The boy’s chin bobbed in silent affirmation.
“I’ve been out of town and food is a little scarce around here.” He added an extra dose of persuasion to his voice. “What do you say we let her sleep a little longer while you and I go pick up something for breakfast?”
Indecision crossed the boy’s features, and Rhy threw in a little challenge as an extra temptation. He crossed his arms. “You look pretty smart, but how are you at stealth?”
Alex’s big blue eyes blinked. “What’s stealth?”
“Stealth is being able to do something without anyone knowing you’re there.”
Alex cocked his head. “Like when Mom and me play hide ’n’ seek?”
The kid was sharp. Rhy nodded. “Something like that.”
“Mom never finds me.” Pride lifted the boy’s shoulders.
Rhy grinned. “Then you must be good at being stealthy. That’s a very important skill for a man to have. Are you good enough to go upstairs and gather some clothes and shoes to wear without waking your mom?”
Alex nodded eagerly.
Rhy grunted. “Are you sure? It takes a lot of concentration.”
The light of eager anticipation brightened Alex’s eyes. “I can do it.”
Rhy dropped his arms to his sides. “Okay, sport. I’ll wait here for you. Remember, concentrate on being completely quiet, and here’s a tip. Don’t spend any more time than you need to. Get your stuff and get out. You can get dressed down here.”
The thud of Alex’s bare feet as he spun down the hall and pounded up the stairs spelled imminent defeat for Rhy’s plan. He shook his head and smiled as he crossed the room to retrieve his cell phone. Oh, well. The exercise wasn’t a complete loss. If nothing else, he’d laid the groundwork for a manly bonding with Nicky’s son. When dealing with a strong woman with her own agenda, a man needed allies.
Rhy punched in a number and propped the phone between shoulder and ear as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Alex surprised him by thumping down the steps before the call had rung once. The boy skidded to a stop in the kitchen doorway with a dimpled smile on his face and a pile of clothing clutched to his chest.
“Whatcha got, boss?” Lyndsay’s deep voice sounded in Rhy’s ear.
“Hold on a second.” He lifted a brow at Alex. “Is she awake?”
Alex shook his head. “No, I’m stealth. She’s still sleeping.”
A glance at the ceiling provided no proof. “How can you be sure? Maybe she was pretending.”
The boy’s nose wrinkled in that habit he shared with Nicky. “But she was snoring.”
A bark of laughter escaped Rhy. He directed Alex to the hall bath to change into his clothes, then spoke into the phone. “I’m heading over to the office for a few minutes. I need you to come sit on the condo until I get back.”
“Do you think Everson knows they’re with you?”
“No, but I’m taking the boy with me. Nicky is still asleep. If she wakes up and finds him gone… Let’s just say I don’t trust her.”
Bright rays of sunlight brought Nicky from her doze. The pink streaks of dawn had stained the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window when last she noticed. She rolled to her side and instant fear fired her sluggish mind at the empty bed beside her. Flipping off the covers, she yanked on leggings and a heavy sweatshirt and jammed her feet into her running shoes before bursting into the hallway.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted her, and she rushed down the stairs. “Alex.” The gripping terror intensified when she received no answer. She hurried to the kitchen, which was as empty as the den and office she passed on her way. “McLean!” No response rang out from the man who had caused her bones to melt with a simple kiss. Only the quiet hum of the refrigerator broke the complete silence.
Nicky hesitated in the kitchen doorway, her heart in her throat, until she spotted the pad of paper on the counter beside an unused coffee mug. Crossing the room, she frowned at the bold scrawl of McLean’s note announcing he’d taken Alex along to check out a few things and would be back with breakfast in an hour. His instruction demanding she stay put closed the brief note signed simply “Rhy.”
She ground her teeth and fought the adrenaline crash of relief as she snatched up the mug to pour herself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, she polished off an overripe banana from the bowl on the table and glared at McLean’s note. Obviously, he thought keeping Alex at his side would ensure she’d be here when he returned. Technically, he was right. She wouldn’t go anywhere without her son, but if she decided they would be safer striking out on their own, Rhyder McLean would find out damned quick what she thought of his commands.
