by CW Browning
“I stop in from time to time,” he answered quietly. “More so now that I'm so close.”
“How long have you been in DC?” Alina asked. Michael glanced at her.
“About a year now. I was out in Texas. When I got injured, I came back in from the field and landed here.”
“You were injured? What happened?” she asked, glancing at him.
“It wasn't anything major,” he said, flushing slightly. “Just an accident. A bullet went astray and shattered my collarbone.”
Alina blinked, her mind flashing back to a pale woman in a hospital bed, moaning in pain. A bullet had torn through her shoulder and out her chest, shattering her scapula. A bullet that had been meant for someone else.
“Ouch. I hear that's very painful,” she murmured.
Michael nodded.
“It was,” he said. “It's all healed now. I'm cleared for field duty again, but I enjoy it where I am right now.”
“So if you don't guard the President, what do you do?”
Alina flicked her eyes to the distance where her brother's plot was located. She could just make out the silhouette of a woman standing before it.
“Investigative work, mostly,” Michael answered. “They put me on the desk when I was going through physical therapy and it turns out I like it. I'm good at it, too.”
“So, you investigate what, exactly? Threats to the President?” Alina asked, looking at him and hoping he wouldn't notice the woman in the distance.
“Among other things,” Michael answered vaguely. “I'm sort of a Jack of All Trades. I do a little bit of everything. It keeps life interesting.”
“It sounds it,” Alina murmured dryly, then instantly regretted her sarcasm. However, he didn't seem to have noticed it.
“And you? You said you were a security consultant. How's that going for you?” Michael asked, flipping the tables.
Alina shrugged, fighting a grin. He had noticed it.
“Some days I like it more than others,” she replied. “It's certainly not boring,” she added, watching as the woman moved away from Dave's grave.
“You were engaged, weren't you?” Michael remembered suddenly, glancing at her. “What happened with that?”
“Not much,” Alina said. “It ended before I joined up.”
“So, no jealous husband for me to be worried about?” Michael asked.
Alina shot a look at him under her lashes, her lips curving slightly.
“Do you plan on giving him cause to be jealous?” she demanded lightly. He grinned.
“You never know,” he answered. “I'm leaving my options open.”
Alina was surprised into a short laugh.
“And you? Any jealous girlfriends or wives for me to be worried about?”
Michael stopped walking and faced her.
“Oh no. I asked first,” he told her, “and you haven't answered.”
“No jealous husband or boyfriend,” Alina assured him. “I haven't had time.”
“That's good to hear,” he said before walking on. Alina's lips twitched and she fell into step beside him again. “I've had time, but you're catching me single at the moment,” he added as they walked.
“Well, that's good to hear,” Alina replied, her eyes dancing and Michael laughed.
“Do you plan on giving them cause to be jealous?” he demanded as they came up to Dave's row. Alina had been carefully keeping her head angled slightly down, but at that she glanced up with a laugh.
“I'm leaving my options open,” she retorted.
Michael grinned appreciatively and then glanced around.
“This is it,” he said. “Do you want to be alone? I can wait here.”
“Don't be silly,” Alina said briskly. “We'll go together.” She stepped onto the grass just as a fat raindrop plopped onto the beak of her cap. “But if you start bawling, I'm leaving you to sob alone. I don't do well with tears,” she added over her shoulder.
Michael grinned and joined her, putting a light hand on her back.
“I'll keep that in mind,” he murmured. He removed his cap, tucking it under his arm as they approached Dave's stone, and blinked at the pile of roses that had accumulated on the grave. There were all colors: red ones, white ones, pink ones, yellow and orange ones and even a black one. “Well, we certainly aren't the first visitors today.”
Alina's heart filled with satisfaction at the colorful blanket laying over the grave. She stopped silently before the stone and they stood together, staring at the white marker. Bowing her head, Alina closed her eyes and saw her brother before her, as he was the last time she saw him. He was in his uniform, his brown eyes laughing, and he was alive. She could almost hear his voice as he said he loved her. He was the last man, besides her father, to have said those words to her and meant them.
Rain started to fall on her hands, pulling Alina back from the memories. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and reached into her over-sized shoulder bag to pull out a crimson rose. Michael watched as she bent to lay the rose with the rest. She kissed her fingers and touched the top of the stone briefly before straightening up again, her emotions firmly under control. Michael stepped out of the way so that she could move away from the grave and she stepped past him, opening the umbrella as the rain started falling more steadily. Glancing back, she was just in time to see Michael salute smartly before touching the stone with his Yankees cap. He turned and followed Alina away from the grave, settling his cap back on his head. He joined her on the path again a few moments later and was just opening his mouth to speak when his cell phone started ringing suddenly.
“I'm sorry. Excuse me.” Michael pulled the phone out of his pocket impatiently. “I thought I muted it in the truck,” he muttered. “Hello?” he snapped into the phone.
Alina glanced at her watch and waited patiently under her umbrella. They had about five minutes to clear the area before the next wave of women started coming through. She supposed it wouldn't be tragic if they happened to pass one of them, but she wasn't sure if Michael would notice that they were dressed alike. It was a chance Viper didn't want to take. She glanced around thoughtfully. She supposed she could take him out a different way and say she wanted to walk in the rain.
