Code Name_Redemption

by Natasza Waters

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Last night was one of those ‘do’ moments, I suppose.”

  He jerked his gaze from her and stared at the carpet. “No, it was the moment when I realized I wanted you to forget. To have one night of peace. I did too, but I’ve got so much damn baggage, I don’t think I’ll ever find enough space in my mind to pack it away. I want to. I try, but…”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay?” he repeated slowly.

  “I’m not an expert on this one-night stand stuff, but I hear the excuses can get pretty imaginative.” She reached out her hand, and he took it. “Now, get out of my chair. I have to write an article and I’ve got a bad case of writer’s block.”

  He rose with her urging. “It’s not an excuse, Mattie.”

  “Fine. I’ll walk you out. Come on.”

  He followed, but he didn’t have much choice because she headed straight for the elevator. They rode down in silence, and she aimed for the front door then held it open for him. “I’ll drop by later to get my laptop and bag.”

  Greg gripped her around the waist and muscled her outside. “Mattie, you’re still not safe—don’t put yourself in danger because I screwed up.”

  “Just say goodbye. Have a nice life and go away.”

  No matter how far apart they were, his handsome face would swirl in her mind fifty years from now.

  She opened the door and turned a look over her shoulder. “By the way, just so you know, since no one ever bothered to tell you, nobody lives their life with expectations. They hope. Dream. Work hard, but the future is never written in stone for anyone. You know that phrase people throw around about if you love something set it free, if it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you?”

  He nodded warily.

  “It’s a load of shit. And off the record, I think you’re full of it too.”

  She turned her back on him and marched across the marble foyer. Every step she took was a jarring click of her heel as it crunched her brittle heart into broken bits and pieces.

  * * * *

  The Dark Angel was relatively empty at three in the afternoon. Greg motioned for his fourth drink, taking roost at the main bar. The club’s bartender didn’t attempt idle chat while he poured.

  Greg tilted the heavy glass and the whiskey washed down his throat with a slow burn. Most customers of the Dark Angel didn’t start rolling in until eight or nine p.m. A few guests approached him, but he didn’t give the women a second glance.

  Someone sat in the high stool next to him, and he prepared for another Sub to ask if he’d like to partake in a scene.

  “My wife is not happy with either of us.” Austen’s familiar timbre growled out the statement.

  “Drink?”

  Austen ordered a scotch and palmed it between both hands. “To expedite matters, I’ll just come out and ask instead of downing a few of these, waiting for you to spill your guts.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Process of elimination once Kayla spoke with Mattie.”

  He tipped the glass and poured the rest of the whiskey down his throat. “You two flying home?” Greg signalled for the bartender to fill him up.

  “No.”

  He turned a look across his shoulder. “You’re long past two weeks.”

  Austen nodded and shot the same look back at him. “I can count, JTF.”

  He chuffed out a laugh. “Why are you still here?”

  Austen downed a healthy gulp of scotch. Greg used to think it would be a cold day in hell when he wanted to drink with Kayla’s husband. Guess hell just froze over.

  “Problem is, my wife doesn’t work anymore. I convinced her to retire. And since she’s retired, she doesn’t have to leave. She then pointed out that the world will not fall apart if I’m not taking care of the whole fucking west coast special forces operation, but instead waiting for you to get your shit in order.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t stay on my account.”

  “If I leave, Kayla will end up neck deep in trouble. That’s who she is. I can’t expect to live with her for the next fifty years without her talking to me, so I do what she wants.” He took another deep swallow of the amber liquid in his glass. “Since I can’t be mad at her, I’m going to take it out on you. What the fuck happened?”

  Greg shook his head. “Don’t know. I pulled away.”

  “Why?” he asked harshly.

  “She didn’t even try to talk me out of it. Didn’t ask me to spill my guts. Explain my past. Nothing.”

  Austen blew out a frustrated breath. “Kayla is trying to convince her to stay at your place, but it should be you.”

  “Mattie’s at work.” He sniffed and had another shot, still waiting for the numbing effect to take control. “She shoved me out the door of the Colonist and told me to have a nice life.”

  “Gentlemen.”

  They both turned a look over their shoulder to see a beautiful woman in black leather with her breasts exposed offering them an innocent smile.

  “No, thank you,” Austen said. “And the answer’s the same for him.”

  She nodded and backed away.

  “Listen, Greg. I get it. At least part of it. Kayla had me tearing my hair out, she drove me crazy. But when I look back, fifty percent of the blame sat with me. I never had any intention of settling down. I accepted I’d never have a family. I’d lost every ounce of compassion I had. I was all in and there was nothing left but fight and fuck.”

  He turned in his seat to face the man he respected and maybe hated just a little. “That’s not a life.”

  “I know that now. My biggest fear was that I’d let her down, or die and leave Kayla with nothing but a memory. We’ve seen it too many times.” He turned his glass one full revolution. “You have even more on your plate, but if you’re going to take a leap of faith when it comes to love, you can’t plan the outcome or hedge the bet like a mission. You have to go all in and be damned with the past.”

  He heard everything Austen said. Although he understood, it wasn’t the reason he’d backed away from Mattie.

