Every Secret Thing

by Rebecca Hartt

  The sound of approaching footsteps had him turning around alertly. With dismay, he recognized Monica, silhouetted by the lights shining in the window behind her. She had raised more than a few eyebrows by attending the ball as Petty Officer Ryan Larsen’s date. Lucas stiffened at her approach.

  “Hi, Lucas.” Her voice sounded different with the waves crashing in the background. “I saw you step out, and I wanted to tell you something in private.”

  “Go ahead.” Regarding her in semi-darkness, Lucas wondered what had ever drawn him to Monica in the first place. She reminded him of a little bird that flitted from one branch to another. Her ambition had gotten her nowhere, as she still worked in the administration building.

  “I wanted to apologize for putting the vase in your house for Dwyer. I honestly didn’t know it was bugged. I guess I should have wondered, though, when Dwyer asked me to get it back for him.”

  “Water under the bridge,” Lucas assured her, though the bug in the vase had obviously led to Dwyer sending Jason Dunn to climb Saul’s big oak tree in the hopes of identifying Charlotte. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I do,” she countered, shivering from the cold but still holding her ground. “I feel terrible for my actions. You’re a really good guy, Lucas, and I know I screwed up. Here,” she added, opening her clutch and pulling out what he realized was the engagement ring he’d given her. “I should have given this back a long time ago.”

  Lucas looked at the one-carat, princess-cut diamond and felt nothing. He hoped Charlotte was still wearing the ring he had bought for her in Sabena. “Keep it,” he said, not wanting to touch it for some reason.

  Monica squared her shoulders. “No,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I have to give it back. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Far be it for me to get in the way of her doing the right thing, Lucas thought, holding out his hand. The ring fell heavily into his palm. He slid it into his pocket thinking he could sell it somewhere, then give the money to a charity.

  “Goodbye, Lucas.” With a sob in her voice, Monica spun away and hurried inside.

  Lucas watched her go. He wished he could walk away from himself so easily. But there was no escaping the emptiness yawning inside him. How could this have happened? He’d found his best friend in the world and then he’d let her walk away.

  On the first day of the New Year, the weather was typical for northern Virginia—just above freezing and inhospitably humid, so the cold went straight to one’s bones.

  Why, Charlotte wondered, had she chosen to jog along the Potomac River, to Jones Point Park and back? Her lungs ached, her nose was running, and despite the light sweat she’d worked up under her thermal sweatshirt, her extremities were turning numb. Was this really the best way to decide what she wanted from her life?

  Veering off the running path she jogged back into Old Town, Alexandria, making her way back to her parents’ empty townhome on Princess Street. But she was no closer to making a decision than when she’d set out on her run. In six short days, she was due to report to The Farm for nine months of intensive instruction. Her long-awaited career was about to begin. Yet a growing reluctance had set in during the past month, forcing her to question her plans.

  She had done everything in her power to forget Lucas. She’d intentionally not entered Lucas’s contact information into her old cell phone when it turned up in Larry Martin’s office. She’d then mailed the android Fitz had given her back to him. The furniture she’d had delivered to Lucas was meant to pay him back for all the money he’d spent on her, ensuring that guilt wasn’t the reason he came to mind so often.

  One thing she couldn’t seem to give back or even take off was the ring he’d given her. She told herself he’d wanted her to keep it. But it didn’t help that every time she looked down at her left hand, she thought of him and the wonderful—sometimes terrifying—time they’d spent together.

  She might have gotten over him by now if he didn’t constantly appear in her dreams. Night after night, he showed up in the nick of time, sometimes saving her from some aggressive locals in a foreign country who’d found out she was a spy. Sometimes he brought children with him—their children, she later realized—and they all had to escape a hostile country together. Waking up after dreams like those, Charlotte was left feeling lonely and adrift.

  She had recently sought help from the same counselor who’d helped her cope with her parents’ death three years earlier. First, they discussed her godfather’s betrayal and how that affected her trust. When she’d confessed her waning enthusiasm about joining the CIA, Dr. Guhl had expressed shock.

  “This is news,” he had commented in his sing-song voice. “What do you suppose is causing your reluctance?”

  Lucas had sprung immediately to mind, but she hadn’t mentioned him. “I have no idea.”

  Dr. Guhl had suggested that, having coming to peace with her parents’ passing, she was open to more options and free to forge her own destiny.

  The word “options” had stuck with Charlotte, making her ponder what she could do with her future if she didn’t join the CIA. Then on Christmas morning, she had opened a present from none other than Special Agent Casey Fitzgerald, who’d sent her a gray FBI T-shirt and an application form for the FBI. On a sticky note, he had written, 21 months of training gets you a job in Norfolk working with me.

  That option had lodged in her head ever since, making her realize she needed to make a decision fast. Usually a hard run helped Charlotte think more clearly, but it wasn’t helping the way she’d hoped it would.

  Blowing warm air on her frigid fingers, she sought divine help. “What should I do, God?”

