Double Agent

by Phillips, Lisa

  “When I know, I’ll tell you.”

  She ascended the stairs. Doug pulled out his phone and made a call.

  “Colonel Hiller? The hard drive we got from Parelli had some kind of fail-safe. It blew up before we could get anything from it.”

  Kids screamed and laughed in the background. “I’m going to assume it’s you who got the cops to back off with their questions.”

  “You’re welcome, Sergeant Major. What’s your plan?”

  “Get her somewhere safe. Get some answers.”

  “Why don’t the two of you head to your dad’s place?” There was silence for a moment. “You can’t tell me the general wouldn’t be fine with it. Not to mention he has the most secure residence we know of.”

  Doug fought the urge to reach through the phone and throttle his superior officer. “You’re right, but I don’t like it, sir.”

  “Want me to make it an order?”

  Doug sighed. “Is this some kind of conspiracy to get me to his birthday party?”

  The colonel barked a laugh and then yelled at his son to stop trying to drown his sister in the pool. “Birthday aside, it wouldn’t hurt you to visit the man. He calls just about every day asking after you.”

  “His clearance is still good?”

  “You think I tell him what you’re doing?”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, Sergeant Major. Get yourself on a plane to D.C. Your dad’s place will give you the space and the time you need to question Ms. Sabine Laduca. I’ll get to tell the CIA that she’s in our custody, and they can wait until we’re done with her.”

  Doug wanted to ask all the questions on the tip of his tongue, but Sabine appeared. She hauled two huge suitcases down the stairs. “Yes, sir.”

  She glanced at him. Doug hung up the phone and she came to him, looking like she expected him to tell her who was on the phone and the content of the conversation.

  “Got everything?”

  “I’ll put these in my car and come back for my purse and lock up the house.”

  She didn’t get his sarcasm, apparently. “Actually, they’re going in my rental car.” He pointed out front. “The Prius across the street.”

  Her head cocked to the side. “I would have pegged you more as a big truck kind of guy.”

  She was right. “It was all they had.” He grabbed the first suitcase. “Enough stalling—let’s get moving.”

  By the time he crammed both suitcases alongside his duffel bag in the trunk of the tiny car, Sabine had locked her front door. He scanned the street while she crossed to him, looking good enough he needed to concentrate on something else or he’d get distracted. She might have a smudge of ash on the side of her face, but she was still beautiful.

  In the car, Sabine buckled her seat belt. “So where are we going?”

  He looked over. She was trying to hide a smirk. The driver’s seat was a tight fit for him.

  “Want me to drive?”

  “No, thank you.” He didn’t care if his tone was short. “We’re going to my dad’s place in Washington. Gates, security guards, few people to worry about and plenty of space to sit down and figure all this out.”

  He drove out of her subdivision, pulled onto the freeway and headed for the airport. “Nothing to say?”

  She just stared out the window.

  “You’re just going to let me take you wherever I want and not do anything about it?” They both knew she could give him the slip whenever she wanted. Doug would have to be on guard. “Sabine?”

  She finally looked at him. “Take the next exit. I need something from my storage unit before we leave town.”

  He couldn’t read the look on her face because he had his eyes on the road. Sometime soon they needed to sit down and have this out. There was still way too much he didn’t know about Sabine, Ben and this whole business.

  But there was something he needed to get clear right then. “Why did you tell me you were with the CIA?”

  *

  Sabine blinked and her face creased into a frown. “You think I was lying?”

  “Were you?”

  “Let me guess. You called to check my story?”

  “My commanding officer did.”

  She nodded. “The CIA is supposed to deny my existence. It’s what they do.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Tell me what it is.”

  He glanced at her, and she saw a flash of worry had darkened his eyes. Interesting, since he didn’t care about her. The only reason they were together was so he could interrogate her.

  “The CIA claims you don’t work for them anymore. Since six years ago, you’ve been a rogue agent.”

  Six years ago?

  Sabine flinched. She could still feel the sting of gunfire from that day. With her cover blown, she’d been given a new handler and now worked in a clandestine department. Well, it was the CIA, so all the departments were clandestine, but hers even more so.

  One day she’d either retire or end up as a nameless star on a wall, with only a handful of people who would ever really know what had happened to her.

  Of course they would deny her existence. To them she probably didn’t exist. That was the nature of the work she did. She didn’t need to prove herself to Doug; she knew who she worked for. The fact that she hadn’t even stepped foot inside Langley in those six years only proved just how under the radar they wanted her.

  *

  Doug pulled up outside a garage-size unit in the far corner of the complex. He could tell the news about who she worked for was a shock, but she seemed to push it away. The closer they drove to her storage area, the tenser she became.

  With one foot out the parked car, she turned back. Her mouth was thin. “Stay here.”

  He watched her walk away. He wanted to go, despite what she said. He gripped the steering wheel so tight he was probably warping it. Sure, she’d ditched him yesterday in the Dominican Republic, but since then they’d fought off an intruder together and had almost been blown up. This was a good time to show her that he would do what she asked. Especially when she said it with that look of total despair on her face—the same look she’d had at Ben’s funeral. She’d been ready to lose it to her grief again. What had brought it back to the surface now?

