Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

  “How would we have been in danger if you left or took another job?”

  “You don’t just quit the CIA,” he says with finality.

  “I don’t understand what Dosdell’s role was. He told me that he was working with the Boston Police on reevaluating your case. How was that protecting me?”

  “He joined my team and went undercover about a year after I left home. To Vivian, he was known as a corrupt Boston Police officer whom I had a past with. Once Alexis sent you the necklace, Vivian began to get worried. She didn’t know who had sent you the necklace at that point and thought that damning information would be uncovered. If Alexis had sent you other details, rather than just get you to rethink my cause of death, Vivian would have killed you.

  “As a result, Dosdell’s role became convincing you that I had been murdered. He would have provided evidence pinning the murder on a suspect that was already dead, who in reality was another agent. There would have been no reason for a trial and you would have felt vindicated enough about your assumptions to the point that you’d accept my death and move on. That was the plan anyway.”

  “So when he arranged for Drew and me to meet him at the safe house, he was honestly going to help us?”

  “Yes. Lucas and Pierce were there to help. We aren’t sure how the gunmen found you. Our assumption is that they traced your cell phone to the nearest tower at some point when you were in the woods. That would have given them a 15-30 mile radius. There wasn’t much in that area so they likely found the few places where civilization existed, with people who were desperate for money and paid whoever they could to contact them when you showed up.”

  “That’s…insane. This is like some warped detective show.”

  “I’m sure it feels that way.”

  “Did that man die? The one from the dealership?”

  Mark nods. “Too many people died. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were never supposed to be on that flight.”

  “What changed?” I ask.

  “The group responsible changed the end game,” he replies somberly.

  “And Vivian? If I didn’t have any information, why’d Vivian want to kill me?”

  Mark shifts uncomfortably. “She claimed it was a test to see if I was loyal enough to their cause.”

  “Sounds like you have a different theory.”

  “Does it matter? She put you in danger. The reason is inconsequential.”

  “Yeah, because it’s not your life she’s playing with.”

  “If it meant protecting you or our kids, I’d give my life without question. Playing with your life is the same as playing with mine…only I care about yours much more.”

  “You must have enough evidence to put her away. Why haven’t you arrested her? I wouldn’t be in danger if she was behind bars.”

  “She’s not the biggest threat. The leader of Threads, a man that goes by Major Arnold, is our biggest concern. Vivian just happens to be the only one who has access to him.”

  “Can’t you just…I don’t know, use Vivian to get to Major Arnold?” I ask.

  “That’s the plan,” he says again, and I hope for everyone’s sake he has a plan B this time.

  “Where’s Dosdell now?”

  “Major Arnold became suspicious when plans didn’t materialize in Pittsburgh. Dosdell’s in hiding, at least until all of this is over. I’m sure he’d like to meet you properly when that day comes.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The silence extends a long time and I think back to what he said earlier, about taking us with him. “I would have gone, you know. If you’d told me what was going on, the kids and I would have left with you.”

  “At the time, knowing that wouldn’t have changed my decision. I didn’t want that life for any of you. Being on the run, not knowing if we were safe or not. I wanted you to truly live.”

  His response shouldn’t disappoint me, yet that’s exactly what I feel. Standing, I pull the blanket tighter creating the illusion of boundaries and comfort. He really thinks he did the right thing by leaving us.

  “Well, you got what you wanted,” I say. Looking over my shoulder, our eyes lock.

  “Wait,” he says, grabbing my elbow. “Take this.”

  He places a cell phone in my hand and closes my fingers around it. “I have a phone.”

  “This one can’t be traced. If you need me, for anything, call. My number’s the only one programmed.”

  “I made it through the last two years without you. I doubt I’ll be calling.”

  Mark momentarily looks like I just punched him in the gut but he quickly recovers. “You sound rather sure of yourself.”

  “I am.”

  “What if I asked you now?” Mark asks, his gaze never leaving where our hands are joined.

  “Asked me what?”

  “To come with me. What if I said I’d quit tomorrow and that I wanted my family back? Would you say no without hesitation?”

  The fresh air I sought earlier is now suffocating and way too intimate.

  “Mark…”

  After everything he’s put me through, how can he ask me this? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m so engrained in my own thoughts about our conversation that when soft lips that taste of cigar press against mine, I’m completely unprepared. His kiss is familiar and at the same time completely foreign.

  I press my palms against Mark’s chest and pull my head back, shaking it for him to stop because words aren’t surfacing.

  I ignore his disappointment and back away, wanting nothing more than to retreat into the warmth of the house. When enough distance separates us, I turn to make my getaway only to slam directly into Drew’s heaving chest.

  EIGHTEEN

  Clearing the Air

  Dropping my suitcase on the frozen ground, I sidestep Breanne and slowly approach Mark. While clenching and unclenching my fists I move closer to him so that I’m purposely invading his space.

  “This is twice now that you’ve shown up unannounced and upset her.”