  Then, rounding the corner of Duke Street and South Royal, she came to a dead stop. Lucas’s truck was in front of her townhouse, and he was in it, pulling away from the curb.

  No! Wait! Apparently, he’d knocked at the door and assumed she’d already moved out.

  “Lucas!” Chasing after his truck with her arms flailing, it hit Charlotte like a sledgehammer over her hard head—she was meant for Lucas all along. God had been trying to tell her that, but she’d been so busy seeing a mirage of her future, she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.

  The flaring of his brake lights pulled a sob of relief from her. As he peered over his shoulder and carefully backed up, she tried to compose herself, then wondered what on earth to say.

  Reversing into the space he’d just occupied, Lucas cut the engine and slowly stepped out.

  Charlotte had forgotten his visual impact on her. He wore an unbuttoned wool coat, a blue button up and jeans. His hair was longer and his cheeks wind-chapped as if he’d spent a great deal of time outdoors. A day’s growth of beard darkened the lower half of his face.

  She wanted to throw herself at him, but dignity and the awkwardness that came from time apart held her impulse in check.

  “I saw the FOR SALE sign, and I thought you’d left,” he said. The rasp in his voice betrayed strong emotions.

  With a shake of her head, Charlotte realized she never ever wanted to leave him. If only she’d realized that months ago! “You want to come in?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Fetching the key from under a loose brick where she’d hidden it, she unbolted the door and ushered him into the warmth. He stepped inside, swept a look at the empty living room, then focused on her.

  “You look like you’re freezing,” he commented.

  “I am.” She had to sniff against her runny nose. Longing for a hug to warm her up, she assured herself she’d get one in due time. Hopefully soon.

  “There are still chairs in the kitchen,” she said, leading the way to the back of the townhouse.

  “Your house looks like mine used to,” he commented. “Thanks for the furniture, by the way.”

  “Did you keep any?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “All of it. It looks really good, in fact. You should see it.”

  Oh, she intende
d to. “You want something to drink?” Charlotte opened the fridge to see what she could offer him. “La Croix okay?”

  “Sure.”

  She pulled out two chilled cans of the sparkling water and handed him one. He waited for her to sit before lowering himself into the chair right next to her.

  “I read that Larry Martin survived his gunshot wound and is getting sent to some cushy federal prison in North Carolina, where he’ll be joining Commander Dwyer,” he said on a sarcastic note. Maybe they’ll be roommates. Oh, no, they won’t because everyone gets their own room.”

  Popping open his can, Lucas looked for her reaction.

  Charlotte sighed. “Well, they still have to face God for their actions in the next life, so…”

  Can you forgive him?” Lucas asked her frankly.

  She frowned. “It’s hard. I mean, he was always good to me, which makes it easier, but then I think about my parents, and I have to ask for grace to keep from hating him. But, yeah. I think I can.”

  “That’s good,” he said.

  “So, how is everybody?” she asked on a brighter note. “Saul and Jaguar?”

  “Saul is on a super-secret mission working with Black Squadron. I think he’ll be gone for a year. Jaguar,” Lucas added with a smile, “is our new XO and our acting commander while we wait for Dwyer’s replacement.”

  “That’s great. Then he’s back on active duty. What about Master Chief?”

  “Rivera surprised us by getting married.”

  “No way. To Whom?”

  “A ballet teacher named Nina. They’re perfect for each other.”

  “That’s sweet, and how’ve you been?” Charlotte finally dared to ask. Growing warm in her thermal shirt, she concealed her nervousness by pulling it off while Lucas formulated his answer.

  When she looked at him again, he was staring at the FBI logo on the T-shirt she was wearing underneath. “A Christmas gift from Fitz,” she said.

  He cocked his head. “I figured. I got the same one.”

  She had to smile at that. “Mine came with a job application. He wants me to join the FBI and work with him.”

  Lucas’s eyes widened. Before he could ask, she added, “I’m going to do it.”

  Stunned, with hope emerging on his face, Lucas stared at her. “You’re not going to join the CIA?”

  Querying her decision one last time, she felt nothing but absolute conviction.

  “Nope.” Reaching for Lucas’s hand, she was pleased when he not only let her take it, but clasped hers in both of his. “I almost made the biggest mistake of my life by walking away from you,” she admitted in a suddenly husky voice. “I was about to contact you, and then, by divine intervention perhaps, here you are. Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind.”

  “Oh, thank God.” His eyes melted shut then opened again, bright with tears. “No. You asked me how I’ve been doing? I’ve been freaking miserable without you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I was so fixated on an old dream, I didn’t realize you were my new one. We are meant to be together. I haven’t stopped thinking of you for five minutes at a time.”

  He laughed with irony and shook his head. “Same,” he said simply.

  Charlotte sat up straighter, and then she stood. “I probably need a shower, but I also really need a hug.”

  With a slow grin, Lucas pushed to his feet. Wrapping his powerful arms around her, he drew her fiercely against him, nuzzled his cheek against hers, and rasped into her ear, “I love you so much, Charlotte.”