Alina glanced up from under her umbrella, looking for a possible exit point. It was when she was scanning the opposite rise that she spotted him. He was sitting on a bench under a tree quite a distance away. He appeared to just be sitting there, but her eyes narrowed and she studied the figure for a long moment.
There could be any number of plausible explanations for a man to be sitting on a bench in the rain, but Alina wouldn't believe any of them. There was something very familiar about him. Too familiar. She was still watching him thoughtfully when Michael uttered a name that made her turn her head sharply.
“Stephanie Walker? Are you sure? I didn't even know she was in town.” Michael was silent, listening. “Is she okay? Where is she now?” he demanded. He listened again before sighing. “Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can.”
Michael disconnected the call and turned back to Alina, tucking the phone back into his pocket.
“Everything alright?” she asked, her white-knuckled grip on the umbrella the only sign of her interest.
“I don't know,” Michael said, putting a hand on her elbow and leading her back down the path. “Something happened and someone, a Fed, was involved in an accident this morning in Georgetown.”
He took the umbrella out of her hand, holding it over both of them as the rain started falling in earnest. Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer so that they were both protected by the umbrella.
“What kind of accident?” Alina's voice was sharper than she intended but Michael didn't seem to notice.
“An attempted hit and run,” he said. “Unfortunately, I'm going to have to skip our lunch date. I have to go check this out.”
“Wouldn't that be for the police to handle?” Alina asked, her brain working quickly.
> “Yes,” Michael answered. “But I want to question her regarding something I'm working on. I didn't even know she was in town.”
“Ah,” Alina murmured.
They fell silent as they headed back to the parking garage quickly through the rain. His arm was warm and secure around her, and Alina had the absurd thought that it felt nice to have someone else holding the umbrella for once. As quickly as the thought came, she pushed it away. Aside from everything else, he was wearing a Yankees cap.
They entered the parking garage almost at a run and Michael swung the umbrella down, shaking it out before closing it. He was laughing when he handed it back to her.
“So much for not minding the rain,” he said and Alina grinned.
“Getting wet is over-rated,” she retorted.
He pulled his keys out of his pocket as they started back toward the truck.
“I'm sorry about lunch,” he said.
“It's not a problem,” Alina assured him. “I understand.”
They reached the truck and he beeped the door unlocked, opening it for her. She got in and he slammed it shut, circling to the driver's side.
“Do you have plans for dinner?” Michael asked, getting behind the wheel.
Alina glanced at him.
“Are you offering plans?” she asked with a twinkle. He grinned and started the engine.
“Possibly.”
“Then, I possibly have plans for dinner,” Alina replied. He laughed.
“Where should I pick you up?” he asked.
“I can meet you,” Alina said. “Where do you want to go?”
He was quiet for a moment before answering.
“Why don't you come to my house and I'll cook?” he suggested after a moment. He held his hand up when she looked at him sharply. “No questionable intentions!”
“I wouldn't dream there were,” Alina retorted with a slight smile.
Michael looked at her in mock disappointment.
“Not at all?”
Alina grinned and shook her head.
“Nope.”
“Then what were you thinking?” he asked, stopping at a red light and looking at her.
“I was wondering if you knew how to cook,” she informed him calmly.
“I am a fantastic chef!” Michael retorted.
“Then your house it is,” Alina agreed easily and he smiled.
“Trust me,” he said with a wink. “You won't be disappointed.”
John yawned and raised his binoculars again. Yet another woman around Alina's height and wearing the uniform was approaching the grave. As with all the others, her face was cast in shadows. He dropped the binoculars again and wondered for the millionth time what he was doing here. Clearly, he wasn't going to get any leads from this pointless exercise. Yet, here he remained, watching the parade. He glanced at the overcast sky. At least the rain had stopped for the time being.
“You look bored out of your mind.”
An all-too-familiar voice spoke directly behind him and John started, spinning around on the bench in disbelief.
“Here. I brought you a hoagie.”
She was dressed in jeans and a light-weight, black hooded jacket. The hood was up over the baseball cap on her head and green eyes sparkled dangerously from the shadows it created. Alina's lips curved slightly and John blinked, speechless. He hadn't really thought that he would ever see her again, and he was disconcerted at the wave of utter relief that crashed over him at the sight of her. She was alive and well.
He reached out wordlessly and took the wrapped hoagie she was holding out to him. Once he took it, she vaulted lightly over the back of the bench and settled down next to him. Pulling a bottle of water from her pocket, she handed it to him before sitting back comfortably, her hands buried in her jacket's pockets and her legs crossed. She kept her head down slightly to keep her face in shadows.
“So what's the verdict?” Alina asked cheerfully, watching the woman in the distance walking away from Dave's grave. “Have I showed up yet?”
“What the hell are you doing?!” John finally found his voice, and it was loud. He glanced around hastily and lowered it. “Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you?”
Alina glanced at him, her lips twitching.