In the meantime, Alex was safe with McLean. There was one place Nicky might get some answers about where Jonathan had gone. She dumped the dregs of her coffee in the sink, rinsed the mug, and exited the town house through the front door. At the end of the walkway, she broke into a jog.
Being in the capital again after so many years was strange. Her trip back to the east coast for her father’s funeral several days ago didn’t count. She’d been too numb to notice the familiar surroundings then, but she wasn’t numb now. In fact, she had to fight not to feel too much. Her normally organized thought processes were fractured, flying in a thousand different directions.
Too many urgent issues pulled her in different directions: Alex’s safety, fear of Jonathan showing up at any moment, grief over her father’s death, Paul’s belief that Jonathan was responsible for her father’s murder, Paul and Joyce facing a media storm, and on top of it all, Rhyder McLean’s disturbing presence.
Like so many jagged-edged shards of broken glass, the competing concerns sliced at her mind. Sluggish from the numerous cuts, she’d been operating on pure emotion. That wouldn’t do. Sometime during the dark hours before she’d finally fallen asleep in McLean’s guest room, she’d come to a liberating decision. The only way to function effectively was to ignore those issues without a direct link to finding Jonathan. Everything else would sort itself out later.
On the surface, figuring out where Jonathan was hiding seemed like an impossible undertaking. Nicky knew firsthand to what lengths a person could go to stay hidden. With that in mind, she’d take Mclean’s help, no matter how urgently her inner voice warned her to avoid contact with the handsome security specialist.
Years on the run made her wary and watchful. As she ran along the damp streets, already heavy with the morning’s traffic, her eyes scanned constantly. The prickly sensation that usually warned her when something wasn’t right was noticeably absent, but just to be safe, she changed direction often, crisscrossing neighborhoods and backtracking more than once.
Ten minutes later, she left the bustle of morning rush hour behind. Slowing her pace to a brisk walk, she passed an occasional pedestrian, all the while moving closer to the brick-front home she remembered as if it had been only hours since she last stepped over its threshold. At the end of the walkway, she hesitated, staring at the well-tended brownstone, unsure of her reception.
Maggie Burke, Jonathan’s longtime housekeeper, had always been loyal to him. Yet she’d treated Nicky with respect and gentleness during their short marriage, especially at the end. The housekeeper’s kindness and consideration in the days before she fled Washington had made remaining in Jonathan’s presence bearable, if not pleasant.
Nicky climbed the steps and pressed a finger to the doorbell. Faint chimes tolled beyond the thick, oak door. Jonathan wasn’t in residence, if the reports were to be believed. There was no reason for her chest to be constricting painfully, yet her heart clipped along at a manic pace. She wiped the sweat from her palms onto her leggings.
When the door opened, the thin face of the woman who’d served Jonathan’s mother before him bore a smile both welcoming and sad. Despite more than five years of absence as well as a legal divorce, Maggie addressed Nicky as she always had. “Good morning, Mrs. Everson.”
Nicky forced a smile. “Hello, Maggie.”<
br />
The older woman held the door open, inviting Nicky to enter. “He knew you’d come.”
Instant dread made Nicky’s legs weak. She gripped the doorjamb with grasping fingers and darted her alarmed gaze about the foyer. “He’s here?”
“No.” Maggie shook her head, and her eyes held apology. “I’m sorry. No, he’s not here.”
Relief flooded as Nicky stepped inside and waited while Maggie closed the door. “You said he expected me? What did he say?”
“He didn’t actually tell me anything.” Maggie crossed the foyer to the guest closet, removed her purse from the shelf within, and returned. “I’m sure you’ve heard Mr. Everson is in some trouble. The police were here.”
