by Dani Pettrey
He looked at the door, knowing better but unable to stop himself.
Within a half hour, he was watching her houseboat, battling the urge to enter. It was late. She would be sleeping.
It was too dangerous, but she was so close.
He yearned to feel the soft touch of her skin, the silky strands of her blond hair, the warmth of her in his arms.
He clenched his teeth.
He was such a fool.
As if, after what he’d done, she’d welcome him with open arms? He was delusional to even think that a remote possibility.
He stiffened, his limbs tensing as something, or rather someone else, garnered his attention.
There was someone else present.
It took him a moment to lay eyes on the man. He zoomed in on his binoculars.
Xavier Benjali. Ebeid’s right-hand man—watching Kate.
Adrenaline pulsed through him.
Why was Benjali watching Kate? Had she hit upon something that flagged them? Or had they discovered his connection to her?
Fear flashed through him for the first time in years. Actual fear. It’d been so long since he’d experienced the unsettling sensation. Now he understood why Malcolm said attachments were a vulnerability an agent couldn’t afford.
Benjali moved toward the houseboat, climbing aboard, gun with silencer in hand.
Luke had no choice. He was going in.
35
Kate woke to a gun aimed at her head. Terror pierced her as a gun retorted. The man froze, then fell forward. Another man stood behind him, his silhouette outlined by the light emanating from the kitchen lamp she’d left on.
He turned to go.
“Wait!” It was the same aftershave she’d smelled on the docks. There was something familiar. Something . . . Her chest tightened. “Luke?”
His shoulders slumped, and he turned back around to face her as she switched on her bedside lamp.
It was him. After all these years, all her searching, Luke was standing less than ten feet away. She leapt from the bed and rushed for him, engulfing him in her arms.
He dropped his gun on the dresser beside them, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her with a passion she felt to her toes.
An unexpected emotion rushed over her alongside the passion—blistering anger. Seven years of waiting for Luke to return, and now he stood in her room, passionately kissing her and emotions completely opposite to how she pictured this reunion going festered inside. She’d envisioned running into his strong arms as she had, and all the pain of his disappearance evaporating. It was probably naive and a bit foolish, but it was the reunion she’d fantasized about for all the years he’d been gone. And, while she felt that longing, that instinctual pull to him, the yearning to stay in his arms and never leave, she also felt sorrowful anger. She wished the last seven years could be wiped away, but, unfortunately, time and wounds didn’t work that way. Time didn’t disappear, and wounds apparently remained raw.
Luke shook, physically shook, as he poured everything he’d been holding back for over seven years into the woman he loved. Still loved. Always loved. And she was kissing him back. She was in his arms. It was like a dream come true. Nothing else mattered. Everything else faded until . . .
Kate pulled back, staring up at him with wide eyes blinking, then she hauled back and walloped him across his face with such force that a red handprint had to be visible on his throbbing right cheek.
He stepped back, rubbing his jaw. “I deserved that.” He deserved so much worse.
“Where have you been?”
He took a deep breath and studied her now that she was right in front of him. She’d changed over the last seven years. Her face was thinner and her hair was shorter, cresting her collarbone rather than falling halfway down her back. And . . . she seemed a little taller.
In other ways, though, she hadn’t changed at all. She still walked around with fuzzy socks or barefoot, proving she still hated wearing shoes.
She still pulled her blond hair up in a ponytail while she worked on her laptop, sticking a pencil in it so she always had one handy while taking notes.
She still licked her beautiful lips when nervous . . . exactly as she was doing right now.
“Well?” she asked, stepping closer again. She smelled of shea butter—the body cream she swore she would never stop using when her mom gave it to her for her nineteenth birthday—the same birthday he’d bought her the starfish ring. And to his amazement, she was still wearing it. Which meant she either loved the ring or, beyond all hope, she still loved him despite the monster he’d become. But she didn’t know. Knowledge would change everything.
“It’s a really long story.”
“Fine.” She indicated her reading chair with the tilt of her head. “Take a seat and start talking.”
How he wished they could go back to kissing, but the fact she hadn’t kicked him out straightaway was far more than he’d anticipated.
In all their years together, he’d never seen her cry. But Mack Jacobs, his friend from agency training who kept him informed about his loved ones back home, told him that Kate had cried almost nonstop for weeks after he left. It had killed him to know, but not knowing was worse. At least in the beginning. Then the distance between his past life and the life he had chosen became too painful.
“Professor Warner came to me before graduation . . .” he began.
Kate still couldn’t believe what Luke had shared so far. It was Jack Reacher meets Jason Bourne.
“So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that boring old by-the-book Professor Warner recruited you to be a spy?” She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that. He had been a mentor to all of the guys. She had never really gotten that connection, but how could he just rip Luke from their lives like that? And, worse yet, how could Luke have purposely left them without a word?