“And yet here you are, waiting for me to show up,” she pointed out. She nodded toward the grave in the distance. “Enjoying the show?”
“It's brilliant,” John snapped, his pale blue eyes flashing. “Now tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Actually, that's what I came to ask you,” Alina retorted, glancing at her old flame. “Eat your sandwich in case we're being watched,” she added, almost as an after-thought. John unwrapped his hoagie impatiently. “I don't have a ton of time. What's Stephanie doing in DC?”
“Stephanie?” John paused in the act of biting into his hoagie, shooting her a look of surprise. “She's not. She's in the Poconos.”
“I hate to disagree, but the Secret Service is under the very distinct impression that she's in Georgetown,” Alina told him quietly. “Someone tried to kill her this morning with a botched hit and run.”
“Impossible,” John muttered through a mouth full of Italian meat and cheese. “I left her on her way to the mountains.”
“And where did you tell her you were going?” Alina asked pointedly.
John lifted his eyes to hers ruefully.
“The shore,” he admitted after he swallowed. He put the hoagie down on the paper and nodded. “Ok. So we both lied. Tell me what happened,” he said seriously.
“That's all I know,” she answered, “but here's my educated guess. Tell me if I stray at all. I think she's still bothered by her friend, the DHS agent, who got herself killed down here three months ago. I think the Bureau probably told her to leave it to the local talent and let it go, and she was pissed when the investigation was closed as an accident. My guess is that it's been eating at her and she came down here to poke around herself as soon as she could get time off. Am I ringing any bells here?”
“Yeah,” John agreed, taking another bite of the hoagie. Alina waited patiently while he chewed. “I'm not surprised. That's probably exactly what she's doing down here. She wouldn't have told me. She knows I wouldn't have let her come alone. Someone tried to kill her this morning?”
“That's the story I heard.” Alina scanned the dripping cemetery while she spoke, looking for the eyes that she knew were out there. “Whoever killed her friend can't be thrilled to have her down here looking into it.”
“Where's your old friend, Mr. Peterson?” John demanded.
Alina glanced at him in amusement.
“Are you two still convinced he was involved?” she asked, her lips curving slightly. “I really did think the FBI required more intelligence than that.”
“We were never given the chance to disprove that particular theory,” John shot back. “If you'll recall, you both disappeared into thin air without a word.”
Alina's eyes narrowed slightly at the thread of anger in John's voice.
“Were we supposed to leave a forwarding address?” she couldn't resist asking.
“Something would have been nice,” John retorted. He looked at her and his eyes were suddenly hooded. “We didn't know if you were dead or alive.”
Alina studied him for a quiet moment before returning her gaze to their soggy surroundings.
“I can see that you think I owe you an explanation. Perhaps I do,” she said reflectively. “I'll have to give it some thought.” She paused and then shrugged, almost to herself. “I don't have time for that right now, though. We need to get Stephanie to a safe house. Whether either of us likes it or not, I have to stash you two somewhere safe until I'm finished here.”
John glanced at her searchingly.
“That's really necessary?” he asked after a moment. The look he received from Alina was more convincing than anything she could have said, and he nodded slightly. He learned three months ago not to doubt her. “O
k. Where do I meet you?”
“Stay here about another hour,” Alina told him. “Then give up and go back to wherever you're staying. I assume you're at a hotel?” John nodded. “Good. Call me from the lobby phone when you get there. There's a number to a burn phone on the hoagie paper.”
She looked at him and the look on her face was no longer friendly.
“If I even get a whiff of the notion that you contacted anyone, you're on your own and Stephanie will be dead within twenty-four hours,” Alina told him. “These people don't play around. They missed once. They won't miss again.”
“And you?” John asked.
“I'm going to arrange for a safe house,” she answered. “We have to move quickly before they have any idea what's happening. She's safe right now. She's being grilled by Secret Service. I'll tell you where to find her when you call. Do me a favor and don't get yourself followed. I can guarantee you're being watched.”
“This isn't my first rodeo, sweetheart,” John retorted without heat. “Do I want to know who we're up against this time?”
“Probably not.” Alina stood up and looked down at him. “I need you to watch Stephanie's back until this is over. I can't be there this time.”
John considered her thoughtfully.
“I got her,” he assured her quietly. “But who's got you?”
Alina's lips curved into a chilling smile that sent a shiver down John's spine and reminded him that this woman was a complete stranger to him.
“Don't worry about me,” she replied. “This isn't my first rodeo, either.”
John nodded, but as Alina was turning away, he stopped her.
“Hey,” he said. Alina turned her head questioningly. “Not a fan of the red-hair. Was that really necessary?”
Alina rolled her eyes.
“I like the red,” she retorted. She started to walk away, then paused and looked back again. “What's wrong with it?”
“I've known too many redheads,” John retorted.
Chapter Eight
“Ms. Walker.” Michael smiled charmingly as he walked into his office and held out his hand to the attractive brunette from his photo. Stephanie stood up at his entrance, taking in the tall, handsome man at a glance. “Thank you so much for coming. I know you had to wait. I'm sorry.”