The knowledge that her father’s files had been the catalyst to Jonathan’s current troubles was a living, breathing thing between them, yet no condemnation showed in the older woman’s eyes. Instead, they dulled with a sort of weary acceptance, and Nicky was torn between her justifiable hatred for her ex-husband and compassion for the woman who had, for all practical purposes, raised him from the time he was a young boy.
Unfortunately, nothing Nicky could say would relieve the woman’s fear and pain. Nicky had her own to deal with, and time was of the essence. “I know this is difficult for you, but I’m concerned for my son.”
The woman’s faded, gray eyes flared in surprise, and her voice dropped to a breathless whisper. “There was a child?”
Nicky nodded.
Maggie’s eyes slid shut, and her shoulders slumped.
Sorrow bloomed in Nicky’s heart. If life with Jonathan hadn’t fallen into the realm of nightmares, Alex would have been the closest thing to a grandchild this kind woman would ever have. But then, if things had been different, Alex would never have been conceived.
“Do you know where Jonathan is?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.” Maggie pulled an envelope from her purse and held it out.
Nicky’s heart skipped, recognizing Jonathan’s personal stationery, complete with the embossed E in the corner. Her hand shook as she closed her fingers on the creamy parchment.
“I found that in my coat pocket the morning Mr. Everson left.” Maggie indicated the envelope with a jut of her chin. “The police had a search warrant, but they didn’t go through my purse, and I didn’t say anything.” Her lips thinned in distaste. “I figured it was private.”
The expensive vellum crinkled within Nicky’s clenched fingers, and the world dropped away. Awareness contracted until all that remained was her name scrawled in Jonathan’s bold hand. Bony fingers of menace closed around her throat. Her airway closed off, and she swallowed painfully just as insistent pounding rattled the door and made her jump.
The doorbell chimed, and Maggie crossed the tiled floor to answer the summons while Nicky folded the envelope in quarters. She tucked Jonathan’s note inside the wide strap of her sports bra. If the police had returned for another search, she didn’t want her only potential link to finding Jonathan confiscated.
Nicky’s fingers had scarcely finished smoothing the material of her sweatshirt before the door swung open to reveal a furious Rhyder McLean. Ruddy color stained his sharp cheekbones, and his eyes blazed blue hot as they pinned her to the spot. She was surprised she didn’t burst into flames from the heat they generated.
“May I help you?” Maggie inquired, unfazed by the angry man who all but filled the doorway.
His fierce gaze softened considerably as it shifted to the housekeeper.
“My name is Rhyder McLean. I came looking for…my friend, Nicky.” The tight smile he shot at Nicky warned he expected her to go along with the deception, or else.
Nicky laid his pretext to waste without hesitation. “What are you doing here, and where is Alex?”
“He’s safe.” All pretense of friendliness vanished from his face. McLean’s dark brows formed an angry slash above his furious eyes. “I left precise instructions for you to stay put, not go running around the streets of the city.”
Nicky stiffened. “You had me followed?”
His bland stare dismissed her question as ridiculous. “Senator Hawley hired Global Shield. If you have a problem, talk to him.” He turned a smile on Maggie. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have a few questions about the possible whereabouts of your employer.”
“I already told the police everything I know. Which is nothing.” Maggie dismissed him. “I wish you well, Mrs. Everson, but I can’t be of any more help to you.”
“I understand. Thank you. For everything.”
Nicky rested her hand on Maggie’s arm and squeezed in silent gratitude for her kindness, both past and present. Shared knowledge of dark days, five years removed but not forgotten, hung between them. Without a word, Maggie stepped back and gripped the doorknob, silently demanding they leave.
Nicky pressed a hand over Jonathan’s note, safely tucked beneath her clothing. Maggie had taken a chance withholding the envelope from the police. Whether its contents would help or not, neither of them knew.
McLean’s heavy footfalls followed Nicky outside to his waiting SUV. He spun on her the moment they were inside. “What the hell was that all about?”
She snapped her seat belt shut. “Where is my son?”
He dismissed her question with a disdainful snort. “He’s at my town house with one of my men. Answer the question. What kind of help did the housekeeper give you?”
