if he gets ahold of a bomb or something?”
“You’re right.” Sam nodded distractedly. “If he knows I’m here, which he probably does, he knows the ranch is an armory. Lightner’s a tricky bastard. He could be picking up new tech. He’d get to test out his new wares and kill me and my family in one fell swoop. And with Jack here—that’s two birds with one big goddamn stone.”
Alejo stood. “We have to get you and Jack out of here.”
“He doesn’t have anything yet,” she pointed out pragmatically.
“And I’m not sitting around here waiting for him to get geared up,” Alejandro countered. “We’ve got a few days’ head start. Probably a week. We can be anywhere in the world by then.”
Sam shook her head. “I’m not running.”
He laid his hands on her desk, leaning toward her, “Don’t be stupid and pig-headed, Wyatt. You’re putting everyone at risk if you don’t leave.”
“I’m not running,” she said with feeling, her voice gritty. “No one comes looking for me. I go looking for them. Lightner’s about to get one hell of a fight, especially since he doesn’t know we’re already on to him.” She reached for the phone again, quickly speed-dialing Marvin, her assistant, in Chicago.
“You better not be working, Boss,” Marvin said when he answered the line. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Like I ever do as I’m told,” Sam scoffed. “Besides, you’re still in the office.”
“Who’s going to run the place while Carey’s in Houston? You know I can’t leave Talon alone. He’d have unloaded an entire clip in the photocopier by now.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad.”
“Are you kidding me?” Marvin replied with disbelief. “He told an intern to drop and give him fifty for mispronouncing a client’s name.”
Alejo nodded in agreement, giving her a thumbs-up sign. Sam rolled her eyes. Talon and Alejo were cut from the same kind of crazy.
“Is Talon still there?” she asked.
“Just headed out, but I can patch him in.”
“Get him and Rush on the line. I’ve got a fresh lead, and I need you guys to mobilize. Call me when you get them both on the line,” she said before hanging up.
“It’s the middle of the night in London,” Alejandro pointed out as Sam leaned back in her seat.
“Can’t be helped,” she replied with a shrug. “Besides, they’ll be as eager as I am to see this through.”
“Boss—everything alright?” Rush asked as soon as she picked up the conference call Marvin set up.
“Avi Oded got a bead on Lightner,” she told her guys.
“Where?” Talon asked, cutting straight to the point.
“Tel Aviv. He’ll fill you in on all the details, but I need you guys to put together a tactical team and get there ASAP. I want Michaelson and Henri, for sure but you can pick whomever else you want to bring.”
“I’ll get the jets lined up at Chicago Midway and London City,” Marvin chimed in. “The guys will be wheels up within the hour.”
“Is Carey coming?” Rush asked.
“Negative. I need him here.” She didn’t tell them that she’d be asking him to take his parents away from the ranch until the heat died down. “Marv, you’re manning the helm in Chicago.”
“Sure thing,” Marvin responded.
Alejandro waved at her. Rox, he mouthed.
Sam nodded in acknowledgment. “One more thing: You’ll meet a woman I’ve brought in to find Lightner.”
“Really?” Talon replied, sounding interested. “Who?”
“All you need to know is she’s with me and she’s running point on this mission. Got it?”
“Roger that,” Rush replied.
“One more thing: I got you guys some new gear—”
“What—like new assault rifles?” Talon interrupted, excited.
“Listen to him—he’s like a kid at Christmas,” Marvin laughed.
“Quite the opposite, actually,” Sam continued. “I had some DARPA-developed body armor made for you guys. Wear it please and stay safe.”
“Aww, boss—you know the only guy coming back with bullet holes is Lightner,” Rush drawled.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Sam said with a smile. “But humor me and wear the armor anyway.”
“You got it.”
When she hung up, Alejandro gave her dry look. “Where’s my body armor?”
Sam shot him a look. “You’re lucky I haven’t shot you myself. Count your blessings.” She pushed her fingers through her hair, sighing as she looked up at the ceiling of the study. “Now I just have to convince Uncle Grant and Aunt Hannah to take an extended vacation.”
“We can all be gone within the hour. You’re being mule-headed not to leave,” Alejandro told her with a dark look.
“Yes, I heard you the first time you called me a stubborn bitch.”
“I didn’t call you a bitch.”
