The Mission (Clairmont Series Novel Book 2)

by L. J. Wilson

  “Yeah. But we get to do it.”

  A long, hard hug ensued between Aaron and Jake—Jake who’d last stood at his brother’s sentencing, everyone sure that they’d be old men by the time any public meeting took place again. Alec was still reeling from the unraveling of his brother’s fate, and he suspected Aaron was doing the same. A glance passed between Troy and Alec. “How you doing, little brother?”

  “Can’t say I’ll be relocating to Utah anytime soon, but watching Jake work was cool. I stayed out of trouble, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’m not,” Alec said. Then he play-slapped his youngest brother’s shoulder. “Well, maybe I was curious. Anyway, I’m glad nearly all of us are here.”

  Jake’s arm hung loosely around Aaron’s shoulder. “Honor and Aaron have been keeping us up to speed. If we’re on the verge, or even on the trail to finding out what happened to Mom and Pop… Well, I told them to film around me for a while.”

  “You can do that?” Jess said.

  Jake smiled at Jess, who he met when she’d once interviewed him—an offbeat assignment for the investigative photo-journalist. Alec had been helping out with bodyguard detail. Jake had actually introduced them, a photojournalist and ex SEAL working the opposite ends of stardom. As it turned out, one of them needed an East Coast place to crash. The other had a spare bedroom.

  “The producers didn’t love it and the director had a meltdown,” Jake said, answering her. “But I told them there was a family emergency. It’s a movie.” He grasped Alec’s shoulder with his other hand. “I may live it a few thousand miles away, but you guys are my life.”

  A ruckus, separate from the fan buzz and flashing smart phones, caught Alec’s attention. “Damn, hang on a second.” He hustled over to the sergeant. “She’s with us,” he said as Kiera made a failed attempt to gain access. The sergeant and Alec’s gaze skimmed over Kiera as she walked toward the group, wheeling her suitcase along. On the plane, she’d worn a short floral print sundress. Alec had noticed because as much as he tried to avoid it, her bare knee kept leaning into his. She’d returned now in the bulky gathered skirt and long-sleeved blouse buttoned high at the neck. Her long hair was neatly braided. Alec supposed the change in costume was deliberate, maybe even helpful. It drew curious looks from all the Clairmonts and Jess. “Kiera’s going to give us a hand with the information we already have. Isn’t that right, Kiera?” Alec forced the question, feeling he’d delivered on his end. It was time for her to start talking.

  She was preoccupied, looking curiously at the fawning crowd. Then she looked at the Clairmont brothers, who had doubled in number since she went to the restroom. She was fixated on Jake. But what person wasn’t in this insane square footage?

  “He’s Jake, isn’t he?” she said, pointing.

  “Yeah. But let’s work on getting us out of here. I’ll get you an autograph later,” Alec said. He started for the sergeant, planning an exit strategy.

  “What would I want with his autograph?”

  Something in Kiera’s tone made Alec pay closer attention and he turned back. “Lots of people do. He is Jake Clairmont.”

  “Movie star extraordinaire,” Troy said, laughing. “Maybe she’d rather have a lock of his hair.”

  “Shut it,” Jake said.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about movie stars,” Kiera said, which made sense to Alec. “But I do know Jake is the one with a twin... a sister.”

  They stood frozen in a circle, the world buzzing around them. “That’s right” Alec said. He took a step closer. “How do you know that?”

  “There are letters from your mother to mine. I shouldn’t have read them, but I did,” she said. “In them she talks about Jake. But the parts about your sister and her father, I believe that’s what you’ve come to Good Hope to learn about.”

  1984

  Nickel Springs

  In the summer of 1984 vacationers were fewer in number at the Rose Arch Inn. It was a change from the two previous years where guests had crammed into the popular, upstate resort. This was both good and bad. Evie worked less hours preparing meals for the dining room, but it left her with more time to think and to worry. Sebastian hadn’t been back for nearly five months. He’d never been gone so long. For two months there’d been no word at all, not a speck of information. Usually Evie received message at the caretaker’s cottage where they lived on the property. They were short notes from Sam, saying that Sebastian was safe or indicating when he’d be home.