  “I don’t need an invitation to my own house,” Mark replies.

  I laugh irreverently. “You sure about that? Considering most of your things are gone, I wouldn’t plan on getting comfortable.”

  Mark’s gaze drops to my suitcase. “Have you forgotten whose wife she is?”

  I try to take deep breaths, count to ten and do all that other nonsense people experiencing rage should do. None of it works. In fact, it’s hyping me up more. One last stride puts me within striking distance. Footsteps close in on me. I could care less. Instead of taking the high road, I go for the primitive approach to conflict resolution and lay him out with one blow.

  “Just so we’re clear,” I say through clenched teeth, pointing to Breanne. “Those lips, and every other part of her body, are off limits.”

  Everett yanks me backward as Spencer swoops in to check on Mark. Spencer takes one look at Mark’s split lip and charges at me like a mad man. Thankfully, Everett intervenes putting him in the same hold the asshole had me in the other night. Wanting nothing more than to release the rest of my aggression on him, I crouch slightly and adopt a boxing stance. He may know hundreds of ways to kill me with his bare hands but he’ll have to catch me first. Judging by his bloated midsection alone I’m confident that my reflexes are far superior to his.

  Fingers crossed he won’t go for his gun when Everett lets him go.

  In my periphery, muffled voices warn me to stand down and I knowingly ignore them. These two idiots are supposed to be protecting the country, and from what I can see all they’ve done is fuck us over. They’ve lied to us, sat back and watched when Breanne’s life was in jeopardy and potentially killed O’Conner. For all I know they could be responsible for my sister’s death.

  My arm’s still healing and this punch could very well end my career, but for the satisfaction of it all, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I bring my dominant fist back just enough to give me the momentum I need, when the warmth of Brean
ne’s body wrapping around mine gives me pause. Knowing I’d never put her in harm’s way, she flings her arms around my neck, making it so I have no option other than to lower my arms and calm down. She presses her face into the crook of my neck and kisses her way up to my ear where she whispers, “All yours.”

  Surprisingly, it’s enough.

  I envelop her in my arms and bury my face in her neck, getting the comfort I need to act human again.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize, rocking her slightly side to side.

  Her stress levels are astronomical as it is. She’s exhausted, emotional and barely eats. I’m starting to worry that she has an ulcer. I can’t add more to her plate, so I promise myself to keep cool.

  “I need you. Please…just—”

  “Shhh. I’m done. I lost control but I’m good now…thank you.”

  When I’ve calmed down enough to use words, I turn to address Mark with Breanne still in my arms.

  “Why did you come here?” I demand.

  “Breanne and I had things to discuss,” he replies, holding a cloth to his mouth. “She can fill you in.”

  Tipping my head to the side, I weigh what he’s said with the knowledge that we can’t have this conversation inside the house. “You’re expecting her to stand outside in the freezing cold so she can relay your message?” Mark takes a step back and holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Since you’ve come all the way back from the dead, why don’t you tell me?”

  “Fine,” Mark says, throwing his arms out to the side. “Let’s talk.”

  I can’t simply talk to him or I’ll lose my temper again. I need something to occupy my hands or this time I might actually chock the dickhead. “You golf? There’s a driving range we can crash not too far from here.”

  “It’s pitch dark.”

  I roll my eyes and huff. “There’s overhead lights.”

  “Drew. Just let him leave and I’ll update you on what he told me.”

  “I promise, it’ll be fine. I won’t touch him again,” I tell Breanne, kissing her full on the mouth and then her forehead. “Go inside before you get sick.”

  She’s biting her lip and fidgeting with her necklace.

  “Here, I’ll walk you inside,” I offer, not wanting to drag this out.

  Picking up my suitcase, I lead her through the backyard, and call to Mark over my shoulder. “Meet you out front in five.”

  We drive separately which is good because I need to get my temper under control and figure out what I’m going to say to him. Yeah, he has things he can update me on, but I have questions that probably aren’t on his agenda. I’m half expecting him and Spencer to take off in the other direction. To their credit, they don’t.

  Shifting the car into park, I grip the steering wheel and I gaze out the windshield, watching as Spencer and Mark walk through the gravel parking lot to the entrance of the driving range.

  Turning to Everett I ask, “Is double jeopardy a real thing?”

  He tips his head back and laughs, which has become rare for him these days. “Don’t get me started. I’m tempted myself…be smart about this, alright?”

  I nod once, acknowledging that I’m probably lucky I wasn’t arrested earlier…though, I’m not too sure a supposed dead man can press charges. As we get out of the car and walk in the same direction as Mark, I start wondering if I should get a lawyer. Someone’s going to have to draw up divorce papers for Breanne when all of this is behind us. Dismissing the thought for now, I unlock a door to a storage area that holds the clubs.

  “You own a driving range?” Mark asks.

  “Nope. It’s my buddy’s.” I grab what we need and lock the door behind me. Handing him his club, I show him to the green.