“Help?”
“Drop the dunce act. I’m not fooling around here. Everson is responsible for my brother’s death. Your father’s, too, if the senator is right. I mean to make him pay, but I can’t do that if I can’t find him. Every hour he’s gone lessens the odds of tracking him down.”
She flinched, and as if sensing the talons of fear that clawed at her soul, he cursed.
“We’ll find him,” McLean added with less heat. “But battling each other is only slowing us down.”
Nicky knew that, but five-plus years on the run made going forward on her own an unconscious habit. Without a word, she slid her hand beneath her sweatshirt and withdrew the envelope. He raised a questioning brow but remained silent as she slipped her finger under the seal and tore open the flap.
She unfolded the single sheet of parchment and read Jonathan’s familiar handwriting.
“It’s from him?”
She nodded.
“What does it say?”
“Two words. ‘Soon, darling.’” Surging fear lashed at her. An involuntary shudder coursed through her body, and she dropped her hands to her lap. She stared at the words, and her breath came in pants. Nausea bubbled. “Oh, shit.” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Take deep breaths.”
She gulped air.
“Nothing’s changed.” McLean kept his voice firm and logical. “You already knew he’d found you. That’s what the ring was all about.” His gaze dropped to the letter in her hand, his eyes shuttering briefly, before he looked at her once more. “But he no longer knows where you are, so don’t lose it now. He’s just trying to mess with you.”
Nicky needed several minutes before she got her roiling stomach under control. She clung to his logic like a lifeline. Terrorizing her at every opportunity was Jonathan’s style, but McLean was right. For whatever reason, Jonathan had missed his chance to grab her and Alex at the cabin. She wouldn’t give him another.
McLean’s phone rang, and she jumped. He unclipped the handset from the cradle on the dash and murmured one-word responses to the caller’s comments. She remained lost in her thoughts until the sharpening of his voice drew her attention.
“When?”
Nicky’s anxiety grew as she watched him listen silently.
“Okay, let me know as soon as he calls in.”
“What?”
McLean replaced the phone on the clip. “It may be nothing.”
She waved him off. “But?”
He hesitated then sighed. “One of my men went in for a close
r look at a property in Maine that used to belong to Everson’s mother. The property was sold about ten years ago, but…” He shrugged. “It’s a connection, so I had my man check it out. Seems there are two men living in the cabin. One of them is a six-foot blond.”
“Jonathan.” Her voice broke just above a whisper.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
She nodded but couldn’t help the kernel of hope sprouting in her soul. They’d arrived at McLean’s neighborhood when she thought to ask, “Who owns the cabin now? Do you know?”
“According to the records, a Simon White bought the property. He’s still on record as the owner.” He didn’t glance at her.
Nicky dug her fingers into his arm, and he jerked his head her way. “He’s there.” Desperate hope made her claim stilted and shaky. “Simon White was one of the men Jonathan was doing business with when I left.”
McLean brought the big vehicle to a halt by the curb in front of his town house with a jolt. “You’re sure?” He shifted into park.
She released his arm and nodded furiously. “I’m sure. His name was mentioned several times in the months before I left.”
He grabbed up the phone and began punching in numbers. “Describe him.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” He brought the phone to his ear. “Hold on a second.” He levered the phone away from his mouth. “Why not?”
“I never actually saw him.”
He was silent for a full five seconds, then he swore under his breath.
“How many Simon Whites can there be out there?” Nicky attributed his silence to doubt.
“You’d be surprised.” He checked his watch.
“I don’t believe in this kind of coincidence.”
“Neither do I.” McLean spoke into the phone once more. “Has Tim checked in yet?” By his response, the caller’s answer was negative. “Okay, when he does, tell him I’m on my way. Maintain visual contact, and report any movement directly to me.”
Chapter Ten
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Rhy turned his head. Tim Burns, his second in command, stood at his side, his gaze locked on the empty staircase of the safe house where Nicky and Alex had disappeared down the hallway upstairs.
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