“I don’t know.”
“Jack…” she breathed.
“Don’t,” Jack bit out. “Don’t tell me not to come. He’s my baby brother.”
“I know. I had one too once. Heaven and Earth couldn’t have kept me from him if something like this happened,” she reminded him quietly.
“I’m angry,” Jack admitted after a moment of tense silence. “And I’m scared for him, Samantha.” His voice shook.
“You’d be a stone not to be,” Sam assured him. “I know how much he means to you. He knows how much you love him.”
Jack stayed silent on the line.
They listened to each other breathe.
“My dad wants to fly down, but the State Department is dead against it. We both think I should fly out instead,” he told her after long moments.
“I understand,” she answered. “Carey and I are here. I’ll call you again with any updates. You tell me what you decide.”
“All right,” he responded, his voice distant and tired.
“When was the last time you slept, Jack?” she asked gently.
“More than a couple hours? Days. I don’t know.” Sam imagined him rubbing his brow, a habit of his when he was tired or irritated. “Maybe before you left,” he admitted.
“Will you lay down? Please? I know you’re wired, but you won’t be in any kind of condition to make this trip if you don’t try to get at least a couple hours tonight,” she urged. “You need to be in operating capacity for your family. Please.”
“Samantha, what the hell are we doing?” Jack asked suddenly. “Because you’re acting like somebody who loves me, but you lie and avoid and shut me out. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing. I don’t know what the hell to think.” The harsh words came out in sudden whoosh, like the words were pressing up and out of him.
“Jack—” she started, her answer catching.
“I just want to be clear, Samantha,” he continued. “Because nothing else is clear right now. Are you just acting this way because you feel guilty for lying to me and not being able to protect Jaime?”
Sam felt trapped, wedged between his anger and her conscience. But she didn’t want to be forced into emotional declarations. She wouldn’t be. Not by him. Not by anyone.
“I care about you, your brother, and your family. I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she answered honestly.
“But besides your duty and your guilt, you’re removed, aren’t you?” he asked pointedly. “You’ve been distant since you left. Hell, maybe before—just when I thought we were getting somewhere—”
“Jack, you’re overwrought and exhausted—” she refuted. “But now is not the time to mix those conversations. What you need to be one hundred percent clear on is that Jaime is my priority right now.”
Jack laughed bitterly. “I knew you would do terrible damage. You even warned me—you’re so kind,” he choked, “…but I thought I wanted you badly enough for the both of us,” he murmured, his voice fading.
“Jack, stop it,” Sam snapped, her anger uncharacteristically rising to the top, out of her control. “I don’t want to argue with you about our relationship over the phone in a hospital waiting room while your brother fights for his life.” She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you want to come here, okay. If you can find it to trust me to handle this, I’ll do it. Either way, please try to get some sleep. I’ll have more information for you soon.”
He said nothing.
She listened to his silence, imagining his jaw clenching. “Jack?”
“You’re right,” he said after long moments. “Call me when you hear more.”
“You’re my first call,” she assured him.
He hung up.
Sam sat in the room for a minute, collecting her thoughts, trying to calm down and praying that Wes wasn’t standing right outside, waiting for her. Her phone rang again in her hand. Relieved, she saw it was Carey. Sam raised the phone to her ear.
“Christ, Bear—where the hell have you been?”
“He’s otherwise indisposed, I’m afraid,” a man with an elegant, British accent responded.
Sam stiffened. “Who is this?”
“We haven’t yet been introduced,” the man responded casually. “My name is Lucien Lightner. I presume I’m speaking with Samantha Wyatt?”
“Why are you in possession of Carey Nelson’s phone?” she asked instead.
“Oh, we ran into each other at the hotel. Had a nice chat. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time, Ms. Wyatt. Even before you began trying to take what’s mine.”
Sam waited a measured beat while everything slowed. “What exactly are you referring to, Mr. Lightner?”
“Now, now, Ms. Wyatt. You aren’t going to pretend you haven’t poached several of my top operatives and key clients in the past few months, are you?” he replied silkily. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Can’t take what you never really had, Mr. Lightner. Especially if they left you willingly,” she answered lightly, her mind racing through all the permutations, trying to figure out where this conversation could go.
“We’ll have to disagree on that point, Ms. Wyatt,” he answered, his blithe tone hardening. “You came after things that belong to me, so I felt it was more than appropriate to reciprocate, given the circumstances…” Lightner had Carey. He’d either hurt him or kill him to get to her. Any negotiations would be limited at best.
Samantha hardened. “Be careful, Mr. Lightner. You may think you’re exacting revenge, but you’re walking the fine line of declaring war,” she told him in a low voice.
“Oh, I’m not concerned,” Lightner replied. “My benefit here is actually more peripheral. You declared war, as you put it, a long time ago.”