There was so much she wanted to ask him, but would his answers be enough to dull the pain throbbing through her?
“Yes,” Luke said, “Malcolm Warner is not what he seems.”
Interesting, but regardless, it all came down to why he’d left, and the truth was he’d chosen to go.
Luke continued, “Malcolm’s a plant at the University of Maryland. There to recruit promising students into the program and agency.”
“What program? What agency?” He’d been frustratingly vague when it came to those details.
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Why?”
He tilted his head in that way that told her she’d hit a roadblock. He wasn’t going to budge, and it drove her nuts. After more than seven years without a word from him she deserved to know why.
“Because it’s safer that way,” he finally said. “You’ve already caused quite a stir by hiring Hadi to locate me.”
“How do you know about Hadi?”
“I knew someone was trying to track me down, so I did a little recon of my own.”
So he’d known all along that Hadi was searching for him.
“When he photographed me, the boss decided it was time I left Malaysia, so he shifted me to a lead that brought me back to the U.S.”
“And what lead was that?”
“It’s adjacent to the case Declan’s working.”
“With the terrorists that were smuggled in?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, and Declan’s doing a great job, but there’s much more at play.”
“Such as?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
“Wait a second . . . how do you know Declan’s doing a great job?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re the mysterious man who saved him?” She stood and paced the room, her anger fueling hotter. “Declan knew it was you and lied to me?”
“I told him he had to.”
“And he just listened to you after you’ve been gone for over seven years? He doesn’t even know you anymore.”
Air jutted from his lungs as if he’d been gut punched. “He
trusted me.”
“Why? How can any of us trust you after what you did? After how you left?”
All she’d wanted was for him to return home, to pull her in his arms and kiss her. Now that he was sitting in front of her, nothing felt like she’d anticipated it would. Instead of wholeness and elation, all that filled her was a horrid mix of sadness and anger.
Luke had chosen to leave. He’d deserted her. How could she ever forgive him? How could she ever trust him again? And more importantly, did she even know the man seated in her bedroom chair? She thought her world would fall back into place if he just walked through her door. But it didn’t.
He stood. “I can see this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.”
She knew she should thank him for saving her life, but the words would not come. She just stared at him.
He turned to leave, and started, almost as if he had forgotten about the body lying in her doorway, then shook his head. “Sorry.” He bent and hefted the body over his shoulder.
She wondered how he would get it past the policeman watching her boat from the marina parking lot. She sighed. What was she thinking—he was Luke Gallagher.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as he walked out her sliding door and shut it behind him. He was gone again. For how long this time?
36
The group met up at CCI the following morning before Parker and Avery left for Houston to process Steven Burke’s apartment, and Griffin and Jason to Jamaica after finally getting a positive ID of the Markums from the cruise liner. They hoped to arrive before the ship docked.
Everything was falling into place . . . and then Kate entered the office.
A harsh silence filled the room as she glared at Declan.
He swallowed. She knows.
He stood. “Katie, I’m sorry.”
She held up her hand. “Don’t bother.”
“Luke needed us to keep his secret,” Griffin said. “For your safety.”
She whipped around. “You knew too?”
Parker cleared his throat.
“Great.” She swept her arms upward. “So you all knew.”
“Just us guys and Tanner,” Declan said.
“And Finley,” Griffin said. “Sorry.” He looked at Declan. “I can’t keep secrets from my wife.”
His wife, who was at work, was missing a really uncomfortable conversation.
“And Avery guessed,” Parker said.
“But he refused to confirm it,” Avery said. “Which actually told me I was right.”
“Lovely.” Kate practically threw her laptop on her desk and headed back to her office—her actual office at the end of the hall, which she never used.
They just stared at one another, trying to determine who was the best choice to go after her, when her office door slammed.
“Okay.” Declan exhaled. “So apparently Luke changed his mind about contacting her.”
“Maybe she was in more immediate danger,” Parker said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Griffin added.
“I’ll ask him next time he decides to show up. If he decides to,” Declan said, frustration filling him that Luke hadn’t bothered to give them a heads-up he’d seen Katie. But, then again, it was Luke—the friend who’d left them without a word for seven years. No wonder Katie was angry.
“As fun as this party is . . .” Griffin said, “I’ve gotta pick Jason up in five.”
Fortunately for him, Jason lived pretty much around the corner.
“Keep us posted,” Declan said. “I hope you get ’em.”
Griffin nodded and ducked out the door.
“We should be going too,” Parker said, lifting his leather duffel over his shoulder and grasping Avery’s purple carry-on in his left hand. “We’ve got a flight to catch.”
“Again, keep us posted,” Declan said.
“Will do.”
Parker and Avery headed out too, leaving Declan with Tanner and a very angry Kate.
Tanner took a step back. “Looks like you’re up, slugger.”
“Slugger?” He arched a brow.
