“Better?” Tom kept his attention focused on the cat, but I sensed he addressed the question to me.
I hugged my waist. “Honestly? No.”
He rose from his crouched position and took three slow steps towards me. He stopped at the imaginary line, as if my subconscious had drawn it across the carpet. “How do you want to play this, Jen?”
“I don’t want to play it at all.” I swiveled on my toes and headed for the couch. I plopped down, crossed my leg, and weaved my arms in a knot like a pouting child. “Both of you go away. I want a normal life.”
Tom stood knee-locked, soldier fashion. His eyes flashed to Becky, who was still on the phone. Even through her whispers I picked up a few responses. “Yes, sir. Right. Today? Got it.”
I bounced to my feet. “Are they serious?”
Becky glanced at me, raised a finger beckoning me to hold on, and kept listening to the commands coming through the line. Tom huffed into his cheeks and headed back toward the kitchen. “Might as well eat up the fridge’s contents.”
“Is that all you ever think about?”
His eyes became a brighter blue. He pumped his eyebrows. “Not always.”
I looked at the carpet and willed my cheeks not to flush. Too late. I padded after him even though food remained the last thing on my mind. Truth be told, the man drew me to him like a magnet.
We prepared three sandwiches in almost monastic silence, broken by simple one or two word questions or responses. I guess we both had too many things on our minds.
“Want onions?”
“No, thanks.”
“Where’s the mayo?”
“Refrigerator door, second shelf.”
Soon, chicken sandwiches, potato chips, sliced cantaloupe and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from a prepackaged state sat on the kitchen table amidst paper plates, flimsy toss-away cutlery and a stack of napkins. My stomach didn’t want to untie enough to accept any of it, but I hadn’t wanted to drink my morning protein shake after I found Marisol’s baby. Maybe food would clear my head. I chomped into a sandwich.
“Chocolate chip cookies?” Becky appeared at the door, walked over and broke one in half. She shrugged. “Releases the calories.” She plopped it in her mouth, grinned, and sat down.
Tom pulled up a chair next to me, straddling it backwards―his favorite sitting position. He crossed his arms over the top. “Well, what are our orders?”
Becky dabbed a paper napkin to one corner of her lips. “My orders are to help Jen pack a few belongings and be at WITSEC headquarters in Gainesville by five p.m.”
Tom’s gaze focused on her. “And my orders are?”
She peered over her glasses. “They have other plans for you, Tom.”
“I can’t come?”
She scoffed at his remark. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d better go.” She motioned towards the kitchen door. Outside, leaves rustled. Footsteps?
He heaved a long sigh through his nose. “All’s not quite forgiven, I guess.”
“It’s a risk you chose to take, Tom.”
He gave me a sad puppy-dog expression. “I’m not all the way back in the Fed’s good graces.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Jen. Sweet, Jen. I don’t want to say goodbye.”
Becky jerked his grip away like a displeased parent. “Then you never should’ve said hello.”
Tom screeched his chair across the floor and bolted from it.
I jumped at the sound and shoved my hand into my lap. His warmth slowly dissipated from my fingers. I wish the same were true of my heart.
His voice shook. “Then why did you tell me where Jen lived?”
She lowered her tone. “Tom, we both understood the rules, and we’ve broken them.”
He grasped the edge of the table and looked at his shoes. “Let me have ten minutes with her”—he raised his eyes to the FBI asset—“alone. Please.”
Becky’s glare narrowed onto him, and then flipped to me. I caught my breath and held it in my throat. My mind felt like mashed potatoes being whipped around a bowl.
Tom stood stone-still. His lapis-colored eyes intensified with purpose as they bore into Becky’s face. “Ten. No more. Grant me that at least.”
Becky stared into my face. “Do you want me to leave, Jen?”
I sputtered a nervous laugh. “Leave what? The kitchen or my life?”
Her matronly form heaved up and down with her long-drawn breath. “Ten. That’s all.” She waggled her finger at Tom. “Do not think of leaving out the back door with her. There are agents out there. I won’t reveal how many.”
