by Jean Oram
Catherine followed, running until she couldn’t any longer, her breathing so labored she thought her lungs would implode. With a hand on her arm, Jill kept pushing her forward, then into an open garage and on inside the attached home.
From the living room carpet, where he was stretched out, playing with his daughter, Devon Matson looked up in surprise.
“We’re not here,” Jill told him.
“Okay,” Devon said carefully. He got up, easing toward Catherine. “I’ve seen the movie Tangled. I know what a woman can do with a skillet.”
Catherine’s breath was coming out in a whistle, a terrified-animal sound. She didn’t want to stop moving, but her legs were burning, her lungs in pain.
“Maybe I should take this,” Devon said. He gently pulled the heavy cast-iron object from her fingers. Her whole arm ached from its weight and the intensity of her grip. She should have dropped the thing, as it had no doubt slowed her down. “That’s an interesting mark.” He touched a deep, shiny scratch along its bottom.
“She stopped a bullet with it,” Jill said. Her own hands were pressed to her knees and she was trembling. “She saved my life.” Jill straightened, swinging her arm as if holding the skillet, echoing the move Catherine had instinctively made when Bucket had squeezed the trigger.
She’d almost gotten Jill shot. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t put these innocent people at risk.
Catherine took a step back, deciding which door to use. The back. “I need to go.”
“No.” Devon grasped her shoulders. “You’re here. You’re safe.”
Little Abigail was toddling around the coffee table, chatting happily.
Catherine had put the girl in danger, as well as Xavier. Moments ago she’d stepped forward and asked to be shot. What had she been thinking?
“They may have seen us come here,” she said. “I have to leave!”
“Who?” Devon asked.
“I have a feeling they’re pretty busy at the moment,” Jill said.
An image of Zach slamming her cousin onto the floor, as if he’d made such moves before, shook her to the core. He’d called Jerry by name. How did Zach know all these people? She felt as though she was on the verge of hysteria, her perfect dream morphing into a nightmare.
“I need to leave.”
Devon kept an eye on her as he lifted his phone to his ear. Moments later he said, “Scott? We have a situation. Call Zach and Logan.”
Catherine was shaking her head. “No. No.” Her instinct was telling her to run. Run and never stop.
Devon set down his phone and nudged her over to the couch. “Jill, close the curtains, please.” He made Catherine sit. With tense muscles, she clutched the diaper bag and Xavier who was still strapped to her. “Just breathe. You’re safe here. Scott is coming.”
No. She shook her head.
She couldn’t trust anyone.
When flickers of flashing blue and red lights made their way through the front curtains, she saw her opportunity to flee and took it.
Zach was at Devon’s back door, waiting.
His cheek was throbbing from where Jerry had managed to land a hit. It wasn’t the first time he’d fought the man, but this time he’d been prepared, and had definitely come out on top. Between himself and Logan, the gangster had been cuffed and ready for Scott in mere seconds.
By then Catherine, Xavier and Jill had fled. Which was probably good. He hadn’t wanted Catherine or Xavier to see him pounding the crap out of one of their relatives. He’d had to act fiercely and quickly so he didn’t add to the deep scars Jerry had left the last time he’d underestimated the man.
Zach angled himself so he couldn’t be seen by anyone exiting the back door as Scott pulled up out front of Devon’s place.
Sure enough, the second the front door opened and Scott stepped in, Catherine was out the back.
Trust nobody.
“Need a ride?” he asked, as she approached the steps that led off the back deck.
Catherine came to a sudden stop, backing against the wall by the door, her hands splayed against its surface.
She was afraid of him.
“Jerry’s in custody. You’re safe.”
“He doesn’t work alone.” She was shivering, and Zach wasn’t sure if it was from shock, the cold or fear.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, taking a step closer. It was cold enough that she could get frostbite, her nose already red from the wind.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said quickly.
“That’s fine.” He eased back, hands out in front so she could see that he was unarmed.
“I trusted you.”
“And I trusted you,” he replied, feeling a sting of anger for how she’d kept all this from him, how he’d overlooked the signs.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything to you, either.”
“You told them I was here. You were holding me for them.” She was blinking rapidly, twitching. “You lied to me.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I’m out of the game, Catherine. I’m not involved. I just want to keep you safe. That’s why they sent you here, and that’s all I want to do.”
“No. You’re with them.”
“Catherine…” It was time to reveal his identity, but he never had before and the story stuck in his throat.
“I’m not like my family.” She was sobbing now, broken. “Just let me go.”
“I used to work with Simon, but I don’t any longer. I’ve retired.”
“I don’t care! I don’t date criminals.”
“No, you date agents,” he said calmly. “Simon is MI6. Myself? I was with an elite international agency. So was Logan. Simon came to the nightclub because he was working undercover. Same with Leo.”
Catherine was watching him out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t believe you.” But there was a wariness in her voice, as if she might want to believe. She just wouldn’t let herself.