Sam’s fingers tightened on the phone. “Enlighten me.”
“You killed someone you shouldn’t have, my dear,” Lightner purred. “Ibrahim Nazar has waited to meet you for a very long time.”
Sam’s eyes widened, her fingers tightening on the phone.
“You’ll come to me, or Carrick Nelson will see his last sunrise shortly,” Lightner informed her. “Wouldn’t want that, would we? Didn’t you two grow up together?”
“You harm him, and I’ll spend the rest of my life dismantling you and everything you care about,” she told him in a low voice.
“It may be a short life, Ms. Wyatt. In which case, you’ll want to see what you can accomplish. I know how you enjoy a challenge,” Lightner taunted. “Meet me at Santos Dumont Airport alone in one hour or you’ll find pieces of your partner scattered along Copacabana.”
Epilogue
The Whitney, Chicago
Jack sat in the darkness of his study, staring at the lights twinkling around Grant Park and up the gentle curve of Lake Shore Drive. He nursed a scotch. Maybe the third or fourth, a rare occurrence for him. He hadn’t had anything to drink while he had Maddie. The first thing he’d done was make himself a stiff drink when his parents had picked her up to take her to their house in Oak Park. He could hear Mitch banging around in the kitchen, making something for them to eat. Maybe the drinks combined with his general exhaustion would help him find that elusive sleep for a few hours. He felt haggard and stiff with worry.
“You look like shit,” Mitch had told him unceremoniously when he’d come over. “I’m making you something to eat and crashing here tonight.”
Jack knew what that statement was code for. Mitch was worried he’d relapse. If there were ever a time, now would be it. He didn’t have anything in the house besides liquor to put him to bed, but he didn’t plan on drinking until he passed out. Jack knew he looked like hell. He’d held it together until his parents had shown up, worry lining his father’s face and his mother’s eyes red and swollen. Thank God Maddie had been too sleepy to notice as he’d transferred her to his mother’s arms.
Jack rubbed his eyes, gritty from exhaustion, before setting the scotch down, the side of his hand touching the
file he’d fished out of his safe impulsively before calling Sam. He fingered the edge of the file his father had given him. He was feeling a little reckless, incredibly helpless, and riding the crest of his growing anger.
In some distant, objective part of him, he knew she wasn’t to blame for Jaime’s situation. If anything, it could have been a lot worse. Jaime could have been caught up in the debacle with no protection at all. He’d watched the news. He saw the mayhem engulfing the streets of Rio. He also knew he could trust her to handle this, but goddamn it all…he was furious with her. Furious with her for lying, for keeping him in the dark, for not reciprocating his feelings, for making him feel insane and insecure—emotions that were so foreign to him that he wanted to beat the shit out of something in retaliation. If he had the wherewithal to go to the gym and throw down with Manny, he would have. He wanted to do something. Fight his way out of the uselessness and the ache and the fury. Jack wanted to do something permanent and damaging.
He was already hurting.
Why not set everything else on fire and just watch the blaze?
Jack tossed the drink back, flicking open the file.
The first few pages were general background. He read through details of her schooling, unsurprised by her grades, her choice of sports, the basic facts of her family—or lack thereof. Her military history started early. She was young when she joined NROTC. Only eighteen. A legacy. There were activities, program participation notes, evaluations, recommendations. It was vaguely insightful but unsurprising given what he knew about her already. She was twenty-one her first full-fledged year as a naval officer, based out of the Kennedy Irregular Warfare Center. Her performance reviews were outstanding.
Her medical and psychological evaluations read like Greek. He wished he hadn’t opted out of that science, leaning toward engineering instead to satisfy his architectural requirements. He did understand the summary, though. She was described as independent, analytical, highly intelligent, and exceptionally determined when tasked with something she believed in. She valued factual knowledge, shunned incompetency, and strove to either create structure or uphold it. She had extremely high standards for others, but none more than herself. She was motivated by internal purpose rather than external factors. Jack snorted. He knew all of this. He read on.
She had significant trust issues stemming from fear of abandonment. She was a deep introvert with the ability to perform as an extrovert in appropriate circumstances. An excellent linguist and good at establishing rapport when necessary while maintaining objectivity and a level of disengagement. She had strong control of her own emotional state, followed her own moral compass. She was recommended for Counter Intelligence and something called HUMINT. Jack squinted, looking for the acronym’s definition.
Human Intelligence.
Of course.