  Austen’s cell vibrated on the bar. He accepted the call and put it on speaker. “Before you pepper me with questions, I’m with Greg and he’s fine.”

  “Am I on speaker?” Kayla asked.

  Greg ran his fingers through his hair and prepared for what was coming. “Hey, Angel Face.”

  “How are you?” she asked sweetly.

  “Sitting at a bar having a drink with your husband. All’s well.”

  “That’s nice.” Her voice curled tighter with each word. “Mattie’s here picking up her stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay! Okay? Get your fucking ass back here and fix this,” she shouted.

  Both he and Austen flinched. What could he say, or do for that matter? He couldn’t explain himself. Couldn’t explain the curtain of cold uncertainty that descended over him when Mattie had called him a hero this morning. Of all people, she knew his story. His past. He was the farthest thing from being a hero. Somewhere in his muddled brain, he’d hoped she’d see his flaws. Accept him for his mistakes, not try to hang the title of hero around his neck like the girls who hung out at bars and hooked up for a jaunt in the sheets with a Special Operator.

  Kayla waited for his response, but he knew her blood pressure was rising by the second. “It’s her choice.”

  “She’s not thinking straight. I wonder why that is? Could it be that you’re being the world’s biggest jerk again? Anything to do with wooing her with syrup-covered words and sex? And then running away?” Kayla shouted.

  Greg squinted and tossed a look at Austen.

  “Hey, man. Women are the most mysterious creatures on the planet, but when it comes to guys, they’ll band together and rip us a good one when it suits them. No win mission.”

  “Stay out of this, Thane,” Kayla growled. “Mattie is planning on meeting Stuart.”

  Greg sickened at the thought. “I don’t wa
nt her to see him alone.”

  “Then…get…your…ass…back here!”

  Cells didn’t have the dramatic clank of landline phones when they hung up, but he knew Kayla had every intention of throwing her phone at his head when he saw her again.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Mattie needed a break in the Ripper case. Something new, and she wasn’t going to find it hiding out at Greg’s place. Finished gathering her personal items and taking a quick look in his bedroom, she traipsed down the stairs and put her bag by the door. Digging in the outer pocket of her purse, she slid out her phone and dialed a number.

  “Mattie, where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Hey, Stuart. Can we meet?”

  “Where?”

  “At the Ross Bay Cemetery on Fairfield.”

  “Little odd for a meeting place, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t need an interrogation. Losing patience with the male species in general, she asked, “Are you coming or not?”

  “Give me an hour.”

  “See ya there.”

  Mattie wandered into the kitchen to say good-bye.

  “Don’t go.” Kayla had Sloane’s little diapered bum perched on the kitchen table while she coaxed her to eat.

  “I can’t stay here anymore.” She slid into the chair and folded her hands. Maybe a part of her wanted Kayla to talk her out of leaving, but mostly, she was embarrassed.

  Kayla held a spoon filled with green goo while Sloane finished mushing what was in her mouth. Cartoons with animated voices kept Adam’s attention on the couch as he chowed down on a cracker and cheese. Apparently his favorite thing to eat these days.

  Mattie darted a look at the kitchen clock. She’d heard Kayla yelling at someone on the phone from upstairs, telling them to get their ass home. No doubt Greg was on the other end of the call.

  “Case isn’t solved and neither is your relationship with Greg,” Kayla stated.

  “I don’t have a relationship with Greg, so this is good-bye. Thank you for your help on the case, but I have to get back to work and that means putting my mind on the investigation.”

  Kayla placed the spoon back in the dish and wiped Sloane’s face, then plopped her on the floor and waited until she had her balance and tottered toward her brother.

  “The Ripper could be gone and Greg…” Mattie paused. “He’s definitely off my radar.”

  “Men are stupid. You know this,” Kayla said abruptly.

  “It’s late. I better go.”

  “I need to apologize to my friend Nina.”

  Mattie didn’t follow. “Why?”

  “Because now I understand why she wanted to throttle me when I kept letting Thane push me away. That man drove me crazy.” She tipped her head and smiled. “And I drove him crazier. We kept upping the ante until there was nothing left. No smoke. No mirrors. No lies between us. All we had left was Thane and Kayla. For better or worse. Every exasperating foible and a mountain of doubt.” Kayla cleared her throat and shifted one chair closer, then covered Mattie’s hand. “Greg does have baggage. It’s dark and sad, but he doesn’t dwell on it when he’s with you.”

  Mattie knew what she would dwell on once she walked out the front door. The sour pang in her chest and the tears glazing her eyes would eventually go away, but the memory of Greg wouldn’t.

  Kayla seemed to understand and said, “Don’t let his past chase away your future.”

  She scrubbed the tear from her cheek. “He’s JTF. I researched them to understand Greg better. He doesn’t even live in Victoria. He’s based out of Ontario.”

  “This is home to Greg,” Kayla explained. “I think he’s going to pull the pin soon.”

  “From the Forces? Why?”

  Kayla squeezed her hand. “Because he’s had enough. He wants a life—with someone. Someone like you.”

  The front door opened and Mattie sprang to her feet. She swept the remaining tears from her cheek. “I have to go.”

