Handled: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

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Handled: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 13

by Heather Slade


  He held out his hand to me. “Ready to go home, baby?”

  My eyes met Stella’s, and I waited. “Have a good night, you two.” I stood, and she followed us out to where Buck and Rock waited.

  Cope pulled me back into the corridor. “I want you to ride back with the guys. There’s one more thing I have to take care of tonight. I’ll meet you at my apartment.”

  When he bent down and kissed me, I wrapped my right arm around his neck. “Don’t be too long,” I whispered.

  “When I get there, I want you in bed, naked. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  He started to walk away, but then turned back and pushed me up against the wall. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Tell me when you get home.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t wait.”

  “Cope—”

  He cupped my cheek with his palm. “I love you, Ali.”

  I asked to sit in the back of the car on the ride back and sat up when I saw the sign for the Civil War Museum, remembering how animated Cope had gotten when he told me about it. “My grandfather used to take me there a lot,” he said. “Often, we spent more time outside, sitting on one of the benches while he told me stories, than we did inside.”

  We’d just pulled into the parking garage when both Rock’s and Buck’s cells went off. Buck answered his. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew, whatever the call was about, was bad.

  “Come on upstairs,” said Rock with his arm around my shoulders. Buck was still inside the car, on this phone.

  “What’s going on?” I asked once we were in the elevator.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then, why are you and Buck acting so strangely?”

  “I’ll see what I can find out once you’re settled.”

  When I pulled my phone out of my pocket, Rock took it out of my hand. “What the fuck? Give that back to me.”

  “Ali—”

  “You know who I am, Rock. Give me my goddamn phone.”

  The elevator door opened on the thirtieth floor, and Rock took my arm. “Come on. Just do this for me.”

  I let him lead me inside. With every step, the sick feeling in my stomach grew more intense. The door closed behind us.

  “Ali, sit down.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Something’s happened to Cope, hasn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Just fucking tell me, Rock. What happened?”

  I raced over, grabbed the television remote, and turned it on before he could stop me. I sunk to my knees as I watched the report.

  “A car exploded in the parking lot of Saint James’ Hospital at approximately seven this evening. Reports indicate one fatality.”

  Behind the reporter, I could see the whirling red lights of the emergency vehicles that surrounded the burned-out shell of the car I knew was Cope’s rental.

  Twenty-Two

  Ali

  The next three days were a blur. Desi flew in and stayed with me in Cope’s apartment. Rock and Buck were still there, along with other operatives they worked with. There were six apartments on the thirtieth floor of the building, and they all seemed to be occupied by people they were affiliated with.

  Whenever someone came to the door, Desi spoke with them. The only people she let in to see me were Stella and Lindsey from the café downstairs.

  I sat and listened while they spoke to me, but after they left, I couldn’t remember what they’d said.

  “How are you doing?” Desi asked when I came out of Cope’s bedroom and found her sitting at the kitchen counter. It seemed that no matter what time of day or night it was, that’s where I found her.

  “I should go home.”

  “We can do that, but don’t you want to stay for the service?”

  “Service?”

  “The memorial service, sweetie.”

  “I…I…can’t,” I stammered, gripping the back of the kitchen stool.

  Desi got up and put her arms around me. “You don’t have to. We can go home. Tonight, if that’s what you want.”

  “I do.” I couldn’t imagine facing Cope’s parents. Or people wondering who the woman was who could barely hold herself together. “I have to go home.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements.” She turned to go down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

  “Des?”

  “Yeah, sweetie?”

  “Have you heard from them?” She’d been answering my cell phone. In fact, I didn’t even know where it was.

  “Who?”

  “Cope’s parents?”

  She came back over and brushed the hair from my forehead. “I haven’t.”

  I bent at the waist and buried my head on my arm that rested on the back of the stool, crying so hard my stomach hurt. I closed my eyes, imagining it was Cope’s fingers rather than my friend’s moving my hair from my face.

  Desi rubbed my back with her hand. “Do you want me to see if I can get in touch with them?”

  I raised my head and brushed at my tears. “I just want to go home.”

  “Then, that’s what we’ll do.”

  When someone knocked on the door, I went back to the bedroom and threw myself on the bed, trying my damnedest not to feel sorry for myself. Cope was the one who was dead. Him, my mother, and my father. I looked up at the ceiling. “I swear, if you take Desi from me…”

  What? I was threatening God now? I couldn’t help it; she was the only person left I cared about.

  I heard Desi’s footsteps headed my way and sat up. “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “His name is Decker Ashford.”

  When I went back to the kitchen, Buck was waiting with the man I assumed was Ashford. Buck came over and hugged me like he always did.

  “How are you holding up?”

  I shook my head, knowing that if I answered, I’d start crying again.

  “I understand. Listen, there’s someone I want you to meet. Ali, this is Decker. He’s my boss and a good friend of Cope’s.”

