Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8)

by Barbara Freethy

  And that was the end of her journal.

  He got to his feet. Brandon was still poring over the cypher and working on the computer he'd brought with him. Watching him work reminded him that the journals he'd read were probably not nearly as important as the cypher.

  "Are you having any luck?" he asked him.

  "I think that part of this is garbage and the other part is encrypted, but I haven't figured out which is which yet."

  He nodded as Brandon got back to it. Hopefully, he could decipher the code, and they could finally find out exactly what Natasha had been up to, and all her cryptic comments in the journal would make sense.

  If they found out that Natasha was a spy, what would that mean for Maya? What would that mean for his father?

  His gut twisted. The truth was staring him in the face, a truth he'd never acknowledged out loud, but had always been lurking inside his head. Maybe that wasn't true. It hadn't always been there. When he'd been a child, he hadn't questioned anything, but as he got older, he'd started to wonder. When he joined the FBI, he'd scoured the files for any mention of his parents and their death, but he'd found nothing.

  Now all his doubts, all his questions, were back.

  He needed to talk to someone, and that someone was in his kitchen. He grabbed the journals, walked into the kitchen, and closed the door.

  Maya didn't even look at him. She was staring at her computer screen.

  He could feel the anger coming off her in waves. Finally, she turned her head, and the hurt in her eyes gutted him.

  "I'm sorry." The words came out again. It wasn't what he'd intended to say when he entered the room, but it had to be said, maybe another thousand times—not that it would probably make any difference.

  She swallowed hard. "How is Brandon doing with the cypher?" she asked, ignoring his comment.

  "He's still working on it."

  "Did you find anything in the journals that surprised you?"

  "Yes. I don't know if it means anything for Natasha, but it means something to me."

  "I don't understand."

  He opened the journal to the page he'd earmarked. "Did you read this passage?"

  Her gaze moved to the page. She read for a moment and then she said, "What bothers you about this? I don't know who Andrei Markov is. Do you?"

  "Yes, I do." He paused. "Andrei Markov is my father."

  Her eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

  "I am. And Natasha knew him. She talked to him. He was at the club."

  "This is crazy, Jax."

  He sat down across from her. "Last night when I told you Bragin said I reminded him of someone, it was my father I reminded him of. Of course, I pretended I'd never heard of Andrei Markov, because it would have blown my cover."

  "Now I know why you were so unsettled when you were talking to him." Maya's gaze moved back to the journal. "She says they talked about their pasts and their futures. She doesn't know if either of them will get to where they want to go. She wants to try to help him." Maya looked back at him. "I don't know what this means. Do you?"

  "No. But if your grandmother was…" His jaw tightened so hard he couldn't get the words out.

  Awareness ran through Maya's eyes. "If my grandmother was a spy, then maybe your father was, too? Is that what you're thinking?"

  "No," he said immediately, then paused. "Maybe. Natasha was worried for him. And the way he and my mom died… I didn't question it when I was young, but later I wondered why they never found their bodies."

  "Did you ever try to find out what happened?"

  "After I joined the FBI five years ago. But there was nothing, no mention of their names anywhere. I just accepted that it was a tragic accident."

  "It still might have been that."

  "Or it wasn't."

  "Or it wasn't," she agreed, the anger fading from her eyes as she put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Jax. I opened Pandora's box when I started all this, and now so many bad things are coming out. People are getting hurt. I never should have done it. I should have left it alone."

  "You can't change it now. Neither of us can take back what we did."

  She met his gaze. "It's not the same."

  "I know it's not."

  The kitchen door opened.

  "Hey, Jax," Brandon said. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think I figured out something."

  "You can read the code?" he asked, feeling renewed hope that they might get to an answer.

  "Possibly. It will take a few hours. This is old school Russian code and it's mixed in with garbage. I want to take it back to the office and work on it. I have a better computer there. It will help me decrypt this faster."

  Jax looked at Maya. "What do you think? Are you okay to let the cypher go with Brandon?"

  She hesitated and then she nodded. "If that's what it takes to get an answer. But it's irreplaceable. You get that, right?"

  "I do," Brandon said solemnly. "I will guard it with my life."

  "All right," she said.

  "I'll see you out." He walked Brandon to his car, which was parked on the street in front of the townhouse. He took a good look around, but the street was quiet, and the only pedestrians were a young couple walking their dog.

  "Don't worry. I've got this," Brandon said, reading his concern. "Does Maya realize that her grandmother was probably a Russian spy?"

  "She's coming to grips with the idea."

  "I'll be in touch."

  He waited until Brandon drove away before walking back into the house. He locked the door and put on the security system. Maya met him in the living room.

  "Do you think he can get to your office safely?" she asked. "I was thinking we should have gone with him."

  "It's five minutes away. He'll text me when he gets there."

  "Okay. What do we do now?"

  "I don't know." He paced restlessly around the room, then paused, facing her once more. "I think you should go to your sister's house."

  "No way. I won't take the danger to them."

  "Well, I can't leave you here alone."