Tom shifted his weight. “We got it.”
She turned to walk away, but instead stopped in mid-stride. “Jen? Remember who is standing here now and what he did to you in the past.”
My brain ticked off the events of the last year. Loyal to the government and his best wartime pal, Tom set up my husband’s fake demise so Robert could infiltrate the trafficking cartel for the CIA. Per Robert’s instructions, before my husband turned to the dark side, Tom had kidnapped me and stashed me in a gloomy room with no windows until he thought it safe for us to escape. When the cartel found out, he’d led me through the New Mexico desert to safety. He turned himself into the local authorities for my sake, held me as I cried my guts out once I found out Robert was alive, the chief of a major human trafficking ring, and had fathered a trafficked teen’s child. Still, Tom had preserved my honor, and shoved me out of his life in order to protect me. He’d also persuaded me to again trust the God of my upbringing. He’d kept his promises. And today, his Black Irish ways had recaptured my heart in fifteen seconds flat.
“Yeah. I know well enough.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tom waited in silence until Becky’s sensible shoes left the linoleum, stifled by the area rug in the hall. He shifted his gaze to me. His face became boulder-like. “He’s out, Jen.”
A jolt of fear coursed through my veins, first hot, then cold. “Robert?”
“Yes.” Tom reached for my hand, but it had already leapt to grasp my blouse.
“When?”
“He escaped four weeks ago, but he was in the wind awhile. He surfaced in Florida yesterday. In a yacht off the coast.”
His words were metered. Still, it took me a minute to absorb them. “Robert? Here?”
I rose, backed away from the dinette table towards the kitchen counter. My fingers groped behind me to grab onto it, anything solid to keep me from collapsing onto the floor. “No. No.”
Tom splayed his hands. “He wanted you to have the baby because”—he swallowed loud enough for me to hear it hit his gullet—“because he wants you back.”
“What?”
It’s a nightmare. It has to be.
“He told me you two lost a baby early on. I’m so sorry, Jen.”
I looked away. If Tom knew the whole story, he wouldn’t be so sympathetic.
Tom walked towards me. “He says you two can disappear. Go someplace else. Maybe live near the Mediterranean where he has Greek connections. Raise Marisol’s child.” His gaze darted to the tiled floor as he cleared his throat. “Make more.”
A sarcastic laugh escaped from my lips. “For real? My once declared dead, unfaithful husband, who led a double life the whole time we were married, wants to play house again?”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much his thinking.”
My stomach double-flipped. I shook my head. “No way.” Now he wishes to have a baby with me? The thought stung in my throat. The man I’d married defined the word evil. I shuddered at the idea of letting him touch me again. A wave of nausea washed over me.
Tom laid a hand on my shoulder. “You okay? Every ounce of color has drained from your face.”
“No.” I turned towards the sink. My nails dug into the century-old grout as my stomach played acrobat again. What little lunch I’d swallowed now ejected into the disposal drain.
Tom pulled back my hair, damp rag in hand. His voice oozed as soft as
his gentle strokes on my scalp. “Well, if that counts as your answer…” He patted my waist as I rose to wipe my mouth with the dishcloth. “Let’s discuss Plan B.”
He always had a Plan B. Oh, what I would give for a do–over. Go back to this morning’s alarm clock ring. Not go to work, stay in bed, curl up with a good book, my cat, and a cup of Earl Grey—anything to keep the events of this day from happening.
I withered to my knees. I didn’t know what to say. When I opened my mouth, the Lord’s Prayer recited daily in parochial school spilled out.
“Our Father who art…” My fingers instinctively moved to the small cross I’d worn since my teens. “…in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” My voice shook as I continued to say the rest. But when it got to “Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,” the phrases lodged in my vocal chords. Tears filled my eyes. Finally the words meant something to me. I need to be delivered from evil, pure evil.
