He lifted a brow in arrogant disagreement. “How long have you been working the case?”
Rianna stared at him. She’d been undercover for a good part of the year, but she’d been working the case half her life. She shook her head, unwilling to voice the whole truth.
They were quiet for a minute, and then Kyle broke the silence with a new suggestion. “I think what’s best for both of us is a little moving excursion.”
She didn’t follow his line of thinking. “What do you mean?”
He nodded toward the window facing the intersection. She followed his gaze, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“What?”
“A truck rental company,” he explained, pointing across the street. “Nobody’s likely to be looking for us in a moving van. What do you say to renting one of those for the trip back east?”
She offered him a genuine grin. “Sounds like a winner. I still have one more phony ID to use.”
His eyes darkened and his tone dropped an octave. “In your security pouch?”
She laughed out loud and then rose from the table. “In my jeans pocket, Tremont. My jeans pocket.”
His answering grin warmed her heart.
Chapter 10
They rented a small panel van and Kyle took the first shift of driving. Rianna couldn’t believe how exhausted she still felt. She dozed during the next few hours, interspersing her sleep with long conversations about his home in Texas and his woodcraft business.
She learned that after retiring from the agency, he’d worked as a security guard for a fast-growing company. His investment in the company’s stock allowed him the financial freedom to work for himself. He’d developed a longtime love of woodworking into a small business that was just starting to earn a profit.
The more she learned about Kyle, the more her admiration for him grew. He knew who he was and what he wanted from life. He had a real home and a plan for his future. In comparison, hers seemed really bleak. She’d never allowed herself to dream of any life beyond her obsessive need to see Gregory Haroldson punished.
Once she’d accomplished that objective, she had no idea what she’d be doing. The future loomed big and empty, all her insecurities threatening to rear their ugly heads. Despite her confidence in her ability to do her job, she had little else to be confident about these days. She had no close friends, no relationship skills or long-term goals.
In other words, not much to offer any man. That depressing thought had alarm bells ringing in her head. She was getting in way over her head with the renegade retiree. He’d never mentioned anything about permanency or long-term commitments. They had only known each other a few days, even though it seemed so much longer.
They stopped for dinner in Charleston, West Virginia, and then Rianna took the wheel so that Kyle could get some rest. The freeway driving was monotonous, but uneventful, as they swapped places every couple of hours. The steady speed allowed them to make good time, and they reached Maryland a little before midnight. It took another hour to get to Donald’s cabin.
The natural wood, A-frame house nestled atop a small hill in a copse of evergreen trees. It sat about a hundred yards from the road and was surrounded by aesthetically appealing, high-security fencing. Lights blazed, illuminating the house from several directions.
Rianna’s heart skipped a beat as they approached the iron entrance gates. The cabin had become her second home over the past few years, and the thrill of being close delighted her beyond words. She gave Kyle the code, and the heavy gates silently slid apart for them to pass.
As soon as they pulled to a stop near the house, the front door opened. Donald stepped onto the porch, a tall, distinguished man with thick, graying hair and a smile that lit his craggy, aristocratic features with happiness. Rianna threw open her door, hopping out of the van before Kyle turned off the engine.
In the next instant, she and Donald had narrowed the distance between them, and she threw herself into his waiting arms. He hugged her fiercely, and she returned the embrace with all her strength. Her chest tightened, her throat constricting at the feel of his solid strength. She’d missed him badly.
“Welcome home, baby,” he whispered near her ear, tenderly rocking her back and forth.
“You can’t imagine how great it is to be here!” she insisted, blinking back tears and fighting a landslide of emotion. It rolled over her with an intensity that had her trembling in his arms.
“It’s been too long,” he added gruffly, reassuring her. “It’s okay now. You’re home and you’re safe. I can do all the worrying from here on out. You just relax.”
“I’ll be happy to,” she said, easing a little space between them so she could study his familiar, ageless features. “I’m ready to be done with it.”
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Kyle’s terse greeting to Donald. “Sullivan.”
His cold, hard tone had them slowly pulling apart and turning toward him. He stood in the shadows, but the bright porch light shone on his dark, angry expression. His stance was combative, his hand folded around the Glock. Rianna was taken aback by his belligerent attitude. He looked like an gunfighter itching for a fight.
“Kyle?” Her tone was questioning, but he ignored her and continued to glare at Donald.
“Tremont.” Donald returned the greeting. The arm around her waist tightened protectively.
“Rianna’s too exposed out here.” Kyle ground the words out roughly.
The two men continued to scowl at each other for a few seconds, and then Donald agreed. “You’re right.” He nudged her toward the doorway. “Let’s get inside.” To Rianna, he added, “Somebody else is a little anxious to see you.”
She shrieked with excitement. “Sophie’s here?”
“Against my better judgment, but you know she never listens to anything I say.”
They’d barely stepped into the house and closed the door before Rianna was being wrapped tightly in another pair of arms. The women shared cries of joy at seeing each other again. Donald’s wife added her enthusiastic welcome with motherly hugs and kisses.