“Why did Simon come here today?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is if I’m going to keep you safe.”
“That’s not your job.”
“He’s an active agent. It was a risk, coming to talk to you. He can’t be involved in your life, Catherine.”
“I let you in. I let Simon in. And look what happened! Just look!”
“I can keep you safe.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t keep you safe. I can’t keep anyone safe.”
“That’s not your job. I’m trained for this.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, like she was trying to block out a memory or thought. “Jill almost got shot. Because of me. Simon got run off the road. What if Xavier…” She shook her head again and, with a sharp breath in, closed her eyes.
“Catherine, I love you.”
She opened them again, those beautiful, pain-filled blue eyes. “This isn’t real. We don’t know each other. Not our true selves.”
“It is real. I know you. I know your heart. I fell for Catherine, not Patty. I love Catherine’s honesty and kindness. She is a good woman.”
“She isn’t real.”
“She is to me.”
Catherine stared at him as though wanting to believe. Then she ran past him, and Zach tipped his face to the gloomy gray sky, forcing himself to let her go.
Zach stood outside the hallway that led to the jail cell in the Blueberry Springs police station. Lately it seemed it was getting a lot of use.
“Logan,” Zach said quietly, calling the man over.
“What’s up?”
“The Rochester gang. Is that cover still active?”
Logan narrowed his eyes. A few years back several agents had created a pretend gang as a cover. It was secretive and deadly, taking credit for acts of terrorism and abuse, building an air of mystery around it that made most criminals uneasy.
“With assistance from the press, agents
have been maintaining the story.”
Alive and well. Zach now had a cover he could step into.
Logan warned, “You’re no longer an active agent.”
“I’m just going to speak his language in there.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the jail cell.
“I hear that being court-martialed is worse than a month of solitary surveillance.”
“Trust me. It’s fine.”
“Trust has nothing to do with this.”
“I’m not asking you to participate.”
Logan sighed. “You know I have your back, but I deny all knowledge of whatever you’re about to do.”
“That’s fine.” Zach flagged down Scott. “Can I have a moment with the perp, please?”
“So polite,” Logan muttered under his breath, as Scott moved toward the holding cell. “You saying ‘please’ should be a tip-off that you’re up to no good.”
“A man can be polite and still have good intentions,” Zach replied.
“Not if his name is Zach Forrester.” Logan slipped into the room that would allow him to watch Zach through a two-way mirror. He caught the door before it closed, saying, “Do you need a babysitter in there?”
“I’ve got this.” Zach cracked his knuckles, mentally planning his approach.
“If I’m court-martialed, I know nothing. You’re on your own.”
“Fair enough.”
Zach let himself into the interrogation room, noting how they were always the same. He could be in Tel Aviv or New York. Heck, he could be at the South Pole and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference from inside this room.
Jerry was led in, his hands and ankles shackled together. Scott cuffed him to the table, which was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. There was no need, but Zach supposed the small-town officer wasn’t used to the stuff he was. Scott probably dealt more with people pulling U-turns in the middle of Main Street than with international criminals.
“You a cop now?” Jerry asked. He had a bruise under his eye, courtesy of Zach, and a red-stained bandage wrapped around his forehead, courtesy of Jill and her knife throwing skills. “Because you still fight dirty.”
Zach said nothing, simply spun the metal chair around so its back was facing Jerry’s side of the table, then straddled it.
“I’m still with Rochester.”
“You were never with them. You’re a cop.”
“Here’s how this is going to go…” Zach said smoothly.
“You don’t get to tell me squat. Just send me back across the pond.”
“And that’s where I think we should deal with this. On your home turf.”
Jerry stilled, eyes narrowing.
“Let me lay it out for you. If you ever even think of touching Patty, your pretty girlfriend, Tricia, is gone. And that little boy you think nobody knows about over in Ireland? He’s gone, too.”
Jerry awkwardly lurched to his feet, his chains rattling and restricting him. “You don’t get to threaten me.”
“Patty’s with me. You even look at her, Rochester comes after you. It’s that simple.” Zach was calm, his anger giving his voice a hard, almost lethal tone that had Jerry resizing him.
“You’re not with them,” the man said, his voice a tad too high. He was sweating, dampness forming at the edge of his hairline.
“I’m worse than just with them.” Zach leaned forward, lowering his voice as he stared at Jerry. He gave that a moment to sink in. When Jerry’s Adam’s apple bobbed, Zach added, “Like I was saying, if you or any of your family or associates come near Patty ever again—and I will know if you do—we’ll empty that secret bank account.”
“It’s no secret. Everybody has one of those. And you’re bluffing.”
“I’m not talking about the Swiss one. I’m talking about your secret one.”
Jerry paled. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!”
“No,” Zach said, “I think you don’t know who you’re dealing with. Let’s recap so I’m sure you have it. Patty is under the protection of Rochester. Don’t mess with her. Do you understand?”