  “Hi,” was the best I could muster.

  “I’ll make our reservations,” said Desi when Decker asked me to sit with him, and Buck walked in the direction of the front door.

  “What reservations?” I heard Buck ask her.

  “Ali wants to go home,” she answered.

  “When?”

  “As soon as I can get a flight.”

  From where I sat, I could see Buck make eye contact with Decker, who nodded.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  “Um…okay,” said Desi, walking back over to us. “I mean, I can do it.”

  Decker shook his head. “Do you want to leave tonight or in the morning?”

  Could I leave tonight? I wasn’t sure I could stand not spending one more night in Cope’s bed, knowing that it would be the last time I ever would. “Tomorrow,” I whispered.

  Decker leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ve known Cope for a really long time. He was a good friend.”

  I nodded, wishing I could get up, go back to the bedroom, and not listen to him. I didn’t want to talk about him. I wanted him to walk through the door, put his arms around me, and tell me it was all a terrible mistake.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, standing and rushing down the hallway.

  I don’t know how much time had passed when Desi came into the bedroom. “Ali, Mr. Ashford is still here. I’m sorry, but he said it’s important he speak with you.”

  I rolled over and sat up. “Okay.”

  I followed her back out to the kitchen and apologized to the man still sitting in the living room area.

  “I understand, and if it weren’t imperative we speak, I wouldn’t bother you. I know you had deep feelings for Cope and he, you.”

  I nodded, wishing he’d get to the point.

  “I know who you are, Ali, and what you do
.”

  “Yes. I assumed you did by now.”

  “The mission isn’t over. Does that make sense to you?”

  “How is Irish?”

  “He’s recovering and has been moved to an undisclosed location for his protection.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “You also remain in danger. Until this is all over, you will need protection too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because whoever Cope and Irish were investigating believes you know more than you do. The night your apartment was broken into, was evidence of that. Until we determine who that is, whether it’s one or many people, you’ll remain under protection.”

  “Who knows this?”

  “Your chain of command along with Money McTiernan.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “It’s need to know, Ali.”

  “Okay.”

  “Buck will be traveling with you. He’ll be staying with you as well, at your house. He won’t be the only agent on your detail. There will be others, who remain at the covert level of surveillance.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  The man reached forward and covered my hand with his. “Decker is my name, and you don’t work for me, Ali. We’re here for you. Just let us know what else you need.”

  “When can I leave?”

  “Whenever you’d like. There’s a plane on standby.”

  “I’d like to go now.” It didn’t matter if I stayed one more night. Tomorrow I’d feel the same way, and the day after.

  He nodded his head in a way that suggested he wasn’t surprised.

  “Just give me a few minutes to get your stuff together,” said Desi from where she stood in the kitchen.

  “I can do it.” By the time I got to the bedroom, Desi was wheeling my bag out. “I’ll just need a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  I sat on the bed and hugged the pillow close to me. “I wish I would’ve told you I loved you too, Cope. Because I do,” I whispered. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I wish we’d had more time together, but I’ve asked my parents to look out for you, wherever you all are. I’ll love you forever, Sumner Copeland.”

  I wiped my tears and took one last look around the room I’d only spent a couple of nights in, yet it seemed I’d spent a lifetime.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Do you want me to help you change, sweetie?” asked Desi.

  I shook my head. I’d been wearing Cope’s sweatshirt and had no intention of taking it off.

  Twenty-Three

  Ali

  One Month Later

  “What are you working on?” asked Buck, joining me in the kitchen.

  “Just writing.” I’d gotten my cast off the day before, and it felt so good to be able to type without having a rolled-up towel under my wrist.

  “I’m glad you didn’t need surgery,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  My arm had healed quickly and, as Buck had said, didn’t need further care. It ached, but my heart hurt worse. There were days I couldn’t bear it, and others, I was able to set my grief aside.

  Irish hadn’t resurfaced, but Buck reported he had recovered fully. He didn’t need to tell me the mission Warrick and Cope were working wasn’t over. As long as Buck and the other agents were here, it meant it remained unresolved.

  “Anything you want to do today?”

  I shook my head. It was too difficult to do much other than stay at home.

  The last few days, Buck and I had worked in the small garden he’d cleared the way for in the backyard of the house that had belonged to my parents and had been mine since my mother’s death. It was the house I grew up in, and when I’d showed Buck photos of how it looked when my father was still alive, he asked me if I wanted to have a vegetable garden like the one in the pictures.

  I loved the idea, and while he tilled the soil, I worked on cleaning up some of the other beds that had once been filled with flowers.

  The rose bushes were very overgrown and what I planned to tackle today. I’d been working on trimming and shaping them when I noticed Buck studying his phone.

  He looked up, and his eyes met mine. “There’s been an arrest.”