“Maybe not out loud, but I could hear you thinking it,” Sam replied, a restive excitement thrumming through her, despite the fear and worry. It felt good to mobilize after months of hibernation and healing. She’d hated being sedentary, waiting for something to happen. The hunter in her liked the purpose, needed the kill. Even if she couldn’t be there on the ground with her team, she was still able to move the pieces on the board, direct the scenes. There was a satisfaction in that. She didn’t know if she could give that up for a normal life.
“What are you thinking?”
“How come you never got married?” Sam asked, surprising him.
“I did for a minute,” Alejo replied with a shrug. “Didn’t take.”
Sam’s brows shot up. “When?”
“After Rita died,” Alejo admitted, looking away. “It was short. Less than six months.”
“It’s none of my business, but what happened?”
Alejo stood, paced over to the windows. “I was lonely. Rox was still healing, in hiding. Rita was gone.” He shrugged a little. “I was lonely.”
Sam knew what that felt like. All too well. She’d gone through feeling like she was the last of her family—all that was left behind—and it hadn’t felt like nearly enough. Is that what she was doing entertaining ideas of Jack?
“So you cured yourself after six months of playing house?” she asked carefully.
Alejo turned to look at her, crossing his arms. “Nah, I just couldn’t do it. She was a nice girl. Beautiful, even. But I knew immediately I made a mistake. We should have called it what it was—a drunken weekend and a fling through the Elvis Chapel. What do you squids call it?”
“A ‘shore leave mistake,’” she mumbled, thinking about Jack. She’d seen him standing in the garden earlier, speaking on his phone—presumably trying to convince his father to break some more laws and share information he shouldn’t. What happened with Wes in Afghanistan had been understandable; it had felt like a misguided attempt at closure. But Jack? That was a whole different set of confusing feelings. Was she just using him as a scratching post? A momentary relief from her self-imposed exile? Or did she love him?
“You’re not lonely anymore?” Sam asked in morbid curiosity.
Alejandro turned to look at her. “I guess I wanted the loneliness more than I wanted to try.”
Sam nodded. Loneliness was almost easier by now. She knew it well. She’d become totally accustomed to it. There was no real risk there. But was it what she wanted?
*
April—Evening
La Colombe d’Or Hotel, Houston, Texas
W E S L E Y
“We can rule these four people out,” Carey said as he tossed a stack of personnel folders onto the dining table of the makeshift office they’d set up in Wes’s suite. “I’ve had the in-house investigator at Lenn
ox Chase turn over every stone on these guys, and they all check out.”
Wes scrubbed a hand down his face, standing and stretching his tired muscles out as he paced around the private dining room of his suite. To save himself the constant drive back and forth to Austin, he’d rented a lavish suite at the 1920s mansion, La Colombe d’Or Hotel, in Montrose. One of the major perks of becoming a Pulitzer-winning photographer was not having to stay in shitholes when it could be helped, and Wes always liked the idea of having an honest-to-God Picasso to look at over breakfast, even the table he ate at was usually covered in paperwork, photographs, and newspaper clippings alongside his laptop.
He gripped the back of the chair he’d just been sitting in. “That leaves Mack McDevitt, Travis Brandt, and Toma Sakurai on the list of possible suspects.”
“No way,” Carey shook his head. “Uncle Mack would cut his own arm off before harming anyone in my family, and Travis is running his own company now. Besides, the Brandts are old Texas money from way back before the Alamo.”
“I know Travis,” Wes replied, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. He’d crossed paths with Travis Brandt a time or two. Hell, he’d nearly lost Sam to that smooth bastard in college thanks to his own stupidity, but it made sense to consider him, whether Carey wanted to or not. “Before we consider Travis, tell me why Mack took over Wyatt Petroleum as soon as Rob died. He’s been at the head of the ship ever since.”
“By Sam’s choice,” Carey responded. “Legally, that company’s hers. She just chooses to let him be the CEO while she chairs the board.”
Wes shook his head. “Anyone who knows Sammy understands she never wanted to head that company. It was always her father who was grooming her for it. She never intended to take over.”
“Mack’s a rich man many times over,” Carey protested. “He was already Rob’s number two.”
“This isn’t about the money—not really,” Wes replied. “This was a power play. A checkmate.”
Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three Page 25