  From Evie and Sebastian’s first trip to La Carta to the two sons now playing on the edge of Lake Butterfield, they’d been whirlwind, adventurous years. The serene setting almost served as a façade—or just impossible to find if you were looking for Sebastian Christos. After completing his work with SAM22’s Delta Forces, Sebastian was offered a government job. It came with specialized training, honing the street-smart skills on which he’d survived. Then, two years ago, Sebastian earned a pilot’s license, though he didn’t talk much about how it affected his work. “An international courier service,” he’d said to Evie. “If anyone asks, that’s what I do, pilot a Cessna that delivers documents and small cargo to various destinations south of the equator.”

  The violence of South American guerilla forces had declined, but it was still a turbulent, drug-rich landscape. With Sam as his handler, Sebastian had proven himself to be a valuable asset. Evie couldn’t say she loved his chosen profession, but she understood Sebastian’s need to be of service. Reluctantly, she had agreed to his precarious job—informant, courier, government security detail. He’d also been adamant about properly providing for his soon-to-be family, and Evie found it difficult to argue his desire. Several years removed from those choices, she sat lakeside now in an Adirondack chair, admiring the best parts of her life with Sebastian—Alec and Aaron.

  While Sebastian settled into his government role—home for spans of time, gone for others—he and Evie had also spearheaded a different project abroad. They’d taken it upon themselves to redirect the efforts of Reverend Duncan Kane. Part of bringing Sebastian’s initial mission to a close included telling SAM22 about the Reverend’s involvement. In turn, Sam had wanted to make the Reverend answer for his crimes. Sam, who Evie had never met in person, wanted to raid Good Hope, publically outing the Reverend and pulling back the curtain on the sect’s unsavory activities. Distraught by the idea of destroying a common life Fathers of the Right members truly believed in, Evie objected.

  She had a better idea.

  Instead of exposing the Reverend—so messy and public—why not make him pay by implementing the good he’d purported? There were willing men in Good Hope and Sebastian to help oversee much needed charitable efforts in La Carta. With Sam’s assistance, it had panned out better than Evie anticipated. The way Sebastian had told the story, Reverend Kane was whiter than angels’ wings when faced with the prospect of exposure and prison time. He’d readily succumbed, going on to play the role he’d professed. Under Sam and Sebastian’s watchful eye, Reverend Kane used the Fathers of the Right to draw attention to the needs of La Carta and other villages. His appeal attracted the aid of honest charitable organizations—some religion based, some not. Sam, who wielded significant power, had been so impressed he’d secured matching government aid. Education, food, and decent medical help had made progress combating the drug-related means by which most people in La Carta survived.

  As for Good Hope, Evie had never gone back, though she did exchange letters with Hannah Blyth. It was her sole link to everything she’d left. Evie was at peace with it. Her life was in Nickel Springs—a government chosen spot where Sebastian and his sons were given the last name Clairmont. SAM22 had promised and delivered a great deal, but he was wary of Sebastian’s Greek mafia ties and enemies he might have made in South America. After Alec was born, he’d insisted on a fresh start and a blank life. Sam had even provided official credentials bearing the last name Clairmont. It was a secret, Evie supposed, her sons would accept as t
ruth. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, though she never discounted the necessity. She often promised herself that years from now, when they were adults, she would tell her sons the whole sordid story.

  In an effort not to tell a complete lie, Evie symbolically chose to use Neal. She never quite lost sight of the fact that she remained married to another man. She’d contemplated it now and again—going to Ezra, asking for a divorce. But she could never get past the turmoil it would create. She and Sebastian never spoke of it, their lives too complicated and delicately balanced to risk unwanted attention. The facts drew a reverent breath from Evie, who half smiled at three-year old Aaron. He stood on the muddy shoreline, waving a stick in her direction. Evie waved back, his green eyes sparkling just as she’d wished for and brighter than the lake water.