  “Who?”

  “Fisk.”

  Dizziness overtook me, and I grabbed a hold of the split-rail fence. “The director?”

  Buck nodded. “Come on, let’s get you inside before you pass out on me.”

  I sat down on the sofa and took a sip of the glass of water Buck brought me.

  “There isn’t a lot of information available yet, but I’m sure that will change in the next few days.”

  “You can go home now.”

  He shrugged. “I kinda like it here.”

  I smiled. We had settled into an easy rhythm of day-to-day life. Buck gave me space to mourn Cope, especially on the days when I couldn’t seem to think about anything else and wallowed in my sorrow. He’d been gone longer than I’d known him, but that didn’t change how much I felt his absence from my life. Writing his story, brought him back to me, at least a little.

  I hoped that, once it was all over, I could get in touch with Irish and that he’d tell me what the world, and I, would never know otherwise.

  My cell vibrated on the kitchen counter, and Buck walked it over to me. “It’s Stella.”

  “Has Buck told you?” she asked.

  “A few minutes ago.”

  “Shit is going to hit the fucking fan. This is big, Ali. I’ll send you everything I can.”

  “I appreciate it.” It was Stella who’d suggested I write Cope’s story. “If nothing else, it’ll be therapeutic,” she’d said.

  I’d just ended the call with her when Desi called. “It’s all over the news. The Director of the CIA was arrested this morning.”

  “I heard.”

  “Do you think this has anything to do with Cope?”

  “I do.”

  “I hope this means closure, Al.”

  “Me too.” I wished that meant the ever-present ache in my chest would begin to diminish. I knew better, though. While it didn’t hurt as bad, the same pain was present whenever I thought about my parents too.

  “Do you want some time alone?” Buck asked when I set the phone down.

  “No. Better to keep busy.” I followed him out to the yard and went back to pruning my roses. “Shit!” I muttered a few minutes later when the pruning shears slipped and I cut my finger.

  “What happened?” Buck asked, rushing over to me. “Let me see,” he said, grasping my right wrist. He pulled the bandanna from around his neck, wrapped it around my finger, and put pressure on it. “Let’s get you inside and get it cleaned up. You might need stitches.”

  “It’s just a cut, Buck.”

  He lowered one of his fatherly gazes on me, and I let him lead me inside. We walked through the back door, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could feel someone else’s presence in my house.

  As we rounded the corner, I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. “Cope?” I whispered right before I fainted.

  Twenty-Four

  Cope

  Thirty-five days ago, I did one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, and got in a car that would whisk me away from the hospital where I told the woman I believed was my soulmate that I loved her.

  “You keep her safe,” I said to Decker countless times on the drive from there to the airfield that would take me to the place where I’d stay until it was safe for me to come out of hiding. Or until my location was compromised and I’d be forced to move.

  The small house sat across the bay from where I knew Ali lived and where she was being protected from harm.

  I didn’t know for sure whether anyone would come after her, but I couldn’t take any chances. When this was finally all over, I just hoped she’d forgive me for what I’d had no choice but to do.

  “There’s something you need to know,”
Decker had said to me that night.

  “Is it about Ali?”

  “Yes.”

  “Decker, I—”

  “No, Cope. You need to know.”

  When he told me Ali worked for the Internal Affairs Division of the United States Inspector General, I wasn’t surprised. It was the only element of the CIA created separately by statute that had obligations to both the agency and to Congress and was responsible for overseeing accountability in the management of CIA activities by performing independent investigations of programs and operations when necessary.

  It took me a few days to process that news, but in my gut, I didn’t believe it had only been about the job for her. Ali cared for me. I sensed it deep in my soul. Part of me hoped she loved me as much as I loved her, but I wouldn’t know that until the day came when I could finally look into her ocean eyes and ask.

  Decker kept me abreast of her as well as Irish, who had recovered fully and was also being guarded in a safe, undisclosed location.

  While Ali had been permitted to stay in her home, the level of security protecting her was unprecedented and had been arranged by my father, who I spoke with at least once every few days.

  He’d put the full force of the United States Senate Select Committee on Intelligence behind the investigation into the mole that had been selling secrets to the Chinese for almost a decade and who had been responsible for the deaths of dozens of agents, operatives, and assets.

  In the end, as I’d expected, it wasn’t one man, but many, who made up the network of double-agents, all of whom had been arrested in a carefully planned and executed manner. The arrests had been made around the world simultaneously; in the case of the US, it had been in the middle of the night.

  “It’s over, Son,” my father said when I answered his call at four this morning.

  “I need to be certain, Dad.”

  “I understand. The brief is on its way to you.”

  I’d read it again and again, pouring over every detail, making sure every question I’d had was answered. Only then did I ask Ink, one of the men who had been on my duty for the last month, to take me across the bay.

 

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