Tom’s calming voice filtered into my thoughts as he finished it for me. “For thine is the kingdom, and the glory, and the power. For ever and ever. Amen.” He stroked my hair some more. “You have to believe, Jen. God will protect you.”
Would He? Nothing had changed. Prison had not held Robert more than a few months. Evil still crouched in the corners of my life, threatening to pounce and tear it to shreds. I crumbled against the sink.
“Jen.” Tom sat on his heels. His breath brushed my jaw line as he whispered into my ear, “Let’s leave now―together. Forget WITSEC. Run away with me, hon.”
I shook my head and swallowed. My gaze rose to his face. “Tom, this can’t have a happy ending.”
He smiled through glistening eyes. “We can try. I know people. They’ll make us new I.D.’s, and different cyberspace footprints. It’s done all the time.”
I rubbed my forehead. The room warped, like in a fun house mirror. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m still married, you know. Robert wouldn’t allow it.”
I felt his sigh more than heard it. It matched the rhythm of my own.
“Look at me, Jen.”
I couldn’t and not melt as a blob into his arms. Instead, I fixed my attention on a crack in the linoleum to keep my mind from swirling again.
Tom’s next sentence came out in a husky squeak. “Do you honestly believe he still loves you?”
I pinched my eyes shut. “No. What I meant is…” I slowly opened them and peered into his deep, blue ones. “It would mess up his master plan. He wants me as a cover—just as he did before.”
Tom cupped my elbows and raised me to my feet. “What do you want to do? Go with Robert?”
I shivered. “Of course not. The man makes my skin crawl. I’m not going there again. Not now. Not ever.”
“Thank goodness.” His shoulders dipped as the muscles in his jaw eased. “Come. Let’s make other plans.” Tom wrapped his arm around my waist and led me to the table.
I leaned against his strength. I wanted to be with him more than anything in the world. If only…
“Tom, I wish we could make it work out, but it can’t. Not with Robert and his goons lurking in the shadows to watch our every move. We can never be together. You know that.”
I slunk into the chair. Tom sat opposite of me.
He opened his mouth but I shook my head and placed my finger over his lips. “Listen. Who am I anyway? I have a death certificate which states I’m a widow, but I’m not. I’m married—yet the name on the certificate’s no longer mine thanks to my new identity as Sheila Williams. And now I’ll have to change it again.” I blinked back new tears, “All because of you and your stupid vow to him.”
“And yours to him Jen. I haven’t forgotten.” Tom shifted his weight in his seat. “Robert played us both. He knew I’d keep my promise to make sure Marisol’s baby found a safe place to grow up. He also surmised I’d come here because I’m in love with you.” His eyes reddened.
“We can’t just run away together, Tom. Our conscience won’t let us.” I clenched my teeth in a futile effort to keep control. But, one teardrop escaped down my cheek.
He wiped it away with his thumb as some formed in his own eyes. After a deep swallow, Tom peered across the table at me, but his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. “After I got Marisol to a safe place, Robert met with me. He wanted me to find you. Deliver his message. His way of shoving the dagger deeper into me, I guess.”
“And me.”
Tom nodded. “I figured he’d follow me. That’s why I involved Becky. Please forgive me, Jen.”
I laughed. It burst out of nowhere. “Forgive you? How many times, Tom? I can’t be bait for the Feds or the cartel anymore. I want out. For real, once and for all.”
He grabbed my hand. “Then escape with me, right now. We’ll both get out.”
I jerked it from his grip. “No, we’d always be looking over our shoulders, afraid someone might recognize us and turn us in. Plus, how would we keep this thing between us platonic?” I glared into his face.
He laced his fingers together and brought them to his chin. “It’s not going to work, Jen. Is it?”
I mouthed the answer. The word “no” wouldn’t edge past my tonsils.
Tom blinked away a tear of his own. “That doesn’t negate my feelings for you, Jen, or the sliver of hope, someday...” His Adam’s apple bounced. “I truly believed God brought us together. Was I mistaken?”