The man stared at him, his beady eyes calculating, scheming. He was angry for being cornered, for losing ground in his own game.
“Do you understand?” Zach repeated slowly.
“You really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Zach moved to the window, giving it a light tap. On the other side, Logan tapped back. Zach gave a small nod.
“What are you doing?” Jerry asked nervously. “What was that about?”
“I hope you weren’t planning to do anything with the funds in your secret-secret bank account.” He moved toward the door. “How fast can you get back to the UK?” He turned to consider the sweating man. “Faster than Rochester can find your girlfriend?” When Jerry seethed silently, Zach added casually, “I heard you’re a betting man.”
“No!” the man yelled.
Zach continued to the door. He gave it a light rap to indicate he was ready to leave.
Jerry let out a string of curses. “I get it! You win. I understand. I understand! Just leave me alone and I’ll leave Patty alone.”
The latch unlocked with a click and Zach moved through the door, letting it close behind him. There were just a few more loose ends to deal with before he could show Catherine that, with him, she was safe.
15
Catherine sat on the bus with Xavier in her lap, fighting tears. Her son was heavy in her arms. The bus lurched out of town, the holiday decorations cheerily brightening the light posts all the way down Main Street.
Zach hadn’t tried to stop her. He’d let her walk right out of his life.
He’d said he loved her, then had let her walk away.
Which was good. She couldn’t stay, couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone.
But a spy? They were all really spies?
Was that why Zach had a talent with all things security related?
She rubbed her eyes.
He thought he loved her, but he didn’t really know her, just like she didn’t know him.
She leaned further into her seat. She didn’t want to think or feel anymore. She just wanted to get far, far away.
She’d find shelter. Maybe hide in a hotel lobby or hospital waiting room for a few hours, always moving until the night was through. Then find a new town and a new way to become invisible.
How long and how far would she have to go to cover her trail this time?
She had taken Leo’s suggestion to marry Zach and come to Blueberry Springs. And she’d been found. What if Jerry had pried the info out of Leo by ruthless means?
It wasn’t worth getting close to people. Not when ruthless men like Jerry were still a part of her life.
Not when everyone was full of deception. Leo. Simon. Zach. Even Logan. She was surrounded by agents. But how much was real? How much was a cover?
Had Simon infiltrated her family’s dealings with her help?
He hadn’t loved her. He’d used her. Then left her.
A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on Xavier’s nose, causing him to blink.
She’d let Simon in and he’d used her, put her in danger.
But he had also given her Xavier.
Zach would have been a good father.
But he’d kept things from her.
Just like she’d kept things from him.
Had Simon really planned for her to come here? Was Zach really a retired agent? Or was that all a lie, a cover-up? She shuddered at the memory of how he’d grabbed Jerry and pummeled him without hesitation. He’d said Jerry’s name. And he’d defeated the man who always came out on top.
Plus put a target on his own back in the process, most likely.
To keep her safe.
He’d had to fight a killer in his home because of her.
Catherine barely held in the sobs as the bus weaved around the high mountain curves and switchbacks, heading toward the city, where she could lose herself
in the crowds, disappear from Zach’s life.
A puff of air touched her cheek as someone settled in the bus seat beside her.
Catherine froze, eyes darting that direction.
It was Ginger.
“Hey.” The woman looked grim. “I’d been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“There’s not going to be a reception,” Catherine said, trying to rein in her emotions. The pale blue dress she’d ordered would no longer be needed.
“Zach’s a retired spy. He used to work with Logan.”
“I don’t care.”
“If I’d have told you, it would have changed things. It takes these guys time to adjust back into civilian life. Zach was sucking at it, and Logan was worried that he’d…” Ginger shook her head of auburn curls. “Zach’s changed, you know.” Her expression softened. “I tried everything to find the right woman for him and failed. Then you came along.” She reached out and touched one of Xavier’s perfect little curls. “He loves you. Both of you.”
“I’m not coming back. What we had…” Her voice had cracked and she abandoned that line of thought. It was best not to think about it, because it made her feel worse, like she wasn’t making the right decision for the right reasons. “It’s not safe.” She looked at Xavier. It truly wasn’t. She had to protect not only herself and her son, but Zach, too. Jerry could have easily gotten the upper hand in that fight earlier. If anything had happened to Zach or Logan it would have been her fault. Jill, too.
And it almost had.
Catherine closed her eyes, trying not to think, not to feel.
“Zach and Logan can help,” Ginger said softly.
“My family—people know where I am now. It’s not safe for me to stay.”
“This is what they do.”
“It’s my problem.” Too many people could get hurt. Good people. If she truly loved Zach, she needed to put space between them.
“They want to help.”
Her breath shuddered over the pain in her chest. She loved Zach. Despite all the reasons not to, she did.
“Please come back. Please let them help you,” Ginger said.
“You don’t know what it’s like. Always being on watch, on edge. Wondering. Worrying. I let my guard down. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. I put people at risk.”