  Greg entered the kitchen with the Admiral close behind. “Where’re you going?”

  She stepped around him and walked quickly to the front door. Staying a second longer and having to stare into Greg’s eyes could weaken her resolve. He had been the one to pull away from their budding relationship. She wasn’t a psych nurse. Whatever monsters lay in Greg’s past, she wasn’t going to fix them. Nor did she want to end up like Diana.

  “To an interview.”

  “Mattie.” He caught up to her. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone.”

  “As in Stuart.” The words looked like they tasted bad on his tongue when he spat them out

  “As in none of your damn business.” She yanked open the front door and rolled her suitcase across the small cement porch to the walkway.

  He shadowed her to the driveway. “At least tell me where you’re going.”

  When she reached her car, she popped the trunk, but wouldn’t look at him. Greg covered her hand on the handle and she released her grip.

  He paused, then settled the suitcase in the trunk. “I have no problem following you.”

  “Don’t. I’m meeting Stuart at the Ross Bay Cemetery, then I’m going home.” She palmed the trunk and closed it. Giving it a little tug upward to make sure it was secure. “I don’t need an escort. Especially don’t need you on my tail. Besides, your time off must be nearly over. Don’t you have to leave?”

  “I have a week left.” For a second he reflected on his next words before speaking. “So you know this is my second home?”

  She nodded and strode to the driver’s door. “Yup.” She intended on putting the pedal to the metal, but before making her speedy escape, she faced him. “You know, it doesn’t matter what’s happened in your past. You’re still a hero, whether you want to see yourself that way or not.” She shrugged. “I never told you, I don’t believe in war.”

  He watched her, then shook his head.

  “But it doesn’t mean, I don’t believe in the men who do their best to keep war away from our borders. It doesn’t mean, I don’t believe in you.” She disguised her heartache behind a smile. “Enjoy your last week off. You deserve it.”

  She’d left him speechless as she closed the driver’s door, which was fair since he’d left her heart whimpering like an abandoned puppy.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she drove away. Navigating the narrow streets, she arrived early and parked in a strip mall across from the cemetery. An Open neon sign in a coffee shop window lured her inside to order a medium black to go, then she returned to the warmth of her vehicle. Signs posted at the cemetery entrance, the last resting place for the dead, warned visitors to leave an hour before dusk. Regardless, she was going to investigate the grave site.

  Locals streamed in and out of the grocery store and little shops. With a full parking lot, she couldn’t see if Stuart had arrived.

  Ten minutes later, she tossed the empty cup in a garbage can filled to overflowing. She darted between the workman’s traffic and crossed the road. Entering the pedestrian entrance of the cemetery, she veered onto a beaten path through the grave stones toward a site she’d spent the afternoon researching.

  She had company, but there wasn’t much to fear as a young buck, his mate and one fawn nibbled on the green shoots covering the gravesites. Mattie found her way to the cemetery’s older area that bordered the sea. Small mausoleums had withstood the test of time with the founders or prominent names of Victoria residents, like Helmcken and Mackenzie.

  Earlier in the day, she’d printed a sheet from the Victoria archives site to help locate the small headstone. With just enough daylight to make out the names, she stepped onto the uneven ground, the stubs of winter grass weakened by the cold weather. The bones buried in this part of the cemetery dated back to the late 1800’s, but the small square headstone she was looking for was newer, according to the friendly man at the memorial society.

  She compared the rough map in her hands with where she stood. He’
d told her to look across from the Mackenzie mausoleum. The marble plaque wasn’t hard to find because someone had left flowers.

  Black roses with brilliant red edges lay at the base of the small gravesite. There were two family names engraved on the marble. Schmitt and Bings. Agnes Bings. If you asked someone on the street if they knew who she was, they wouldn’t be able to tell you her story dating back to 1899. She knelt down and took a picture with her phone.

  “Someone you know?”

  She jumped to her feet to see Stuart looking down at the marker from behind her. He wore a winter jacket and jeans. His blue gaze finally swayed toward her.

  “They found her near the base of the Johnson Street Bridge. She’d been murdered in the same place as Aimee Wallace one-hundred and eighteen years ago.” Kayla had called it ground zero.

  “Looks like she’s still got an admirer,” he said, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

  “Black roses. Where would you even find black roses?” The red edges on the velvet blooms seemed like they’d been dipped in blood.

  “You think it’s the Ripper, don’t you?”

  She took another picture and then dropped her phone back in her purse. “It has to be.”

  “Is this why you asked me to meet you?”

  Mattie surveyed the headstones in the failing light. “Did you know about Agnes?”

  Stuart didn’t agree or disagree but his lips twitched. “It’s pretty cold out here. How about I buy you a drink.”

  “Going to dose it again?”

  “Maybe, but if I do, it’s to hide you somewhere safe.”

  “Like say, a creepy basement or dank, dark spot?”

  “You called me, remember?”

  “Penning Farthing pub is up the road.” She snaked her hand around Stuart’s arm then stuffed her hands in her pockets to hide them from the cold air nipping at her skin.

  “How’s LaPierre? Taking good care of you, I guess.”