When they’d quieted, Donald made introductions.
“Tremont, this is my wife, Sophie,” he said with an amused lift of his brow. “Sophie, this is Kyle Tremont. You’ve heard me mention him in the past. He used to be one of my agents, but I don’t think the two of you ever met.”
The slim, attractive redhead freed one hand and reached it to him. He grasped it briefly and nodded in greeting.
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for bringing Mary safely back to us,” she insisted.
The Sullivans had always used the abbreviated form of Marianna for security purposes. They’d wanted her to retain part of her identity without putting her at risk, so she’d been Mary to them. Just another of her many names.
“She’s the daughter of our hearts, and we’ve been worried sick about her for months,” Sophie explained.
Kyle’s thunderous expression lightened, and Rianna belatedly realized he’d been jealous of Donald. Her eyes widened at his misconception. Did he think her that dense and insensitive?
She frowned, flashing him a chastising look.
He returned her glance with an arrogant arch of a brow and without apology.
Donald cleared his throat, and Sophie chuckled softly at the byplay. “Boys,” she scolded. “None of that macho posturing. We’re all adults here.”
Rianna just shook her head in disbelief. She actually felt flattered by Kyle’s possessive attitude, and she’d never have believed it possible. Maybe she was getting soft in the head.
Or the heart.
That errant thought made her frown. She’d never aspired to be softheaded or softhearted.
“How’s your neck?” asked Donald. “Let me see.”
Rianna slid her hand up to touch the tiny row of stitches.
“What’s wrong with your neck?” Sophie asked in alarm. “Did somebody try to strangle you?”
�
�No, no,” Rianna insisted, glancing at Donald for guidance. He gave her a subtle shake of his head. She didn’t like lying to Sophie, so she kept her explanation to a minimal. “I got hurt and had to have a couple of stitches, but it’s fine now.”
Sophie frowned, glancing from one of them to the other. Noting their closed expressions, she made a clucking sound of disgust. “Okay, don’t tell me. I’m sure it’s classified. Just show me and let me decide if it’s all right or not.”
Rianna turned her back, lifted her hair and tugged the Band-Aid off her neck. Sophie and Donald both shifted closer, studying the sutures. Sophie ran a gentle finger near the slightly raised flesh. Then they both conceded that the wound was healing nicely.
“Does it still hurt?” asked Donald.
“It never hurt very much, but it’s starting to itch.”
“That’s just part of the healing process,” chimed Sophie. “Did you need a tetanus shot? Your last one is probably outdated. Are you on antibiotics?”
“The doctor gave me a tetanus booster and a few days’ worth of antibiotics,” Rianna lied, intent on calming her concern. Sophie worried too much over the small things because she knew she had no control over the life-threatening ones.
“But it’s never felt like it might be infected,” she added. “It’s really just a scratch.”
Sophie cleared her throat. “Of course it is. Absolutely nothing to worry about. I promise I’m not going to waste time clucking over you like a mother hen.” She quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry? Donald insists that I can only stay a couple of hours. Safety first and all that, but we have time to share a meal.”
“Something smells delicious,” said Rianna.
“Your favorite, of course.” Sophie hugged her close again. They led the way down the hall to the kitchen with the men following. “Pot roast with new potatoes and baby carrots. I even outdid myself with dessert. Coconut cream pie with lots of tall, fluffy meringue.”
Rianna moaned in delight. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, but I’m glad you did. My mouth’s watering already.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Donald teased. “My stomach’s been growling loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but Sophie wouldn’t give me a scrap of food until you got home.”
“My poor darling,” Sophie cooed, wrinkling her nose at her husband. “You do have it rough, don’t you.”
Their good-natured teasing set the tone for the next hour. Everyone seemed determined to enjoy the meal without letting reality intrude. There was no mention of the ongoing case or anything serious until they’d finished eating.
Over coffee, Donald caught them up on the Haroldson matter. The overwhelming evidence against the man prevented him from using his money or power to influence the courts. None of his wealthy associates was willing to risk supporting him at this point. He was still being held without bond, and his lawyer was starting to discuss the possibility of cutting a deal.
“The district attorney has assured me that the state won’t accept a plea bargain. Not unless it’s from Rudy Barrick. If he wants to turn state’s evidence against Haroldson, then they might bargain for reduced sentences, but nobody is walking in this case.”
“Is there any way Mary can avoid testifying?” asked Sophie.
“As the agent assigned to the case, her testimony is crucial,” Donald explained. “I wish we could get by with a formal deposition, but her eyewitness accounts need to be heard by the judge and jury. We probably have enough evidence to lock Haroldson away for a few years, but her testimony can keep him behind bars with no chance of parole.”
“Couldn’t she do one of those video testimonies?” asked Sophie. “Aren’t they sometimes used to protect an agent’s identity or safety?”