  "Where are you going?" Awareness entered her eyes. "You're going to see the people who raised you."

  "Yes. I need to know what they knew."

  "Haven't you asked them before?"

  "Yes, and they always said they knew nothing, but now I don't believe them. My parents drove to another state to leave me with them. They could have asked the neighbor to watch me. She'd done it a number of times before. But they didn't do that."

  "Why would they tell you something different now?"

  "Because I have more information. I know what questions to ask." He blew out a breath. "They may still claim ignorance, and maybe they don't know anything, but I have to give it another shot."

  "Then I'll come with you."

  "It's not a good—"

  "Yes, it is," she interrupted. "Like it or not, I'm coming with you, Jax. We may not be too thrilled with each other right now, but we're in this together."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The drive from Santa Monica to Jax's adopted parents' house on a Monday afternoon was about an hour, and that hour turned into ninety minutes when Jax suddenly decided to stop at a drive-thru restaurant.

  Maya suspected the stop had more to do with cold feet than an empty stomach, but since she was hungry, too, she'd been happy to order a chili burger from the LA-famous burger chain, Tommy's. She'd also ordered fries and a chocolate milkshake, which put her calorie count off the charts, but she really didn't care. She'd needed some comfort food.

  At least this trip was providing a good distraction. They'd received word that Brandon had made it to the office with the cypher intact, but nothing further since then.

  As she finished her last fry, she deposited her empty wrappers in the bag, and said, "That was good. But now you can't stall anymore."

  "I wasn't stalling; I was hungry."

  "You were a better liar yesterday."

  He let out a sigh. "Okay, I am stalling."
r />   "You don't have to do this."

  "Yes, I do." He finished off his shake and tossed the empty cup into the bag. "In a minute."

  She found herself smiling and then immediately cut it off. After seeing how emotionally shaken Jax had become after learning about his father's connection to Natasha, she'd had a hard time hanging onto the anger she felt toward him. But she had to remember the lies, and she had to keep her guard up. She decided to change the subject.

  "Did you see anything else in the journals that alarmed you besides your father's name?" she asked.

  "No. Your grandmother seemed one-dimensional at times and then at other times, she was philosophical and almost poetic. I read her most private thoughts, but I still don't feel like I know who she is."

  His words echoed her own feelings. "I don't know who she is, either. I think that's what drove me to keep looking for answers. She didn't sound like someone who would kill herself. But she did sound like someone who made bad decisions. I was trying to figure out what those bad decisions were."

  "Certainly some of them were the men she chose to be with, many of whom were friends with each other."

  "It is odd that they remained friends as she moved from one to the next. Wallace still talks to Constantine, and I know she slept with both of them."

  "She mentions Bragin, Paul, and Coleman, too. She went on dates with Bragin and Paul. I'm not sure about Coleman, but she seems to know him well. She mentioned Sylvia, which was interesting. She was sneaking booze from the club."

  "That's right. Sylvia sneaking the alcohol reminded her of my dad. I guess when I first read the journal I didn't think much of that, but now that I know he was partying in a big way, it makes more sense. It also makes sense that my dad and Sylvia knew each other."

  "They probably knew the other sons and daughters, too, Ryland Jagger and Lindsay Bragin."

  "And everyone is still friendly, except, of course, my dad. He walked away from that life, from those people."

  "He was probably better off because he did that, and because your grandfather was not part of life at the Russia House." He paused. "How did your grandfather end up with the journals? She'd been divorced from him for a long time when she died."

  "He said he found them in a safe-deposit box they'd opened when they were married. He'd forgotten all about it. She'd only used it for jewelry. But when he went to close his account one day, they told him the box was still open. She'd been dead for ten years by then. He said the journals and that black book were the only things in there. He hung onto them, thinking my dad might one day want them. But to my knowledge, my father has never read them."

  "Probably best if he doesn't, at least not the one where she talks about the baby that ruined her life."

  "I wasn't eager to show him that." She took a breath, then changed the subject again. "Can't you tell me anything about who you're investigating at the Firebird Club? What led you to the club? Was it just because it came back into business six months ago?"

  "There was other intelligence."

  "And you went undercover because…why?"

  "I speak Russian, for one."

  "Right. Why did you bail on working last night?"

  "A lot of reasons, but the two main ones were that I didn't want you to go home alone, and I didn't like that Bragin kept staring at me and picking at my background."

  "Now I understand why he bothered you so much."

  "If he became convinced that I was related to Andrei Markov, he might have dug into my life and discovered I was an FBI agent."

  "He might still do that."

  "I don't plan on serving any more drinks there, not unless it's part of a play."

  "What kind of a play?"

  "It's still being formulated, but it involves David."

  She was surprised by that piece of information. "David—as in Sylvia's son?"

  "Yes. I think he might have intelligence I can use."

  "Why would he tell you anything?"

  "He may have a reason to believe he's in trouble with his bosses."

  She thought about his words. Jax was being very careful in what he said, but she'd been around him long enough to read between some of the lines. "Hold on. David was blackmailing Ryland. Is that why he's in trouble?"

