by Janie Crouch
Natalie definitely wasn’t rolling toward the middle of the bed, reaching for her husband. Of course, Damien would have to be called her ex-husband since he remarried after Natalie’s “death.”
That poor woman had died in a car accident just a year later. Dead wife number two. When Omega had found out that Natalie was in fact alive, they had exhumed two grave sites. One coffin had contained a body. Natalie’s had not.
Legally, Natalie was no longer officially married to Freihof, due to his second marriage. Omega lawyers had already checked into that to make sure laws about testifying against one’s spouse wouldn’t come into play.
But married to him or not, if Natalie Freihof was helping Damien—which Ren had very little doubt she was—he would take her down.
Five days he’d been watching her, hoping she would slip up or get complacent and lead them to Freihof. The phones at the house were tapped, but she never used them. And if she had a cell phone, it was a burner that she didn’t use at the house. No cell signals ever came from there.
So they were basically at a dead end. A place Ren didn’t like to be and didn’t find himself at very often.
It was time to shake things up. If they didn’t put pressure on ex–Mrs. Freihof, she was never going to do anything reckless. It was time to force her hand.
Ren grabbed his phone and dialed a number. It wasn’t even dawn here yet, and Colorado was only an hour ahead, but Steve Drackett still answered and sounded like he’d been awake for hours. Given that the man had a new baby it was entirely possible.
“Ren. Any change?” The head of the Omega Sector Critical Response Division skipped all formal greetings.
“Nothing. And no sign that she’s going to do anything anytime soon. We need to prod her into action. Watching just isn’t cutting it.”
“I’ve had Brandon Han and Andrea Gordon-Han working on this. They’re both pretty adamant that Natalie may be a victim, not an accomplice.”
Ren glanced at the house again. Quiet. Almost deathly still. “Maybe.” He doubted it. “But either way she’s our best shot.”
“There’s something else you should know. Six of the canisters in law enforcement offices around Atlanta have gone missing.”
Ren’s muttered curse under his breath was foul. Saul Poniard, the traitor inside Omega Sector who had been working with Freihof, had planted biological weapons in law enforcement offices throughout the country. He’d come within seconds of releasing them all and killing tens of thousands of law enforcement personnel two weeks ago.
“I thought we’d gotten all the canisters back into safe hands?”
“Finding them all has been more tricky than we anticipated. These were scheduled for pickup. And they were picked up and signed for, just not by the agents who were supposed to get them.”
Ren cursed again. Six canisters of the biological contaminants was enough to take out half a city.
“The icing on the cake?” Steve continued. “Signed for by a D. Freihof. Bastard didn’t even try to hide it, Ren. And we got an affirmative ID on him from a traffic cam in South Carolina. I’ve got some of my best agents there now.”
Freihof with biological weapons was damn near the scariest thing Ren could imagine.
“We move tomorrow, Steve. We can’t wait any longer. I know it’s a complicated operation, but it’s our best bet.”
“Roger that. You still want Brandon and Andrea to talk to her? Keep you out of the picture? If so, I’ll send them out in a couple of hours. They can be at Natalie’s doorstep by this afternoon.”
“Yes.” Ren could feel all the details of the plan floating around in his mind. “I’ll watch from the surveillance truck. And I’ll have everything ready. If this plays out the way I think it will, Natalie Freihof will be running into my arms soon enough.”
Chapter Two
Natalie was getting home from work at two o’clock in the afternoon rather than two o’clock in the morning. Only seven hours of work rather than fourteen. She smiled wryly as she put the key into the lock of the beach house door. Practically a vacation.
And damn it, she was going to enjoy the beach. This house. Not let it make her feel panicked and trapped like last night. The sun was shining outside and she was going to revel in it. She’d fight the darkness tonight when it arrived.
She dropped the smaller backpack, the one she took with her everywhere, on the ground inside the bedroom door and opened the larger one resting next to it. She hadn’t unpacked any of her clothes here at the beach house, but then again, she didn’t have anything unpacked even when she stayed in her apartment. She’d trained herself to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
And if she was tempted even for a second to let her guard down, to unpack and get comfortable, all she had to do was stretch her arms out over her head and feel the ache in her shoulder from where Damien had dislocated it not once but twice during their marriage.
Or go up on her tippy toes and feel that one ankle couldn’t support her because of how it had broken when she’d fallen down the stairs, courtesy of her husband’s shove.
Burn marks on the inside of her arm. Scars from restraints on her wrists and ankles.
And the fact that she still couldn’t stand the snow.
Snow would haunt her until the day she died.
She ripped off her cleaning uniform of khaki pants and solid navy polo shirt, threw them over the back of the couch and put on a tank top and shorts. Damn it, Damien wasn’t here. Couldn’t hurt her. There was no snow. There was only California sunshine and a view of the beautiful Pacific Ocean. He would not steal this from her like he’d stolen so much. She would sit out on the deck and do nothing.
