“What do you know about Aden?” she asked instead.
“Archer? Why are you asking?”
“He might know something about the kidnapping. Samuel and I were his contractors.”
He studied her face and she could see his question. Why was she asking? She appreciated that he didn’t press her. “So far, he’s clean. Don’t go near him, Sabine. You leave that to us. You stay in Roaring Creek, do you understand?”
“Us?”
He hesitated. “Me and the others working to find the people who tried to stop your rescue.”
Cullen? Was he still involved? She didn’t welcome the surge of warmth that thought gave her. She decided not to ask her father. The last thing she needed was to start wondering if Cullen cared more than she thought.
“I don’t want you digging any deeper into this, Sabine. If Aden was involved in your kidnapping, I don’t want him to have a reason to get nervous.”
She looked down at the field book. It might be too late for that. But she nodded to her father.
Late the next afternoon, Sabine was about to leave for the supermarket when a buzzer sounded, indicating that someone was at her back door. Going down the stairs and into the office behind what would soon be her bookstore, she peered through the peephole and saw Aden.
The shock of it gave her a jolt. What was he doing here? It was too much of a coincidence after the blurb of her visit to Samuel’s wife. But if she didn’t answer the door, she might lose an opportunity to learn something. Besides, her father had found nothing incriminating against him. And she had her very own mercenary for a bodyguard.
Too curious not to, she opened the door.
Aden smiled without showing any teeth, his narrow face framed by thin, straight, dark hair. “Sabine.”
“Hello, Aden.”
“I came by to see how you were doing. I hope you don’t mind.”
She shook her head. Instead of letting him inside, she stepped out onto the back stairs and left the door open. “I’m fine. You could have just called instead of driving all this way.”
“I had to see for myself.” His brown gaze took a quick look over her before meeting her eyes again. “You look great.”
“Thank you,” she said. Was he telling the truth, or did he have another reason for coming here?
“Things seem to keep popping up in the news about you,” he commented.
“Everyone loves a happy ending.” She smiled cheekily, while inside her heart flew. Why was he bringing that up?
“Was it a happy ending for you?”
“I’m alive.”
“No, I mean about that man in the Washington Daily photo.”
She knew what he meant. “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“They keep waiting to catch you with him,” he said.
“I suppose the London airport photo is to blame for that.”
“No supposing about it.” Aden grinned.
In other words, the photo revealed an intriguing amount of passion between her and her mysterious rescuer. She hid her discomfort. She could still feel that kiss whenever she saw that picture.
“Did you meet him at Lisandra Barry’s like the article speculates?”
She breathed a single laugh to cover her anxiety. He was leading up to something. “No.”
“Why did you go there, then?”
“I haven’t seen Lisandra since I came home. I wanted to pay my respects.”
Was that doubt she saw cross his eyes? “The photo showed you holding a field book,” he said. “Was it Samuel’s?”
She hesitated. “You noticed I was holding his field book?”
“Why did you take it with you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
His smile was too wily. “Someone tried to stop your rescue. I’m as interested as your father in finding out why.”
She didn’t believe him. “You talked to my father?”
“He came to ask me some questions.”
“Really?” She tried to sound surprised. “Why did he question you?”
“Do you have the field book?” he asked instead of answering.
Cold apprehension rushed her. Did he know about the photos? How? He must not have been able to find them before they were shipped to Lisandra, and now he suspected they were hidden in the field book.
“You’re awfully persistent over something as benign as a field book,” she hedged.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with steady, unflinching eyes.
They were playing cat and mouse, and she had to let him know she wasn’t planning on being the mouse. “I saw you meet with one of the locals in the village where we were working,” she said, hoping it wasn’t a mistake. “Maybe that has more to do with why you’re here than Samuel’s field book.”
He stared at her for several more seconds. “Who did you see me meet?”
“I was going to ask you that very same thing, Aden.”
His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Sabine. This goes deeper than just me.”
Chills sprinkled down her arms. Her pulse quickened. He may as well have admitted his involvement outright.
“Aden, if you know something…”
A sound to her left made her turn with him. The man from the dark green Civic emerged from around the corner of her building, walking with a slow, long stride, watching Aden.
“Is everything all right here?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, eyeing Aden.
“I was just leaving,” he said, meeting her look. “If I could have done something to help you over there, I would have, Sabine. Remember that.”
What did he mean? Was he trying to tell her he was a victim like her?
Or had he met with Isma’il and played a hand in her and Samuel’s kidnapping, one he now wished he could withdraw?
The next morning, Sabine parked in the grocery store lot. As she locked her car, her mind still raced with everything Aden had said, and what he hadn’t. Her bodyguard had questioned her about Aden’s visit and said he’d relay the information to Noah. She hadn’t told him about her dream, though. What would it gain? Noah had already questioned Aden, and Aden wasn’t talking.
“Ms. O’Clery?”
Turning, Sabine saw a tall, slender woman with short dark hair approach from the direction she’d just come.