  "I really can't tell you, Maya."

  "I think you already did," she said, giving him a pointed look. "You set him up, didn't you?"

  "Let's talk about something else."

  "You wanted to get David in trouble with someone so that he would tell you what's going on at the club. Do you think Sylvia is involved?"

  "Yes. But I don't think she's in charge. I'm more interested in the individuals above her."

  "That could be any of the five guys and Alexander. Maybe his wife, too. And what about Louisa? Who else?"

  He gave her a smile. "Why don't you concentrate on your own mystery?"

  "Our mysteries seem to be colliding."

  "They do. But I can't say more."

  "Fine. If we need to talk about something else, let's go back to discussing your parents."

  "We could just not talk," he said dryly.

  "You know me better than that."

  "I do. But I've actually told you everything I know, Maya, which is very little. The last day I saw my parents started out like any other day. My mom made oladyi and she'd squeezed fresh orange juice for me. She said she wanted me to have a good breakfast before our trip. After that, she helped me pack my overnight bag. I thought she was putting in a lot of clothes. It was summer, and she was packing sweaters and a jacket. I told her I was going to be hot. She just said you never know. The weather always changes."

  "She was packing for longer than a weekend."

  "Maybe." He gave her a quick look. "She squatted down in front of me, and she put her hands on my arms, and she said, 'Remember that, Jack, the weather always changes. Even when you think it won't, it will. Things get bad and then they get better. You have to be strong and brave and always move forward.'" He let out an odd little laugh. "Funny that I remember her words so clearly now."

  "She called you Jack?"

  "Yes. That was my name. But when I got to Rick and Carol's house, they changed it to Jax. It didn't matter to me. My parents had occasionally called me that, too. When the Kenins adopted me, they gave me their last name."

  "So you were born Jack Markov, but you became Jax Kenin. Wasn't that strange to be someone different?"

  "Looking back, it does seem odd, but at the time, I felt like the kid I used to be had died with my parents. It was better to be someone else. But if my parents' accident wasn't really an accident, then it does raise the question of whether or not they tried to hide me with the Kenins. That's one of the questions I have to ask them."

  "I hope they can give you better answers than they did before. It's odd how we've both stumbled upon family secrets."

  "It is," he said, meeting her gaze. "Watching you fight for the truth inspires me."

  His words made her like him again, and she really didn't want to. "I'm sure you'd fight on your own."

  "I haven't until now."

  "You didn't know there was something to fight for." She paused. "Is there any chance your parents might not be dead? I know you said they never found their bodies."

  "That thought has been running around in my head," he admitted. "I'm afraid to believe it. It will just bring a hell of a lot more pain when I have to face the fact that they're still dead. And they have to be dead. I'm thirty-three years old. They've been gone twenty-six years. If they were alive, they would have contacted me before now."

  "I think you're right. I shouldn't have brought it up."

  "You just said aloud what I was thinking." He took a breath. "I pushed them out of my head a very long time ago, but as soon as I stepped into the library at the Firebird, memories came back. The chess sets, the players—they reminded me so much of my dad. And when I played Bragin, I guess I used my dad's opening move. That's when he realized that I looked like
him."

  "That could be dangerous, Jax. If Bragin was involved in Natasha's murder or your parents' accident, and he figures out that you're Jack Markov…"

  "I know."

  She frowned, not liking the fact that he could be in even more danger. But there was nothing she could do to change that. "Your parents died twenty-six years ago, and Natasha died thirty-six years ago. What happened in those intervening ten years?"

  "My father became a professor. My parents had me. I thought we were living a normal life, but maybe we weren't. Maybe my father was recruited by someone at the Russia House."

  "And that's why Natasha was worried about him. She might have thought he was going down the same road she'd traveled."

  "That's what I'm thinking."

  Silence fell between them for a long moment. "Why did you become an FBI agent?" she asked curiously. "Did it have something to do with your parents' death, the mystery you couldn't solve?"

  "It might have been at the back of my mind, but to be honest, I was drifting for a while. I didn't do much in college except party. I took Russian because I already knew the language, and I figured it was an easy A. My official major was political science. I thought about being a lawyer at one point, but that seemed boring. I eventually landed an internship in DC in the state department, and suddenly my language skills became very important. They hired me full-time, and four years later, the FBI came knocking at my door. I liked the idea of doing something with more action to it, so I went to Quantico and became an agent."

  "You were looking for your roots, even if you didn't want to admit it to yourself."

  "Probably. I can see that now."

  "Do you only work on Russian cases?"

  "No, I've done a lot of things over the years. But when there is a need for my language skills, I'm usually called in."

  "Were the Kenins Russian?"

  "I think Carol's grandmother was Russian. But she certainly didn't know anything about the culture or speak the language. She met my mom at a yoga class when they were all living in Alexandria, and they became best friends." He paused. "Even as I say that, I don't know if it's true. Maybe how their friendship happened was also a lie." He sat up in his seat. "This is ridiculous. The only way I'm going to get answers is to ask the questions." He started the car and pulled out of the lot.