She was successful at that for all of ten minutes.
The knock on the door had her bolting from her lazy sprawl in the hammock, her heart a hammer against her ribs. She looked at the front door, then at the stairs that led from the deck down to the street below. Should she run?
Her backpack was still inside. If she ran, she would have to leave everything behind. Money. Clothes. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.
The knock came again as she fought to decide what to do.
Damien wouldn’t knock. She calmed a little as the words flowed through her. If Damien had found her he would not be knocking politely at the door.
This wasn’t even her house. Chances were it was someone for the owners. Easy to get rid of. She walked inside to the front door, collecting herself.
As soon as she opened the door she knew she’d made a mistake.
Everything about the Asian man and smaller blonde woman, both dressed in carefully cut suits, screamed federal agents. Natalie should’ve chosen to take the stairs at the deck, to get out while she could. Leaving behind everything would’ve been better.
She forced herself to breathe at an even, normal pace. She eased the door more slightly closed, hoping if she needed to slam it and run she’d be able to.
“Can I help you?”
“Natalie?” The woman, four or five inches shorter than Natalie, with hair almost the same color blond, spoke.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said, avoiding the question. “This isn’t my house. I’m just house-sitting for a friend.”
Oh, crap, Natalie realized she didn’t really know anything about the owners. She had their names written down somewhere on the instructions Olivia had given her, but didn’t remember them offhand.
“But you’re Natalie, right?” the woman asked again softly. The man moved slightly closer to the woman, almost as if he was going to step in front of her to protect her if she needed it. Like Natalie was going to jump out at her kicking and clawing. That was the last thing he needed to worry about.
She had to stay calm. “I think you have me confused with someone else. Like I said, this isn’t my house, but I promise I’m not here illegally.” She inched
the door farther closed.
The woman just reached down into her bag and pulled out a photograph, sticking it directly in front of Natalie’s face.
Fear closed around her throat. It was a shot of her and Damien on their wedding day, smiling at one another. Natalie’s hair had been much longer, her cheeks fuller, her smile genuine.
She felt the room begin to spin.
“Whoa, are you okay?” It was the man this time. He pushed the door open and grabbed Natalie’s arm before she could fall. “Just take a breath, all right? We just want to ask some questions.”
Natalie’s knees couldn’t hold her anymore and the guy helped lower her to a sitting position on the floor leaning back against the wall next to the door. Both he and the woman took advantage of Natalie’s moment of weakness to enter the house, closing the door behind them.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Natalie said again. “This isn’t my house.”
The two people looked at each other, the man giving the woman a slight nod. Some sort of secret agent code, for sure. Then they both looked back at her, squatting down so they were closer to her, eye to eye.
“I’m Andrea,” the woman said. “And this is my husband, Brandon.”
No last names. No credentials. Natalie didn’t want to push, but at least they weren’t reading her her Miranda rights.
Of course, the afternoon was still young.
“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well,” Natalie finally responded. “I appreciate your help, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Like I said, this isn’t my house and I had express instructions that I wasn’t to have anyone else here while the owners are away.”
“Just let us help you get over to the couch,” the man, Brandon, said. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”
If that would get them to leave, then great. “Fine.”
She took the hands both of them outstretched and rose. They walked her over to the couch, and she sat back down, feeling the shirt and pants she’d thrown over it rub against her back.
“Thanks. If you guys don’t mind seeing yourselves out, that would be great.” Natalie would be seeing herself out as soon as they were gone.
Out of the entire state.
“It’s obvious you don’t want to talk to us,” Andrea said, taking a seat in the chair across from Natalie, much to her dismay. “We’d just like you to listen for a few minutes.”
What could she do? Natalie nodded slowly.
“We’re trying to find Damien Freihof,” Brandon said, coming to stand next to his wife, still staying within a protective reach.
Natalie fought not to blanch, not to give anything away, when it was all she could do not to bolt. “I’m sorry. I think you have mistaken me for someone else.”
It was just as flimsy the third time, but it was all she had—hanging on to the possibility that they weren’t exactly sure who she was. Although the wedding picture was pretty damning.
But at least if they were looking for Damien, they hadn’t been sent by him.
“Falsifying a death report is illegal,” Brandon continued, but then stopped with just the slightest touch on his arm by Andrea.
Just a single touch. What would it be like to have someone respect you and care for you so much that the touch of fingertips communicated something both ways? Something Brandon obviously respected.
Natalie had never had that in her entire life.
“It’s imperative that we find Damien Freihof,” Andrea said. “Lives are at stake.”
Natalie just stared. She couldn’t help them even if she wanted to. She’d known better than to keep tabs on Damien—the man was near genius with a computer. He would’ve found out.