  Her family had been happy at one time. At least if the photo in Ben’s room was anything to go by. Then something had gone down, and the two of them had ended up in foster care until Sabine had turned eighteen and won custody of her fifteen-year-old brother. Doug had figured their parents were dead, but they could have just as easily been in jail.

  Perhaps the loss of her brother was surging up at the most unexpected moment to blindside her, just as it did to him. Ben was the only family she had and Doug had taken that away from her. As if he had forgotten his culpability.

  Doug watched Sabine stride past the unit number she’d given him, the one he would have been able to see directly into. She went three units down, unlocked it and slid up the door. Doug swallowed. He could pretend otherwise, but he had it bad when a woman using all her strength to open a garage door got to him.

  He tapped the steering wheel.

  Checked his phone.

  Sabine reappeared with a briefcase, which she set on the backseat. She clipped her seat belt and looked up. “What?”

  “You’re not going to tell me what that is?”

  “It’s a briefcase.”

  “Sabine—”

  “Oh, don’t say it like you’re so exasperated. I’m tired, Doug. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Can we at least try to be civil to each other for a while?”

  “Fine. Only because I’m tired, too. Your couch is not the most comfortable place in the world to sleep. Though, I have bunked down in a lot worse places.”

  “You didn’t use the guest room?”

  “You passed out. I wasn’t going to snoop around. I figured crashing on the couch was the least imposing way of keeping an eye on you.”

&n
bsp; “Keeping an eye on—”

  “Enough.” Doug held up his hand. “Let’s go back to the truce. I liked that idea.”

  Sabine folded her arms. “Truce.”

  “Good. It won’t be long, and then we can rest on the plane. When we get to my dad’s, there might be a little party going on, but we can sneak in through the kitchen.”

  *

  The little party, as Doug had put it, turned out to be a seventieth birthday bash for his father, General Andrew Richardson. Limousines lined the driveway. The entire place was lit up, and swing music from a live band poured out open windows. Doug drove their rental car—a midsize sedan this time—around the side of the house, through a brick archway to a rear courtyard.

  Sabine wished she was wearing the green floor-length gown she’d put in her suitcase on a whim. A formal dress could come in handy at any time and packing for any occasion had long been a habit. Then again, anything would be better than showing up in ash-smeared clothes and smelling like she’d run a marathon. At least she’d taken some time at the airport to find a bathroom and clean up a little bit. Though she’d have paid money for a shower.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded. Doug had valiantly tried to draw her into conversation during the flight, but she hadn’t been able to get past the mess of thoughts that had hummed in her head like a swarm of bees. Ben’s death, then Christophe’s, and the loss of any leads they might have had. It was late, and Sabine was ready for sleep. Maybe one day in the future she’d wake up and not feel just as tired as she had when she had gone to bed. As hard as she had pushed to find out what had happened to Ben, it had taken its toll.

  Doug got out the bags and opened her door. “You okay?”

  “You mean other than smelling like a gym sock?”

  He snorted. “You’re so pretty I don’t think that would make a difference.”

  He thought she was pretty?

  “Come on.” He helped her out.

  “I usually don’t need this much babying.”

  “You said it yourself. It’s been a rough time for you lately.”

  “I don’t like being helpless.”

  Doug snorted, pulling her bags by their handles, his duffel hanging over his shoulder. “Whatever you are, Sabine Laduca, it’s anything but helpless.”

  The door opened to an older woman with a stylish bob cut and blond highlights. She was comfortably round in her knit sweater and black slacks, and smiled wide at the sight of them. “I didn’t dare believe it until I saw it myself.”

  Doug dropped the luggage and swept her up into a hug. “Jean.” He kissed both her cheeks.

  “The prodigal son returns.”

  Doug laughed. “I haven’t been that bad, have I?”

  The older lady chuckled. “He’s done okay. Don’t worry yourself.”

  “You take good care of him.”

  “Yes, yes.” She ushered them into an extensive galley kitchen. “I’m more concerned with what you’ve brought with you, or should I say, whom?”

  Sabine held out her hand. “Sabine Laduca.”

  “I know, darling. I’m Jean Pepper.” The hand that clasped hers wasn’t altogether soft, but it was warm. Sabine imagined the woman was much like a grandmother should be and had to push away a pang of something she didn’t want to think about.

  “Your brother had nothing but good things to say about you.”

  Sabine sucked in a breath, not knowing what to say. A lot of Ben’s attachment to her had been because of what had happened to their parents. She’d loved Ben, but it was strange to meet someone who knew of her. So much for living a low-key life.

  Thankfully Doug came to her rescue. He probably read her discomfort. Why he felt it necessary to put his hand on the small of her back was anyone’s guess. Still, it was nice to have him stand shoulder to shoulder with her almost like they were a team. “I’m going to show Sabine upstairs so she can settle in.”

  Jean glanced between them as though she knew a secret. “Your tux is hanging from the closet door in your room.”

  “Does he know I’m here?”

  “I decided to surprise him. He’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t come.”