“Seemed appropriate at the moment.” She offered an awkward smile.
“And why me? You’re the counselor.”
“Because you’ve been her friend far longer, and you know her relationship with Luke, or at least what it was at one time.”
Declan took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking out his hands. These kinds of talks were not his forte, but Tanner was right. Kate deserved an apology and an explanation.
He rapped on her door.
“Don’t bother,” she called.
He entered slowly, most likely to his detriment or very possibly bodily harm. Katie had a mean right hook and practiced at the boxing gym three days a week—though he’d never seen her hit someone outside of the ring. He prayed that held true today. “I’m sorry,” he started.
She dropped the pen she’d been writing with and swiveled around on her desk stool. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, tears still lingering.
“Oh, Katie.” He moved to her and engulfed her in a hug. “I’m sorry. I believed him when he said you’d be in danger if they connected you to him.”
She sniffed, swiping at her tears. “He probably wasn’t wrong.”
Declan stepped back, dipping his head to look her in the eye. “What do you mean?’
“Someone tried to kill me last night. Came onto my boat and—”
“What?”
“Luke shot him before he could.”
“And you didn’t think to lead with that?”
She shrugged with a sorrowful laugh. “It wasn’t top on my mind.” She exhaled. “He’s been gone over seven years, and he still . . .”
Has her heart.
“If he didn’t still care, he wouldn’t have worked so hard to protect you,” Declan said, hoping it would offer her a modicum of solace. He couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. He felt betrayed, and he hadn’t been massively in love with the guy. Katie had been—still was, if he was reading her right.
“Yeah.” She blew a stray hair from her forehead. “If only things were that simple.”
“Right now, everything . . . well, almost everything is about as complicated as it can get.”
Everything except how he felt about Tanner. That was as simple, pure, and true as anything he’d felt in his life.
Kate smiled. “I’m happy for you two.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring . . . to say . . .” He fumbled for words. Now was not the time to express how happy he and Tanner were. Not when Kate was in massive pain.
“Stop falling over yourself to apologize. You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s more than obvious that you two are in love, and I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
“Thanks.” It’d been a long time coming, but Tanner was by far worth the wait. Suddenly God’s timing seemed so perfect. All the obstacles, tests, and trials finally made sense. He’d been keeping him for her.
“Now, go on. You two have terrorists to stop. I think that’s way more important than worrying about me.”
“You gonna be okay?”
“Always am.”
For the first time, he wasn’t sure he believed her.
Luke had been at the center of her focus, but now that he was back, all the hard facts surrounding his leaving had to be difficult for her to swallow. Not to mention the reality of the man Luke had become—whoever that was.
There was so much about him that seemed like the old Luke, and yet there were moments when he felt like a total stranger—at least watching him work.
Even Luke seemed to grapple with it—a deep sadness occasionally showing through his steadfast, hardened gaze.
37
Wind whipped through Tanner’s hair as it flowed out of the motorcycle helmet. She savored the warmth of the sun on her face and the feel of Declan as she wrapped her arms snuggly about his waist.
Until Declan’s requisition for a new car came through, which sometimes t
ook hours but occasionally took days, they’d be riding his Moto Guzzi motorcycle. No wonder he’d shown such skills on the motorcycle after Mira was killed.
While he’d initially expressed concern that riding the bike and going with him to interview Max Stallings might be too much for her after just being discharged from the ER, she quickly reminded him that he’d just been discharged too. It was an argument he epically lost.
They reached the prison, found a parking spot, and were about to walk in when a call came through. Declan put it on speaker. Tim Barrows reported that the two customs agents Carlos described had been identified—Marcy Cushman and Gregory Pyle.
“You want me and Greer to interview them?” Tim asked.
Declan exhaled.
Tanner knew he liked handling every aspect of a case, particularly the interviews, but after a moment’s hesitation, he surprisingly said, “Yeah, go ahead. Just give me a call when you’re finished.”
“You got it.” Barrows disconnected the call.
“You’re letting someone else handle an interview?” she asked, surprised.
Declan clutched her hand. “I have a feeling we’re going to miss something big if we don’t get all these interviews done today. It’s like we’re on a countdown we can’t see, teetering on the precipice of falling dangerously behind.”
She’d been praying all morning about their interviews, praying about the entire case, including the fact that Lexi would soon return from leave and her one-on-one work time with Declan would be over. She hated to give up working with him, but their relationship—as he put it—didn’t rest on the amount of time they had together. Rather it rested on the foundation of their relationship with Jesus and one another. They had a lot of talking to do, a lot of growing ahead, but she’d never felt more peace in her soul, other than when she accepted Christ into her life. This was where she belonged—at Declan’s side.
“What?” he asked with a smile as they walked down the cold, dingy white corridor to the lounge.
“Just thinking.”
He laughed. “That’s dangerous.”
She smirked. “You have no idea.”