  “What’s the point of this?” Mark questions.

  “That’s what I want to know. You show up out of nowhere, telling Breanne not to talk about the investigation and to avoid Vivian. What now? You still haven’t given us any useful information about what’s happening or why. So tell me. Why are you back?”

  Leaning down, I set the ball on the tee, align my hips and imagine that I’m about to deliver a line drive to Mark’s head. The club makes contact with the ball and it’s gratifying enough. When Mark doesn’t respond, I answer for him.

  “I think you’re back for Breanne.” I hit another ball. “You know what? You missed your chance with her. You’re too late. There’s no ‘what if’s’ or any scenario that will result in the two of you being back together. You’ve hurt her enough and she’s finally happy. So why don’t you go back to wherever you’ve been and get the hell out of our lives.”

  “This is what you wanted to talk about?” he chuckles. “Let me explain something, Drew. You’re playing house with my family. That’s all this is. Once the excitement fades, you’ll move on to another woman and forget all about Breanne. You don’t have it in you to stay.”

  Whack.

  The ball hits the target at 250 yards.

  “Not that I need to justify myself to you of all people, but you’re wrong. I love Breanne and I love those kids. It’s unfortunate that they share your DNA, but hey, according to them you’re dead.”

  I take my time setting another ball on the tee.

  “I don’t want to make all this bullshit harder on Breanne. I’ll play nice and be respectful. And if you officially rejoin the living and the kids want to have a relationship with you, I’ll support them. But don’t think for one minute that just because of your job that I’ll allow you to intimidate me into leaving. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I position the club between my legs and clasp my hands over it, leaning on it for support while I casually wait for Mark to respond. He hits a ball and then takes on the same stance.

  “Are we done here?” he asks.

  “No. Actually the real reason I asked you to come here is because I want to talk about Alexis.”

  Mark’s demeanor relaxes slightly as he turns to look out at the green, and for a long time he’s lost in thought. “You’re a lot like your sister,” he says, completely serious.

  “Come again?”

  “Alexis was smart but she was stubborn and easily provoked.”

  It’s like I’m talking to a different person. I’m not sure how to handle a genuine Mark.

  “How did you know Alexis?”

  “Alexis was…I was very fond of her.” Mark sighs. “Being the point person for Innovation Airways IT security, she came across a breach a few months into the job and pursued it. Pretty quickly she was able to trace the breach back to her manager and his involvement with the anti-technology group I had infiltrated. I became aware of Alexis because of the items she sent to Breanne. It was around that time that the agency approached Alexis about working with the CIA as an informant.”

  “Alexis was working with the CIA?”

  “Yes. We convinced her not to quit her job so that she could provide us with information. Instead of raising flags about issues with the code, she stopped asking questions and performed the work her manager asked of her. Of course, her goal was to make progress at a slow rate and create enough errors in the development of the code that if her manager decided to find someone else to complete the work, the person would have to start from scratch.”

  “So you used her?” I bark. “She helped you and what did you do for her in return? You obviously weren’t protecting her because if you had been she would still be here.”

  “Alexis’s manager was putting a lot of pressure on her and I sensed she was struggling with what we’d asked of her. She wanted time off so that she could come see you. She was cracking under the stress.

  “Her manager interpreted her actions differently. He thought she secretly completed the code and was going to use it for her own gain. The car accident was staged so that he could search her belongings; he was convinced she had the code on her. Obviously, she didn’t.”

  Mark sets a ball down, driving it into the night, hitting the farthest target. Turning back to me, he cont
inues.

  “Based on emails we’ve seen since her death, we now know that her manager followed her and purposely ran her off the road.” Mark sets his golf club to the side and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Her help in our investigation probably saved hundreds of lives in the long run. The last thing anyone on our team wanted was for her to be hurt, and not just because of her contribution. She was a good person.”

  Knotting my hands behind my head, I let his words sink in. “What was so important about the code she was working on?”

  “I’d rather talk about that tomorrow with Breanne present. It’s complicated.”

  As much as I hate the guy, I’m grateful that he told me about Alexis.

  “Hey, one last question and then we’ll call it a night,” I say and glance back at Everett. “Was the CIA responsible for O’Conner’s death?”

  “Indirectly, yes.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “We believed that Alexis had important information at her house that we needed in order to make progress with the case. Due to her unprecedented security system, it wasn’t possible to stage a regular break-in given the time required for how thorough we needed to be. My team received intel that you’d be visiting, so we took advantage of the opportunity.”

  Mark pauses, his eyes traveling to somewhere behind me. I glance over my shoulder to where Everett is leaning with his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.

  Mark continues. “O’Conner was outside doing a parameter check when our team attempted to secure him. From what the agents on the ground described, he presented heart attack symptoms almost immediately. They couldn’t tell if it was because of the substance he was injected with, or if there were other factors. He was rushed to the hospital as quickly as possible. Regardless, a life was lost and we deeply regret that.”