  As the afternoon wore on things grew quiet. Maybe too quiet. Grace had come by, a trustworthy teenage girl who worked prep in the kitchen. When things were slow she’d help Evie with the boys—a reprieve she didn’t mind. Aaron had fallen asleep, napping in a nearby pup tent, Alec and Grace fished from a rowboat a few feet off the dock. Evie was on the verge of dozing in the chair. A lazy June breeze floated through and the crunch of a branch stood out. In a split second Evie was on her feet. She didn’t look up but scanned the ground for something larger than the stick Aaron held earlier. Darting a few feet forward, she snatched up a fallen branch, prepared to swing.

  “Evie?”

  The voice belonged to a stranger. They led a solitary life in Nickel Springs. Aside from Grace and the Rose Arch staff—who didn’t make trips to the caretaker’s cottage—visitors were not rare but unheard of. The intruder came toward her—a solid looking, sizable man in a dark suit. Evie backpedaled toward the tent, gripping tighter to the branch. She wished she’d agreed to the dog Sebastian had wanted to get on his last trip home. Something large, something like a German Shepard or Rottweiler. Two boys were enough to manage, she’d argued. And forget the gun he’d once tried to leave in her possession. She wouldn’t hear of it. Now, Evie thought, she would have been wiser to listen—at least about the dog.

  “Evie, it’s all right,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s me. It’s Sam.”

  Evie was no longer so naïve. She didn’t know his voice. She’d never seen a picture of Sam. He might have fit Sebastian’s vague description, but so could fifty other men. He stopped several feet away, clearly aware of her uncertainty.

  “I swear, it’s me… SAM24 at last count. Thanks to Sebastian we’ve removed every ill-gotten surface to air missile clear to the edge of the rainforest.”

  She guessed it was supposed to be a show of proof. Then she remembered what real proof would look like. “Take off your shirt,” she instructed.

  “What?”

  “Your shirt—if you’re who you claim to be, take it off.”

  He nodded, unknotting his tie and discarding the suit jacket. Hurriedly, he unbuttoned a white dress shirt. He tossed them all onto the lakefront lawn, lastly yanking an undershirt over his head. Evie glanced at the water. Grace’s flummoxed expression stared back. Without being asked, the man turned his muscular frame. Evie could have easily lunged forward, cracking him across the head with the tree branch. Instead, she swallowed hard, not especially prepared for the seams of fleshy scars that crisscrossed his back.

  Sebastian had confided stories of Sam’s military past, his government life—among them a near-death lashing at the hands of the Northern Vietnamese. “Sam,” she said, dropping the branch. A flood of fear released and Evie moved toward him. He turned around, retrieving his clothes. But as he pulled on his undershirt, Evie stopped midstride. If the man who handled Sebastian—a person who operated in secret, with whom she’d never had a conversation—stood on her lawn… Well, it couldn’t be for any good reason.

  Two months later

  Evie’s initial reaction had been to walk into Butterfield Lake and reunite with Sebastian and her mother. Two small boys would allow no such reaction. Sam had done his best to explain, telling Evie that Sebastian had missed his last three check-ins. It was the reason she hadn’t received the usual updates via the courier. Then, about a week ago, Sam and his team received distressing news accompanied by stunning photos.

  A group of civilian workers had been taken hostage. They were on assignment, south of Bogota with AmeriTex, a large, stateside corporation contracted to help rebuild Colombia’s embattled infrastructure. According to Sam, Sebastian’s last mission had been to run recon in the area, help provide security. It had been considered a soft assignment, low risk. “After AmeriTex, Sebastian was out of there, on his way home,” Sam had said. An attack on the workers was a complete surprise. It wasn’t even guerrilla forces but a violent gang bred from the streets of a war-torn region. They’d wanted money from AmeriTex in exchange for their employees’ lives. Sam didn’t know if Sebastian had been identified as a government agent, but he assumed as much from the intel he’d finally received.

  “What intel?” Evie had asked.

  Photographs.

  At that point, Sam had given her a choice. Evie could take his word for it or she could look at the pictures herself. For two days Sam patiently waited, spending time with Sebastian’s sons. Evie finally said she was ready to see the photos. She’d sent the boys off with Grace, a visit to the local zoo. At the cottage’s kitchen table, Sam slid a folder in front of her. She opened it. The quake to Evie’s chin was immediate, the urge to vomit nearly overtaking her.