  Doug nodded to Jean and grabbed all the bags again. “I’ll be back down shortly.”

  Sabine didn’t offer to carry any of the bags. He’d been adamant the few times she had tried to pull even one, giving her some ridiculous spiel about being perfectly capable. Apparently he didn’t get that she was just as able.

  Doug led her up a wide staircase with rich red carpet, wood paneling and portraits on the walls. The whole place was permeated with the musk of old money, while the bulk of her childhood consisted of mediocre foster homes, some not as nice as others. Sabine liked nice things, but this place made her want to take her shoes off at the door.

  They passed a ballroom filled with glitzy people. When Doug cleared his throat, Sabine blinked and hurried to catch up. “Did you grow up here?”

  He shook his head as they climbed. “We moved around a lot—you know, military family and all. When my dad got promoted and assigned to the Pentagon, we stayed. I was sixteen.”

  His voice had cracked. She waited until he was ready to say more.

  “That was the summer my mom died.” Their eyes met. “Her cancer snuck up on all of us, and it was over almost as fast as it had come.”

  “I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

  At least he had a mom for that long. Sabine had neither parent and barely remembered more than the last day they’d all been together, though she’d been nine. That day was still etched into her brain, never to be erased.

  Doug left her in a room that was feminine but not over-the-top, with floor-to-ceiling drapes and a four-poster bed. He walked away muttering about simpering crowds and being choked by his own collar.

  She smiled. Too antsy to rest, despite being exhausted, Sabine decided Doug might need some moral support downstairs. After all, there was a formal dress in her bag.

  She headed for the bathroom.

  *

  Fresh from his four-minute shower, Doug walked downstairs still tying the bow tie of his tuxedo. It was an instrument of torture. He really should burn the thing. If his uniform hadn’t been in his closet in Texas where he lived on base, he’d have worn that.

  He smoothed down the front of the jacket, took a deep breath and pushed open the double doors. The place was loud and bright, full of senators, businesspeople and high-ranking military personnel. His father held court at the far end of the room, surrounded by eager ears and fat wallets.

  Doug would rather be upstairs with Sabine. They could have watched a ball game or a movie. He could have taken his dad for a round of golf in the morning. He wasn’t going to tell the old man that, if it hadn’t been for Sabine, Doug probably wouldn’t even be here.

  People turned to look as he crossed the room. Doug refused champagne from more than one waiter with a silver tray, but, despite his size, what probably struck them was the resemblance between father and son. With his dad being a well-known general, it was a wonder Doug didn’t get in more trouble on covert missions. The only difference between them, other than age, was the lighter brown of Doug’s skin from his Caucasian mother.

  He liked that she was still with him, in that way, but he’d rather have her.

  The general looked up as he approached. His father’s dark green jacket gleamed with buttons and medals. His face crinkled and laugh lines emerged on his chocolate-colored skin. “Douglas!”

  The cigar smoke was strong and made his eyes water. Doug smiled while his dad pounded him on the back. “So where is this mystery woman you chased all the way across the country?”

  People around them stopped to look at something.

  “She’s upstairs resting.”

  The music also stopped, and the general’s bushy white eyebrows rose. “Resting, huh?”

  Doug turned around. Sabine was in the doorway, and the room grew still and quiet as peop
le turned to get a look at her in a floor-length dark green dress. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in a riot of waves and curls. She was beautiful.

  The general clapped him on the back. “Does she know she’s the one?”

  SEVEN

  It was too late for second thoughts. Sabine pasted on a smile and crossed the room. The music started up again, and she waved off a waiter’s offer of champagne. Rarely did she find herself out of her depth, but she felt it here in a roomful of— Was that the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff? Sabine was pretty sure she’d seen him on CNN last week.

  With a polite nod she made her way to where Doug stood with a bald older African-American man who was a few inches shorter than Doug, but no less wide. General Richardson was a formidable sight with all those medals pinned to his jacket. Sabine raised her chin as he met her eyes and said something to Doug that she was too far away to hear.

  Someone grabbed her arm. Before the threat even fully registered, instinct and training made her react with a spin, ready to strike back at her attacker.

  “Whoa, take it easy…. Elena Sanders?”

  The name brought with it a rush of memory and emotion, and Sabine lowered her hands. An attack in front of a bunch of armed military servicemen and servicewomen wasn’t likely.

  She blinked at the man in front of her. “Mr. Adams?”

  It had been years since she’d seen anyone from the days when she had trained with the CIA, and here she was, face-to-face with the man who’d given her a fail on her weapons proficiency test. She’d retaken it twice. The years had turned Steve Adams’s dark hair to silver at the temples and had deepened the lines around his eyes.

  A new wariness was there, emphasized when he scanned the area around them and leaned closer. “What are you doing here? You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Sabine made a point to glance at his grip on her arm. There would probably be a bruise tomorrow. When he let her go, she backed up, ready to rip into him for manhandling her for no reason. “It’s a party. What do you think I’m doing here?”

  Doug stepped up beside her. “Everything okay, Sabine?”

  “Sabine?” Steve asked.