She shrugged. “I can’t help you.”
“Maybe we can help you,” Andrea continued. “Keep you safe, if that’s part of your concerns.”
Natalie just shrugged again.
“We’re talking about more than just Brandon and me, of course,” Andrea continued. “An entire team. A very strong group of people who would help you.”
For just a second Natalie wanted to cave, to find out more, to trust someone so she wouldn’t have to live in fear all the time. But she squashed it down. She couldn’t trust anyone. All she could do was run.
Because the truth was, if these people had found her, Damien could, too. She needed to get them out of here.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know I look a lot like that woman in the picture. Quite the doppelgänger.” She gave a laugh that sounded fake even to her own ears. “But that’s not me. I can see how you would think that it is, but it’s just not. I’ve never been married.”
She stood up and walked toward the massive kitchen that was open to the living room, gripping the island to try to steady herself. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve got appointments and stuff scheduled for this afternoon. So I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
What was she going to do if they didn’t leave? Threaten to call the police? Natalie wasn’t capable of that kind of bluff.
“Falsifying your own death is illegal,” Brandon said again. Natalie just stared at him unflinchingly.
Her choice had been between faking her own death or eventually ending up actually dead. She had no doubt the course she’d been on with Damien would’ve led to her eventual death.
So no matter how crappy her life was now, how many jobs she had to work to survive, how many sticky notes she had to put on windows to convince herself she was safe and how accusingly this law enforcement agent looked at her now...she’d definitely made the right choice.
“I’m sure it is, Officer...”
The two looked at each other again, secret agent code with some husband/wife telepathy thrown in. They got up and walked closer to her in the kitchen, where she was filling a cup with water from the tap.
“My name is Brandon Han,” he finally said. “I’m an agent with Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division.”
They were both staring at her as if this would cause some big reaction. Natalie had no idea what they were talking about. She’d never heard of Omega Sector and wasn’t about to ask any questions.
They were cops. They could bring to light the fact that she was still alive, if they hadn’t already. And maybe she might do a year or two in prison for faking her death, but that would be nothing compared to what she would face after she got out.
“Okay, Agent Han. I’m still not who you think I am. I’m sorry I can’t help you. But I’m still going to need to ask you to leave.”
“Omega Sector can protect you,” Agent Han continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We can make sure the slate is wiped clean. No jail time for you for falsifying. If there is something else, we can maybe make a deal for that, too.”
Something else? What the hell else illegal did they think she’d done? Maybe they were talking about taxes or something. That could add up to more jail time.
Which would still be safer than being out on the streets if Damien knew she was alive. God, she had to get out of here. The panic was crawling all over her body, slimy and slick. She couldn’t get rid of it. Just needed to get out of here. Right. Now.
“Please go.” She forced the hoarse words past her throat and nearly buckled in relief when they turned toward the door without further argument. Brandon reached into his pocket and grabbed a card. Natalie took it, although she never planned to even so much as glance at it again.
“Call us if anything changes,” Brandon said as Natalie opened the door and allowed them to walk through. “Anything. At any time. And especially if you happen to see Damien Freihof. And remember, the earlier you get us information, the better it will go for you. Deals for keeping you out of prison are only good when they help both sides.”
“I’m still not your person. Sorry.” She smiled in as friendly a manner as she could manage.
She was c
losing the door behind them when at the very last second Andrea stopped her with a hand on the door. It was only open a crack and Natalie had stepped behind it so she couldn’t see them. She considered just shutting it until she heard Andrea’s words.
“Damien Freihof got remarried to someone else two years after his wife Natalie died. Because no body for Natalie was ever identified, he was required to file for divorce before he could remarry. So no matter what, according to state laws, his marriage with Natalie is null and void even if she magically reappeared alive somewhere.”
Marriage was null and void. Natalie gripped the door, barely able to contain a sob.
“Call us, Natalie. We want to help.” Andrea took the pressure off the door and it slid shut, leaving Natalie alone. She turned and slid her back all the way down the wood until she reached the ground, tears streaming out of her eyes.
She wasn’t married to Damien anymore. No matter what, she wasn’t married to him.
Until this moment she’d had no idea that had even been a concern, but now she realized it had been a huge one. That if she was discovered alive she’d be returned to her husband. The man who had abused her for years.
But that would never happen because they weren’t married anymore. She took a shuddery breath, pulling that fact deep into her soul. Damien would never be her husband again.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill her if he found her.
She got up off the ground. She had to get going right now.
Because lack of an official piece of paper calling them married was not going to stop Damien from hunting her if he found out she was alive. California was no longer safe.
She needed to run.
Chapter Three
“Did you get what you needed?” Brandon asked as he and Andrea stepped into the surveillance van that was parked farther down the block from the beach house.
Ren shrugged. “I didn’t get a location on Freihof, so not exactly.”