Another set of papers looked like some kind of internal report. The file was red-stamped Classified. The initial coroner’s report had proven inaccurate. Her father and brother were not killed by a drunk in driving accident. Trace amounts of barbiturates were in both of their systems, suggesting foul play. The drunk driver was a local townie alcoholic, but one witness stated she saw him climb into a cab leaving the bar, not driving his own vehicle. Designated a possible assassination attempt. No suspects detained, though several candidates proposed. Jack scanned the short list of names. He looked up two of them on his phone. One was a major oil tycoon based in Houston. Another was a Sharif with a prominent position within OPEC with disturbing ties to redacted individuals in Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan. Investigations inconclusive. Based on what she’d told him about her family, she didn’t know about this. This must have been what his father had meant…
Jack began to flip through the next cluster of papers in the folder, noting most were redacted US Naval documents. Through the maze of black boxes, he glimpsed words like hostile assets, detainment, advanced interrogation techniques, psychological exertion, physical impairment, pharmacologic-induced influencing techniques, long-term effects—
Mitch knocked on his study door, poking his head in. “Dinner’s on. Come eat and tell me what’s going on with Jaime.”
Jack must have looked shell-shocked.
Mitch pushed open the door, looking at the file Jack held. “What are you reading? You look sick.”
Jack snapped the file shut, weaving up to his feet. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I just can’t concentrate. You know I haven’t slept—” He tried to craft an excuse as Mitch’s eyes narrowed.
Jack set the file down, trying to appear casual. He strode to his safe, still open from his earlier foray for the file, just after he’d started drinking. He shoved the file in, swinging it shut, feeling oddly relieved when the telltale snick signaled the automatic lock. Jack turned back to face Mitch, who was still watching him, head crooked and his arms crossed. “You haven’t kept much from me. What gives?”
Jack swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. Secrets. A file full of secrets, and he’d just started to peel back the lid of a Pandora’s Box he knew he couldn’t shut now if he wanted to. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
But did he really want to know? And what would he do with the information? And Jaime—God, Jaime…
Jack closed his eyes. “I need to go to Brazil,” he told Mitch. “I need you to help me get a jet booked to leave first thing in the morning.”
*
Notes
1. Italian endearment meaning “dear kitty”
2. Italian for “good luck.”
3. An Army Ranger motto meaning “without equal.”
4. Japanese for “Full Point” in Judo, as in the winner takes the match.
5. Italian endearment meaning “treasure.”
6. Italian for “big brother.”
7. Italian for “your wolf.”
8. Italian for “you dick.”
9. Italian for “stop busting my balls.”
10. Italian for “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
11. Italian for “Where is my treasure?”
12. Italian for “May you live a hundred years…with me.”
13. Italian: “Before meeting you, I didn’t think I could experience such depth of feeling.”
14. Italian for “without you my life makes no sense.”
15. Italian for “come here and kiss me.”
16. Italian for “a good wine, a good man, and a beautiful woman does not last long.”
17. Italian for “bread that comes out of sweat, tastes better.”
18. Italian for “at the table with good friends and family you do not become old.”
19. Italian for “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
20. Italian for “that is the way of all women.”
21. Italian for “brave; strong.”
22. Portuguese for “thank you and good night.”
23. Italian for “asshole.”
24. Italian for “smoking hot.”
25. Italian for “shit.”
26. Italian saying for “don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
27. Spanish for “boss.”
About Alexi Lawless.
It’s simple, really. You see that woman sitting to the side at the executive meeting discussing company financials and strategies to increase profitability next quarter? The one who looks like she’s struggling not to look bored? Yeah. That was me. And that was my life, day in, day out, for over a dozen years. A successful life, by many standards, and not an unhappy one, but not the Dream either. You see, there were two things I wanted for myself. Okay, three if you include champagne. The Dream was to write and to travel, sampling life and local cultures with no rush, no agenda. It was not an insurmountable dream by any means, but faced with actually doing something about it v. dreaming it might happen one day (like after 65)… well, that was daunting. But risks usually are. And I couldn’t help but think it would be so much worse to look back and wonder, “Why did I wait my whole life to do something I really wanted?”
So I took the plunge. Quit the gig, packed up and hit the road. This book was written while traveling around islands in Asia, hiking over mountains in South America and driving across deserts and canyons in the United States. I thought I’d start with a simple love story, but it became so much more. An obsession. A fantasy—about complicated characters I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing them. You’ve just finished reading the fruits of the new labor… the labor of love. The labor of the Dream.
Did you like Complicated Creatures?
If you’d like to share your thoughts and post a review, I, for one, would be incredibly grateful. Just click on this link and it will take you to the reviews page: http://amzn.to/1pK3hSW
Want to Read Part Two?
If you want to be the first to know when Part Two comes out, click here to get excerpts, playlists, cover reveals and the launch date: www.alexilawless.com
One Last Thing…
When you turn this page, you’ll see a request to rate this book and post your thoughts to Facebook and Twitter. You gotta love technology. Please take a moment to take advantage of that handy little feature. Your friends get to check out what you’re reading, and I get the reward of having great readers like you. So thank you for that. Truly.
Complicated Creatures: Part One Page 40