“Rhea Graham with Current Events.”
A sinking feeling tumbled through her middle. She didn’t move to take the woman’s outreached hand.
“We’ve been trying to reach you by phone,” Rhea said. “I’m sorry to sneak up on you like this, but you really gave us no other alternative.”
Facing the reporter fully, Sabine cocked her head at the woman’s audacity.
“Have you given some more thought to doing an interview with us?” Rhea asked.
“I don’t need to. I’m not doing an interview. Not with anyone. I’m sorry, you’ve wasted your time coming here.” She started toward the grocery store entrance.
The reporter kept up with her. “How important is it to you to keep your rescuer’s identity a secret, Ms. O’Clery?”
Sabine’s steps slowed and she glanced at the woman.
“Someone close to your father knew things about your rescue no one else could,” Rhea said. “It’s how we learned of your crash-landing in Greece. With a little more digging, it won’t be long before we have a name.”
Sabine stopped altogether and faced the woman again. How much had her contact told her? It couldn’t have been too much, or it would have been all over the news by now. “My father isn’t that careless in his line of work.”
“Are you sure about that? I thought you were estranged from him.”
True. She had no way of knowing whom her father employed, much less about those he’d entrusted with information concerning her rescue. But even if he’d made a mistake, Cullen wouldn’t have. “You’re bluffing.”
“Are you willing to take that chance?” In Sabine’s silence, she ad
ded, “This contact says she has a phone number. We’re working on convincing her to give it to us. She claims the number can be traced to the man your father hired to rescue you.”
“Her?”
The reporter smiled. “It’s your story we want, Ms. O’Clery. The more people who are curious about your rescuer, the more our ratings go up. The man in the Washington Daily photo can stay a mystery as long as the public stays interested…as long as you want him to stay a mystery.”
“You can’t trace his number. He wouldn’t have used a traceable line.” Cullen wasn’t a stupid man. Then again, there was a picture of him kissing her in the London airport.
The reporter smiled. “Maybe not. But if we keep looking, eventually something will turn up. A tiny clue that leads to a slightly bigger one that leads to something else.” She raised her brow with a sly look. “He can’t hide forever.”
Sabine felt her pulse throb and tried to conceal her growing need for more air. “You’re saying that if I agree to this interview, you won’t try to expose the man who saved my life.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. But only if he stays away from you. If we see him with you, the deal is off.”
“You won’t.” If she’d learned anything from her father, it was that a man like Cullen would have no problem staying away.
“Then you’ll do it?”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word? And what about other reporters?”
“No one other than me knows about the contact who’s close to your father.”
“Tell me who she is.”
“Do you agree to do the interview?”
“I’ll talk about the rescue, but I refuse to talk in detail about my captivity. Or the men who rescued me.”
“Agreed.”
“Now tell me the name of your contact.”
Chapter 7
“Isn’t your girlfriend going to be on Current Events this morning?”
Cullen sent Penny a withering glance from the kitchen, where he was helping Luc pack for yet another fishing trip. Both of them had been making comments like that ever since he’d arrived to wait out the Sabine O’Clery media frenzy. “She’s not my girlfriend.” And she better not have agreed to appear on national television.
From the chair at the end of the table, his uncle’s eyes lifted from his tackle box and Cullen could read his silent skepticism.
Something had happened between him and Sabine in Kárpathos and his uncle knew it. It didn’t help that his uncle had seen the newspaper he’d taken from Noah’s conference room. Cullen had taken it on impulse. He’d been surprised by how much the photo revealed. More than a kiss between a man and a woman, it showed how invested they were in each other. How invested he’d been. Maybe still was.
The television went from a commercial to the Current Events show. A blond anchorwoman started talking.
“A little more than a month ago, Sabine O’Clery was rescued from her captors by a group of men working independently from the U.S. government….”
Cullen rose to his feet as the anchorwoman continued. What the hell was she doing? He raged inside. Why had she agreed to appear on Current Events? She was going to ruin him yet!
“She and one other contractor were assessing groundwater conditions in the Panjshir Valley when they were abducted and taken to an abandoned village. Little is known about the group who captured the contractors, but their leader, a man by the name of Isma’il al Hasan, is believed to have ties to al Qaeda. One of the contractors was killed during captivity, but Sabine O’Clery was miraculously spared.” The short-haired, midthirties anchorwoman turned to Sabine. “Ms. O’Clery, can you tell us what happened the day you were captured?”
The camera moved to Sabine. In a black pantsuit with a white blouse under a stylish jacket, she glowed with health. Cullen couldn’t help noticing other things, too. Though she sat on a sofa and her clothes covered her well, he could tell she’d gained weight. Her face was fuller, her curly red hair shinier. She was even more striking than he remembered. Her green eyes stood out with the dark lines of her lashes, and her lips were glossy and full of color.