My heart crunched again. Had God orchestrated the whole thing to punish me? Why? Because I chose Robert over my upbringing of right versus wrong? I pushed back into the chair. “I’m tired, Tom. Tired of running, tired of” —I outstretched my arms—“all of this. I want a normal life.”
Tom pursed his lips and stared at the placemat. “Which I can’t promise to give you right now.”
I closed my eyes with a sigh. Most of all, I wearied of being a pawn in a game I could never understand. But as long as the two men in my past continued to play it, I was helpless.
Or was I?
CHAPTER NINE
I stared at the table. It took me back to the kitchen of my childhood where my dad tried to teach me the game of chess. “Pawns may be the smallest piece in the game,” he’d told me, “but sometimes, if you play your moves right, they can be one of the most strategic.”
Experts used pawns to topple the other pieces. A pawn, like me, still had power. I’d guard myself though, in spite of my mindset, or maybe because of it. I willed my logical side to kick in and rule my actions.
So, there in the kitchen, facing the man I loved despite of everything that had happened, I made the decision to play the good little pawn—something thanks to WITSEC, I’d learned well. To win this game, someone had to capture the black king, Robert. If I waited it out and stayed to the corners, perhaps the other pieces might make their move.
But could the white knight, Tom, survive the match? Be my knight in shining armor and whisk me away to some safe, happily-ever-after ending? Or would he fall on his sword to protect me? I didn’t have the foresight to predict such moves.
Tom’s next sentence pulled me back into reality. “Even if I entered witness protection, I doubt if the Feds would ever let me relocate with you, Jen.”
“Because the cartel might find us quicker if we’re together, right?”
His head bobbed. “More than that, I’m afraid. By keeping my promises to Robert, I guess I’ve crossed too many lines. Finding you broke all the rules.” His eyes lifted to the closed kitchen window. Sadness fogged them from blue to gray. “Thus, I’m blacklisted now. I’m out of ‘get out of jail free’ cards.”
“From what Becky said, I guessed as much.”
Tom cupped my chin in his warm grasp. His lips pressed against my cheek for a brief moment. He laid his forehead onto my brow. “So, you really won’t come with me?”
“I can’t run with you, Tom. I want to, but I can’t.”
Tom pushed back from me and crossed his arms. “I understand. But I have to go. The agents outside are waiting for me as much as the
y are here to protect you.” Tears muted the blue of his irises, turning them into the color of a storm cloud.
Something still didn’t make sense to me. “If you knew it might put yourself, and me, in jeopardy, why did you agree to find me?”
Redness appeared in his lower lids. “As God is my witness, I couldn’t take being away from you. I had to try to convince you to come with me, even though I figured you’d turn me down.” His mouth formed a weak smile. “I’m glad you’re turning down Robert as well.”
Clarity hit me like a ray of sunshine in a darkened corner. “That’s why his thugs are here. In case I chose to go back to him?”
“Uh-huh. Must be getting sort of crowded in those bushes out there.” A brief twinkle flashed his eyes back to blue.
“Like pieces on a chessboard, trying to maneuver around each other.”
“Yeah, except none of them want to be seen. Both are waiting to find out what Becky and I do with you.”
In my mind, the chessboard changed. I played the queen. Not pawn after all. The rook, Tom, and the pawn, Becky, had moved to castle the queen, a protective maneuver in chess which exposed them both to the danger of an attack. But if one is eliminated, the other is still left to guard their position. “So, you asked Becky to call in reinforcements to make sure I had a safe exit from Robert’s goons if I chose not to go with him.”
“Yes.”
“And by getting the cartel and the Feds to meet, you hoped it would clear your name?”
“That, my dear, was a longshot. Which is why I have a Plan C, whether it involved you or not.” He held my hands tighter. “Look. Becky’s your security. She said she’d get you safely out of here.” He shifted his weight, “I’m glad you turned Robert down. I hoped his hold on you had loosened.” His eyebrows furrowed as his jaw tightened.
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