  Relishing the familiar feel of Lucas’s arms encircling her, the scent of his sports soap and fabric softener, she thought to herself, This is home.

  “I love you, too, Lucas. I’ve dreamed of you constantly—you and our unborn children.”

  He lowered his chin to eye her in astonishment. “Children?”

  “Yep. I’m going to have your kids one day.”

  “Hmm. You’ve got your career to think about first, young lady. Special Agent Charlotte Patterson,” he added, hugging her more closely. “I like that. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “I’ll have to do twenty-one months of training at Quantico first. But I think I get my weekends off.”

  “That beats the heck out of an overseas assignment in some unstable foreign country.”

  “Yes, it does,” she agreed. Lifting a hand to stroke the side of his dear face, she let a tear that was trembling on her lower lashes slide down her cold cheek.

  “Oh, Lucas. Thank you for giving me one more chance. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to my senses.”

  “Totally worth it,” he assured her.

  Rising onto her tiptoes, she pressed a fervent kiss to his warm, beautiful lips. “This is where I belong, where I’ve always belonged. Right here, in the United States of America with you.”

  “Then you’ll marry me?” he asked with a searching look.

  Charlotte looked at the ceiling, then back at him. “Is that a proposal?”

  “Almost. I’d like to do it more formally sometime.”

  She shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. I’m already wearing your ring.” She wiggled her fingers in front of his face.

  “You never took it off,” he observed.

  Charlotte admired the pretty band with its Celtic knot. “No.” She looked up at him wryly. “You would think that was a pretty clear sign where my heart lies.”

  “Where does your heart lie, Charlotte?” he asked, clearly wanting to hear her say it.

  She put a hand over the center of his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart. “Right here,” she said, “with you.”

  Before You Go…

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  Page Ahead for an Excerpt From:

  THE LOST IS FOUND

  The Lost is Found

  Acts of Valor, Book Three

  The sound of Ethan’s voice cracking through the air like a whip brought Rachel’s head up from the design magazine she had stolen up to her bedroom. Given that her brother’s voice was coming through her ceiling, he had to be up in her son’s attic bedroom, no doubt lecturing Liam again. He must have caught Rachel’s eleven-year-old doing something other than homework. The words that reached her ears confirmed it.

  “I’m not sending you to private school so you can turn out like your mother.”

  Ethan’s condescending allusion to Rachel scarcely fazed her anymore. Not only had she grown accustomed to her brother’s snubs, but she had come to think she deserved his scorn. At twenty-nine, she had yet to pursue an occupation apart from stay-at-home mom. She had married Blake, her sweetheart, right out of high school. When Liam went off to kindergarten, she had enrolled in community college to study interior design, but she’d never transferred to a four-year school, let alone graduated.

  To a point, Ethan’s assessment of her was correct. She certainly wouldn’t still be living with him more than two years after Blake’s death if she’d been a go-getter like her older brother, would she?

  Tucking a strand of ash-blond hair behind her ear to better listen, Rachel listened for Liam’s reply.

  “No, please. Don’t!”

  The horrified cry prompted Rachel to stuff the magazine under her pillow. She rushed out of her room and up the narrow staircase leading to the floored attic, an enormous space that stretched across the length of Ethan’s brownstone. Liam had chose
n to sleep up there, suffering the heat that rose to the third story during summer months, in return for the view out the narrow windows.

  As she raced up the creaking treads, Ethan’s words reached her ears.

  “There. Now you won’t be distracted from your homework. You’ll never be a lawyer if you keep taking in every hurt animal you come across.”

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer!”

  Rachel had never heard her son’s voice raised in hysteria before. Like her, he was meek and placid. She crested the stairs to find him with his fists balled, his face white and tight with rage.

  Her gaze cut to Ethan as he took a threatening step toward his nephew. “You’ll change your mind,” he said with a certainty that sent a chill up Rachel’s spine.

  A vision of Liam dressed in the uniform of a Navy lawyer and wearing the same smirk that rode his uncle’s lips flashed across her mind’s eye. Never!

  Ethan stepped back, nearly bumping his head on an exposed rafter beam and giving Rachel her first glimpse of the bird cage Liam had set before the window. The door hung open, and the cardinal Liam had been nursing back to health lay in a scarlet heap of feathers on the floor.

  Realizing it was dead—that her brother had killed it—Rachel felt something inside her snap. Indignation rose in her, empowering her to hold Ethan’s belligerent gaze as she marched toward her son and put her arms around him. Liam’s rigid frame quaked. Nearly as tall as she was, he did not hug her back.

  “You should go now,” she told Ethan in a voice she scarcely recognized.

  His expression registered amazement at her tone. But then, taking in the two of them allied in defiance against him, he broke eye contact and looked over at the cage.

  Considering it a moment, he said in a voice devoid of remorse, “I’m sorry, Liam. I overreacted. Take a thirty-minute break outside, and then you’ll be ready to study. All right?” He went to ruffle his nephew’s hair, but Liam shrank from him.