  Sebastian was chained to a pole, so bloodied she hardly recognized him. In truth, she was able to identify the leather band and emerald stone around his neck better than his face. But she knew the body, the scars, she knew it was him. From the pained expression on his face, she also knew he was alive. Evie clung to a glimmer of hope. Then Sam slid another photo in front her.

  “The, um… the higher ups at AmeriTex didn’t inform us of the ransom demand—not until it was too late. They thought keeping it under the radar would keep their guys safe. They paid the ransom—the thugs shot every one of their employees, all twenty-five. Dead men don’t talk. They can’t identify their captors. I’m so sorry, Evie.”

  Library book images from World War II clicked through Evie’s head, bodies from Nazi prison camps lying in a heap like discarded shoes. With trembling fingers, she traced the open eyes of one man in the pile, his arm twisted at an awkward, unreasonable angle. If the picture had been in color, she might have lost her mind right there. The green of Sebastian’s eyes stared lifelessly. It would have been the end, it would have been too much. “And where… where is he now?” she’d quietly asked.

  Sam hesitated.

  Evie looked up to see him blink back tears. “Sam?”

  “Afterward…” He cleared his throat, having to stop for a moment. “Afterward, the gang responsible for the whole heinous scene, they burned the bodies and building to the ground.”

  When Sebastian was away Evie was lonely, but she never felt alone. In the weeks following that changed. The Rose Arch Inn was a beautiful place, but because of their covert lives friends were no more than acquaintances. Evie thought of the envelope Sebastian had left her years ago. “It’s an extreme precaution—but a necessary one. If anything happens to me… if you find yourself alone here, open this.” Evie tore into the envelope as if the contents might tell her how to resurrect a dead Sebastian. Inside were two letters and a document. The document would put her in touch with Sam—no longer necessary. One was a letter to Evie. Reading it, a piece of Sebastian returned to her, the letter filled with emotion he was more likely to convey physically than verbally. It was a treasure amid deep tragedy. The second letter was for Bim and about Bim, the friend he’d wanted Evie to contact stateside. She considered Sebastian’s direction, but circumstance was different than when he’d given her the envelope on the freighter in Cartagena. She wasn’t penniless, naïve, or stranded in the harsh landscape of a foreign country. While Evie read and reread the letter from Sebastian to h
er, she put away the one regarding Bim. Taking her grief to a stranger was too awkward, though Evie did feel the need to express her sorrow to someone.

  Soon letters to Hannah became phone calls and phone calls a lifeline to another human being. Her old friend listened to Evie’s story, stunned and sympathetic. It didn’t take long for the calls to become a daily ritual. The conversations were more detailed than Hannah’s letters, telling Evie that much had changed in Good Hope. It was a less harsh, a more peaceful life. Ezra had been responsible for this. He was now their sect leader, essentially having switched roles with his father, who still led South American missions. The last part, of course, Evie already knew.

  More weeks passed and Hannah asked Evie to visit—the other way around wasn’t possible. “You know it’d be frowned upon, Evie—even a simple trip to a lakefront cottage. Tobias would never allow me to go alone, and he wouldn’t be willing to come with me.” Evie supposed not everything in Good Hope had changed. Overwhelmed by grief and two sons who required more energy than Evie had to give, she finally agreed. She hadn’t yet told her sons about their father. Aaron was too young to understand. Evie wasn’t sure how she might handle what was sure to be Alec’s catastrophic reaction. He’d so idolized Poppy. But the boys were used to long absences and that bought Evie time. For now, when Aaron climbed onto Evie’s lap, asking why she was so sad, she’d only answer that she missed “Poppy,” the curious name Sebastian’s sons had fallen into all on their own.

  When Evie arrived in Good Hope, Hannah was more than welcoming. Evie had no plans to visit anyone else or to make her presence known. It set needed boundaries for the trip. Initially, there was terrific comfort in being with Hannah. She was someone who at least knew of Sebastian, able to picture the man Evie spoke about. And she did talk about him—telling Hannah about their adventures in South America and settling into a more domestic routine in Nickel Springs, saying that she wouldn’t change a moment of it.