Cullen realized he’d tuned out what she was saying as the anchorwoman asked her about her job and what she was doing in Afghanistan. He was that absorbed in seeing her again. The sight of her fed his starved eyes. He didn’t know what to do with such a foreign inundation of feeling. She threw him off center. And a gnawing desire mushroomed in him to find her, be with her again.
“What happened to the other contractor? Why were you the one who survived?”
Cullen watched her face as the question was asked, saw how her eyes grew blank with memory. Why had she agreed to this interview? She must have had a reason. Was she doing it to spite her father? Him? To gain popularity? Money? What?
“I—I don’t know why….” He saw her swallow. Her eyes lowered.
“It must have been terrible.”
Sabine didn’t respond to what Cullen thought was a lame attempt to get her to talk. After a few seconds the anchorwoman gave up and tried a new approach.
“Did you see what happened to the other contractor?” Cullen tensed with the question.
“I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it. I just can’t.” She shook her head and he knew she was struggling with her emotions. Her hands were gripped tightly in her lap.
“Was he tortured?”
Sabine moved her eyes to look at the anchorwoman. The slight quiver of her hair told Cullen she was starting to tremble. He wanted to reach through the television and choke the anchorwoman for asking such a difficult question. Obviously, she had seen what happened to the other contractor, and it had been horrific.
Sabine turned from the anchorwoman and looked into the camera that was focused on her. For an instant Cullen felt as though she were looking right at him, and it arrowed straight into his heart.
“Can you tell us what happened to Samuel? Samuel Barry.”
A photo of Samuel smiling with his wife appeared on the screen.
Tears visibly pooled in Sabine’s eyes. Cullen’s hand curled into a fist, and he realized he’d moved closer to the television, oblivious to Penny and Luc.
“I’m sorry,” the anchorwoman said. “I know this must be hard for you.”
He watched Sabine fight for control of her crumbling emotions. “I can’t…talk about that. You agreed not to…” A tear slid down her cheek.
“I understand. How about you tell us what happened when you were rescued, then?”
Sabine took the tissue the anchorwoman extended to her. Her eyes had that haunted, faraway look of someone who’d seen horrors no one else could imagine. Or ever wanted to.
“Who was it that organized the mission?” the anchorwoman asked.
Sabine stared at some point in the studio and answered absently, “I don’t know.”
“If it wasn’t the U.S. military, then who was it?”
Sabine’s head turned slowly toward the anchorwoman. “I wouldn’t know anything about how my rescue was planned.”
“Your father owns a company called Executive Indemnity Corporation, with headquarters in Miami. There have been reports on some of their activities. Your father’s company is a private military company, isn’t that right?”
Sabine didn’t comment.
“Was it your father who organized your rescue?” the anchorwoman asked.
“My father abandoned me before I was born.”
“So you’re saying it wasn’t your father who organized your rescue?”
“No, I’m saying my father hasn’t been a part of my life. Ever.”
“But he must care about you or he wouldn’t have helped to free you from your captors.”
Sabine said nothing, but Cullen could see she was torn, as though she wanted her father to care about her but didn’t want to believe or couldn’t bring herself to believe he did. Even though he’d arranged her rescue.
“Did your father hire the man in the Washington Daily photo? D
oes he know the man shown in that picture?”
“I don’t know who rescued me.” A true enough statement, Cullen thought with a pang of regret.
The anchorwoman smiled too shrewdly for his comfort. “What happened that day, Sabine? How were you rescued?”
Sabine sighed and cleared her throat, sitting rigidly in the chair. “A soldier broke down the door and told me he was from the United States and that he was going to get me out of there.”
“A soldier? So he’s U.S. military?”
“That’s what I thought. I—I mean, that’s what I assumed. He never said who he was.”
“Is he the man in the photo from the Washington Daily?”
The stirrings of anger appeared in Sabine’s eyes. “The man who rescued me was part of a team of several other men. I was flown to an airstrip, where a plane was waiting to fly me to London.”
A very brief explanation of what had actually occurred. Cullen was impressed. She’d also avoided answering the woman’s question.
“Your helicopter crashed before you made it out of Afghanistan, isn’t that correct?”
Sabine wondered if that piece of information had gotten out along with the plane crash.
“Yes, but another one arrived shortly after and took us to an airstrip.”
“Where was the airstrip?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t aware of much except the fact that I was getting out of Afghanistan.”
“What happened once you were on the plane?”
“I was flown to London.”
“Didn’t the plane crash?”
Sabine didn’t answer the anchorwoman. He could see she knew as well as he where this line of questioning was going. Hadn’t she considered this possibility when she’d agreed to appear on national television?
“We have it from a reliable source that your plane crashed on a Greek island.”
Sabine’s anger fired hotter in her eyes. She pinned the anchorwoman with a warning stare. “One of the men on the team was forced to crash-land the plane. We didn’t know where we were at the time. We knew we were on an island somewhere in the Mediterranean, but it wasn’t until we walked to a nearby village that we knew it was Kárpathos.”
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