“The judge might allow it,” he replied, his tone noncommittal. “But it’s not nearly as effective as putting her in the courtroom.”
“There could be years of appeals,” said Kyle.
“I understood all that from the beginning,” Rianna insisted, her tone firm. “I’m totally committed to seeing the process to an end, however long it takes. I will not let him win this battle.”
Quiet settled over the room as they all accepted the reiteration of her decision. Then Kyle changed the subject. “What have you learned about Blaine? How long’s he been dirty?”
Before Donald could respond, Rianna added another question. “Was he the mole who kept selling my family’s whereabouts to Gregory?” She’d vowed to learn who was responsible for the breach in security that had compromised her family’s location every few years.
“I don’t see how Blaine could have had access to that kind of high-level information,” said Kyle.
“He didn’t,” explained Donald. “When we searched Blaine’s apartment, we found a ledger that belonged to my predecessor, Bob Mullet. Apparently Bob had been selling information to Haroldson for years.”
“Didn’t Mullet die a few months after Margie?” asked Kyle.
“Yeah, supposedly of natural causes, but we’re checking into that a little closer now, too. From what we can determine, Blaine learned about Mullet’s involvement though Margie’s death and started blackmailing him. When Mullet died, Blaine offered himself as Haroldson’s new mole.”
“And now they’re both gone.”
Rianna’s comment brought silence to the room. The new information went a long way toward answering some unresolved issues regarding her family.
“I’m sure Haroldson is actively recruiting new informants,” said Donald. “All we can hope for is to stay one step ahead of him.”
“And we still don’t know who actually killed my parents and brother.”
“Mullet’s records might give us another lead on that, too,” added Donald. “There’s a mention of a hired gun. We think it relates to an international hit man, but that’s all we have to work with. No name or country of origin.”
“So he could be dead or alive?”
“Anything’s possible, but that was a long time ago and it’s not a very safe profession. Chances are he’s dead or serving time for another murder. Haroldson isn’t likely to cough up that kind of information, so we might never know for certain.”
Rianna wished they could be sure. She desperately wanted to put all the questions, all the worrying and wondering behind her. She wanted to be able to remember her family without the pain, guilt and heartache. Thinking about them led to another question.
“Did you get the video I asked you to keep for me? The personal one?” she asked.
Donald smiled, his eyes lighting with pleasure. “It’s in the living room. We noticed the date on the label, and I can see why it’s so important to you.”
She gave him a big smile. “Thanks a bunch.”
To Kyle, she explained. “When I was searching through Gregory’s tapes, I found a series of videos from his annual staff parties. My parents, brother and I are on one of them.”
She cleared the thickness from her voice, wondering if she’d ever be able to speak of them without getting weepy. She’d lost everything in that fire, every personal item, photo and small memento of their family life.
“I couldn’t risk watching it too much, so I hid it with the evidence tapes.”
Their gazes met and held. His reassuring expression eased the tightness in her chest. For so many years, she’d been unable to mention her family to anyone but Donald and Sophie. Discussing them more openly now brought her an unexpected sense of comfort.
“You’ll have to introduce me to them later,” Kyle told her in quiet understanding.
His sensitivity brought a lump to her throat. She dropped her gaze to her coffee cup, and then took one last sip. Sophie had finished cleaning the kitchen while they talked. Donald shifted back into his deputy director mode.
“Can you stay a while longer, Tremont? At least until I get Sophie back to the city?”
Kyle nodded, and Donald continued. “I’ll take the rented truck and follow her back to our a
partment. My car’s in the garage in case of emergency, along with the pickup truck, but you should be perfectly safe here. I’ve got several guards posted on the property. The fence is electrified and the house is heavily armored. I can have more men and equipment brought out at the slightest hint of trouble.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Rianna. “I know this place is a fortress. I helped plan the security, remember?”
Donald chuckled, but Sophie added motherly instructions. “I want you to relax, get some rest and remember to eat. You’re a little too thin and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”
Rianna grinned. “I have a good start on a tan, though.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about your adventure when we can visit longer,” she said. “I know Donald’s version is always heavily edited. It’s nearly impossible to pry information out of him. He’s the most closemouthed man I’ve ever met.”
Donald rose from the table, interrupting before she could get started on one of her favorite lectures. “Why don’t the two of you get showered and settled a little before we leave,” he suggested, deftly changing subjects. “I’ll show Tremont around the house, introduce him to the agents and find him a change of clothes.”
Rianna rose and stretched. She didn’t have to be coaxed. She was feeling stuffed with Sophie’s wonderful meal, and getting tired again. After excusing herself, she headed to her own room, stripped and climbed in the shower. A fresh Band-Aid protected her stitches while she allowed the water to pelt her with cleansing strength.
By the time she was dressed again, she felt squeaky clean for the first time in months. The soft, yellow cotton nightgown was nearly transparent, but comfortable. It fell to her knees and clung to her damp body. The matching robe buttoned up the front and wasn’t much heavier, but she decided it added a respectable layer of clothing.
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